In these times where contact with friends is largely digital, the stream of voice messages coming in often seems endless. Sometimes it even feels like a parttime job to listen to them all and then answer them too, especially if, like me, you’re not exactly the person that can keep things short. The simple question “come stai?” (how are you?) is regularly answered with minutes of extensive elaboration and that’s how I heard an Italian friend mentioning last week how she was depressed. However, the enthusiasm with which she announced it did not seem to match the content of her message. Right away, I knew I did not need to worry too much. And indeed, while I continued listening, I heard her saying that she felt completely down and lost because it was so grey outside. But tomorrow, when the sun would be radiating in the Roman sky again, her depression would disappear like snow in the sun.
That many Italians, and certainly Romans, feel a little down when the weather is gloomy, is a fact, I dare say. However, that it’s an official affliction and not an affectation I only discovered now
Do you recognise this? I do to some degree, and I know many others do too. In Italy, where the negative impact of a grey sky somehow seems even greater, perhaps because it’s pretty rare, they even have a name for it. Someone who experiences these symptoms is called a meteoropatico. At first, I thought people had simply made up this name, but it turned out to have a scientific origin after all. A quick google search taught me exactly what it means: “A meteoropatico develops a general feeling of malaise just before the weather changes. Then there is an acute phase of dejection corresponding to the grey weather, but a rapid softening follows. The symptoms disappear with the end of the bad weather.” Another article spoke of a “widespread but unknown condition”. That many Italians, and certainly Romans, feel a little down when the weather is gloomy, is a fact, I dare say. However, that it’s an official affliction and not an affectation I only discovered now.
At the mere thought of Milan, their faces contort and they murmur in horror about the awful nebbia (fog) that so often shrouds the capital of Lombardy, not even to mention Northern Europe
Because from a Dutch perspective, the Romans are downright spoiled. I can still look around in amazement in Rome at how they not even seem to pay attention to the fact that the sun is shining day after day, whether it’s January, March or November. At the same time, the Romans seem to be well aware of their rather advantageous situation, because at the mere thought of Milan, their faces contort and they murmur in horror about the awful nebbia (fog) that so often shrouds the capital of Lombardy, not even to mention Northern Europe.
No doubt you can imagine what they picture the Netherlands to be like
I can still vividly remember how we discussed the Disneyland Paris case study during my studies at a Roman university. The professor went over all the so-called ‘mistakes’ that had been made in choosing Paris as the European location. You guessed it: according to her, the biggest mistake they had made was not thinking about “the terrible climate of grey skies, the cold and the rain in Northern Europe” (for the average Italian, anywhere they use butter instead of olive oil is considered Northern Europe). No doubt you can imagine what they picture the Netherlands to be like.
Thick blankets of snow, the Amsterdam canals completely covered in ice and children going to school on their ice-skates. In the Netherlands, we all know that these are just picturesque scenes from a bygone age
The fact that it is no longer an exception for temperatures to reach 38 degrees in summer, especially in the very south of the Netherlands, has not yet been fully recognised in Italy. This is probably also due to the numerous world-famous paintings of typical Dutch winter scenes from the nineteenth century. Thick blankets of snow, the Amsterdam canals completely covered in ice and children going to school on their ice-skates. In the Netherlands, we all know that these are just picturesque scenes from a bygone age. Memories that only our grandparents have lived. After all, winters like that don’t happen anymore here, do they? Oh, but wait…
Temperatures dropping to twelve degrees below zero and snowstorms with icy, cutting winds; at first it mainly brought about images of terror and shivers
How astonished we were by the weather forecasts last week. Temperatures dropping to twelve degrees below zero and snowstorms with icy, cutting winds; at first it mainly brought about images of terror and shivers, especially in me. The first symptoms of my inner meteoropatica seemed to manifest herself. On top of that, the weather forecasts for Rome predicted 21 degrees with sunshine for the entire Sunday. I didn’t want to hear a single word about it…
The scenes of pure delight can be compared to the images of Madrid a few weeks ago. Safe to say that quite the opposite of the meteoropatico has manifested itself
However, the initial shock turned into total, collective joy. For the first time in years, the whole country is covered in snow, dogs and cats curiously stick their snouts into this weird white stuff and children are sledding for the first time in their lives. People were dancing in the streets, others were skiing in the parks and people even tried to snowboard being strapped to the tow bar of the car. The scenes of pure delight can be compared to the images of Madrid a few weeks ago. Safe to say that quite the opposite of the meteoropatico has manifested itself: people are speaking about what a great gift from nature this is during these bizarre times in lockdown when there is so little to enjoy. On Sunday morning, an Italian living in The Hague immediately texted me: “La neve a Roma non ce l’hai…”, or in other words: You don’t get snow in Rome. Touché, I texted back.
So, what was going on in Rome in the meantime? You know, where people were so primed for a lovely spring day of sunshine and 21 degrees
So, what was going on in Rome in the meantime? You know, where people were so primed for a lovely spring day of sunshine and 21 degrees. Well, the weather gods seem to have played a mean trick with the Romans because despite the bright looking forecast, it rained all day. And when I say rain, I mean it was pouring. And while my phone vibrated and I saw all these voice messages coming in from Italy on Sunday evening, I braced myself. Because you can probably guess in what depressing mood all my meteoropathic Italian friends were…