There's an old saying about Italians, "If you tie an Italian's hands behind his back, he becomes mute."

This observation is no more evident than in the small mountain town of Cagli, Italy. All day, Italian hands can be seen gesturing: complimenting, accentuating, and explaining the speech flowing from their mouths. Some gestures appear frantic, emphasizing each word so that the meaning is even clearer to the listener. Other gestures are fleeting, offered in passing, used as a nonchalant greeting, goodbye, or to punctuate a quick statement, like, "No really, florescent capris look fine." An Italian's hands perform a dance: almost simple, sometimes graceful, sometimes crude, sometimes confusing, but always with a purpose behind it as important as that of an orchestra conductor.

"In Italy, there are many different ways to say the same thing with your hands," according to Gabriella Mansi, a translator in Cagli. "It just depends on the person." The difference in everyday conversation between the U.S. and Italy becomes strikingly clear through just a few observations.

Much like conducting an orchestra, hand motions have to go along to the music, the conversation. Otherwise, it can disrupt the flow, and the horn section becomes annoyed at you. The first swells of music in the conversation stem from a greeting. In the Piazza di Matteoti, various hand signs can be seen as the Cagliese people greet each other. While passing by the fountain that graces the center of the piazza, two barely acquainted folks will offer a "Ciao," followed by a quick wave. So far, this is no different than in America, the same song structure.

Along those lines, casual acquaintances stop to shake hands or exchange a quick peck on the cheek before starting a brief conversation, perhaps about florescent capris. However, friends or family meeting each other in Cafè D'Italia or some other Cagli establishment would extend those same gestures further, with two kisses on either cheek, or, for a woman, a quick kiss of the hand. A common American misconception with both of these greeting s is that the lips are supposed to touch the person. However, the kisses are merely to grace the air near the skin, for if they touch, it is a sign of disrespect. The older gentlemen who grace the front of the Cagli town hall every evening corroborated this.

Most of the hand motions in Italy are conducted face-to-face, as would be expected, and there are a wide variety of gestures in many diverse situations. Imagine a basketball game in Cagli. The mountains provide a pleasant backdrop to a contest of lay-ups and jump shots, jukes and crossovers. After a hard fought match, one team ends up victorious. To show their happiness, two players raise both hands over their heads in a fist and pump it up and down. Two other players raise their arms up and make a "V" with their middle finger and index finger. Both gestures represent victory in Italian culture, which is odd, considering in the U.S., the "V" universally symbolizes peace.

Another face-to-face situation one might get into is after a delicious meal. After enjoying some delectable tortellini at Ristorante Pigli in Cagli, a woman-Catalina for the purposes of this article-might first turn her finger into her cheek, showing that the meal was good. Next, Catalina could rub her hands together expressing more satisfaction, followed by a quick kiss of the tips of her fingers.

When it comes to insults, it seems Italy has a plethora of signs to tell people off. Let's say Catalina and Claudio get into an argument about Claudio's florescent capris. Catalina thinks they are awful, while Claudio insists they're the latest rage. The conversation gets quite heated, so Claudio raises his hand as if to say, "What do you want from me?" Look to the top of the page for example. He then drags the back of his hand up his chin blatantly, to say to her, "I don't care." In response, Catalina sticks out her tongue, which in Italy is a less vulgar way to say, "Screw you." Not exactly the same meaning as in the U.S., where little kids continually give "raspberries."

Claudio raises his hands in disgust, turns, and spits behind him, to signal he's ending the conversation on very bad terms, to say the least. The little spitfire that she is, Catalina then raises her right arm as if she is flexing, only to bring it into her left arm. For those in the theater audience, this is the Italian equivalent of the middle finger.

In the U.S., gestures are used all the time, but much more emphasis is put on what is actually spoken. One could easily get away without using hands when speaking. Not in Cagli or Italy, however; the hands denote much more. "Hands help you speak better," remarked a man in broken English outside the looming town hall, his arms waving (he refused to give his name). The men on either side of him both nod after he repeats the sentence in Italian. "It just more easy." Even when an Italian speaks on a telephone, the hands are always in constant motion, helping along the invisible person, conducting the conversation, making the music flow. The same probably can be said for the listener on the other end. It goes unnoticed mostly, because it's so fluid. Only a noisy American would find these motions, this dance of the hands, interesting.