Ice cream, beach and a Vespa ride on the Riviera: This is how the German feeling for the sweet Italian life, “La Dolce Vita”, can be summed up. A little more reality checking could do the relationship good.
There’s a fluttering in the pit of your stomach, a warm tingling sensation. A smile appears involuntarily on her face. Even Johann Wolfgang von Goethe knew it, and also many subsequent generations of Italophiles. But they rave about their numerous holiday experiences with “gelati”, “mare” and a lot of “sole” – or through media influences.
The Germans are in love – and have been for almost two centuries. Infatuation, not love, characterizes the relationship between Germans and Italy, because the cognitive distortions typical of infatuation are clearly manifested: narrowing of consciousness, positive exaggeration, excessive projections. The most recent manifesto of this limited perception of the southern quasi-neighbor (anyone who has taken the train through the new Gotthard tunnel in record time and on time through the Alps knows what is meant) is the Netflix series “Summertime” (German: “Three meters above the sky ’), which will enter its third and final season in May 2023.
Lifelong summer love
“Summertime” is a single manifesto of the German (tourist) dream of Italy, presented in a modern way and told in an entertaining way. It is set in a tourist resort on the Romagna Riviera during the summer season: bright, bright days, sparkling sea, skimpy bikinis and enough concrete to be believable. The protagonist Summer (played by Coco Rebecca Edogamhe) wears an afro, rides a longboard and always has Italian oldies on her mind: Bruno Martino, Mina, Jimmy Fontana. In this way, every generation is addressed.
Her adventurous (motorcycle!) attractive ragazzo Ale (Ludovico Tersigni) is an Italian who somehow seems similar to the one that every German girl at the age of 13, 15 or 18 used to kiss or at least adore on vacation in Italy. Surrounded by a clique of sufficiently characterful young people, the series succeeds in convincingly capturing the early maturation of young adulthood as well as the trials and tribulations of initial infatuation and lovesickness. And all this in the midst of the eternal summer dream of the Germans.
“Do you know the land where the lemons bloom?”
The fact that such settings are so well received in the 21st century is not only due to the loyal holiday preferences of Germans (Italy has been among the top 3 destinations since the measurements began). Rushing in the Italian context has a long history.
Two vehicles of German projection needs proved to be groundbreaking: Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and – the postcard. The former first fulfilled a lifelong dream for himself and then for those around him: a trip to Italy. Goethe’s lasted from 1786 to 1788, his travelogue survived the centuries – and laid the foundation for the German longing for Italy. The poet escaped the duties of the Weimar court and experienced incognito – under the poetic name Johann Philipp Möller – as a painter – Venice, Rome, Naples and Sicily. Including erotic adventures. What literary escapism!
places of longing
From the 1870s onwards, the places of longing in Italy found their way into postcards among those with fewer affinity for literature. The Städel Museum in Frankfurt am Main is currently devoting an entire exhibition to early photographs of Italy. Even before postcards, these photographs were popular souvenirs from the mid-19th century. The extent to which the iconography of the time continues to have an impact can easily be seen in the selfies of today: if you ignore the people, you often end up in front of a very similar scenery.
Italy and Venice in particular experienced a new edition of German enthusiasm through crime writers. Donna Leon’s series about the Venetian Commissario Guido Brunetti not only became a bestseller, all series were filmed in German at original locations with German actors.
reality check
But as with any crush, at some point the confrontation with reality follows. For Goethe it was the second trip, for the Corona generation it was the military convoys from Bergamo. And for several generations of those who love Italy, there has always been a shocking eternal comeback from the right, most recently with Giorgia Meloni – optionally also in combination with uninhibited machismo, as with Silvio Berlusconi, who has been (politically) declared dead several times but is still active.
Observers who are less in love with Italy have long been aware of the country’s problems – and the social upheavals associated with them. Reading early and groundbreaking books on the subject of mafia (the first literary treatment in Leonardo Sciascia’s “Il giorno della civetta” dates from 1961) or equal rights (“Volevo i pontaloni” by Lara Cardella 1989) or on the Italian debt policy financed on credit the seventies and eighties can help here.
Sweep in front of your own door, please
The German transfiguration of Italy can also be seen quite clearly in the disputes with Italian guest workers and their families. Pizzeria, gelateria and osteria are also well-known (and well-frequented) locations in Germany. It was the first recruitment agreement that Germany ever concluded in 1955. Others were to follow, such as Tunisia, Spain, Greece and Turkey.
And as the saying goes: Workers should come, but people came. And they weren’t just treated kindly, as some feature films have addressed in recent years. Even the German-Turkish star director Fatih Akin tried his hand at the immigration story of an Italian family (and a fraternal dispute) with the film “Solino” in 2002 before he became famous with “Gegen die Wand” in 2004. But then TV smuts like “Bella Germania” followed, which in 2019 proved in three parts that German television suffers from a distorted perception when it comes to Italy. Or an all too one-sided, namely a patronizing view from above.
Bella Italy?
So is there nothing in the projection, the great culture, history, the worship of the landscapes of Italy? As in mature partnerships, the true beauty and wealth of a country only becomes apparent after many years of getting to know each other, when the weak knees are firm again and the tremors in the stomach have disappeared. Reading Umberto Eco or Francesca Milandri could also help.
So when – after years of rubbing at the uncomfortable, even ugly sides – the loud exuberant passion (or what Germans like to call Italianità) begins to develop a certain patina, a few wrinkles appear here and there – and still when you visit the heart area warms up and the steps get faster, then the infatuation of the Germans could perhaps turn into great love after all.
Author: Julia Hitz