Rachel Black

This morning I read an article in the New York Times entitled “Table for 2? Get Ready to Wait in Line” and it got me thinking about the social aspects of waiting for food (something this article missed entirely).

Sure, I can understand the inconvenience of having to wait to be fed but I can also see a positive side–the social side of the ordeal. It seems to me that Americans have forgotten how to socialize in public spaces and why spontaneous sociability is important. Hey, it can even be pleasant! Waiting in line is an opportunity to meet new people, exchange a few words and maybe even some ideas. Have we forgotten that it can be a good thing to check in with the world around us? This mundane activity can also build solidarity!

On my first shopping trip to Eataly in Turin, Italy, I was fascinated by two very socially different worlds of the deli counter and the refrigerated self-serve cases. One goes to the deli counter partially out of a desire to socialize and communicate. First there is the waiting in line that necessitates cooperation and a certain ability to follow unspoken social rules and codes. One mustn’t jump the line. One must speak politely to the counter person and others waiting. One must state clearly what they would like and ask for help when they are unsure of this. Then there is the exchange with the counter person. We have the opportunity to ask questions, learn and exchange ideas. In contrast, those who prefer anonymity choose the self-serve case. To me this is an expression of independence and a desire for speed. Who has time anymore to wait to be served? Why would I waste my time talking to other people I don’t know from Adam? Spending a few moments observing the shopping behaviour at the deli case and the counter taught me a great deal about the changing social habits of Italians. Increasing social ineptitude is not unique to North America.

Well, whether waiting in line at a restaurant in New York or a deli counter in Italy, we come in contact with our fellow eaters. A priori we have something in common–our humanness.

Michele and some lovely uva nera

When I was in Turin last month I returned to the field where I did the research for my PhD dissertation, the Porta Palazzo market. I was very anxious about going back after many years and only a few sporadic visits. I was going to find out what had happened during my absence, to find my old friends and informants and to see if I could salvage the manuscript I had written about this magic place.

As I approached the market from via Milano, I felt the same uncertainty I initially had when I first started my fieldwork: would I be accepted by the people at the market, would they remember me, how had our relationship changed from when I was here each day working next to the vendors doing my shopping and living a large portion of my life in piazza? What personal questions would they ask me (because they always do ask personal questions) and how would I tell them about the changes in my life? How would I recount all the places I had been and lived? How would I bring our worlds together again?

The first people I encounter were Luigi and his family at the candy stand. They were possibly the hardest people to get to know, with their guarded Piedmontese manners and closed family circle. As the shy smile rolled across Luigi’s face, I knew he remembered me. The whole family began to ask me where I had been? Where did I live now? We fell into our old prattle about life, health, relationships and happiness. Everything had changed but everything had stayed the same. I would soon learn that this largely held true for most of Porta Palazzo.

That week I went to the market each day. I spent time with my old friends. I drank wine and ate salami with Oscar and Walter. I went to Said’s house to break the Ramadan fast and catch up with his wife Naima. I even got to meet one of their beautiful daughters, who is a new edition since I first met this young Moroccan couple in 2002. At the farmers’ market, Pier let me mind his vegetable stand while he went to fetch his truck and his uncle Michele made me taste each type of grape he had brought to market as I waited. Andrea still looked as much in love as the last time I saw him selling bananas and pineapples. He told me about what happiness his relationship brings him. While there was some joy, there was also the usual storm clouds: everyone lamented the poor economy (like they always do) and talked about the impossibility of going forward in such a depressed state. No one except Piero had left (and that was family feud) the market. We are all a little older. There are more children. Most importantly, the market marches on as it satiates the city’s hunger.

For an anthropologist returning to the field can be one of the hardest things to do. However, it can also been one of the most interesting and fruitful activities. Returning to Porta Palazzo after a five-year break I had new questions to ask about the market. I saw more continuity. I could grasp long-term changes and trends. Yes, it was all the same but all different as well.

This past week we have been focusing on the Anthropology of Sport in my European Ethnography course. The first thing that struck me was that we could not agree on a definition of sport: do billiards and darts count as sports? What makes an activity a sport? Does it depend on physical exertion, skill or both? This got me thinking about the embodiment of skill; something that had also come up in Anth 422 in relation to work.

The previous week we explored the historical rise of nationalism and whether nationalism is still a valid area of inquiry for anthropologists in the face of the European Union. Do we need to talk about post-nationalism or supranational identities? As we work through the framework I have set out for this course, major themes are becoming apparent; in particular, we keep returning to the question of identities.

Studying European football, we took a closer look at the flexibility of the identities of both spectators and players. Depending on the type of game or championship we noticed that fans’ identities shifted. In local matches, it could even be said that fans are defending their cities. At an international level, national ties are deepest. From the side of the players, we were fascinated by professional teams and the way in which the international and racial differences are erased in order to create a unified team that represents common values. This, however, does not always hold true: we saw how at the end of the last World Cup Zinedine Zidane’s Frenchness was challenged by fans and the press when he lost his temper in the face of a taunting Italian player.

My Anth 303b “Ethnography of Europe” course is starting today at the University of British Columbia. I was a little slow getting the syllabus up, but here it is (Ethnography of Europe). Most of the course readings are up on WebCT and they will all be there by the end of the day. If you have any questions about this course feel free to contact me at reblack(at)gmail.com.