I decided not to wait until Christmas Eve – so here it is now.
You should know that Cane, here, is not cane as in sugar cane but Italian for dog – pronounced kaanay 
I hope you all have a nice Christmas and Santa brings you everything you ever wanted.
I catch myself saying things in the way that Italians say them.
“I hate”, says F, quite a lot. I have corrected him a few times. I just repeat and add ‘it’ at the end. But I find myself saying it to him, now. It’s easier.
‘We are in three’ – a direct translation from Italian but really should be translated as ‘There are three of us’ – when asking for a table in the restaurant, for example.
At first, it made me smile when I heard English people saying it. Now I say it too!
And, now it is snowing. These are big flakes. Pietro said, the other day, it was ‘weak snow’. I laughed. I love the fact that Italians use words that make sense but are not what we would say. I explained we would say ‘light snow’ but I like the idea of weak snow. Of course, it implies that the opposite is ‘strong snow’, which is even funnier since snow is not really strong!
And, whilst we’re on the subject of the weather, we are not having it anywhere near as bad as the UK. Although it is interesting that most airports in the UK seem to be open – with the exception of Heathrow. Heathrow, being, apparently, the busiest airport in the UK is closed or partially closed. Other airports can stay open except the biggest! Hah!
But, I am quite annoyed by the complaining people. The complaints can be divided into basic groups:
Why? If you are told not to travel except if it is necessary, then don’t blame the government if you get stuck in traffic. And I question if your journey is really essential? I read in some comments, yesterday, someone saying how they had travelled to see family to give Christmas presents. I’m sorry but this is NOT a necessary journey. By making this journey you are helping the congestion on the road and you are selfish.
Apart from the fact that below about -5° the grit has no real effect, if the councils overspend and therefore raise the council tax to pay for it, are you going to say it’s OK? No, I thought not.
Why? The UK is not Finland. It does not have a continuous blanket of snow for 5 or 6 months of the year. And planning for it means spending money. The money must come from somewhere. This means that everyone has to pay more OR that other things must be cut. So, you can have your necessary grit and snowploughs if you are prepared to have less teachers in the school or stop paying for cosmetic surgery on the NHS. Will that be remembered when someone doesn’t get taught to the right level or where someone who has been disfigured in an accident can’t have surgery to make it right? No, I didn’t think so.
I don’t like the Daily Mail at all but I’ve started reading it online because it gives me an insight into the mind of moronic, bigoted people. And this article shows exactly what is wrong with people. Some stupid woman leaves a very warm, southern-hemisphere country to fly back to Britain just before Christmas. Lucky her for being in a warm place. She comes wearing flip-flops. She has obviously forgotten that Britain tends to be a little chilly. Or, more probably, she is stupid and has no idea of forward planning.
I then rugby tackled a woman from the airline. ‘Where do I go to ask about my flight to Heathrow?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘But you work for the airline. You’re wearing a badge.
‘I’m just directing people to the self-service check-in.’
Hmm. As she works for the newspaper, perhaps she can tell me where I can go buy a few tonnes of printing paper? No, I thought not. But she works for the paper!
‘How do I do that?’ I was given a piece of paper by another mute employee; this had a phone number on it. (Anyone without a mobile – old ladies, nuns, the weak, the injured – were culled.)
Hmmm. Old ladies, nuns, the weak and the injured probably HAVE mobile phones. If they don’t then there are things called ‘pay phones’. You go, you pay money and you dial. This reminds me of the time at the Paris Airshow when someone came up and asked where the entrance was (there were a LOT of entrances) because she was meeting a friend. A friend who didn’t have a mobile phone! In this day and age? And I question why you would travel in these days WITHOUT a mobile phone.
Eventually, at 9.35pm on Sunday, I was put on a flight to Birmingham. I did not want to go to Birmingham.
If it had been me who was serving you you would not have been going to Birmingham. You would have been staying in the airport at Schiphol. Excuse me, but if you didn’t want to go to Birmingham, why did you go? No one was forcing you onto the plane, were they? Oh yes, that’s right, it was better than staying in the airport and there was a chance you could get to where you wanted. Now, if you had been on a plane already in the air that changed it’s flight plan then you would have a better reason to write those words.
I don’t really care about the case, but I do mind that I was stripped of my humanity, and tipped into a world where nothing matters but petty rules, and spectacular indifference.
Ummm. Excuse me. You were NOT stripped of your humanity. And if you don’t want to be in that world then don’t travel by air. You were stupid enough to travel from Bolivia to the UK at the end of December wearing only flip-flops. You are stupid and ignorant and deserve everything you get!
Oh, yes, and you write for the Daily Mail. Still, I suppose stupidity and ignorance are a job requirement for that paper so you must feel right at home!
I’ve tried to find it but I can’t – unless I didn’t give the real name, of course.
I can make mistakes. Well, sort of mistakes. I remember going, one time, with A. Not long after it opened. I suggested it. It was an alternative to K2 since I never rated K2 that highly. I came away from this one disappointed too! For me, it seems that Tuscan restaurants outside Tuscany were, in some way, lacking.
An has been over. She is Milanese but has been living in London for the last 6 years or so. She came over for an interview for a job here, in Milan. She got the job. So, Friday night we went to the Imperiale for L’s birthday. An came too. We had a fabulous evening. L and her partner, D, were fabulous hosts and, anyway, it was the Imperiale – what could possibly go wrong?
In a word – nothing. It was fabulous. By far the best Chinese in Milan ……………. AND, I live round the corner!
Saturday lunchtime An was leaving to return to the UK. Unfortunately (for those of you in the UK), in case you hadn’t noticed, they’ve had a bit of what we could call ‘weather’. The UK was almost closed. No problem, the flight was delayed. It would be leaving at 8 p.m. To be honest, reading about what was going on, I didn’t think so – and I told F that. He decided not to tell An.
So, about 7 p.m., she returned to the airport. She was back about 9. The flight had been cancelled because the crew had to go off shift (which is what I thought may happen).
Sunday she re-booked whilst we went out with the dogs. Then F suggested we go for a plate of pasta at lunchtime. He asked me where would be open. I love that I can advise Italians who live a stone’s throw from me what is likely to be open and, mostly, give an idea of what might be good. I remembered that the restaurant would be open and that it was Tuscan. I told him that I thought it was a bit expensive but that it was OK. To be honest, I didn’t remember it that well.
We walked up the street (since it is in my street) and looked at the menu displayed by the door. F said that it wasn’t too expensive (and he was right, really). We decided to go for it. And, so, we entered Alle Colline Senesi.
It was full. It is only a small restaurant. Probably about 30 places. There is a couple before us. We, on the other hand, ‘are in three’. A table for 4 becomes available and so we get to have it. We offer to share with the couple but they really don’t seem to do that here, very much.
The menu was tempting – as was the food we saw being delivered. We decided on some mixed antipasto. Followed by some pasta for me, some soup for F and some melanzane parmigiana for An. F asked about having some mix of meats but he also wanted crostini (small slices of bread with, usually for Tuscany, some rough liver pate or meat or tomatoes).
The meat arrived. It was good. the prosciutto was hand cut so was thicker than usual and much more like it would be in the UK. I love it. F was a little bit worried as the crostini (which, we were told, would come anyway, without the need to order) didn’t appear. Then I remembered what was the worst thing about this restaurant – the service. So slow.
We had finished the meat and were about to ask about the crostini – when it appeared. F was happy. The crostini consisted of one each of the rough liver pate, lardo and tomatoes with garlic. Wonderful.
Then the main course came. F’s soup (brodo) was thin and clear with huge pieces of ravioli; An’s parmigiana looked like something the cat had thrown up (but tasted wonderful) and I had pappardelle with cinghiale – a kind of roughly cut up lasagne or larger tagliatelle with a wild boar sauce.
The food was fantastic. After, rather than have a main course (the portions having been more than a little generous), we had sweet. F had zuppa inglese (like a tiramisù without coffee and with chocolate instead), An had the chestnut (or as she says, chesternut) tart and I had the poached pears. The tart was nothing special (to me) and the poached pears could have done with cream or mascapone, in my opinion – but still, they were nice.
The whole lot, including a bottle and a half of house wine (quite good) and a bottle of water came to about €90. Not bad really. The service was so slow but, as F pointed out, it’s not the waiting staff that are causing the problem but that the kitchen was making everything (more or less) at the moment of serving and the waiting staff had to wait until it was ready. And the tastes were great. I think I could have eaten the roast pork chops with potatoes as well but I was full enough.
The thing is not to expect your meal to be done and dusted within half an hour. We were there a couple of hours – but for a Sunday lunch that is perfect. And, if you are prepared, for an evening meal it is fine too. Worth the effort and I only give it 4 stars because it was a bit too slow for me.
Those particular lines made me laugh out loud!
Enjoy!
We’re still talking about it but it seems the fish is off.
The decision was made by F going and ordering lasagne – a meat ragù lasagne. Also with a little more information that I learnt the other day. He can eat (even likes?) veal. So, following the information about the ordering of the lasagne and the revelation that all meat is NOT a no-go area, as I was shopping last night, I checked, and they do rolled veal – for roasting.
So, I suggested that, if he would like, I could do a sort of English Sunday Roast – but, instead of beef, use veal (since it is the same meat, after all). And, so, unless there is a change of heart, that is going to be our Christmas dinner. I am very happy about that. I am, after all, a meat eating (and loving) person. We will also have Yorkshire Pudding with it. It will be the first time I’ve ever done Yorkshire Pudding for Christmas Day
The discovery of veal being OK also opens up so many more possibilities.
Perhaps, he has just said it for my benefit. I don’t really know. It is a possibility. We shall see if he eats it.
p.s. Yes, I don’t understand why you would pull a face at the mention of goose – and, yet, be more than happy to eat chicken or, worse, veal! Makes absolutely no sense to me and I really do think it’s just stuck in his head. Bless him.
One of my colleagues at work, M, talks to me, daily, about the latest ‘revalations’ regarding the ‘Mafia’ here, in Italy (and here I am using Mafia in the general sense, covering all the different groups). Just the other day, he informed me, Paderno Dugnano was a ‘hotbed’ of Italian Mafia (in this case the Ndrangheta, from Calabria) – who had made it their Lombardy headquarters. It would be similar to them making Romford, in Essex, their British base.
And we have talked of the ‘whys’ – when, so it is said, the police secret service know all the leaders and where they live.
I tried to explain that it is a problem that, in my opinion, is too deeply ingrained into all (well, I mean the majority, of course) Italians. I explained to him about S, my other colleague. She always asks people for someone they know when she is buying anything or having work done. And, she always expects a discount. The discount comes with a price, of course. The price is no receipt. The no receipt not only means no tax to the government but also means the money can go into the ‘black’ – i.e. into the black economy.
Of course, she knows that. We all know that. We know that our few Euro going into the black economy is nothing. But the few Euro for thousands of transactions every day (or, even, every hour) adds up to a considerable sum which can then be used to safely hide dirty money or to pay bribes.
But, she doesn’t think about it like that. She thinks of it as her getting a bargain. And a bargain is important, moreso here than in the UK. Everybody does it. Go to a restaurant and pay without asking for a receipt, in cash, and you will get a discount. And they say that restaurants are one of the main ways that money can filter into the black economy. It is said, apparently, so M tells me, that many restaurants in Milan are owned by the Mafia. I can believe it. You may get a 5 or 10 Euro discount by paying cash – that cash (and the subsequent saving in tax by the restaurant) can add up to a lot in one evening.
The problem is that it cannot be solved easily, if at all. With a very few exceptions that I know of, everyone wants that discount here. Buzz Lightyear (Mr B) continues to ‘infinity and beyond’ as he survives another vote of confidence. Despite the recent Wikileaks cables suggesting a link between him and Mr Putin (another place where, I suspect, the Mafia rules) and money changing hands. Well, why not? After all, he is only doing what S does, albeit on a slightly larger scale? S approves of him. She is a supporter. He is, after all a great businessman here. And we would honestly believe that he hasn’t greased a few palms here along the way? That he hasn’t accepted any kickbacks in a ‘you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours’ kind of way? It is, after all, the way that even the ‘little’ people operate here.
Perhaps it also operates like that in the UK and I was just too blind or stupid to see it? Or too naive to know better. I’m not trying to say that Italy is worse than the UK in this respect since I really don’t know. But here it is more obvious ……… and more accepted.
And, therefore, this, with Italians being brought up with this thinking, is too difficult to fight. Too difficult to control. Too difficult to destroy. And this, of course, is one of the reasons that Buzz remains in power since ‘everyone’ is at it, to a greater or lesser degree (I say everyone but I absolutely know of at least one person who insists on receipts for everything and has a good ‘community’ awareness).
And, no, I do not include myself in this list of upstanding people. On Saturday afternoon, a guy is coming to take down my Art Deco lamp in the lounge and take it away to be fixed. I asked my boss for someone that may be able to do this and she suggested him. Any money I pay (and it will be considerably cheaper than getting a proper electrician to come) will not be ‘declared’, of course. And the same in some restaurants. And my dentist. And a load of other people. And me. And I know that I am contributing to this – this malaise that affects Italy. But as I said to M – this is not my fight. I do my thing for the UK – where I really (feel that I) know the ins and outs of the situation. I do it with my posts about the students protests and other things. That I can do. To buck the trend, the way of life, in Italy – given all my other problems with just living here – is too much to ask.
There! Poor excuse it may be but it’s the way it is.
Apparently –
Jacqui Karn, an urban safety and policing expert, thought there had to be a re-examination of police tactics.
She says, on this page that:
“The big question is how you can use police on horseback charging across when there are 14- and 15-year-olds in there,”
That, actually, isn’t the big question.
The big question is: How can you use police on horseback charging into a crowd of people (of any age) when you have corralled them into a space and where they have nowhere they can go because you (the police) are not permitting them to leave that space? Even worse where the majority of those people are demonstrating peacefully?
Is it right or is it the sign of a police state?
Students protesting against the coalition’s decision to up the fees and reduce the grants are all over the online versions of the British papers.
And, now, after the event, is the analysis. Obviously, the government and opposition MPs are condemning the violence that escalated after the vote had been taken; condemning the attack on the Prince of Wales’ car – calling the people ‘thugs’ or worse.
Now, don’t get me wrong in any way. I do not condone violence, in general but and it’s a very big BUT ……..
The LibDems, who undoubtedly had many votes from people under 25, including many students, had promised (and signed pledges) to say they would NOT agree to any increase in the cost of learning. They have, certainly, broken that promise. These are the same people that are only in the place of power they are in through the help of the very students out on the street. They only HAVE their power because of the people. But they lied. And, saying that it’s all ‘different now’ is not an excuse.
The police who, quite frankly, as has been proved again and again, are, in the main, not that far removed from being a government-sponsored gang of thugs. They have links with the ‘underworld’ – because that is the world to which they are most tied. There are great policemen, I am sure – there are also many who, were they not with the police would undoubtedly lead a life of crime.
The actions of the police (and you should watch the videos with a more open mind) during last night’s demonstration was, quite honestly, appalling. Nothing will be done about it. These are the government’s henchmen after all.
Some newspapers have said it is a disgrace to be so disrespectful to Churchill’s statue or the War Memorial or to property.
Well, here’s the thing. It’s only things and not people. When a statue of Churchill is more important than the future of the people of the UK, then that is where the priorities have got all mixed up. When a kid trying to get out of the ‘kettle’ is beaten with a big stick and it is not called as it is – thuggery, mindless violence, vicious attack – then there is something very seriously wrong with the mindset of the people who don’t say this.
You can condemn violence (as I do) but this was not violence for the sake of it. These are people being pushed into an impossible situation where they will pay for our leaders’ and bankers’ mistakes for the rest of their lives. And you want them to do what, exactly? Have a walk for an hour and then go back home?
I can condemn violence and, at the same time, say that is was to be expected and, given the actions of the police, well deserved. If they (the students) don’t do something, I don’t see anyone else doing anything about it.
And here, if nothing else, are some quotations from a person who was there
Violent thugs? I am a 21-year-old literature student
and more from this student:
I am a girl of five foot two, I was pushed several times in the face, dragged on the floor and laughed at by police when I told them I had asthma. This is why people get angry, because people were being trapped and wanted to get out.
All afternoon we were told people were able to leave from various places but this was just not true.
I asked a policeman were I could go to the toilet; he pointed at the floor by his feet.
Another shouted: “Move, bitch, or I’ll squash you with my horse.”
Eventually, when the protests had died down and people were desperate to go home, a group of around 1,000 protesters were finally escorted to Westminster Bridge to exit; however this was a trick. What then happened was we were held on the bridge for hours in the freezing cold. The crowd remained calm, but after hours of freezing people began to chant “let us out” and then the crowd pushed forwards. Being small I was carried by the crowd and ended up by the police line. I was tired and cold and hadn’t eaten for 12 hours or had any water.
I screamed at the police not to hurt me because I was being pushed but they still went for my face, almost pulling me to the floor. A man to my right put his arms over my face, screaming, “Leave her alone, she’s a girl, she’s not harming you,” but the police began to hit him several times on the head.
When we were finally let off the bridge it was one at a time through huge crowds of jeering officers. We were told we were being photographed in case we had damaged royal car. But how this could have happened whilst we were kettled in parliament i don’t know.
What I will say is that by this stage the anarchists had fought their way out, and just lots of women and children were left to freeze.
It makes my blood chill. The police deserve no medals for this atrocious behaviour. In fact they should be horse-whipped. They deserve no sympathy. The standard of policing is below poor and they (the police) should be treated as the criminals they are.
And people ask me why I don’t go back to the UK?
For those of you who don’t drink alcohol, I guess you’ve never had this. That moment when you wake up, your brain seemingly turned to some sort of half mush and having grown so that it is attempting to expand your skull. The woolliness of thought and motion as you try to grapple with even the simplest of tasks, including rising from the bed in the first place.
Ah yes, the painful joy of knowing that last night was a ‘great night, wasn’t it?’ Maybe the mixing of drinks didn’t help?
And, inevitably, there is the ‘Oh my God! What did I say/do that for?’ An embarrassment that surely, next time, will make you stop just one glass of wine or can of beer earlier. That ‘never again’ feeling.
Except that, on Thursday morning, at around 4 a.m., when I woke up with all these symptoms, the thoughts of guilt and shame did not stem from the night before when I did not say or do anything untoward. No these horrors that I foisted on the rest of my associates/friends/relatives happened around 30 years ago! Worse still, I wasn’t drunk. at least not from alcohol. From youth and lack of knowledge, perhaps.
And, as can only happen during the mother of all hangovers, this was particularly clear and concise thinking that led me to understand what a hopeless bastard I was at that time and that the things I did then (for this particular ‘problem’) were really juvenile to the extreme. And it made me wonder that, if I had approached and reacted to the situation differently, would it have made any difference to my life, to the path that my life has taken?
Probably not. And, even if I should have behaved so very badly, I still stand by the things I said and did – although maybe now I could have said things is a more meaningful way and done things slightly differently. And I also realised that enormous sway that they held over me at that time, for I was young – too young and unable to handle anything with real maturity.
However, the effect on me of these thoughts was the same as if I had acted terribly the night before and woken up with my befuddled brain to be appalled with the antics I had carried out the previous night and filled with shame over whom I may have offended with such outrageous behaviour.
But not quite. For, as it was 30 years ago, I cannot remember it so precisely. And I forgive myself as, in any event, things are as they are. One little incident would not have made such a huge difference either way. But it would be interesting to see the parallel universe and see how things turned out by a change in my behaviour.
Don’t you think?
Well, the last two years have been, shall we say, different. First, there was the break-up with V and the Christmas we spent together and not together at the same time. And then there was last year which was the first Christmas with F.
And, so, two years without sending Christmas cards.
But now I am settled. I know where things are. And I am better prepared. And so, this year, I am back to sending Christmas cards – and with the special Italian Christmas stamps for this year as shown below.
Pretty, isn’t it?