Category Archives: Strange things

How different is Italy and the Italians?

Stepping back in time………….

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You’ve seen the films. Usually American, depicting the High School Prom. The dancing, the essential glitter ball, the live band. Particularly from the 50s or 60s.

The strings of lights from the roof. Maybe, if it’s a dedicated ballroom, it has mirrors round every wall. If it does a dinner dance, the tables are arranged, length outwards from the longest two walls, leaving the central part as the dance floor.

You sit at the tables. Maybe you drink some wine. You have the first course and the band starts playing. Between courses, rather than going out for a cigarette, people start dancing. The cha-cha-cha, waltz, tango, etc., etc.

In those days, this WAS the Saturday night out. Couples went to enjoy time with their friends, eat and dance. All for a very reasonable price.

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We have the address. An’s birthday was that day. She had been persuaded by her colleague (whose birthday it was last week), known to us as the Lesbico since she is lesbian, to join her birthday party.

An had an address. It was a street I have walked down so many times and yet, I could not remember any restaurant being there. We met up at An’s flat for a glass of prosecco and walked, together, to the place.

‘It’s a bit trashy but it should be super fun’, she told us. ‘The food is super good’, she added.

It was next door to the police station. ‘It can’t be here’, she said when we got to 2A. ‘But this is 2A’, I said remembering that there was a place offering dancing lessons. Yes, it was here alright. We walk down the steps, following the signs for the entrance.

We walk down some underground corridors. Quite wide, lined with that pale, fake-wood boarding. It was very well lit but strange. We turned left and then right and then left again, going through several sets of doors that had been opened.

We arrived at a bar. It had a few people sitting around. There were no windows but still very bright. But the ‘entrance’ was through the bar. I wondered what type of restaurant this could be.

We walked up a few steps.

We were on a fairly narrow balcony. The balcony had a railing over which was a …. ballroom. You could check your coats in for 50 cents. We walked along the balcony and down some stairs. It felt like we were a long way below ground – but that was probably not the case.

The room was a big rectangle. Round three sides were mirrors so the place did not have a claustrophobic atmosphere. What looked like trestle tables (but with table cloths so I couldn’t say they were) to seat 10 people (or 12 if there were people sitting at the heads of the tables) were arranged along the long-side walls, lengthways out from the wall. This still left a huge area in the centre. They had a small table in the centre on which there was a selection of salumi and some parmesan and a couple of buckets holding ice and wine. And plastic cups!

It struck me that this was similar to the Feste delle Unita things I’ve been to in those country places. This was not something I ever expected to find in the centre of Milan. It was like it was a volunteer thing and yet it most certainly wasn’t.

We all sat down at our tables. M (The Lesbico) had done the seating arangements for the five tables we had. All An’s friends were on one table with a couple of M’s friends to fill the table up – but, very kindly, M had arranged that these people spoke English. However, some of them had cancelled. It looked like there were the 5 of us plus another couple meaning there were four empty places. But these were filled later when people turned up to M’s party who weren’t on the list!

The other thing was that M had told all her friends that the women should wear dresses and the men, DJs. An had only found out that morning. M, we learnt, had also sent out special invitations.

There were probably towards 250 people all told. In the end we learnt that there were at least 3 birthday parties being hosted plus, along the one wall, people who really knew the ropes and seemed to come there often (I’ll explain later).

Just after we sat down, the band were introduced and started playing. They were a good band. Not a group to go and see in concert but tight and well-rehearsed.

There were bottles of wine and water on the tables. They started to deliver the antipasto which was a kind of vegetable lasagne. Not bad. Whilst we were eating that, they cleared the table from the centre. Then people started to get up and dance.

The staff were efficient. After the antipasto was risotto. It was OK (me, not being a big fan of risotto) but a lot of people didn’t really like it. Finally the main course, which was a veal casserole with polenta.

As it was An’s birthday, she had bought a strawberry gateau and that was our sweet.

And, for entertainment there was, of course, the dancing. We were struck by how good some of the dancing was. As we discussed, soon this type of thing will die out since most people of my age and younger don’t know how to do this type of dancing. I have tried (and I’m sure I’ve blogged about it) but failed miserably. My feet just don’t seem to be able to function for this type of thing.

F did get up and dance with this rather strange looking woman – short, no neck, a smile as wide as her head, short, black dress and white pearls (or beads, anyway). She knew all the ‘formation’ dancing that went on and was on a table on the opposite side of the wall to us – which I think was ‘the wall for the regulars’. Fabulous! In fact, she only smiled when she danced with F.

We met a couple on our table who were going to get married next year, although they seemed to have a definite disagreement going on about the honeymoon.

Oh, yes, and there was a tombola (that’s the English tombola not the Italian one). In fact, the woman due to get married (who was Irish but has lived here since the late 90s) won the second price – and overnight bag!

The whole thing (without the tombola tickets) cost us €20 each and it was a great night – so much fun.

I think it wasn’t so much ‘trashy’ as ‘old fashioned’ but so weird to find in the heart of Milan. However, if you have a party to organise, it’s a fabulous idea. I would definitely consider it as it is really a hidden gem.

If you wanted to know, it’s called the Sala Venezia and is at Porta Venezia. The link I’ve put is to a blog that gives more details (in Italian).

Racing to Italy

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Before I was 14, we lived in rural Herefordshire. I went to a ‘posh’ school and, so, had ‘posh’ friends. Among those friends were farmers’ sons and the like. One of the things that was a favourite pastime was going to the point-to-points. These are like horse racing but over fields rather than at a race track. There are no stands and no real facilities (obviously, basic toilets and stuff – but in tents rather than fixed toilet blocks).

I used to love it. Even it it was illegal (which I’m sure it must have been), as kids we would go to the bookies and make bets on each race.

It was fun. It made the race fun – obviously, you wanted your horse to win. It taught us about money, weighing up odds, the form, etc., etc.

It was a game and, like all betting games, although you wanted to win, it was the thrill of the race that was the thing.

Most of life is like this. Certainly, recently, it seems as if the whole world is like this. Will they win? Will they lose? How much money can they make from a single bet?

So, the ‘markets’ (which are, in reality no different from us kids betting on horses) want to win. So far, they have forced Greece towards an implosion. And, now, after weeks of pressure on Italy (from the markets in the main) they appear to have got what they wanted. Mr B has said he will step down.

I, for one, don’t believe it is the end of him. He’s a bit of a shyster and I’m sure he’s biding his time before he says something like ‘See where that got you all? Now you need me back’.

And the markets have reacted in quite a predictable way. Since there is (I would think) a LOT of money which has been bet on Italy being the next country that needs a bail out (since you can bet on anything now), unsurprisingly, the markets have reacted negatively to the news that Mr B will resign. One could ask ‘What do you want?’ – but, of course, what they want is to make more money. Didn’t someone say that money was the root of all evil. Of course, if I won a few million, I would be different ;-)

To be honest, with or without him, this was almost invariably going to happen but they have given him a bit of a boost given that before he announced his resignation, the bond yields were below 7% and now they are above 7%. See where it got us?

Everyone may think of him as a bit of a buffoon but there is no one who can easily take his place (either left or right) and, in truth, the markets like strong government, not weak. The politicians here have successfully ensured Italy’s slide to a bail out, in my opinion.

But, overall, it may not be a bad thing. Maybe this time, things will change? Maybe this betting on failure will be stopped, for one? Maybe Europe, as a whole, will default? Maybe we’ll get something better than the current system?

Oh, well, one can always hope.

It’s just effin’ mental!

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I do and don’t love teaching English.

One of the ‘dos’ is that I get to meet people who might be interesting and learn a lot about them through the lessons. So, I have a designer of accessories that is learning English so that he can move out of Italy; a woman with a difficult family background looking for her Prince Charming; someone who needs to pass an English exam or else he will lose his degree and, a new student from last night.

He used to be a singer in a rock band (maybe heavy metal) so, through the words of songs both his pronunciation and his spelling is not that bad. He is really elementary in some ways and not anywhere near that in others.

He doesn’t sing any more.

Now he is a mentalist. What? Did he mean he was crazy or what? Has he used the wrong word? But, no. He explains that whereas an illusionist does trickery with the hands, a mentalist does the same with the mind.

He also has a girlfriend in Finland. Say again?

Yes, this summer he spent 10 days in Finland. According to him, this is where he learnt his English and, it seems, where he picked up this girlfriend.

Why does he want to learn English? Because, as a mentalist, he wants to attend international conferences and the like and, of course, the language for such conferences is English.

Now, he is also a colleague at work. But I had absolutely no idea about these other things and wouldn’t still if it weren’t that he wants to learn English. How crazy is that?

Crisis? Oh, yes, that old thing.

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Apparently, we’re fucked.

Well, on the plus side, at least the Italians (around me) seem to be talking about things. It has always seemed as if ‘the crisis’ was happening elsewhere – some other country in the world.

But, rather than the crisis, per se, the talk is about Buzz Lightyear (Mr B) and how long he can hang on for and who will take over from him.

And there’s the rub. Because, as I’ve said before, there is no one. Neither the Left nor the Right have anyone who has any real hope of pulling parties together to form a government. Buzz, at least, has enough charisma to do so.

I read this on the BBC site.

However, it’s a little strange. After all, even if it is written by an ex-pat Italian, she writes that ‘the school’s walls are covered with graffiti”. Hmmm. Yes, of course they are. And they were before the crisis. It is ‘normal’ here. In the UK, people would be up in arms and the police would go and find the culprits. Here, in Italy, graffiti is on most buildings. It’s a cultural thing.

And, in the time I have been here, I have noticed that the Italians, in exactly the same way as the Brits, complain about the money being spent (or not spent) on schools and hospitals and how the service from both is much worse than a) it used to be and b) other countries (especially in Europe). For that matter, the same is said about public transport.

Anyway, my view is that Aunt Cristina has it spot on. When explaining why Buzz keeps getting voted in, she says:

“It’s not just the pensioners, you know,” she says, jabbing at the air with her fork. “It’s a macho thing. So many Italians think he’s all man.”

That and the fact that there is no one else who could be a possible leader.

My colleague at work suggests that the President (who has all the power of our Queen in the UK) will call for a Technical Government, here. A government that will be full of economists and the like and who won’t actually ‘govern’ as such but just concentrate on the fiscal side.

But they will have a tough job ahead of them. After all (and I might have figures wrong here – but it’s something like this), there are 72,000 cars for officials in Italy compared to 195 in the UK. I think that says it all, really.

Anyway, by the time you read this, Buzz could be out of office, or Greece could have left the Euro or the world could have collapsed – or, more likely, everything will be, more or less, the same.

Speaking Italian is difficult but texting Italian on an Italian phone is even more difficult ……. it seems?????

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Takers. I hate them. OK, so hate is too strong a word. But I dislike it. I dislike it more when the person is supposed to be a friend.

FfI has just moved into a new house in my area – about 5 minutes from me. She wants me to go and see it – but not that badly, I guess.

Having texted to see if she is free I get the following reply:

2.30 my house. Call & I will give you the address,

She never calls. Always ‘doesn’t have enough credit’. But it’s not free for me either and I get a little pissed with it. So, I’ve decided I won’t call until she does next time. OK, I know it’s petty but it’s every fucking time …… call me I haven’t got any credit!

My reply was:

Text address and I will be there

Cant text in italian.phone sucks. That’s why I need you to call. One second.

WTF? I mean, seriously? You can’t text the address but you can text other messages? Are you off your fucking rocker? I mean, street name, number and bell name or number, that’s all!

Since she uses ‘I haven’t got credit’ all the time, I replied with:

Texts are free for me – calls cost. Send on fb

I got:

Not near computer; cant spell street one with this phone: Will contact you later

Sorry, but it just cannot be true. I don’t believe it and if she can’t be bothered then, frankly, neither can I. She’s a strange one, for sure. It’s gone 2.30 now. I guess I won’t be going until she contacts me …….. which won’t be any time soon LOL

A breakthrough?

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We have made some sort of breakthrough.

It’s down to Dino, really, since he looks very cuddly.

Up until last night, the most it has been is a ‘Ciao’ or ‘Salve’ (pronounced salvey = Hi).

The other night she was in the kebab shop, just round the corner from me. She looked excited to see me and the dogs. I was a bit surprised but then an ambulance came by so I was trying to keep Dino from howling, as he does. She asked what was happening and I tried to explain. But then I realised that she wasn’t pleased to see me nor was she (probably) asking what was going on but, rather, was talking to a guy in a white Mercedes cars that are supposed to be, kind of, off-road vehicles but are used for taking the kids to school, etc. I was, frankly, a little embarrassed at having thought she was pleased to see me. After all, why would she be.

However, last night, as I’m walking up to the penultimate corner of our evening walk, she saw us coming and called to Dino. He, of course, was very excited. I told him not to jump. She asked what I was saying and I explained. We chatted for a moment or two, as you do.

I keep wanting to ask her how business is. It’s a bit cheeky but I am interested. She’s tall, with legs. Not amazingly attractive but not ugly. Kind of smartly dressed, in a tarty way. Usually something to show off her legs. Like a shop window shows off the stuff that will entice you in. Which, of course, is what the long legs are for.

And I see cars stop often – inquiring about the price I suppose.

I’ve never seen it so blatant anywhere in the UK.

But, now we’re chatting. So maybe, eventually, I will get chance to find out if business is good. I don’t know why I’m so curious to know – but I am.

As I said, it’s a breakthrough, of sorts.

SHOCK! HORROR! We make the Daily Hate Mail ?????

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I was shocked.

I mean, Italy doesn’t make the Daily Hate Mail pages unless it’s for another scandal about Buzz Lightyear or because those “Lazy Italians” are meaning that the UK has to spend a fortune bailing them out as part of the Euro.

So it was nice to see this:

Towers of Trees (officially Vertical Forest)

And I go past them every day. They don’t look like they do in the picture right now but they should do and that is nice.

Although Milan does have a LOT of trees and greenery and a lot of apartment blocks do have roof gardens. It’s nowhere near as drab as you may think :-)

Do the work and wait ……… wait ……… for the money

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I read this, from the Independant (which I got from Twitter or Facebook or something – I’m sorry, I forget now).

Interns, from what I can understand can expect no payment for any work they do. It is supposed to be treated as ‘work experience’. The problem here is that it rarely leads to a full-time job. Instead, Interns go from one ‘unpaid job’ to another.

It will surely become a problem given the current crisis. With no hope of securing a full-time job – why bother?

Which then leads to unhappiness. Which, in turn leads to restlessness. And then, when there are enough unhappy, restless young people, something is bound to happen, isn’t it?

However, the really damning bit (for me) comes towards the end of the piece, namely:

But it seems that even people hired by the magazine cannot count on being paid. The Independent spoke to one person who was recruited this summer by Flash Art magazine without pay on a two-month trial basis. After a successful trial he continued working but was told there was no money to pay him a month later.

“Of course it’s immoral,” he said. “If they haven’t got the money to pay the staff they need, then they shouldn’t be in operation. But it’s hardly the only company doing this sort of thing.”

The Flash Art controversy followed the magazine’s recent call for new interns for eight to 10-month periods – even though using someone as an intern for more than six months is illegal in Italy.

I have known of other people who haven’t been paid – either for a very long time or at all. Worse still, if you’re on some sort of term contract. I cross my fingers that I didn’t have too much problem getting my money when I was teaching (although there was one, how should I say, ‘near miss’).

Part of the reason it’s like this is the Italian way of thinking. Mummy and Daddy can always take care of you, it seems. And, because Italians have the highest savings rate in Europe (maybe the world?), it is (I guess) assumed you have plenty of savings to tide you over.

I’m sure I would have a much stronger opinion about it if it had ever happened to me but it is wrong, isn’t it? I mean, in a civilised country within the European Union, how can this possibly be right?

It’s a sign of a wider problem. That of not really giving a shit about anyone else [that’s not either family or important to you].

And things that I do, as a Brit, sometimes get misconstrued by Italians. I remember somebody who got a ‘job’ through someone else. They thought it would be a really nice idea to take their new boss to lunch – if the guy were in the area. But the friend who had done the recommendation became something akin to a Tasmanian Devil and the vitriol and hatred that spat from a (normally) very nice, pleasant, Italian woman was more than a little shocking. For her it was this person ‘going behind her back’.

She now lives in the UK. I wonder how she gets on over there – where, to be honest, this kind of situation is not something to be bothered about.

We don’t all have some ulterior motive other than ‘to be nice and respectful’. Here that does not always seem to be the case. Not giving a shit about people seems to be the norm – and it does annoy me a bit.

Some guys doing an eating tour of Italy in an Ape

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Eating is a bit of a pastime here. And so it seems only right that if you’re going to tour anywhere, with the main purpose of eating stuff, it should be in Italy.

Of course, you could do it in style or ……………….. you could do it in an Ape. This is a teeny 3-wheel, moped-engined ‘vehicle’. Of course, to do a ‘tour’ in an Ape is crazy but, amazingly, it’s being done.

I know this because of the following email. Follow them through their trip (of course, they’re only going up one side of Italy – so missing out on half of Italy’s good food :-) )

Hi,

I came across your page and thought you might be interested in writing about two brothers who are currently on a food road trip through Italy.

They will be constantly documenting their journey, so will be able to supply you with daily info/images/videos.

Please feel free to write about this journey, embed our videos/images and share it with your friends.

Please check out all the information below and contact me if you would like to know anything else.

Thanks,

Jess

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Travel Dates: 09/10/11 – 04/11/11