Of Windex and Women

It's now been almost a month since my entry into the blogosphere, so before I forget what I've been doing I'll try to capture the point of the title here, as it relates to our little ski vacation in January...

Every year we pack up and head to Madonna di Campiglio for at least a week of skiing in our timeshare there. It is really a lovely spot - great skiing, a beautiful little town in the Alps and the perfect setting for family togetherness.

When we started this tradition, we thought it would be a wonderful way to guarantee a yearly ski trip and also spend time with Piero's family, who were, at that time, quite a distance away. So every year, his parents, sister, her husband and their son would accompany us to our 2-bedroom apartment. (Did I mention there is only one bathroom?) Italians love family togetherness.

On various trips, extended groups of the family would also come - Two years ago, another brother, his wife, her father, their child, the father's cousin and three teen-agers also joined us. Luckily there were other apartments available in the building. Relations remained intact.

This year, the core group travelled up, and another splinter faction rented a neighboring apartment. The yearly winter vacation thus became skiing all day for all but Piero's parents, and his mother cooking dinner for 12 every evening. (Did I mention that there is a standing Italian assumption that Mamma does everything?) Following that, the women cleaned up while the men pushed back their plates and enjoyed themselves. After approximately five nights of this, my American fur was ruffled. I suggested that the guys clean up. No response.

I'm not sure we need to go into further detail about how my idea of a ski vacation does not include hand-washing dinner dishes for an hour and a half every night with my sister-in-law, and how I communicated that to various male guests. It's been about three weeks now - Not sure relations are intact.

Apparently this was my first foray into the world of inter-cultural relations and their impact upon women's rights and, well, me. No one ever said I would have made a good diplomat. It has definitely been a learning experience.

In the bookstore shortly after this learning experience, I saw a new Italian best-seller entitled, 'Streghe.' In Italian, this means 'witches.' It is derived from the women's rights movement here during the 1960's, when women regained control of their bodies, their careers and many other aspects of their lives, which, hundreds of years ago would have had them condemned as sorceresses.

The book is an exploration of that recent past and the acknowledgement of how far they have yet to go, despite positions in government, full-time jobs and birth control. As in the U.S., women here earn a fraction of what men make, And further, as evidenced in the microcosm that was our family vacation, they are assumed to be completely responsible for home life in many cases. The book makes the point that there are still miles to go before we sleep.

Piero's family is well-educated and the people my age seem quite similar in many ways to Americans. But it's clear that underlying cultural assumptions are quite different here. There was no consideration of the fact that my sister-in-law and I both worked full time, skied all day and helped get the kids out the door - The fact that we were women meant we were supposed to cook and clean up, too.

Having been on many ski trips with large groups, I know for a fact that kitchen duties are shared among Americans. I also know this is probably the tip of the iceberg for me, navigating the choppy ocean of a new country. It will be interesting to see how we manage to blend our American ways with the Itailian customs that we love, and create some kind of hybrid family pattern.

Stay tuned - We are nearing the finish line on renovations and hope to move into the place next week. (Did I mention that deadlines in Italy are notoriously flexible?) Thanks for reading - and keep in touch!