Christmas Comes Early to Parma.

I've had just enough time to...   wink at the cherub

The Sleepy Cherub that spoke to me without opening its eyes...

Wandering through the narrow streets of Parma, we came across a brightly lighted window that drew us light moths to a flame. Peering in, we were greeted with the sparkling decorations of Christmas which brought us cheers. There is something magical about Christmas. Something that lightens our spirits and drives away our woes, at least until the resolutions of the New Year when reality once again intrudes. That autumn night, Christmas came to us early in Parma.

The delightful interior of the decoration shop.

It was the sleepy cherub that spoke to me. I pointed it out to my friend who took a shot and posted on her Facebook. Her friend thousands of miles away fall in love with it and wanted it as a Christmas present. So we went back to the shop the next day. The wonder of modern technology. But personally, I think it was the cherub’s design to draw us back to the shop. I am not complaining or I can’t be sharing this story and these pictures of the interior of the shop with you. Now, do you still not believe in the magic of Christmas?

The Happy Son & Father-In-Law - what a cheerful couple :)

So we found our way back to the shop the next night. With the intention to buy something, I could bring myself to ask the shopkeeper if it is okay for me to take a few shots. I can understand “yes” in Italian especially if spoken with a smile. But first we bought the cherub so it can fly all the way to the Philippines to spread cheers in a foreign land. I asked the shopkeeper if the older gentleman working alongside him is his father. He said “father-in-law”. Ah, that is an important word to know. I thought that was so nice, he and his father-in-law working together so warmly together like father and son. I told them so. I pointed to the two of them and gave them the thumb up. It looked like  with just a couple of days in Italy, I’m already learning how to use my hands like a true bred Italian. We bought a few other souvenirs among which is a cute metal bird attached to a long spring that can spring up and down to give it as a Christmas present to my new friend whose birthday I just discovered was on Christmas eve. Wish that I could remember the Italian word for it which started with a “po…….” that the father-in-law kept trying to teach me, unsuccessfully. 

Another view of the delightful shop.

As we left the shop with our presents, we were imbued with a warm glow. We must have caught some of the spirits of Christmas that will nourish us through the approaching cold winter. To All my Readers & Friends, I wish you all and your family –

“Merry Christmas & A Happy New Year!”

"Merry Christmas!"

Italian Carol - Christmas - Natale - Tu Scendi Dalle

A Curio Shop Where We Are The Curiosity

I've had just enough time to...   wander through all kinds of everything

Old books in an used suitcase left by the side of a street in Parma, Italy

On the same night that we met the fruit seller, we wandered into a curio shop. It was used books in an old suitcase placed on the walkway by the side of the street that stopped us in our tracks. Books that I have a weakness for like chocolate to some, sinfully delicious. Curiosity dragged us into the shop and into a world of wondrous things. Impractical, kitschy stuff mingled with surprising finds and genuine articles that may be Art to some and “what in heaven’s name is that?” to others.

The shop that sells "all kinds of everything"

I always love being in a shop of “all kinds of everything”. The mind wandered through a dozen cultures, hundreds of possibilities and impossibilities. It amuses and stimulates the imagination. Creative thoughts burst forth skipping from items to items never giving one chance to settle down before one’s attention is grasped and pulled away to yet another item of curiosity. A curio shop is fairy land and we are the child in a toy shop. The mad house is a testament of man’s creativity and insanity. 

Arts from many cultures of many lands and books of more...

There are two kinds of people running curio shops and if you do not come across the mercenary types, you are in luck. These other folks are like the items they sell - odd, impractical, amusing, interesting, warm with an earthly glow and what do you know? The Italian saint of Everything smiled on us. The old man with distinctive features and a pitchy voice manning the shop spoke to us – in Italian of course. And we did not understand, of course. We tried English, that didn’t work. He called for backups. His assistants, or friends or family appeared from the woodworks. They tried French, no good. German, sounded strange. We tried Mandarin, drew recognition but no comprehension. Filipino, that stumped them. Portugese, eh-ah. Spanish, ah a few words both sides knew, but too few. In desperation, Bahasa, Cantonese, Hokkien, Hainanese and we drew to an agreed conclusion. We didn’t know what the hell the other party were talking about. 

The owner among his treasures, he deals in dreams...

When words failed, smiles and laughter paved the way. We joked, laughed, more at ourselves than at the situation. In the shop of curios, we are the curiosity. We did not buy anything. But on the way out, the lady companion of the kindly old shopkeeper gave me a postcard of the shop as a memento. It was a good one. 

A precious gift of memory which is treasured...

The Curio Shop - The Interludes

Laughing dolls and painted soldiers

Standing in a row

Marching bands and ballerinas

Dancing on their toes

Carousels and photographs

Of memories that I know

You’ll find them all inside

Come see the curios

Come see the toys for sale,

There are so many things –

Oh, won’t you come inside?

What is Banana in Italian?

I've had just enought time to...   say "banana" in Italian.

Warm Italian on a cold autumn evening

It was 7.00 pm in Parma and we were cold and hungry. The last few days we had been having dinner at 6.00 pm in Denmark which was kind of early but in Italy, the restaurant only opens at 8.00 pm which was kind of late for us. While waiting for the recommended restaurant to open, we hanged around and ended in front of a small fruit stall. The owner came out and engaged us in a conversation where neither party understood a single word the other was saying.

It was kind of fun though. He pressed his thumbs against the first finger and thrust it in a forward  motion saying something we could not make head or tail of. This was repeated several times and we made our guesses about the significance of this gesture but not convinced we understood him. That was until he made the ringing sound before we realized he was kindly suggesting that we rang the doorbell of the restaurant which is just down the road. We laughed and told him we had done that but was not sure he understood us. Everyone was smiling and the autumn wind did not feel as cold.

With time to kill, we looked at his products and our puzzled look must have given away the fact we did not know what that ugly looking fruit with wrinkled skin was. He said something in Italian but that of course did not strike a bell. He then gently pushed against the skin revealing a deep wet purple meat beneath. Beetroot I guessed. I think. That opened the floodgate. We then pointed out the fruits and vegetables and he said it out lout in Italian. And we offered the English name. Who needs words for communication?

What is this fruit/vegetable/root? Anyone knows?

There was no way we could remember all those Italian words. So we decided to remember at least one word, an easy one. We looked at the fruits and pointed at a bunch of banana –

“How do you say that in Italian?”

He looked at us with a bemused look and say “Ba-na-nuh!”

And we all burst out laughing simultaneously. Okay, we will never forget that! We left happily for the restaurant waving goodbye to our new found friend. We will probably never meet again but every time I see banana, I will remember that happy Italian face saying “Ba-na-nuh!”.