Italians and the Dreaded Colpo D'Aria

Living in Italy for the last 10 years or so, I have had the chance to observe and ponder on many of the cultural curiosities that set it apart from much of the rest of the world. Having grown up in an Italian family, I was often warned of the perhaps fatal consequences of certain practices such as drinking anything with ice, going out with wet hair, or being given the “malocchio” (evil eye) to name a few. All these superstitions I would take with a grain of salt, as I found them harmless and would for the most part simply ignore them.

The dreaded “colpo d’aria”(gust of air) on the other hand, which once gave me a chuckle has now become a bit of a bone of contention.  It all started at my neighborhood gym a few days ago. Summer had just descended upon Rome without warning, and hardly any of the shops and places of business were ready to turn on the air conditioning (I know, the fact there even IS air conditioning now in Italy is a miracle). Now I have been living here since the good old days when the currency was the Lire and air conditioning was some silly invention adopted by the rich Americani, and therefore I can and have lived without it. What I can’t live without, especially while working out in a hot gym, is a fan. Intending to endanger only my own life by turning on the ceiling fan, I made my way over to an abandoned corner of the gym where no one else was exercising and went ahead and flicked the switch. Moments later as I was happily sweatin’ to the oldies, a woman I recognized from a step class began to make her way towards me. Before getting onto a machine near me, and without any hesitation, she switched off my fan. Thinking that was incredibly rude but not sure I was ready for an all out altercation, I got down off my machine, marched over and turned it on again. This is when it got ugly.

Paranoid schizophrenic but otherwise lovely aerobics queen: (from here on out we will refer to her as PSBOLAQ): Excuse me, you can’t do that!

Me: Oh no? Funny, I don’t remember you asking before you shut it off, and seeing how I was here first, maybe you could come back in ten minutes when I’m done if you’re so worried about it.

PSBOLAQ: Everybody knows that it’s dangerous! All I need is to get on that machine when a blast of air hits my neck and I’ll be laid up for 15 days with bronchitis!

ME: (trying to be nice) No, of course you don’t need that, but I came over to this abandoned corner just so that you and the rest of the folks here would not have to take that fatal risk

PSBOLAQ: Yes, well naturally I cannot stay on the same machine all morning long, I need to diversify!

ME: Good for you, then you’ll have to put up with the fan. I have exercised with a fan on for about 15 years now, and low and behold I am still alive to tell the story!

PSBOLAQ had had enough. Without further ado she marched over to the gym manager and reported my  reckless attempt to murder everyone in the gym by exposing them to a little fresh air (by the way, what are the fans even THERE FOR if we can’t turn them on). The manager tried to keep the situation under control, and in the end he decided to turn the fan down to low instead of off. PSBOLAQ proceeded to begin stepping, and the moment I finished my workout she shut that fan off with the speed of lightning.

While this scene was unfolding in the gym, I tried to scan the room to see how the other Italians reacted to it (Italians seem to enjoy getting involved whenever there is a “situation”). What I saw was a mixed bag…a few sympathetic smiles, a few pretending not to listen, and a few looking at me as if I were the mad hatter.

My question is this. If modern science has taught us anything, we know that colds and flus are transmitted by the spread of a virus or bacteria. Why then, do people still insist that they ride on the magic carpet of a gust of air? It’s going to be a long summer at that gym unless I somehow transform into a proper Italian and start having paranoid fears of the harmless.

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