Category Archives: Strange things

How different is Italy and the Italians?

Fig sandwich

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Last weekend was “at the beach”. And a long weekend too as we took Monday off.

When I say “at the beach”, that wasn’t really all. The weekend was also about partying till very, very late – which we really hadn’t done all summer. Partying till late meant getting up later and, therefore, getting to the beach later – but now, as most people have already gone back to work after the 3 or 4 week summer holidays, the place was quieter and we could find parking, etc.

Friday night was a surprise party given for a mother who has recently had a kidney transplant by her son. It included all the nurses who had been looking after her during her 4 years or so of dialysis. It was lovely and included a sit-down dinner/supper. We got home at about 2.30 a.m.

Saturday night was dinner (although we all had pizza) at a restaurant in Marina di Massa (the next beach town down from Marina di Carrara), on the terrace of a restaurant which overlooked the main square. The point wasn’t dinner at all but watching a concert in the main square. It was also Notte Bianca (White Night) in Marina di Massa. Notte Bianca is when everything (more or less) stays open late into the night (or early the next morning) – it’s a little like an all-night street party. I’ve never stayed until the end so I’ve no idea if it is really “all night” or not. Anyway, there were also fireworks on the beach and the place was heaving! We had such a great position above it all. Loredana Bertè was the headlining act and she sang for almost two and a half hours! For those of you who haven’t heard of her, she was a very popular and famous Italian singer in the late 70s and 80s and was once the girlfriend of Bjorn Borg. Since then drugs and stuff have taken their toll and she’s supposed to be a little bit wacko and unpredictable but …… she gave a good concert even if I didn’t know the songs.

Anyway, here she is:

But, here again, I’m going to talk about food. Italian food, of course, but mixed with a little bit of English retrospective.

I remember, when we were kids and used to go to my grandmother and grandfather’s for Sunday lunch, that, sometimes, sweet would be fruit cocktail. Not, in those days, made by hand but out of a tin. And, in some throwback from the second World War, there was always bread and butter. Now, I also hated having fruit with bread and butter. I just didn’t get it at all. The taste and textures just did not mix.

Moving on and I remember things like chip butties (sandwiches) which many people used to love and I just couldn’t stomach. The idea of carbohydrates with a filling of carbohydrates just didn’t really mix well and the couple of times I was persuaded to try them I found myself gagging at the mix of bread and potato I was trying to force down my throat.

There were also, at one time, banana sandwiches. I had the same problem with them as fruit cocktail and bread and butter – they didn’t really compliment each other in my mind.

The only thing I could go for was jam sandwiches. Jam was, somehow, different.

Since coming to Italy I have been made aware of Nutella and, with it being a kind of spread, it is often used on bread. I’m not a big fan. It’s OK but I could live without it (although many people can’t, it seems).

When we arrived at the beach on the Saturday morning, one of the ladies at the café was proudly showing us the figs that she had picked from her garden that morning and gave us one each to try. They were lovely.

Although we don’t usually have lunch at the beach, F decided that he wanted a sandwich and so he went to buy one.

Now, I’m sure most of you will know of the Italian dish Melon and Parma Ham. Well, here, they also do Parma ham with figs which is just as nice and a great option if you can get really sweet figs (peel them and then drape Parma ham over them – as you would do the the melon dish).

What he came back with was focaccia with figs. He shared half with me. My initial reaction was that it didn’t taste right. I mean to say, fruit with bread (although focaccia is really a leavened pizza base)! Apparently, he had asked for fig and prosciutto – but only if the prosciutto was without fat and, quite obviously, it wasn’t.

Then I got to thinking about jam sandwiches and this was, after all, a little like a fig jam sandwich. So, after laughing about it, I had to concede that it was very nice.

Of course, these figs were very fresh, very sweet and not from a supermarket.

I think I would have preferred to have the ham as well, even with some fat, but it was very nice after all.

There will be a room for cleaning products!

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It should be good. Why on earth, then, was I felt left feeling uneasy? Almost to the point of being scared? It doesn’t make sense, even to me.

I’ve just spent three weeks at F’s flat in Carrara. It’s not the “perfect” house, by any means. First, he shares it with his brother (at the moment) and that means that his brother “leaves” a mess which causes stress to F (and so, to me).

Then the house has not been “done up” since it was built (more or less) – the kitchen is old (but serviceable); there is only cold water in the bathroom sink; the hot water boiler sometimes gives you hot water but, mostly, gives tepid water; the toilet has been “fixed” (since last year when we used to have to use a bucket of water to flush it) but the plumber or whoever did it didn’t clear air out of the pipes and so it makes a terrible noise (you have to leave the cold tap running in the sink until the toilet cistern is full); the garden is not really grassed as such but is full of that rough grass; etc., etc.

It’s a house (or, rather, two flats) built in the 50s, I guess. It’s not really my “style”.

But, I’m not complaining. It’s been great to go there for weekends and holidays. The dogs love it and this year even F agreed that we had a very relaxing holiday.

He wants to do it up. The old guy who lives upstairs is a sort-of relation. In any event, in his will, the flat goes to F’s brother (he who used to look like Johnny Depp but doesn’t any more). But it needs a lot of work done – new roof, the walls need to be re-done (as they’re letting in damp) and, as part of the deal, F will pay for the repairs and his brother will sign over his half of the ground floor flat to F. It just needs to be made to happen.

But F really wants this. And, the night before last when we were out with An (where I had tartare which was incredible – I will put details of the restaurant up later), F was excitedly telling her about what he wants to do with the flat. Which walls he was going to knock down, how he was going to arrange everything, how there would be room for me to do English lessons ……..

This is something (the English lessons part) that he mentions regularly. This is the good thing. Isn’t it?

Well, yes it is. It means he is thinking of our future, not just his. He’s thinking of us living there and me doing lessons as a real job (which, of course, is about the only thing I could do there).

And that’s the problem, I suppose. For one thing, I don’t really think of the future any more. I stopped doing that more or less after I left England. Now, even thinking about next year is a rarity, let alone a few years hence.

The second thing is that, although this future includes me, I don’t have any real say over how the house should be done. Oh sure, I’ve made a couple of suggestions but, as I won’t be paying for it, I don’t really feel I have any right to say much.

For example, he draws the furniture in. It’s not my furniture. I’m attached to the furniture I have. I know it’s not important and I try not to be attached to anything any more. After all they’re only “things” which are not really important (those of you who read my blog know this already), it’s experiences and friends and the dogs that are important. Things can be replaced, destroyed, etc. They have no feeling. But, you know, if I’m going to be there, in this future he’s creating, I want something of mine.

I think.

So, suddenly, I came over quite cold and scared. The future. A future with me. But without things that are part of me. All these things make me a little uneasy.

However, to lighten the post a little, at one point he is describing the “laundry room” that he will create. It will have the washing machine and some shelves. On one side it will have shoe storage (he’s a bit of a maniac about shoes – they have to be aired and they have to be stored – usually in individual boxes). On the other side, I suggested we could put the sheets, towels, etc.

“Oh no!” he exclaimed, “this is where we will put the cleaning stuff.”

I laughed and laughed. The room will be mostly cleaning products. As I pointed out, he’s the only person I know who would build a room for cleaning stuff. Bless.

Holiday; Weather; Books; BMWi3

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You know that thing?

You’re on holiday.

You wake up in the morning and go out onto the balcony and the sky is that strong blue and the temperature is such that a pair of shorts and a T-shirt is more than enough to wear.

That. That thing.

Well, that’s what it’s like for me nearly every day in the summer here. Like I’m on holiday :-)

Anyway, last weekend, I started two books. Quinn’s Way and Bleak House.

I finished one of them.

And it wasn’t Bleak House. Just the introduction notes to Bleak House took me an hour or so!

Quinn’s Way was OK. My criticism would be a) that there was a load of stuff about the scamming in the motor trade that was almost like making a list and b) the ending went too fast and my character kinda disappeared.

Bleak House is something else. Not exactly a light read.

Anyway, the weather now is superb. Not too hot (about 33°C) and warm in the mornings.

Oh, yes, and we went to the Milan Launch Party for the BMWi3 last night. This is the new battery powered/hybrid, slightly-larger-than-a-Fiat-500 car. The party was invitation only and it’s ‘cos we know a friend of a colleague of F’s.

Anyway, it only started at 9. We got there about 10 and left about 11.15. But it was nice.

At one point, F said to me: “I hate these people”. “What people?” “The people here. It’s all so false.”

Which is true – but, still, it was nice.

In which the strong people prove their strength.

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A huge big cheer and B R A V O to that special democracy, the grand old U S of A!

They have successfully defeated their monstrous adversary and convicted him of almost everything except aiding the enemy and are now requesting that he spends a couple of lifetimes (more or less) locked up in some prison.

This same country that allows someone to lie to their congress and get away with it. This same country that locked someone up for 4 days because they forgot about him – even if they were not going to make a charge.

Anyway, after a number of years they have finally got what they wanted – a conviction.

Now they want to make sure that they put him away for a very long time.

No matter at all that the stuff that he “leaked” showed the USA to be no better (and, in fact, given their power in the world, one could argue a lot worse) than the very worst despotic regime in the world.

No, no matter that.

Rather, Bravo to them.

I’m pretty sure that if I lived there I would now be looking to leave.

Today, I have been mostly drinking coffee

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I have already had about 9 coffees this morning.

I am tired and tonight I have to travel down to Carrara – just me and the dogs because F will stay near Venice tonight and then join us tomorrow.

So, I’m doing coffee today, mostly.

I’ve had a very busy week. Monday was a pizza and stuff with one of F’s colleagues and her boyfriend. We got home late.

Tuesday was the Earth Wind and Fire concert. And we got home late.

Wednesday was out with A and, because we didn’t go out until late, I got home late.

Last night was round to where FfI is now staying – and I got home late.

In all cases there was MUCH drinking.

Let me just say that, in every case, I didn’t intend to drink much. It’s just that I did.

And, last night, I really needed to come home early but, instead, because I felt that FfI needed me, I didn’t come home early and we drank two bottles of wine between us (more or less).

The “perfect gentleman” ex-boyfriend had not only thrown her out but had also cause a number of bruises and a bite.

So, not really the “perfect gentleman” after all.

Nor is his son, who, the next day, punched her daughter when she came to pick up her Mum.

I was told the story and, given that this is Italy, having had the whole story, I could see why he lost his temper (although hitting someone because you’ve lost your temper is NEVER acceptable).

The problem is the mentality of (certainly older) Italians. The problem is the homophobia that is rife here (as is racism).

In this case, in the heat of the argument, he told her that it was her fault that his son wanted to leave home. He said that she was so horrible that his son couldn’t be in the same house as her and was, therefore, leaving home. His son is about 25 years old.

Apparently, at this point, she advised him that the real reason his son was leaving home was because he was gay.

Given that I am writing this without being involved, I am, probably, not giving the correct feel of this “conversation”. I suspect that there was much shouting at each other and that it was as far from a “conversation” as would be possible.

However, whilst in no way condoning his physical response, I can understand why he lost control.

This is his one and only son. Both his eldest and his only child. This is Italy. Whilst outwardly he does not seem homophobic (I have met him several times and he always seemed quite a “nice” man) as it certainly used to be about 50 years ago in the UK, don’t tell a man that his only son is a raving poofter! In case you don’t know what I’m talking about, the film Billy Elliot shows you (although in the interests of a good film (meaning a feel-good factor) and to show how enlightened we are in the UK now, the father eventually realises that he loves his son for who he is – which was certainly NOT the reality of the situation). And this is Italy, so even though straight men are camper than straight men in the UK and the USA, etc. by a LONG way, being gay is not seen as OK. In fact, they are STILL discussing amending a bill in parliament to make it illegal to discriminate on the basis of sexual preference (so I think marriage is way off yet).

Anyway, back to the story – and so, the ex-boyfriend got angry and, unfortunately for all involved, got physically abusive.

His son, who witnessed some of it (and, apparently egged his father on), felt the need to emulate his father the next day after being provoked by FfI’s daughter. But, then, his role model is not exactly one that I would want my son to have.

Have I ever mentioned that the last time I ever hit anyone was when I was about 12 or 13? I felt so ashamed by my own behaviour that I never hit anyone again. Ever. I was ashamed because, even if I had been provoked and even if I had been the subject of a lot of bullying (both physically and mentally), and even if the boy I beat up was my age and in my class, he was weaker than me. And I have never forgotten that nor how bad I felt about what I had done. I did what my father had told me to do – but instead of to the bullies (who were both bigger and stronger than I), I did it to someone who was supposed to be a friend.

So, my hatred of violence stems from then.

And so, I felt the need to stay with her longer than intended.

And now I am suffering. Ah well, F is only joining us tomorrow so tonight I will go to bed early and try and recover from this week.

Half full

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It’s only half.

But why? I mean to say, a half is almost the same size as a full, since to get the half, the cup is filled slightly higher and, therefore a half of that is just a fraction shorter than a normal short.

So, I see no difference really between a half or a whole.

The benefit is that I get free coffee – a short coffee, certainly, but a coffee nonetheless.

My colleague takes a coffee with me in the morning at about 8.45 and then gives me half a coffee at about 10.20.

Occasionally, very occasionally, she takes a half coffee in the afternoon.

We’re taking a centimetre of difference here.

But someone else has also started giving me half his coffee. But I find this one a bit strange. I almost feel like he’s trying to bribe me. You see, I really don’t like him and he knows this, for sure. To me he is the most ineffectual, overpaid, useless moron. He has, in the past, said things that are simply not true and done things that really show how useless he is.

And, yet, suddenly, here he is on an almost daily basis, giving me half a coffee.

Obviously, instead of ignoring him, I have to say “hello” and “thank you”. I’m not THAT rude. But, still, it really does grate on me. And it does feel like a kind of bribe, as if he’s trying to get me to “like” him, and not even in a Facebook kind of way!

However, since I think this whole “half” coffee thing (if you see what I mean) is weird, coffee is coffee and free is free. So I will just have to put with the “hello” and “thank you” that goes with it. Although the fact that he is a quite useless bastard will, quite obviously, not change.

In amor, vince chi fugge!

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Apparently.

It’s a saying, here, in Italy although, having spent a little while to get the correct translation, I found that it is from Henri Matisse, the French painter/artist. So, in spite of my original thought that it was one of these strange Italian sayings, it turns out not to be so.

A rough translation would be:

In love, the one who runs away is the winner

I was asked if I agreed with it. Of course, that entirely depends on what you mean by “run away”. If it means “playing a little hard to get”, then yes, within reason, I agree.

If you mean to escape to somewhere else then that depends on a) the type of love and b) what the future would have been.

Still, it’s something I’d never heard before and I thought I would share it with you.

But if it’s meaning is the first I mentioned then, yes, I would have to agree, since that is how I “played” it with F and it seems to have worked out OK so far :-)

And you? What do you think?

Driving in Italy – part 945 – actually, driving anywhere, not just here. It’s “holiday” time :-(

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It should be great.

In some ways, it is.

There are, for example, no problems finding somewhere to park. There are always some places around my flat. Not that I have too many problems anyway but, sometimes, a space takes a bit of finding. But not now. Now that people are away because the school kids are off.

There is, without doubt, less traffic on the roads. This can be great and, sometimes, I can be home within half an hour.

When we are down in Carrara, now, people are driving around like they are on holiday. I.e. slowly and seemingly unaware that there are any other cars on the road. One expects people to slow, turn off or completely stop without any warning. One expects someone who is looking for a car parking space near the beach to drive as if they own the road. I don’t get upset with it – after all, I’m on holiday too!

However, it seems that a lot of the drivers left in Milan think that they’re on holiday too! One guy this morning was driving at 30 Kph on a straight bit of road. In the end, after I overtook him (or, rather, undertook him), he followed me for some way – so he wasn’t even looking for somewhere to park!

Last night, driving near my house, the lights were green and there was a good chance we would get through. Instead the guy in front slowed down, pointing out some building to his passenger. I tooted my horn to get, from him, the sign (see this post I put up a few days ago) saying “What do you want?”

However, he then put his foot down a bit and we got through.

But it’s very annoying!!!! Sometimes, like this morning, getting to work takes just as long as in the winter – and with at least 50% less traffic!

Bloody holiday drivers. Grrrrrr.

Am I going to look like I’ve got some dread disease, or not?

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One of the banes of living (or holidaying) in Italy are the mosquitoes. They arrive sometime in May (generally – this year they were a bit late as it was so cold) and keep going through until August/September.

To be honest, as the years go by, I am less affected by them than most but, still, they are a pain in the neck or wherever else they bite.

But, to know whether you should be taking a bottle of spray or 10 with you, you can check out the level of infestation here, at a site sponsored by a mosquito repellent producer.

Happy repelling :-)