Eh

We’ve all heard the phrase that describes the Italian approach to life philosophy.  La Dolce Vita.  Having just returned from a trip to Italy, I witnessed that wonderful approach first hand. 

The taking it easy, slow living, enjoying being in the moment, with good food, friends and family.  Being Italian-American, with both sides of the family tree from Italy, this may resonate even more deeply with me. 

However, to La Dolce Vita, I would add another approach to life philosophy that I also witnessed.  I call it, Eh.  Eh might actually be a component of  La Dolce Vita.

What is Eh you ask?  It’s a shrug of the shoulders, a lifting of the hands, a facial expression that all conveys a ‘no big deal, it is what it is, not gonna worry about it’ feeling.

Here are some examples I experienced first-hand on this trip.

Ernie and I were in the beautiful, medieval town of Alberobello.  This town is filled with fairytale like structures call Trulis.  Houses that are circular, with conical roofs, built with stone with no mortar or cement.  This made it easy to deconstruct them when the tax man came by.  What? Houses? No, no houses here!

Anyway, I digress.  We were having lunch.  I was enjoying a fabulously fresh, delicious Caprese sandwich.  I was almost done one half of it, when I noticed my basil moving.  “Ernie, is it just me, or is that little piece of basil moving?”  Ernie looked at it and said, “No, I don’t think so.”  I looked again.  Yup.  It was definitely moving.  I was thinking maybe the heat was getting to me, but then Ernie saw it too. 

I peered more closely at it and realized that it was a very small, skinny little green worm.  He was kind of cute actually and if he wasn’t in my sandwich that I had just mostly eaten, would have felt more kindly towards him.  As it was, my first thought was that he was whole, so I clearly didn’t bite into him.  However, my next thought was, what if he hadn’t been alone and his friend or spouse is currently in my stomach?

I walked back into the restaurant (we were dining al fresco) with my sandwich and approached the counter. There were three people there.  Our waiter, a slightly older than middle-aged woman who looked to be the proprietor, and a beefy, burly, bearded young man wearing an apron who I assumed to be the cook. 

I showed them my sandwich.  “Look,” I said.  “There is a little green worm in my sandwich.”  And. Wait for it.  All three of them looked at it and reacted with the Eh response.  “Eh, look at that.  So it is.”  A shrug of the shoulders.  No big deal.  I stood there for a beat.  Will they apologize? Will they take it off my bill?  No further response.  I awkwardly put my sandwich down and returned to the table.

About 5 minutes later, the waiter returned with a new sandwich.  “Here you go,” he said.  “Eh, what are you gonna do? It’s all fresh ingredients we use here.  Sometimes that can happen. Please enjoy this new sandwich we made for you.”

I examined the sandwich closely. It looked to be worm-free. I shrugged my shoulders and thought, “Eh, why not?” and enjoyed the new sandwich.

Another example of Eh was when we were taking the ferry from Ischia back to Naples.  Fortunately, we were one of the first to board and our luggage was placed in an easily accessible spot on the top of the storage rack.  We did not realize this was a lucky break at the time for we did not know that they do not provide enough storage racks for all the passengers.

This form of Eh is, just pile the luggage willy-nilly wherever you can up and around the storage rack, and also outside of the passenger area in the open space of the back of the ferry.  Eh, it might be difficult for passengers to find and retrieve their luggage, but they will eventually.  A shrug of the shoulders, no big deal.  We were thanking our lucky stars as we exited the ferry amid the tumult and confusion of hundreds of people searching for their luggage. I’d call that La Crazy Vita.

My last example of Eh occurred when we were at the airport, leaving to go home.  We had to physically check in to get our boarding passes.  I wondered why the woman put a sticker on the back of my passport.  I found out what that sticker meant when I went to board the plane. 

“Excuse me Signora, you have a sticker on the back of your passport which means you have randomly been assigned a baggage check.  Please step over here so we may examine your luggage.”

I wanted to cry.  I had to sit on my bag to zip it closed.  12 days in Italy with a carry-on requires masterful packing.  It was not easy to get everything in that bag.  And my backpack was equally stuffed.  This could be a nightmare.

This time, Eh really came in handy.  The security checker started with my backpack, placing it on the table.  He started to open it.  He immediately saw how stuffed it was.  He kind of made an attempt to move an item here or there and then decided, Eh.  It’s fine. You are good to go.  He didn’t even bother with the suitcase.  Glory be.

We boarded the plane and got situated for the long flight home.  The captain then announced “Sorry folks, looks like we’ve got a bit of a delay here.  Looks like it’s going to be around 30 minutes before we can take off. We will keep you posted.”

I shrugged my shoulders. Eh.  What are you gonna do about it? I picked out a movie to watch and settled in.