Il Dolce Far Niente (The sweetness of doing nothing)

“il Dolce far niente!” It is a well known Italian phrase that translates to - 'the sweetness of doing nothing'. Apparently, Italians have figured out how to spend their leisure time, enjoying idleness without indulging in boredom – as their neighbors the French famously do. Articles and books have been written on the subject and a movie has been made too. People even credit this ability or attitude in equal measure with wine and olive oil – for their health and happiness.

Suffice it to say that the idea of ‘Dolce Far Niente’ interested my wife and I immensely,  and we decided to explore further by taking a week-long tripthis summer  – our very first – to Italy –  this summer. (It’s still summer isn't it?)

My idea of the trip was that we will soak in the place, its flavor and its mood and do nothing else - in short enjoy the Dolce Far Niente - for at least a week. As they say about best laid plans ...they have a tendency of going off-script.

We split the tasks – I would book the air tickets and she would do the planning. Planning? I wondered!

It should have given me a clue of the things to come, when my wife picked up 2 guidebooks from the local bookshop, another 3 from the county library and an assortment of travel DVDs. I wondered if idleness too required extensive instruction?

Even before the tickets had been booked, detailed maps with carefully highlighted locations, routes and timings began appearing everywhere - on the kitchen island, dining table and bedside. Our tabletop printer was busy churning out brochures, maps and bookings

I still kept on believing that it was the lazy life that we were going there for – and little else.

One fine morning - we found ourselves at the Fiumicino Airport Rome and began exploring transportation options to our hotel.

For two days we wandered around Rome taking in ancient ruins, Roman Architecture and art. Then another two tramping through the medieval city of Florence enduring an art overload – out of which – all that remained with me was the statue of ‘David’ by Michael Angelo And if you think that was busy, consider day 5 when we toured 3 towns in Tuscany in a one-day bus trip – which included a trip to the tower that they couldn't build straight.

It was while I was sitting idly for about 15 minutes on a farm in Tuscany – seeing the town of San Gimignano in the distance – that it hit me: I hadn't checked a single email, nor received a phone call or text message in all these days. I hadn't worried about drop-off and pickup arrangements for our kids to and from school and other enrichment activities. In short – despite the busy site-seeing schedule we were on – our minds were uncluttered and in a way – we were enjoying the Dolce Far Niente of it. And that thought added to the happy feeling of the moment.

Now that I get it, I think I can put that elaborate Italian phrase into a single word. I call it ‘Golfing’.

Racial revelations

Take a good look at the picture of the bloke on this page. No really! take a good hard look. By any stretch of imagination, would you accuse him of melanin deficiency in his skin? I didn't think you would. See, that is a picture of me. And recently my identity was challenged or rather redefined, by the law - no less. Read on to find out how..

Even though we're supposed to be in a post-racial America, Race is inescapable. News, analysis, opinion pieces - all are filled with racial information whenever its news about a person. Fortunately we leave objects alone, in this respect and so we don't get headlines like 'Tons of Asian mud slid down a mountain to cover a town' or 'Hispanic waters are rising - threatening flood'.

Full disclosure: I was born in India - so says my passport, and also my mum; no birther has claimed otherwise. And all atlases plant India squarely in Asia - ergo I should classify as Asian in the simplified American racial categories of White, Black, Hispanic, Asian & Pacific Islander.
Simple enough? At least I thought so, and once I had figured this bit out, it was easy enough to check off the box next to Asian in every form everywhere. And it IS everywhere. So much for the famous dream of Dr. King. I tend to think this isn't the route to a racially blind society - but I could be wrong. Maybe we do need to talk race ad nauseum, until people are thoroughly bored and give it up - becoming post racial or racially blind in the process.

But, I digress from the main story. So, I needed a short term work visa to a certain European country whose name engendered one of the races defined in America. Among the myriad documents required for the application was also a set of fingerprints taken by 'the local law enforcement authorities' - the city police. So I presented myself at the local police office and asked for my fingertips to be blackened with black ink, and paid $10 for the privilege to smear blank cards with said ink. A bargain really - kindergarten fun for $10 :-)
Little did I know I was getting a lot more than just that - an identity adjustment of the racial variety.

The friendly lady at the counter began filling out the cards before handing over to me. When it came to the race column she got stuck. Then called a colleague over and they began having a whispered conversation. Slightly nervous at the unexpected attention, I asked what the matter was.
"We're trying to determine what race to put you down as." said the original officer.
Well that was easy I thought. "I'm Asian." I informed them.
"But you don't look Asian." quipped the other, informing me of my insufficiently Jackie Chan-esque looks.
I tried to reason the issue: "Look, I was born in India. India is in Asia - and therefore I am Asian."
"We know that." I was told by the ladies in a chorus, miffed that we had doubted their knowledge of geography, "but you don't have Asian features. And we'd rather not make a mistake here.", they said more reasonably.
I didn't dream of wanting them to make a mistake I wanted to tell them but was perplexed how to proceed with convincing them.
"Did you say you're from India?" asked one suddenly having a brainwave.
"I did", I said joining her in excitement, thinking that resolution of my race was nigh.
"You Indians look like middle easterners." she continued beaming.
"One could say that." I was tentative - thinking of all the references of 'Olive Skin' I'd read about in spy novels.
"And middle East folk are considered as White. So I'll put your race down as White." She declared triumphantly. In one stroke she had re-jigged me from Asian to White.
"White?" I was baffled. White as in pale skinned, blonde-haired, blue-eyed white? Obviously, whites do come in darker varieties but did they come as dark as myself? (for reference, see that picture again please)

So all this while, I was white and mistakenly assumed myself to be Asian? My world was turning upside down. Well, pardon the drama! It was more hilarity mixed with derision rather than bafflement.

Finally I managed - "Look at me! Please! Do I look white to you? If anything, I'd be closer to 'Black'." The second officer by now was bored and left.

"Hey! I'm Mexican and they call me White. What can I do about it." The original officer was by now more reasonable or resigned - I couldn't tell.

"Officer, may I please request you to put Asian there - as anything else will be incorrect and my application will be denied. Trust me." I pleaded.

In a moment of generosity, she considered and then smiled and ticked the box next to Asian, restoring my identity and sanity. And that's what I remain today. Thankfully enough!!