A Dispute in Italy

     We left Barcelona overdosed on Spanish history, bizarre structures, tapas, crowds, Gaudi, and Miro. Next stop:  Naples.

     Over the years we have fallen in love with southern Italy.  Life is exuberant and loud.  Neapolitans are brash, grabbing life as it comes and squeezing tight, as evidenced by the antics of twosomes on scooters or in passionate embraces whenever the mood strikes.  Neapolitans have ruled and been ruled, many times. They know in the course of human events, cultures are fleeting.  The sea lies in front of them, with Vesuvius behind.

     Men gather to discuss world events, local problems, and familial disputes.  Their voices rise, as their hands move up and down in prayer position.  Sometimes they squeeze their fingers together, pointing inward, as if they'd burned themselves.  For hours they stand there talking and yelling, yet nothing seems to get resolved.

   
     The three-quarter-mile road to our hotel on the island of Ischia was under construction for eighteen months.  The hotel owner was in a dispute with his neighbor, who shares the driveway, as to who should pay to fix the road.  Meanwhile, guests could either walk up the hairpin turns high over the Bay of Naples or wait at a staging area for the hotel to retrieve them.

     Last year, we noticed stones from the wall along the driveway tumbling down the hillside. Walkers could become ghosts, swallowed by gaping voids that delineated the sides of the promontory. "This is a prestigious hotel and I don't understand why the owners can't negotiate a settlement," I said to Charley.  "They're a member of a chain that must demand inspections."

     "You'd think they'd have paid off the neighbor," Charley, the pragmatist, said.

     "There has been a dispute as to who owns the part that needs fixing," the hotel manager told us.  "They won't accept our offer."

     This year, a new rock wall appeared where the driveway had been disintegrating.  The neighbor constructed a ninety-degree angle where the property divided.  The walls create such a narrow turn that taxis can't make it through.  Unless they're in Lilliputian cars, hotel guests must wait for shuttles to bring them to the hotel.  I could hear the neighbor saying, "Gotcha!"







   

   

   

   



   

"Building" an Argument

     Just like any other married couple, we have our disagreements.  Have you ever asked, "How does that make you feel?" in the middle of an argument with your spouse?  Me, neither.  And I know enough not to mention my husband's departed mother during an argument.  Although it would be easier to blame her for his faults, since she can no longer defend herself and she raised him, didn't she?  I'm sure my daughters-in-law have a few thoughts about me during arguments with my sons.
     I don't go to psychological help books like, His Needs, Her Needs; ScreamFree Marriage; and Getting to 'Yes.'  Some couples find marital retreats helpful, where they practice the avoidance of name-calling and placing blame.  Can't I practice that in my kitchen?
     Today researchers have discovered ways to BUILD better family arguments, including those between siblings.  That's right - build an argument.   In a N.Y. Times article on April 14, 2013, Bruce Feiler discusses seven lessons from various psychologists' and professors' research.  Here they are:

1.  Do not bring up an issue that bothers you between 6 and 8 p.m.  Women, not men, are highly stressed during those hours (can anyone guess why??).

2.  Physical posture matters!  Sit at the same height to talk to each other, with feet on the floor, and look in the other person's eyes.  Do NOT cross your arms over your chest like Chief Sitting Bull.

3.  All parties should sit on CUSHIONED  chairs.  A soft cushion makes people more accommodating and generous. (Perhaps pillows would suffice, if there aren't cushioned chairs.)  Parties should sit next to each other, instead of opposite, to increase collaboration.  So far, they're not recommending hand-holding.

4.  In a heated argument, go to the balcony for five minutes.  If you don't have a balcony, just separate.  Come up with alternative solutions that would be acceptable to you before coming back together.  New options might emerge - or not.

5.  Be sure to get out an egg timer before starting an argument (?!).  Each party should have three minutes to state his case.  After that, researchers found that people repeat themselves and voices get louder with each repetition.  If this begins to happen, go to the balcony for five minutes (you will cool off quicker if the temperature is below freezing).  Just be sure to come back.

6.  Never use the word "You."  Use "I" or "We."  The pronouns "he" or "she" should be avoided, since focus will divert to another party (perhaps, rightfully so?).

7.  "I'm sorry" is necessary because it may describe how you feel.  If it isn't how you feel, say it anyway.  Apparently it will indicate you're taking responsibility for the impact you've had on someone else.  Try to avoid all sarcasm as you say the words.

I have no additional comments to make on these findings.  I'm sure some of you might, though.

Oops - Forgot Something!

I've heard of leaving a child behind, but a wife??

Taking some heat - Galapagos, Ecuador

         HIS VERSION

The guys were all in the back of the bus playing poker.  We wanted to be close to the john, since we'd polished off a few beers by the time we stopped for lunch in St. Johnsbury, Vermont.

The women were all up front, and the guys were happy about that!  We didn't have to listen to the yapping from Bangor all the way to Montreal.

Sue and I had lunch together when we stopped.  Then our monitor, who was a member of our group, told us to get back on the bus.  I said to Sue I didn't need to use the bathroom in the restaurant, so I did what I was told.   I got back on the bus.  I figured Sue'd get on with the women.

One of my real good friends, Tom, was with us and he's a joker.  About three miles out of town, he asked where Sue was.

"Up front," I told him. 

Tom walked up the aisle, then came back and said, "She's not here.  I thought I spotted her running toward the bus when we took off."

My first reaction was that he was being an asshole and he'd hidden her in the nose of the bus or in the bathroom.  But I realized she hadn't passed us to get back there.  So I took a walk up front.

He was right.  No Sue!

I asked the monitor if he'd counted us before we left St. Johnsbury.  "All you have is one wife and you can't keep track of her?" he said.

We had to go another mile before the bus could turn around.  St. Johnsbury is a one-street town, and when we got back, there was only one sign of life.  It was Sue, pacing back and forth on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant.

The first time she spoke to me was three days later, when we got back home.

HER VERSION

What husband doesn't check to make sure his wife is on board?  He knows I always uses the restroom after a meal, and I sure as heck wasn't going to use the one on the bus, with all those beer-guzzling guys peeing in there!

He's saying it was the monitor's fault.  I had lunch with him, not the monitor.  I was with him when he told me he was getting back on the bus.  That's when I went to the restroom. 

I figure he must have been losing at poker because I was the furthest thing from his mind all during lunch.  He deserved that "Screw-up of the Year" plaque at the national convention!