"Pieno Rosso" ("full red")

We have been reading a book called La testa degli Italiani (The Head [as in brain/psychology] of the Italians—there’s an English translation called La Bella Figura) by Beppe Severgnini. It’s very entertaining, and often very accurate (although sometimes exaggerated). One of very accurate chapters is on Italian traffic and driving, and since he describes it so well, here’s a section for you to read:
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excerpt from
“The Street, or The Psychiatry of the Traffic Light”
(loosely translated by Emily)

This is why, in Italy, the rules aren’t respected the way they are in other countries: we feel that accepting a general rule slights our intelligence. To obey is banal; we want to think it through ourselves. We want to decide if that rule applies to us in our particular situation. Right there, in that moment.

Take a look at this red light. It seems the same as any other traffic light in the world; actually, it is an Italian invention. It isn’t an order, as the naïve believe; it isn’t even a recommendation, as the superficial might say. Instead, it is a starting point for a thought process. It’s almost never about a petty debate. Useless, maybe. Petty, no.

Many of us [Italians] look at a traffic light, and the brain doesn’t sense a prohibition (Red! Stop. You mustn’t pass). It senses, instead, a stimulus. Okay: what type of red is this? A crosswalk red? But it’s seven in the morning, at this hour there aren’t any pedestrians. That red, therefore, is a debatable red, a red-that’s-not-really-red: thus, we go through it. Or is it a red that regulates an intersection? But what kind of intersection are we talking about? Here we can see very well who comes, and no one’s coming. Therefore this red is only sort-of-red, a relative red. What do we do? We think on it a little, then we go through it. And if instead it were a red that regulated a dangerous intersection (streets that cross each other, high speeds, impossible to see who’s coming)? What a question: we stop, and wait for the green. In Florence—we will go there—exists the expression “full red” [meaning a red light at which you actually stop and wait]. “Red” is a bureaucratic term. “Full” is a personal contribution.
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And he’s right. This means that drivers in Florence appear “crazy” to foreign tourists, who expect cars to follow some form of the “accepted” rules of the road (example: red = stop)—but it you’re paying attention (to the cars, not to the traffic light), crossing the street is not actually as dangerous as it looks (although pedestrians do yield the right of way to cars and motorcycles out of sheer self-defense, and many of the Smithies feel that braving the Florentine streets on a bicycle is akin to bungee jumping—something you admire other people for doing, but that you can’t quite work up the courage to do yourself, because, no matter how many people do it on a regular basis and live, your gut still tells you that launching yourself off a bridge is a supremely bad idea). It took me less than a week to learn that when you want to cross the street, you simply wait for a break in the traffic and go, regardless of any walk/don’t walk signal; if necessary, you run.

Also, there is very little practical distinction between street and sidewalk. Nominal “sidewalks” do exist, but cars often drive on them—which is perhaps only fair, since pedestrians frequently walk in the road. This is especially in the narrow, cobbled-stoned streets in central Florence; once you get to the wider, paved streets a little farther out, the distinction is clearer.

Another section from the same chapter on traffic helps to explain something I mentioned in one of the photo captions: EVERYONE wears a helmet when riding a motorcycle (or moped), but no one* wears a helmet on a bicycle. I was baffled by this, because while motorcycles do go faster than bicycles, both ride in the same streets with the same cars and the same fluid interpretation of the traffic laws, and a bicyclist seems even more vulnerable than a someone on a motorcycle. But then I read a section where Severgnini points out that bicyclists in Florence are essentially considered pedestrians—and it occurred to me that pedestrians are just as vulnerable as bicyclists, and no pedestrian would ever wear a helmet. Also, it’s entirely possible that it’s easier to look cool wearing a motorcycle helmet than a bike helmet.

At some point I also want to talk about the bus system in Florence. It’s excellent, and has unbelievably helpful signage. For now, though, I’ll finish by saying that orientation classes have ended (we took the exams for them on Friday), and regular semester classes at the Sede start on Monday. I’ll be taking Art History, History of Florence, History of Costume and Design, and Survey (which is essentially History of Literature, so I’m getting a lot of history, all of it Florence-centric, this semester—which is not necessarily a bad thing, and should (hopefully) mean lots of interesting field trips (and for field trips Smith pays any entrance fees when our museum card doesn’t get us in for free—that alone would justify taking the classes!).


*almost no one. I saw two bicyclists with helmets last week, and one more a few days ago, but they were probably all study abroad students.