notes from liguria, italy

Suspicious of Enthusiasm

By Margherita Patrone - Aug 22, 2026 - 3 min read - Issue #8

There is a word I heard constantly growing up in Liguria.Mugugno.It is difficult to translate perfectly.A complaint. A grumble. A quiet expression of dissatisfaction, often delivered under your breath and preferably in the company of someone willing to agree with you.The weather is too hot.There are too many tourists.There are not enough tourists.Everything costs too much.Someone complains.Someone else says, “È vero.”And somehow, they get along.Growing up here, il mugugno was simply part of life.Only recently did I discover that it has a much longer history.The word comes from Genoese and probably imitates the sound itself, that low murmuring of someone who is not entirely happy about something.It also has deep connections with Liguria’s maritime past.There is an old story about the diritto al mugugno, the right to complain, supposedly enjoyed by Genoese sailors.The details have become mixed with legend over the centuries, but the idea is wonderful.A sailor still had to follow the captain’s orders.He simply reserved the right to complain about them.In some ways, I find that quite beautiful.There is independence in it.I will do what needs to be done, but you cannot tell me what to think.And there is humour too.Genoese humour has always felt very particular to me.Dry.Understated.Self-deprecating.And deeply suspicious of excessive enthusiasm.This last part, however, I have always struggled with.You have a big idea?Maniman.You are very happy about something?Do not get too excited.Something is going well?Wait and see.You want to try something ambitious?Better be realistic.There always seemed to be a quiet instinct to bring enthusiasm back down to earth before it became too dangerous.And growing up, I hated it.I often felt that being openly hopeful was somehow naive.That dreaming too loudly could make you look ridiculous.That expecting something wonderful from life meant you had failed to understand how life really worked.For a long time, I wanted to escape that way of thinking.So I did.I left Liguria and spent many years away.And now that I am back, I notice the mugugno differently.Because there is something very human hidden inside it.Psychologists talk about negativity bias, our tendency to pay more attention to what is wrong than to what is right.Negative information often feels more important.We remember it.We discuss it.And there is another fascinating part.Complaining can create connection.When two people discover that they dislike the same thing, they suddenly have something in common.Perhaps that explains why mugugno can be such an effective bonding ritual here.One person complains.Another agrees.And for a moment, they belong to the same little tribe.I understand that now.I can even find affection in it.What I still struggle with is when the joke becomes a worldview.When caution becomes pessimism.When being realistic means expecting the worst.When belonging requires you to make your dreams a little smaller.Because I have changed.I get enthusiastic now.Very enthusiastic sometimes.I tell people when I think something is beautiful.I tell them when I think their idea is brilliant.I believe people can change their lives.I believe we can create things that do not exist yet.I genuinely believe wonderful things can happen.And sometimes I can almost feel how uncomfortable that makes people here.Perhaps optimism, in a culture of mugugno, is its own tiny form of rebellion.Coming home has taught me that I do not need to reject where I come from.I can keep the humour.The independence.The ability to laugh when things go wrong.I can probably even keep a little mugugno.But I do not want to be suspicious of enthusiasm anymore.Because sometimes things do work.Sometimes the improbable happens.Sometimes being hopeful is not naive at all.And perhaps growing up also means deciding which parts of our culture belong to us, and which ones we are finally free to leave behind.What is something from the culture you grew up in that you have chosen to keep, and something you have chosen to leave behind?Until next Saturday,
Margherita