Just for fun: a translation attempt of of an article from the local l’Adige newspaper, that covered off a few stereotypes about locals. Featuring a lot of help from Google, with a little proofreading and editorial assistance (and a pinch of artistic licence, I’m pretty sure there was some dialect in there, and I couldn’t make out much from it! plus, grammar is hard) by yours truly. Some of the claims here seen a little harsh, in the defense of all people living in Trentinto: I have never once seen anyone in socks and sandals, nor have I seen any sunscreen applied to the skin of a child.
Dear readers, now that you are about to go to the beach, here is a small handbook to help you identify if your umbrella neighbor is from Trentino. Sure, you might discover it for yourself as you watch one approach in Birkenstocks and socks*, but some more information could be useful. Here are the main identifying points of a Trentino at the sea.
1) He arrives at the beach and stretches out an Alpini towel.
2) He stakes out the towel with four anchors and then uses a spirit level to even the surface.
3) Thirty meters of barbed wire is unrolled around the towel. “Because this territory is mine!”
4) He installs his defensive weapon: the canederli catapult. To assemble: place the grandmother in a deck chair with a canederli in her hand. Attach the elbow to the armrest, fasten a rubber band to her wrist and then pull back. As soon as someone approaches the territory – pamm! The canaderli is launched. “Because I’m here to relax!”
5) If the defense arm of the grandmother jams, he prepares the reserve weapon: the Adige newspaper. Because under the umbrella, the newspaper becomes a weapon of deterrence to neighbors wanting to make conversation: “They will see that I am not to be disturbed.”
6) Bring out the iPhone with music of the alpini choir (SAT) playing at full volume (it was part of the agreement to receive the free towel).
In the meantime, the Trentino’s wife and children arrive. The son plays on the sand with an inflatable tractor. Because the Trentino child does not build sand castles like other children; he establishes wine cooperatives. And if a wave comes, he goes to the lifeguard to ask for contributions. The wife coats the son with SPF 80, which is like covering him with a quilt. Children mistake him for an air mattress and jump on him – he is more likely to tan during a lunar eclipse.
And while she reads a beach magazine (Bazaar) and the grandmother sits on the deck chair with a canaderli in the barrel, he snores with a newspaper over his face. And sure enough, a minute after he has fallen asleep, the daughter arrives. “Dad, there are rides!” “Ok, have 2 euro.” After five minutes, “Dad there are meringues!” “Okay, have 2 euro, but after you’ve been swimming.” After five minutes, “Dad there are jellyfish!” “Ok, take 2 Euros but that’s the last I’ll give you.”
* if not Birkenstocks then Lizard sandals (those walking sandals with the velcro). But always with socks.
The original article Come riconoscere un trentino in spiaggia by Lucio Gardin, from l’Adige: http://www.ladige.it/blogs/gardring/2015/07/26/come-riconoscere-trentino-spiaggia
Any translations errors are all mine (also Google’s).