furbo

furbo
cunning or crafty person

Only after years of visiting Italy did I realize that Italians admire rather than disdain a furbo, someone who can pull off a clever deception. “Che furbetto!” a young mother exclaimed rather proudly when her son shifted the blame for a childish prank to his little brother.

An impressed friend recounted how a shrewd furbacchione had obtained a coveted building permit for a rectangular, cement-lined hole in his backyard by describing it, not as a swimming pool (prohibited by law), but as a storage vat for water that local firefighters might need to douse a blaze. A more deceitful furbastro would somehow manage to make money in the process, while a wheeler-dealer furbone would go after big profits by negotiating permits for an entire village.

The furbo holds a prominent place in Italian history. Although best known as a seducer, Giovani Giacomo Casanova (1725-1798) swindled his way to (and through) several fortunes. The self-declared Count of Cagliostro (1743-1795), a Sicilian street urchin, conned gullible souls across Europe with magical elixirs for youth and potency, mystical spells and skillful forgeries.

The Fascist dictator Benito Mussolini (1883-1945) hoodwinked Hitler himself. When the Fuhrer visited Rome in May, 1938, Il Duce proudly displayed a prosperous imperial city. But its walls of gleaming travertine marble were nothing more than painted stage sets. The poet Trilussa wrote a famous epigram in Roman dialect on the occasion:

“Roma de travertino, / rifatta de cartone, / saluta l’imbianchino, / suo prossimo padrone.”
(“Rome of travertine, re-made with cardboard, greets the house pointer who will be her next master”)

My husband, transformed from Bob to Roberto in Italy, cannot resist a linguistic version of furbizia by casually dropping well-rehearsed Italian witticisms into conversations as if he were fluent. Italian acquaintances invariably applaud Professor Roberto for his cleverness.

However, some furbizia also lurks in my soul. The very first aphorism I taught Bob—and encouraged him to say on every occasion—was, Mia moglie ha sempre ragione. My wife is always right.

Sayings and Expressions:

Non fare il furbo—don’t try to be clever.

Per conoscere un furbo, ci vuole un furbo e mezzo – to know a trickster, it takes a trickster and a half (roughly, it takes one to know one)

An Italian friend recalls a childhood rhyme her friends would recite while rhythmically bouncing a ball against a wall:

Calzolaio Furbacchione (The shrewed shoemaker)
Fa le scarpe di cartone (makes shoes out of cardboard)
La signora non ci bada (the lady doesn’t notice)
Perde il tacco a meta’ strada (she loses the heel along the way).

Buon compleanno!

Buon compleanno!

Happy Birthday!

Today is my birthday, but this year I’m taking (or at least trying to take) a new perspective on the ever-advancing years. Rather than fretting in English about the time elapsed since my date of birth, I’m switching to the wonderful Italian notion of “compleanno.” Its root verb compiere dates back to the thirteenth-century poets who were the first to write in the Tuscan vernacular rather than in classical Latin. While compiere can translate as “complete,” it also can mean “fulfill.” And so I am joyously celebrating the fulfillment of my years.

Perhaps because the language itself is so old, Italian displays a kinder, gentler attitude toward aging. An Italian will never bluntly demand, “How old are you?” This question translates into “Quanti anni hai?” “How many years do you have?” Ever so subtly the phrasing implies that the higher the number, the bigger the bouquet. Perhaps that’s why Italians typically think of themselves as the age they will be on their next birthday.

A young Italian, eager for grown-up status, will say, “Sto per compiere quindici anni” (I’m about to turn 15—literally to complete fifteen years). Older Italians refer to themselves as being in “the class of,” say, 1948 or 1955. I thought they were referring to a graduation year until a friend explained that “class” refers to year of birth, not schooling.

To mark the completion of another year, birthday celebrants in Italy share their happiness by giving treats to others rather than receiving consolation prizes for time served. In return, family and friends toast them with auguri or best wishes. “Cent’anni!” (A hundred years!) wrote a friend in my first e-mail of the day. “Cento di questi giorni!” (A hundred of these days!) wrote another. I extend the same good wishes to all of you.


Sayings and Expressions

“Oggi compio gli anni” – Today’s my birthday. (Literally, today I fulfill my years.)

Essere avanti con gli anni – to be getting on in years

"Tanti auguri a te" -- the equivalent of the English "Happy Birthday to You" song, sung to the same melody