I must apologise for my lack of posts this month. There have been many times that I’ve started to write something, been distracted or ran out of gas halfway through and they just never get finished.
I have wanted to say things about the events in Tibet; gay people; drink/driving; immigrants; and many other things but they just haven’t made it to the blog.
Gianna Nannini or, as I thought for ages, Gian Annanini (although why some woman would have a blokes name, God only knows), was truly fantastic. Her name is pronounced Janananini as there is no gap when you say it.
This is helped, no doubt, by the fact that the last concert (and first here, in Italy) that I went to was…wait for it…Robbie Williams!
The café is almost like a bar in a pub. An old-fashioned bar. The fixed, wooden bench with the high back hugs the wall all the way around. The ‘bar’ is wooden too. Nice, old wood. The tables are large and rectangular and, would you believe it, wooden. The floor is wooden without carpet. It’s all well scrubbed – spotlessly clean.
The feeling is warm. The sun shines in through the windows and it is bright inside, in spite of all that wood. The espresso machine, behind the bar, gives a delicious smell to the whole place. The staff are, in the main, dressed in white.
This was going to be a long, rambling post but I decided to cut it short.
Jack would be appalled.
Having had a dreadful time that evening already and being much later than normal, I pay for the supermarket items I have bought with a card. The total cost is €40.02. I hand over my debit card.
‘Have you got the 2 cents?’
More on our trip to the UK.
I have mentioned this before but it was particularly noticeable as I haven’t been back to the UK for a while.
People here, in Milan (and maybe the whole of Italy), walk just like they drive. There is no forward planning and manoeuvres are made at the last minute and only if absolutely necessary. Except that, the difference between people and cars is that, if you bump into another car with your vehicle there will be a lot of time spent sorting out the insurance; shouting and screaming at each other with a lot of gesturing; many years of paying extra for your insurance.
Bumping into people does not cause any of those things. So, as a result, people manoeuvre a lot less when walking and there is a lot of bumping. And, more importantly for the people from the UK – no apologising!
Whilst in the Scottish city, we had spent a couple of hours walking round the shops and dancing in the street – by that, I mean the little two-step dance whilst trying to avoid other people.
I asked V if he had noticed that, in all the time we had been walking, not once had anyone so much as brushed past us. He replied that he hadn’t but that now I had mentioned it, it was true. It was so pleasant. I must admit that, having been here for almost 4 years now, I no longer apologise when bumped into or even when I bump into someone else. It has taken all this time and a great deal of personal resolve to stop saying ‘sorry’. There is a way of walking here that means head up, stare straight ahead, ignore the fact that the person is approaching you without any intention of moving slightly out of your way and, if they are much bigger than you, only move slightly to one side at the very last possible moment. If there is any physical contact, whatever you do, DO NOT say ‘sorry’ – after all, it’s their fault for being in your way.
But it was so nice to stroll around without having bruises at the end!
I did drink a lot of tea whilst there and it was very, very nice. But I did miss the Italian coffee. So, whilst out, we saw a Café Nero and decided to go in and have the ‘real Italian coffee’ that they purported to sell.
Of course, here, a café latte is not taken so often and, certainly, is not as big as the Café Nero ‘regular’ let alone ‘large’. However, we were in the UK so a large café latte seemed in order.
Maybe it’s the water; or the coffee; or the milk – whatever it was, it did not make it particularly nice. And I very much doubt (although I didn’t try it, so I can’t be sure) that their espresso is not the best this side of Milan. After all, we have quite an area of Italy between Milan and the French border and, I can assure you, coffee in any part of Italy is superb.
I do remember that, when we still had the flat in Hay and returned to help out at the festival 3 years ago, we brought our moka back with us along with a supply of coffee so that we could make our morning fix.
Many thanks to J, a colleague of V’s, who, yesterday, gave V 160 Tetley tea bags. Hurrah! Obviously they won’t last forever but at least I should be alright for a bit.
Sunday was the start of Men’s Fashion Week. A rang to say she had been to the Dolce and Gabbana or Versace show (I forget which) where a male model (apparently famous but I have no idea who it was) was signing a pair of men’s underpants should you buy a pair. Apparently, he was acting like Father Christmas and allowing the person having their pants signed, to sit on his knee. A and her Texan friend were tempted. Later when they were about to go they noticed that he was surrounded by gay men. Quell surprise!
For me, Fashion Week is less about fashion and more about traffic. Traffic and parking. The lesser shows are put on in available spaces – and some of the available space is in my area, so the traffic becomes unbearable and the parking non-existent.
I feel dreadful, though, that I missed both Beyonce and the Spice Girls. Well, no, that’s a lie. I don’t feel dreadful at all. And, as I’m rushing from my car to get out of the cold and rain, a nice warm house and a glass of wine seem so much more inviting.
Urgent cry for help! I have finished all my Tetley tea-bags (you know, the round ones that come in a blue packet). I still have a few nice ones which are free-trade ones from the Hay Festival – but only about 5. This means I won’t last the week out. Does anyone know how I can get hold of some in Milan? I’m afraid that tea here is far too weak, whereas Tetley round ones do the trick perfectly.
Well, it is too early, really, to be certain but there’s a possibility that Milan’s Ecopass (the equivalent to London’s Congestion Charge) may work.
You might think it’s a day late, but it did take the BBC a whole day to make it the top Europe story on their website. I’m talking about Milan’s new Congestion Charge – called the Ecopass, here.
It’s how it feels. The traffic is terrible; the urgency of everything is at its height (work, home, etc.); we are out every night this week as so many of our friends leave for extended breaks with their families; the shops are full to bursting (see below); people start to lose their ‘nice’ gene.
And it happens every year. But why? I realise that, if you don’t get presents before Christmas then it makes less sense but it’s not a disaster. And if the client does get the parts on the day before Christmas, what on earth is he going to do with them? And, if you don’t get bread and milk today then the supermarket WILL be open tomorrow, with new supplies.
There’s this thing about Christmas that is a proper milestone in nearly everyone’s mind.
And, considering this is supposed to be the season of goodwill, where the hell is it?
Apart from the story below, I think the best thing to do is to chill-out. Take it easy. Don’t worry. Even if you don’t get the presents/parts/bread, it’s not the end of the world. Honestly.
Anyway, my experience of trying to get that ‘last minute’ something:
I know what I want. I know exactly what it should look like. But finding it is so difficult. A present for some friends. Candlesticks – but it’s got to be glass, got to be square pillars and not round, preferably smoked or some sort of opaque glass.
And, we’re in Milan, the design centre of Europe? But can I find what I want? No. It seems so simple. We traipse up Corso Buenos Aires and into all the probable shops. V has to go on his work’s Christmas outing (I am joining him later) and so I go to the centre of town to try La Rinascente (like Selfridges or Debenhams as it used to be). I get off the metro and walk up the steps to the outside and it is cold. The crowds are tightly packed. Everyone seems to be going to the same place. I join the slow-moving queue to get inside. I enter and then the crowds are more tightly packed. There is no way to side-step the snail-paced human traffic jam.
We shuffle along and, if I am honest, this is exactly why I don’t like Christmas. If I had any other choice (I guess I DO have another choice but …) I would have turned round and joined the shuffling queue out of there.
At the escalator, going up was more difficult. So I went down – as this was one of the places to look. Downstairs is busy but tolerable. I see some very nice examples, not really what I wanted but suitable, except for the price. I would even pay up to €100 but €300 to €3000 are just completely out of range.
I join the queue to catch the escalator up and up and up. They have ‘bouncers’ at the end of each escalator. But it’s not to check that people aren’t stealing things, it’s to keep the flow going. Why do people reach the top of the escalator and think that it’s OK to stop and look about them? So we move on, as fast but no faster, than the escalators themselves.
I reach the floor I want. Ah, here are candlesticks. And reasonable prices. But not glass and not what I want. I look lost. Some very nice assistant asks if I need help? I explain what I want. She guides me, through, over and round the people pointing out a type of candlestick here, another type there. Eventually I say I will look at them and decide and thank her for being so helpful.
There is a glass one, with a brown glass stem. Not really. Some silver type ones from India but totally wrong. And then I see some small, silver, candlesticks that are ideal only they have been out too long and need serious cleaning. But I have seen silver like this before and it doesn’t always clean so well.
I find another assistant (I should have gone back to find the nice one). This one says that it only needs cleaning. I ask if they will clean it. She says they only have cleaner for glass but she will try. She tries. It doesn’t work, making me more nervous. Will you give me my money back if it doesn’t clean up? I ask. As usual here, in Italy, the answer is no. They only give you a replacement article(s) or, if you’re really lucky, a credit note.
I decide against it. I walk up to San Babila and walk along a street I know that may have something. A shop window looks promising and inside I find what is, almost, perfect. How much are these, I ask. €80 is her response, it’s plexiglass. Not exactly what I wanted but pretty close. Do you have two, I add. No, only that one.
I give up at this point. It’s just not to be and I have a trifle to prepare. I go home, thankful that I don’t have a sackload of presents to buy as I couldn’t stand it for much longer. I’m not really a Christmas Shopper!!