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drcrushers · 4 years ago

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1930s/hollywood golden age sneakpeak. i am the slowest writer ever forgive me.

“More wine, darlin’.”

“Ain’t you had enough?”

“Ain’t you gonna shut the hell up?”

Persephone merely held out her empty glass for the petite girl in uniform carrying a tray of glasses, some full and some empty. She snagged another full one with a look of annoyance at Hermes, who merely huffed like the feathered hen he pretended to be. As if that were ever the case; Hermes was a damned fox in the hen house. Her agent-turned-friend eyed her as she took a sip of the delicious red blend, one she’d picked herself for the occasion. And what an occasion it was. Best of the best rubbing elbows, laughing and chattering and dripping jewels easily worth a year’s salary for the girl who had brought her a new drink. Perfect, all of it, every detail meticulously planned in her mind come to life on the patio of the veritable mansion with the beautifully tiled pool and grand views of the city below. The night was crisp but not cool, where alcohol would keep one warm enough for the evening.

“You’re in a mood.” Hermes drawled, still nursing on his first drink. He and Persephone had taken up residence on a set of lounge chairs by the pool, watching the party continue on blissfully around them. She’d sat down to rest from schmoozing, though with three glasses of wine now under her belt Persephone was worried about standing without swaying into the pool. Better to stay sitting and drink more.

“I have every right to be.” She ground out firmly between clenched teeth while still smiling, aware that her facade couldn’t slip - not even for a second. Not among the other imposters there.

Never let them see the reality of her quickly deteriorating marriage.

“You don’t have to justify your mood to me.” Hermes replied evenly.

“Good. Wasn’t gonna.” Another long sip of wine, the dark color of her lipstick smeared across the glass rim. But the bitterness was there, bubbling up before she could stop it. “I’ve been workin’ on this for weeks. It’s at our house. Least he could do is come down outta that goddamn office for ten minutes instead of leavin’ me high and dry.” Her gaze glanced up to the second floor row of windows on the far-too-large home, eyes honing in on the window with the curtains drawn shut and the faint sliver of light glimpsed where the fabric met in the middle. They shifted briefly - had he been watching? Determined he wasn’t going to come down and be social?

Hades had never been the social butterfly that Persephone was, but it was his birthday of all things. He could have spared ten minutes.

Persephone tore her gaze away from the window with a scoff and another drink. She was buzzed; more than. On her way to being numb, hopefully. Easier to spend the nights that way, even without a patio full of guests.

“Least your boy showed up.” Persephone swiftly changed the subject then as her eyes landed on the skinny youth playing guitar across the pool. Ambient, but beautiful. She’d spoken with him earlier - Orpheus, Hermes had called him. One of his new clients at the agency. The boy didn’t have much stage presence, but Persephone had offered him the gig as a favor to Hermes (and her first choice had backed out last minute due to an emergency). He was kind, too innocent for the likes of Hollywood. The pack of vultures would pick him clean if Hermes wasn’t careful with him. But he was talented, and that was at least something. Several of her single guests both old and young had been admiring him, his playing, getting a little too close.

Course, the boy only had eyes for the little waif of a thing part of the catering company hired for the night, the girl who had been supplying drinks personally to Persephone all evening.

Persephone remembered what it was like, those fleeting glances. Turned into soft touches turned into curious words and stolen kisses and all the like. Beautiful. Warm. Brighter than the sun. Until suddenly it wasn’t.

“Already had some of your guests come see if they can book him for their next little soirees. Guess it turned out alright.”

“Glad somethin’ did.” She muttered lowly, too lowly for Hermes to hear. She stared down into her glass, the smudge of her lipstick, the ruby liquid within. Hoping it might reach up and swallow her whole. Her stomach churned quite suddenly and her lip curled.

Fine.

“Excuse me.” She stood, trying to find her balance as the world looked a little funny and wiggly in her vision. It steadied after a second, and Persephone set her glass on a small table by the lounge chair.

The house was quiet except the caterers who were restricted to the back hallway that led from the patio to the kitchen, constantly flooding food and drinks to her guests. At least they were enjoying the party, she thought sourly. Her shoes made soft clicking noises on impeccably polished tile, dampening only when she reached the runner carpet on the stairs that led up like a grand sort of thing. It was all excessive. Stupid. She hated it. Hated every inch of the house as if it were a gilded cage. Persephone was far happier in the midst of a dirty, bustling on-location set than what was meant to be home.

His office door was cracked; she didn’t bother knocking. She never did. He was there at his desk where she expected, head bent over what she assumed to be production budgets, requests, a collection of screenplays - whatever it was that big old producers did anymore. He didn’t even look up.

“You gonna stay up here all night?” She demanded sharply, standing half a foot from the front of his desk now.

“I got work. I’ll be down in a bit.” Her husband’s voice rumbled in it’s usual way, dark and deep as the bowels of the earth itself. Godly. She’d found it charming once. Now it felt like nails on chalkboards with the venom it always spewed. “You’ve missed an hour --”

“And I said I’ll be down in a bit.” He cut across her. Probably a warning, but Persephone shoved right through that warning and beyond.

“You’re the one everyone’s here to see.” She snapped. “And you can’t be assed to even show up after the work I put into this.”

“Unfortunately not all of us can plan events as work, wife. These have to be done tonight.” Hades finally looked up, dark eyes raking her in a moment too long. A small sense of pride wiggled into her chest - she’d dressed up beautifully for this party, this event meant to honor him. But his words stole the brief glint of peace right out of her lungs.

“I don’t know why I even bothered.” Persephone snarled. “You might as well be married to that work instead of me.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Persephone rolled her eyes.

“Whatever you want, Hades. I’m - do whatever the hell you want.” Her teeth clenched tightly, any traces of a smile gone. Any traces of the lovely, dutiful hostess gone. An expression not even worn in front of the camera in the most kitsch of films.

“Persephone -.” She threw up a hand to silence him before he could even finish the thought. “Happy birthday, Hades. Hope it’s everything you wanted.”

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infinite-nevers · 4 years ago

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chapter one; wayward son

Enna Scanlan bounced in her computer chair. Only two hours to go before Owen’s return to their village in around six years. Her best friend, Grace, stared at her over her mug, an amused smile across her face and dark green eyes creased. Enna’s eyes had been flicking over to the clock on the other side of the room since she got in at nine this morning. Her personal phone was barely out of her sight and checked every five minutes. It was usually kept tucked away in her bag in case their boss caught sight of it. ‘No personal phones in the office’ until lunch time was a strict rule. Then, Enna had devoted the entirety of today’s lunch hour to chasing signal around the huge office and cursing their hotel’s terrible location.

“He’s not texted then?” Grace asked mildly, sipping her tea, and twirling a red curl. That glare was thrown at her again. She chuckled, “I don’t get it- you’re in contact everyday, why is today any different?”

Enna and Owen couldn’t go a single day without contacting each other. There was always some text or phone call to interrupt her day. Enna had once gone away with her boyfriend on a surprise trip and had neglected to tell Owen. Two days had passed without contact and Owen had gotten so worried he’d rung Enna’s mum. There had been a long talk about boundaries after that, but their daily contact had resumed.

“Today is the day I finally see him,” Enna said, looking so excited Grace might have been a little jealous had she not already understood that she always came second to Owen. If only Sean, Enna’s boyfriend, would remember that too. Nothing could break Enna and Owen’s bond from birth, including not seeing each other for a year or two.

Enna sighed and grabbed her mug. Just as she began to stand to go to the kettle, she saw that Grace had already poured them their 3pm brews. She raised her mug, a kitsch red and blue offering, in an apologetic salute.

Enna knew she could become a little occupied in her friendship with Owen, but she’d never been this bad before. They’d been best friends growing up and in university but had still managed lives outside of each other. The ever-lengthening time apart and Owen’s sudden urge to come home had made Enna realise just how long it had been. They’d always planned visits but with life happening all around them it had never quite panned out as often as it should.

“Sorry,” Enna grimaced when she realised that she’d gotten lost in her head again. Grace just laughed, used to the memory lane disappearances by now.

“No worries. Just remember you’ve got ‘the future Mrs O’Donaghue’ breathing down your neck.”

“Oh f-” Enna squealed. Dragon Bride, a young woman who only answered to ‘the future Mrs O’Donaghue’, was getting married in a week’s time and her wish list only kept growing. As events coordinator for the hotel Enna had dealt with many difficult clients over the years. Dragon Bride beat them all. Enna shuddered to think of the consequences of ignoring her.

Two hours later, Enna pretended to bash her forehead against her desk as a high-pitched voice screeched into her ear, “this of the utmostimportant! Do you understand?”

Enna breathed in deeply through her nose and bunched her hair into a fist, “ma’am. Your wedding is in two weeks, it might be difficult to find a petting zoo to rent out in that time.” Her exhale whistled through gritted teeth.

“I don’t want it for the wedding! I want it for the hen do. Is this making sense to you now?” Dragon Bride yelled again. Enna’s knuckles whitened in her hair.

“That is in a week so it’s the same-”

“Just get it done.” Dialling tone rung loud in her ear.

She raised her head from her desk and stared at the phone. She let out a loud, frustrated squawk and slammed the phone down, “This woman is a nightmare!”

“Who’s a nightmare?” A cheerful voice cut through Enna’s frustration. She jumped with a yelp. Swivelling around in her seat she saw her boss, Conor, beaming widely at her. A charismatic man, half the office was in love with him. Blonde hair flopped over his twinkling eyes, always looking suitably messy from his paddle-boarding habit. He looked so much like a stereotypical Australian surfer that it was sometimes a little difficult taking him seriously as her boss.

“The future Mrs O’Donaghue.” Grace supplied, voice light with barely contained amusement.

“Ah,” Conor nodded, “the Dragon?” Enna blinked at his flippant tone. He was a very relaxed boss, insisted everyone called him and his wife by their first names, invited all of his staff down to the pub every Friday and knew them all by name, right down to the ground staff he saw maybe once a year, but usually he was quite respectful towards clients. Enna nodded dumbly.

“What did she want this time?” There was an annoyance in his voice that Enna couldn’t quite parse. Conor never got involved in her clients until Enna came to him with a problem. Then he’d hear the problem from both sides and try to help her solve the issue. She’d only mentioned Dragon Bride once in passing and Conor had dismissed her worries, promising to take her side in whatever.

“A petting zoo!” Grace replied with malicious glee. Enna shot her a look over her shoulder and got a quiet ‘what’ shrug back.

“Who’s paying for the wedding?” Conor asked without preamble, “trust fund baby?” It clicked in Enna’s head. Despite his own wealth from being a hotelier Conor was a snob about rich people. He hated people who had been born into wealth rather than working for it. He thought it made them spoilt and irresponsible. In the case of Dragon Bride, he was right.

“Her father,” Enna muttered. She didn’t want to add fuel to a possible tirade about the plight of the common people. Grace was giggling behind her, turning it into a cough when Conor furrowed his brows at her.

“Ignore her! If she complains I won’t take any notice. Just do your best! And put your phone away,” He nodded towards to Enna’s beeping phone, “oh wait, look it’s five. Pack up lads and ladies! It’s home time! Who’s coming to the pub?” He grinned and swung his arms around to suggest everyone wrap up what they were doing. Everyone instantly stood, having waited for their boss’ weekly pub invitation. Enna picked up her phone with a wry grin towards her eccentric boss, huddling people out of the door. A text from Owen awaited her – he had arrived.

She bolted for the door.

She arrived at the small, red brick bus station twenty minutes late and swearing the entire time. The bendy country roads, thankfully leaf free this time of year, were difficult to navigate anyway. Having vengeful farmers move their herds during rush hour just made it an exercise in anger management. She parked the car across the road, kicked the door shut with another loud curse and looked up to laughter.

Across the road, crouched against the bus station’s toilets walls, was Owen and he was laughing at her. He ran a hand through his hair. Enna grinned back at him, anger instantly melting away. She surreptitiously studied him as she tried to get to him. It had only been around two years since she’d gone to see him in the UK, but he looked untouched by that time. His hair still swung messily around his ears and his eyes still creased when he smiled.

“Sorry!” She yelled over the traffic, “I meant to text but signal on this road y’know,” she carried on as she ran across a gap in the cars going home from the city. Owen waved a dismissive hand as he stood and held his arms out. She threw herself into them apologising profusely, “Alan-”

“-is still punishing us mere mortals for not choosing God’s own profession by letting his sheep loose during rush hour?”

“Exactly!” She beamed as she drew away. Her eyes darted down to what he had been crouched over, “is that all you have?” Disappointment washed over her as she eyed the small duffle bag.

Owen laughed loudly. He ruffled her hair before dropping an arm around her shoulder. Picking up his bag, he guided her towards the luggage hold office opposite the ticket booth. Two huge suitcases stood in wait, “fear not little one, I’m here a while.” Enna let out a breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding. It was time to bring Owen home.

Later that night, and one sheep free journey later, the two stood outside their old home away from home. Ramble Inn was an old pub in a beautiful Georgian building with red trims around the window. The door had also been red at one point, but the paint had now peeled and faded to a faint pink. As they were growing up it had been their second living room. It was where they came after Mass, where they came after a match, and where they came after school once you hit fifteen. Try as you might though, Tom would never serve you.

Owen laughed at memories of a bygone era. Him, Enna, Grace and Liam, Enna’s older brother, clustered around a table playing dominoes with the old men. They’d enjoyed playing at being adults and the real adults had enjoyed indulging them. He wondered if they were still there.

“Tom still won’t serve you underage.” Enna guessed at his previous thoughts. Owen rubbed at his beard. One night, drunk and seventeen, Owen had tried to get served. He’d gotten quite rowdy; Tom had thrown him out and he’d landed on his face. He’d never forgotten the pain of a dislocated jaw.

“Tom’s still psychic, knows everyone ages, even the passers through. Kids don’t get anything but juice,” Enna grinned at him lost in his misty-eyed memories.

“You two going to stand outside here all night?” A voice cut through their reverie. They turned their head in unison. Caoimhe Walsh stood there with a hand on her hip and bright eyes fixed on Owen. A more recent addition to the village, a blow-in from Dublin, Caoimhe had been an instant hit. Tall, blonde, and beautiful, she was everything Enna wasn’t but every bit as sweet as she looked.

“Keev!” Enna grinned, “thought you were out with the girls tonight?” Unlike Enna, who found socialising wearing, Caoimhe thrived on it, flitting happily between social groups, welcomed by most.

“Yeah, we decided on a quiet one instead.” She slung an arm around Enna’s shoulder and threw a hand up to the Ramble Inn’s curling gold letters. Enna snorted. Caoimhe shot a wolfish grin back. They both knew she’d have no such thing.

Caoimhe’s eyes finally strayed to where Owen was looking at them with a slightly dumb smile on his face. Noticing Caoimhe looking at him, Owen offered a slightly dumb wave.

“Owen?” Caoimhe’s eyes went wide and, after a beat, threw her arms around him in a massive hug, “oh my god, you’re that Owen?”

Enna blinked rapidly at them. Keev had moved the village long after Owen had left. Although she had featured heavily in the stories Enna told him, he never mentioned knowing her.

“You’re that Caoimhe?” His laugh was jubilant as he picked her up, “I never made the link! Enna talks about you all the time. Oh, Eni, do you remember that business trip I took like two months ago?” Owen turned back to her when he caught sight of her tilted head and querying expression.

Caoimhe came back to Enna’s side and slid her hand into the hook of Enna’s arm. She grinned at her expectantly, “and remember that holiday I took two months ago?” She prompted when Enna didn’t connect the dots straight away. It must have all been too exciting because she didn’t wait for a response, “well we met at this bar, got chatting and when I said I was living in Ballygra… how did we not make the connection?”

Enna pulled a face. It certainly seemed a little unbelievable. There were so few people in the village and none with her name. Before she could query it, Keev said,

“Can’t believe Ballygra produces such hot men.” She winked at him. He nodded and winked back with a flirtatious grin. Enna snorted.

Nothing had changed then. It had been like this since he was about twenty-one. That’s when the braces had finally come off, bed head stopped being his only hair style and he’d discovered the power of personal hygiene. Since then people had flocked around him. She saw it, of course, but actual attraction was hard to summon when you’d seen them hungover countless times since you were fourteen.

“Are you coming to Midnight’s, Owen?” Caoimhe beamed as the thought occurred to her.

Saturday lunch at Café Midnight was their tradition; Enna, Liam, Grace and Caoimhe. Sometimes Sean would pop in his head, but Friday night was Boys Night and lunches were usually slept through as a healing process. Caoimhe dragged the pair inside instead of waiting for an answer. She already knew that, when together, where Enna was Owen would also be.

The Ramble Inn was the same as Owen remembered it. The wooden bar stood proud in the middle; battered, worn, and smelling of spilled beer and disinfectant. Old, wobbly stools stood guard including the one Enna had completely unpicked when she was fifteen. Tom had made her re-sew another one and, despite it being the ugliest thing in the world, he had made her sit on it every time she came in for years.

It was filled with the usual Friday night suspects. On the right-hand side, the men still played their dominoes. Old Man Charlie still had his whiskey clutched in his hand and an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips, smoking ban be damned.

On the left-hand side sat the younger crowd, some with kids because who wanted to cook on a Friday night? Teenagers tucked in the corner with juice, a group playing darts. Tom stood through it all, keeping court with a raggedy dishcloth tossed over his shoulder. The only difference was Tom’s hair now silver all over and there were extra wrinkles around his eyes. A spotty teenager served as a glass collector.

Caoimhe left Owen’s side the moment they entered. A group of women sitting at the back waved her over. One of them nodded to Owen and Caoimhe flew over to them to spread the gossip of his return.

Owen turned for Enna, but she had already brushed past. She nodded to all the familiar faces as she moved towards the bar. She leant on it, sitting on her stool, and laughed at whatever Tom said to her. Then she turned to point at Owen still standing by the door. Tom’s bushy eyebrows shot up.

“You’ve grown boy!” Tom yelled over the pub noise. It fell quiet. Everyone looked over at him. He shifted on his feet and offered an awkward wave. It took a few seconds, but the pub noise swelled once they recognised Ballygra’s wayward son. Old Man Charlie and his group raised their glasses. Tom beckoned him over. He shuffled over and Tom busied himself by the bar,

“You still Jameson’s?” He grinned his familiar, crooked smile and pushed a glass towards him. His returning smile was awkward, wondering how his jaw might last this encounter. A beer was in Enna’s hand and he raised an eyebrow. All through university Enna had been a cocktail girl, proudly declaring beer to be nothing but ‘wheat water’. She noticed his pointed look.

“Well, you’ve got to lower your standards for this place,” the wink she sent Tom was waved good-naturedly away.

Suddenly a large set of arms wrapped themselves around Enna’s waist. Lips pressed against her cheek and told her, “You’re late. Took your time getting here, didn’t you?” The tone aimed for teasing but missed.

“Sean! I had to pick Owen up and say hi to his mam of course,” Enna laughed. She turned around and reached up to peck him on the lips.

“How could I forget?” There was a slight edge to Sean’s voice that made Owen prickle slightly. Sean reached over with his hand extended. Owen shook it, proud that he only winced a little at the firm grip. The two men then regarded each other coolly over Enna’s head. She pretended not to notice, preferring to ignore a problem until it went away. Instead, she busied herself with looking around the pub for someone. The two men regarded each other. Sean was dark haired, blue-eyed, and muscular, the exact type Enna had lusted after all these years. Owen was brown haired, brown-eyed and, in Enna’s eyes, still wearing his teenage skin. Sean offered him a smile that never reached his eyes and turned away.

“She’s over there with Conor.” Sean said. Conor and Grace sat in a booth with their heads bent over a piece of paper. His beautiful wife, Sarah, sat on the other side of the pub, playing on her phone. Waving to Sarah, Enna grabbed Owen’s hand and pulled Owen towards her friend. Sean was shrugged off and sulked over to his darts group. His friend heard his complaining and clapped him on the shoulder. Sean hadn’t been in the village long enough to understand the friendship but everyone else had.

As the pair approached Grace and Conor, Enna narrowed her eyes on the piece of paper they were looking at. It was on the hotel stationery. Rarely was work brought to the pub, only during a big event at the hotel, and if it was, Enna’s presence was required. She strained her head forward to try and get a better look. Instead, it alerted the pair to their arrival. Grace glanced up. Her eyes widened and she kicked Conor under the table. He jerked up. It took a second but then he shot them his signature twinkle. The paper got surreptitiously tucked away into his inside jacket pocket.

“Owen!” Grace cried as she launched herself up and threw her arms around him. Enna was almost jealous of the amount of people hurling themselves at him.

Owen punched out a laugh as he braced for impact. His eyebrows shot up at her reaction. Sure, they’d grown up together, but it had been Enna and Owen, Liam and Grace. It had changed with Owen moving away and Liam getting a job as a GP in the next town over. It had become Enna and Grace with Grace falling out of contact Owen and taking less to Liam.

“How are you doing Grey?” Owen’s voice went soft, once more lost in memory. Grace shot him a wide smile. She placed her hands on his cheeks and gave them a pat, like she used to do.

She turned back to the table, “this is Conor, I mean Mr Murray!” Grace presented him with an arm flourish, “our boss,” she tacked on when the confused silence lengthened. Owen, not one to be rude, offered up a hand and a friendly greeting. Conor stood to clap him on the back before making his excuses to return to Sarah. Enna watched for a moment before she turned around to eye Grace.

“Number puzzles,” she said, “he finds one, sometimes in work, I help him if he’s stuck. You know Sarah has no head for numbers. Anyway, you back then?” The pair slipped into Conor’s vacated space. Grace dragged her eyes around the wayward son, “my, my you havegrown up.”

God, why did everyone keep saying that? Enna turned to assess him again. All she could see was the friend she’d helped get over ex’s, whose hair she’d held back during the morning afters.

“I don’t know.” He huffed to Grace’s question, “I told myself a month and then back to work.” A wistful look stole over his face as he turned it about the room. Some of Caoimhe’s friends were looking back over their drinks. The Old Boys kept flicking their eyes over, clearly wondering at how to treat him. Was he still considered one of their own after so long away? Was he a blow-in, like Conor and Caoimhe? Tom still wore holes in the floor behind the bar. The darts game ended with groans and Sean fist-pumping the air, “but who knows? This place – it’s home.”

Sean sidled over now that he’d won his game. He came to stand by Owen, looking down his nose pointedly at him. Owen avoided his gaze; seemingly engrossed by the bottom of his glass. Sean hovered a second more before sliding in beside Grace with a pout. Enna swallowed. Well, this might be awkward.

#gossip and coffee #my writing #creative writing #irish #murder mystery

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justjennvision · 1 year ago

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October 2023

“Floral Kitsch Hen”

Acrylic paint on reclaimed wood

6”x6”x2”

CEC auction piece

#miniature art #miniature painting #folksy chcken #folk art hen #folk art #folk art chicken #chicken painting #chicken art #kitsch hen #kitsch

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taxi-davis · 2 years ago

Photo

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unearthitaly · 5 years ago

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ITALY FROM A TO Z - A Review -

This past year I’ve been sharing an Italian word beginning with every letter of the alphabet and giving a bit of cultural context, which is always useful in order to implement the vocabulary when learning a new language.

Here’s a review (check the linked posts for more info):

A for AMERICANATA: “Americanata” [ fem.noun, pl.form “americanate”] is a word used by Italians to underline an action, a thing, a behaviour which is judged kitsch and characterized by delusions of grandeur, considered typical of the American demeanor [American intended as “citizen of the USA”]. - More info here;

B for BACIAPILE: “Baciapile” is a word used to indicate those people who are, apparently, very pious, because they always go to the Mass, but that, in the end, do not follow the Christian precept of love for the others. It is believed that, for them, the Mass is just means to appear good in public. - More info here;

C for CONTRAFFAZIONE: [La] Contraffazione [-i] means forgery/counterfeiting. It can be used especially when talking about counterfeit money, but not only.In Italy we use an expression to indicate a kind of forgery made abroad against Italy and the so-called “made in Italy” which employs this noun. It’s “contraffazione alimentare” ( “food counterfeiting”) - More info here;

D for DIVORZIO: [ Il ] Divorzio [pl.form “i divorzi”] means divorce. In Italy it was legally introduced in 1970, but given that not all agreed on it in the Parliament, they decided to organize a referendum to see if people wanted this new law. The majority of Italians voted yes to the divorce law during the referendum held in 1974. The word “divorzio” became known worldwide even before it was legal in Italy, thanks to the 1962 movie “Divorzio all'Italiana” (“Divorce Italian Style”) by Pietro Germi - More info here;

E for EDICOLA: [L’] edicola [pl.form: le edicole]. It can have different meanings. At first edicole were small temples, In a second moment they became niches located inside the temples, meant to contain the statues of the deities. In modern times we indicate with the noun “edicole” the newsstands. - More info here;

F for FARO: [ Il ] Faro [pl.form: i fari ] means lighthouse, but also headlight. This noun derives from the name of the small island ’pharos’, located in front of Alexandria and where there was the biggest lighthouse of the ancient times and considered one of the 7 Wonders of the World - More info here;

G for GALLO/GALLINA: [Il] Gallo [pl.form: i galli] means rooster and [La] Gallina [pl.form: le galline] hen.The “realm” of the henhouse has always been used as a metaphor of the society in the Italian Culture. Check the post to see the countless idioms where gallo and gallina are used in Italian idioms;

H for HOTEL: The word hotel is clearly a loan word according to Italians, because in our language we don’t really have many words beginning with “h”. It’s indeed a French word. What many of us ignore, though, is that the French word derives from the Latin term “hospitale” [hosting place].What you might find peculiar in Italy is finding certain kinds of hotels which are not to be found or are not popular outside the Belpaese. Check the post to discover more about them;

I for ITALIANIZZAZIONE: [L’] Italianizzazione [fem.noun], meaning “Italianization”, is the spreading of the Italian Culture, people or language which can happen through integration or assimilation.When we use this term, though, we specifically point out that specific forced policy carried out by the Fascist dictatorship in the African colonies, in the European territories annexed during WWII and in the Italian areas populated by linguistic minorities ( South Tyrol, Venezia Giulia, Aosta Valley, the Asiago Plateau etc.) Foreign languages and press were prohibited, foreign-sounding surnames and toponymy translated and foreign schools suppressed. - More info here;

J for JUVENTUS: [ La ] Juventus ( = Juventus Football Club ). We don’t have many words beginning with J in Italian and Juventus is probably the most famous. - More info here;

K for K2: K2 [ Italian pronunciation: “kappa due” ] is the second highest mountain in the world and it’s located in the Karakoram range, on the border between China and Pakistan. What has Italy to do with Pakistan and the K2 ? Well, it was an Italian expedition that first climbed the mountain on 31.July 1954. After the war, a great venture was believed to be necessary “to lift the country’s mood” and the attempt to the second highest, but most difficult mountain to climb, seemed like a great opportunity. - More info here;

L for LIBERAZIONE: [La] Liberazione [pl.form: le liberazioni]. As its English translation “liberation”, it’s the action of setting someone free from imprisonment, slavery or oppression. In Italian Culture we use the term “liberazione” to indicate the 25th April, the so-called “Giorno della Liberazione”, Day of Liberation. - More info here;

M for MEDIOEVO: [ Il ] Medioevo means “Middle Ages” and, as you know, it’s the historical period that goes from the 476 aC (the fall of the Roman Empire) to 1492 aC (the discovery of America). What you might don’t know is that, nowadays, in #Italy we still use some idioms “invented” in the Middle Ages. Check them out here;

N for NOZZE: [Le] Nozze [plural] is the Italian translation for “nuptials”. A synonym is “matrimonio” (which is not formal like its English counterpart “matrimony”). Not many know, though, that the words nozze/nuptials take their name from the bride’s veil. The Latin naptiae derived indeed from nubere= “to veil”, which then became “to marry”. - More info here;

O for ORO: [ L’ ] Oro [masc.noun] is Italian word for gold. As you probably know Italy does well in the production and trade of luxury items and it’s actually the first country for the number of firms operating in this branch. The gold industry is obviously one of them. We have three important “gold districts” in Italy which are those of: Valenza Po in Piedmont; Arezzo in Tuscany; Vicenza in Veneto. - More info here;

P for PREVISIONE: [La] Previsione [pl.form: le previsioni] means “prevision”, “prediction”. This word in Italy is mostly used in association with “tempo” to form the expression “previsioni del tempo”, which are the weather forecasts. - More info here;

Q for QUOTIDIANO: [Il] Quotidiano is a useful word that can have different meanings. ⚡It is usually translated as “daily”, but it can also be used as a noun to indicate the daily routine. It is also used to indicate the daily newspaper. - More info here;

R for RECITAZIONE: [ La ] Recitazione is “acting” in Italian language. Italians, often described as quite “creative” and “artistic”, are known for being naturally talented actors. There’s even a famous quotation by Orson Welles that stated that Italy was populated by 50 millions actors and the worst were those on stage, lol. - More info here;

S for SAVOIARDO: [Il] Savoiardo [pl.form: i savoiardi]. The savoiardi, known in English as “lady fingers”, are the biscuits used for the preparation of the tiramisù. - More info here;

T for TERREMOTO: [Il] terremoto [ pl.form: i terremoti ] means earthquake and, sadly, it’s a word which we happen to use a lot in Italy. - More info here;

U for UMORISMO: [ L’ ] Umorismo is “humour” in Italian. People’s ability to comprehend and appreciate humour largely depends on a host variables like one’s culture, education and even intelligence. Another factor is, surely, the geographical location and, in a place like Italy, could a thing not vary according to the region or town? Obviously not! Check which are the most famous kinds of Italian humour that we have in this post ;

V for VULCANO: [Il] Vulcano [ pl.form: i vulcani] is volcano in English. Italy is one of the countries with the highest number of volcanos in Europe. “Vulcano” is even the name of a proper volcano and of the island where it is located (which belongs to the Aeolian archipelago in Sicily). - More info here;

LETTER W: Even though in Italian the letter W is not considered part of the alphabet, the character has a symbolic meaning. W stands for “evviva” or “viva”, which mean “hooray for”. We have also the counterpart which is a W positioned upside down that stands for “abbasso” and means “down with”. - More info here;

X for XYLELLA: Xylella is a term that, sadly, has become popular in the recent years, especially in Apulia. It’s an aerobic bacterium that causes various diseases in plants. In Italy it has attacked olive trees in the Salento area in Apulia causing the olive quick decline syndrome. - More info here;

Y for YODEL: [Lo] Yodel - also known as jodel - is a type of rural song that involves repeated and rapid changes of pitch between the so-called “chest voice” and the high-pitch head register or falsetto. It was born in the area of the Central Alps as it was used by the hearders to call their stock or to communicate with other Alpine villages. In Italy it is present in South Tyrol given its cultural heritage. - More info here;

Z for ZAMPILLO: [Lo] zampillo [ pl.form: gli zampilli]. It’s often translated as “gush” and it’s used to indicate, indeed, a small gushing of water or blood. - More info here.

#Italian language #italian vocabulary #italian vocab list #italian #italian words #masterpost

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