From Italy to Ireland

My Italian friend, which I mentioned before, wondered if I did not exaggerated here when I said the Italians had a tendency to get drunk without drinking that much. I don't want to offend her, or any of the friends I have among the Italian people, so I will say here that I might have used dramatic (nostalgic?) licence. This blog is called Vraie Fiction, after all. Anyway, I listened to Volta la Carta, the song I put here) again today, and I noticed something peculiar: the flute/recorder gives it an almost Irish sound. If it wasn't for the Italian lyrics, the back up singers, well, everything else but the flute, that could almost be Irish. Okay, that's far fetched, but I have no idea where I am going, I am trying to follow the succession of ideas and impression that pushed me to write thos post.

Ireland and Italy have been intrinsically linked in my life. Both countries are Catholic, but that's not it. It's not the same faith anyway, whatever people might say. It's not the same culture, so it's not the same faith, in fact. I never felt Italian Catholicism appealing, while the Irish version is exactly like the one I grew up in. Not exactly appealing for the unbeliever I had become, but at least familiar. Better the devil you know, and so on. No, it was when I was hanging around my Italian friends that my interest for Irish culture started growing. Shortly after a big bad, evil, decadent kitchen party on Saint-Patrick's Day, when my Spanish friend made a bit too much sangria and I drank a bit too much Guinness, I went on a week long trip to Dublin, where I drank more Guinness, and a few more local beers. I was drinking a lot of Guinness back then, like some of those Italians who thought that was so cool. I just thought it tasted nice. Anyway, I find it funny that I didn't hang out with any Irish people then, since I loved the culture more than the Italian one and I felt more affinity with it. But then again, maybe there was that question of exoticism. Anyway, I thought I'd put some drinking song here, since it's Friday, and nobody has better drinking songs than the Irish. The Wild Rover sort of reminds me of my wilder, younger years, especially that time. So that's the introduction, on this blog a bunch of old Irish men will succeed to an ageing Italian man, but without the younger back up singers.

Does this post make any sense?