Out and about

We've had a busy couple of days. It turns out that Fidenza, small town though it is (pop. 27,000), and the surrounding area are crammed with activity.

On Monday night I accompanied Pam and Romano to a gathering in a park in Parma for a ceremony commemorating the victims of the 1945 atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, put on by the city of Parma and its small Japanese community. Pam, through her qi gong practice, knows a lot of the people in the area's Zen community, including some of the locals who do taiko drumming. Their performance was the highlight of the evening.

As you can see, at least two Italian-born Buddhist monks were in attendance, in full costume despite the heat, as well as several women in full kimono. By the end of the performance I was covered in sweat, just from watching.

Yesterday, Tuesday, I walked over to the Fidenza pool to check out their aqua aerobics program. It seems astonishingly vigorous compared to the rather sedate exercise regime offered at the pool I attend in California.

I snuck this picture while checking out the "Acqua Fitness" class

Various classes during the week use underwater bikes or underwater treadmills as well as plain old jumping around, all to the beat of really LOUD Italian EDM. It looks like heaven. I bought a 10-lesson subscription.

That night I was planning to go to the open-air movie that the town puts on most weeknights. Shades of Cinema Paradiso, right? But Danny was feeling poorly and looking awful, pale and shaky  So Pam, Romano, and I ended up taking him to the emergency room, the Pronto Soccorso, at the local hospital. Since he wasn't judged to be in too bad shape, we got to spend a lot of time waiting around.

I took this in the waiting room but failed to capture the studliness of these two carabinieri, who looked like bachelorette-party entertainers, the kind with velcro pants

The hospital is only 14 years old and very spiffy. Best of all, it is nicely air-conditioned, which made the wait slightly less onerous, since outside it was still in the high 80s and soggily humid.

A lot of people who were worse off got in ahead of us, as was only proper. One amiable old gentleman was sitting in a wheelchair with a bloody head wound. Eventually they took him into the treatment area in back. After a while he emerged, walking under his own steam, with the blood cleaned up and a bandage on the back of his head. "I'm still alive," he told us cheerily, in Italian. "I did something stupid."

"Very stupid," agreed his companion as he led him out into the night.

"Keep the door closed," an unheeded sign in the Radiology Department

Things went along efficiently but slowly. Eventually Danny was seen, tested, prodded, and evaluated, with Pam and Romano taking turns as translators while I sat uselessly by. Danny felt worse about keeping them both up so late than about his own condition. In the end they decided he was dehydrated and gave him an IV of water and minerals. He felt better and they sent us home.

When we left, around 2 a.m., we were presented with the bill. Even though I'm a citizen, I'm not enrolled in Italy's state health-care system because my primary residence is abroad (that is, California). And of course Danny has even less claim to Italian largesse, so he was there as a private-pay patient.

For various blood tests, a CAT scan, the IV, and a follow-up visit with a neurologist, the bill came to slightly less than $230. To say I'm happy to pay it is an understatement.

It's times like this when you have to wonder what the hell is wrong with the United States.

Following yesterday's excitement, today's activity was going to a concert this evening at a small outdoor auditorium in one of Fidenza's parks, where our friend Romano and two young singers offered a bouquet of songs, arias, and duets to a small and, according to Pam, very socially select audience.

Romano's stage presence was, as always, magical--I could happily watch him even with the sound turned off, although the sound is reliably gorgeous. You would never have guessed he'd been up till all hours the night before working as a medical translator.

The young tenor, Pietro Brunetto, a student of Romano's, effortlessly hit all kinds of dazzling high notes. The soprano from Iceland, who was introduced only as Berta (the announcer refused to attempt her last name), had plenty of high notes, too, and all three of them received rapturous applause, especially when they concluded with a trio from La Traviata. 

The second encore: Bravi tutti!