the brain of the Italian adolescent male, pt.2

[Setting: in a second year class, playing "Would you rather"]
Me: Would you rather overthrow a dictator or be a dictator?
Boy: Be a dictator.
Me: Why would you like to be a dictator?
Boy: It is fantastic.
Me: Hmm. Can you give me some more detail?
Another boy, suggesting to first boy: It is very beautiful.
Boy: No, no. Non so come dirlo.
Me: What would you do if you were a dictator?
Boy: Play football!

the brain of the Italian adolescent male

[Setting: A fifth year lesson on the Road in the poetry of Walt Whitman.]
Me: A, what do you think about the Whitman poetry we've read?
A: Boh.
[I smile at him expectantly, waiting for him to elaborate.]
A: Non mi dice niente.
Me: Can you try to say that in English?
A: Erhhmm...
Girl sitting near to A, whispering: It doesn't give you emotion.
A: Eh, I don't know, it doesn't give me emotion. It doesn't say nothing to me.
Me: Mhmm. It doesn't speak to you. And what does speak to you?
A: What?
Me: What does speak to you? Other poetry, songs, hip hop?
A, sitting back in his seat with a smirk: L'Inter.
Me: Inter, the soccer team?
A: Yes. È ovvio. Obviously.
Me: Thank you, A.

the apocalypse? no, just soccer in Europe

(Inter flag we found in the street waving proudly on my balcony. Bonus: Milan sun!)
Y'all in America may or may not have been paying attention to the European Champions League, where the best soccer clubs in Europe compete for several months to become the campioni. Inter, one of Milan's two teams (and a little bit the Yankees of Italy), beat such teams as Chelsea and Barcelona to reach the finals against Bayern, Munich. And guess what...
They won! For the first time in 38 years or something crazy like that. Not Real Madrid, not Manchester, but Inter! Want to see?

We went to the Piazza del Duomo to see the game on the big screen with the crazies. Here is a video of its last moments and when the crowd realizes that Intern has won. For the first minute, everyone has their hands in the air and says "OOOOOOO," and then the crowd erupts with joy, the sky with fireworks, the piazza with crazy.

It's a little Blair Witchy, but you get the idea.

And then for hours afterwards (including bonus shot of our bikes and me terrified about leaving them with the crazies):


So I guess you could call this my first European Football Experience. Pretty intense, and all the noise and smoke and flares made me think on some level that the Rapture/Word War III might be occurring. Do these kinds of things happen in the U.S.? I missed the images of the streets of New Orleans after the Super Bowl. Maybe I do not care enough about American sports.

In the end, all was well, the only casualty was the mudguard of F's bike.

A selection of chants heard that night:

Josè Mourihnoooo dadadadadada (ode to the coach sung to the tune of "I can't take my eyes of you")

Juventino pezzo di merda!

Siamo noi
Siamo noi
I campioni d'Europa siamo noi!