Column: ciao bella!

My memory has two huge holes. One for the faces of the people I meet and one for their names. It has nothing to do with disinterest in fellow human beings, because the stories someone tells me stay with me. Only I forget the face and name with the story. It's only when I meet people several times and get to know them better that they stick in my long-term memory. But before that, I've often had to maneuver myself past the pitfalls in social traffic, balancing on the edge of the hit-a-blank abyss.

Nice: the anecdotes

Such holes are not just annoying. Of course, my lack from time to time yields funny anecdotes. Like that time in a pizzeria where we would eat with friends. I had a pleasant conversation with someone who seemed familiar to me and who - in the company of rather unsympathetic types - was waiting his turn just like us. Only when we sat at the table and my girlfriend whispered all excited that Mr. X, leader of such-and-such a party was also present in the pizzeria with his bodyguards, did I get the penny.

Or the time I say 'See you Tuesday, have coffee together?' shouted at what I thought was a father from the pool, when it turned out to be a famous cyclist I encountered in the 'wild'. That poor man's face was worth a picture.

Less fun: the risk of a 'brutta figura'

But in general, these kinds of holes in your memory are quite difficult in the busy Italian social traffic. After all, it is fare una bella figura It is highly valued and important that you behave as neat and charming as possible, especially as a non-Italian. But as a non-Italian you are unfortunately very recognizable for many Italians at the same time. While many Italians are not for you.

So nothing is worse than being greeted warmly in the middle of the supermarket by someone who seems to know you. If you feel like you've met that person and it's not a complete stranger who takes you for someone else, that's when I break out in a cold sweat and my brain starts spinning.

Someone from the village or not? Acquaintance through husband, friend of friends or a vague acquaintance? Someone we know through the children and if so, which one? School with the sub-question preschool, primary, medium or secondary education? Sports, but which ones? And did we ever meet during a match? Someone we saw at a parent meeting, music, dance or theater performance?

Questions flash through my head at an emergency rate, while I smile friendly and adjust my enthusiasm to that of the interlocutor. Because the more enthusiastic he is during the conversation, the more often we have probably seen each other. And then it's not nice if you suddenly act cool, while you may have had a nice evening in a larger company a while back.

Lack of help and social strategies

There are people with my memory problem who can fall back on their partner in these cases. Not me. My husband, who you can wake up in the middle of the night to know what the football results of Serie A, B, C1, C2 and D were in 1974, are of no use to me in these situations. His memory of faces and names is possibly worse than mine.

In all those years together we have therefore developed a strategy whereby, while asking superficial questions about home, health and work, we wait for the moment when a light comes on in one of us. And if so, we help each other, steering the conversation a bit, in remembering the situation in which we once met the person in question.

Before that, we look at each other every now and then to see if there is already a solution. And I always hope I don't look like him: slightly whitened, with tiny beads of sweat on his forehead and cogs spinning behind his eyes at top speed as he asks questions and processes answers with a friendly grimace.

The solution: ciao bella, ciao bello!

Usually, before the end of a conversation, you can remember where you met the person you're talking to. But then you're not there yet. The second tricky moment is the name. There comes a point in every conversation you have when it's almost inevitable to mention the name. In the Netherlands that is the point where I made huge mistakes. Fortunately, in Italy there are tools for types like me: the courteous 'bella' and the gallant 'bello'.

In Dutch I wouldn't even think of addressing my interlocutor as 'mooierd' or 'knapperd'. In Italian, however, this can be done without any problems in a less formal setting. And that has been my social salvation many times. Because in a very nice way you can show that you like to have seen the person in question again and at the same time avoid mentioning a name.

beautiful figure

A 'bello,' or 'bella' used sparingly during conversation and a 'ciao bello!' or a 'ciao bella!' at the end of it definitely helps you hit a beautiful figure, avoiding the social pitfalls and that terrible goof abyss! Ideal for people like me.

Do you also have such holes in your memory? And if so, how do you get out of those predicaments? Let me know, maybe it's a good tip that will help me next time (which inevitably comes)!