Italians have a way of making everything as fun as possible. Think of anything enjoyable and the Italians have a corner market: food, wine, ice cream, history, language, art, fashion, cars, family, on and on.... Knowing this, I suppose I shouldn't be that surprised to find out that they have parenthood figured out, too. At first glance, perhaps some can be a little loud with their kids, and it seems that a smack on the butt [or face, as I have seen] gets a cultural O.K. But I am not talking about childhood [which I am sure is, in general, fantastico here, too] but parenthood. Here's what the Italians have figured out:
bar + playground = happiness
Why don't we have this in America? Why must we Americans languish through a 5:00 playdate in the summer, sitting on a concrete turtle sprinkler, sweating through our shirts as moisture pours down our back, butts hurting, brains aching...just so our kids can have some fun? Is it part of some rite of passage in American parenthood that we all must suffer a little during our childrens' playtime?
Well, there's no suffering in Italy. Not for a playtime, anyway. Here, there are BARS at the playgrounds.
Yes. Bars.
While your little tyke[s] run around the playground, you can sit and have a spritz or wine or beer...or an ice cold coke for that matter. And, while you refesh yourself, you sit in a CHAIR under a TREE and someone SERVES you. Hungry? No need to pull out day-old veggie booty and chomp away as if it's enjoyable. You can order some chips and salsa, or nice olives with crackers, or a soft cheese and sliced meat plate. In fact, these bars are so social that even people without kids come and hang out. One of our favorite playground/bars is frequented by very hip, attractive youngsters who are certainly not parents. I can imagine having conversations with them that have nothing to do with kids, and enjoying it very much. In fact, when we go to these playground/bars I do enjoy it very much.
The "playground" we love in Moderno is surrounded by cherry and olive trees, with jasmine plants strategically placed to curl around pots of rosemary and basil. There is often a breeze with gardenia smell, which is just as relaxing as it sounds. We sit on white picnic chairs with a plastic brightly-colored table cloth covering the table, and find shade under an umbrella. A tabby cat calls the bar her home, and she curls underneath our feet and begs when our salami and cracker plate comes ["she's a thief!" we were warned when the food was put down, but I am not sure how much she has to steal when our kids are around]. We are not the only ones enjoying the evening: the kids get a "special" drink too, since such harmony requires a toast. They all love getting ice-cold fizzy water, with a fresh lemon squeeze. They order their water and run to play, only to return red-faced and hot when the drinks come. They gulp down the fizzy water with great pleasure, and one always enjoys a large belch after, with the other two laughing at the defiance. All of this: seven Euros.
Most importantly, no one is drunk here or at any of the bar/playgrounds I have frequented. This is truly just a place to meet. Kids skip, slide, swing, and find friendships on a warm summer evening; in Italy, adults sip, sigh, and do the same.
You're right. They are DEFINITELY on to something here!
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