Category Archives: Experiences

Baia dell’Est

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Over the weekend, we stayed at the hotel at which the wedding reception was held, the hotel Baia dell’Est.

I had booked it because it would be easy and permit us to drink without having to worry about driving.

And, then, I read the Trip Advisor reviews – and I was worried! They weren’t very good.

To be honest, it has good and bad points. The view from most, if not all of the rooms is stupendous. The hotel sits on a rock high above the coast with views over about 200 degrees around. Most rooms seem to have a balcony or terrace for you to enjoy those views – looking over the bay, over the beaches and over the beautiful-looking sea.

We got there and walked from the car park to the reception. As you walk down the path, past some holiday cottages (part of the hotel), to approach the reception over a rather nice internal terrace-type area. We could see one of the other terraces over-looking the sea.

Patric, the owner, who has recently taken over the hotel, is a really nice guy with a good smattering of English (enough to get by). The reception area is modern and cool. He gave us our room key and took us down to the room.

We had a small apartment which included a bedroom, bathroom, lounge-cum-bedroom area with two single beds, a kitchen area with dining table and a rather large terrace. Had we brought the dogs, it would have been perfect as large areas of the terrace stayed in the shade from the large pine planted there. In the height of summer, this would have been the perfect place to be.

It was clean and tidy.

The only thing that we could fault with the room was that it was a bit tired. The furniture and fitted kitchen were of a 70s or 80s style and it seriously needed updating. But, we weren’t staying there for a week, so that was OK. And, anyway, we thought it was unlikely that we would be staying in the room for long periods given that we had a car.

But, the views were truly amazing.

One other small problem – although advertised as “with a restaurant”, in fact, until (I think) July, the restaurant is closed and then only opens for July and August. However, they were very accommodating and said they were able to get pizza delivered from a local pizzeria – which they did for some of the wedding guests who didn’t have cars.

As we had a car we went to a pizzeria they suggested that was about 10 minutes away. The pizza was good and the place was friendly and nice.

One of the problems that was mentioned was the noise. Unfortunately, the place is a bit echoey. We were far away from the place, just outside the reception, where people were drinking and, as it was English people, they did get a bit loud and drunk. I only heard them about 3 in the morning when they came to the bedrooms near us but someone did say that, with their room having the door overlooking that area, they suffered more.

For the wedding itself, I couldn’t fault it. They have three “dining areas” on three levels. Each has a terrace overlooking the sea. The area directly behind reception is the main dining area and it’s smart. The top dining area, for our wedding, was used for aperitivo and, after the meal, for desert and the cutting of the cake. The bottom dining area was used for breakfast.

The food served was really, really nice and they are very accommodating as we had mainly fish which two people on our table couldn’t eat – so they served meat options. The food was abundant (after all, it was an Italian wedding) and the service good.

That was the Friday evening. Saturday evening they had another two weddings, one in the afternoon and one in the evening. By about midnight, the noise from the wedding was in competition with the disco on the beach below us. Fireworks went off about 2 a.m. but I’m not sure if that was from the wedding or the disco. Either way, it seems your sleep will be, more than likely, interrupted.

However, as it wasn’t our main holiday and as we were there for one of the weddings, it was tolerable. I think if you came there for a relaxing holiday, you could be a bit annoyed. And Patric has the idea of continuing it as, primarily, a wedding venue.

So, if you want it as a wedding venue, you’d be hard pushed to choose better. A stunning venue with excellent food and enough rooms for almost as many guests as you like. And it must be good as they have bookings for hundreds of weddings for the rest of the year.

And, then, there was the price. We paid €50 per night for the two of us. It was a special deal as we were part of the wedding but, even so, it is dirt cheap.

I would like to see it in a few years when they’ve spent a bit of money on the rooms.

Time travel; Foreign Travel

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I feel that we’ve come somewhere foreign. I mean to say, it IS foreign, of course because, as I don’t go back to the UK, everywhere is foreign.

We draw up in front of a 70s-style restaurant. One that’s seen better days. F says this, and he’s right. There are round windows with their surround jutting out, like some sort of binoculars. The whole is painted in some rusty red colour but so that it doesn’t look painted but really looks rusty.

It would be the sort of restaurant that, in the 70s, would have been great to go to – modern, with fantastic (and, by that I mean exotic and never-before-tried) food. But, now, these days, you would give if a miss. If you were wise and cared about eating.

But it’s now just a little decrepit, a little run down, a little bit has-been.

But we’re not coming here to eat. This is just a transit place. We may eat here on our way back. But, actually, inside there are shops and bars and places to buy tickets – for this, as the sign said as we pulled up – is Lemezia International Airport.

I turn to F, as the plane has just landed, and ask why there is no applause, for the plane is full of Italians, maybe I am the only foreigner, and so I would expect clapping for the safe landing. He looks back at me as if I am criticising, which I’m not although I always find it amusing. I am somewhat relieved when, a few seconds later, there is the spontaneous applause starting at the back of the plane and moving forward, like a kind of Mexican wave. Good, we are still in Italy.

We get into the terminal. There are two baggage reclaim carousels. It’s a small airport even if it purports to be “International”. F will wait for the baggage whilst I go and sort out the hire car we have booked.

I go through the automatic doors, and, I act like the usual first-timer to an airport, looking about me, trying to understand; trying to get my bearings. After a few seconds, I am none the wiser and so I start to walk. I see some signs to the car hire places. It takes you outside the airport.

As I step outside, I am, indeed, somewhere foreign. A foreign land. A Mediterranean land. For outside the airport there are those stubby palms. And everywhere is dusty and dry, such as we don’t get in Milan until July and August. And, anyway, it FEELS different.

And then there are the airport dogs. Not like in Milan where they are on leads, coming with people to meet people, their people, people from their pack. These are unleashed and languid and their own pack. Here for scraps. They are big dogs and they know the places to sleep, as dogs do. One is an Alsation cross but a big Alsation. The other is white and indeterminate breeding. It adds to my feeling of foreign.

I see the pillar-sign indicating the car hire offices. It lists, downwards, the names: Avis, Sixt, Hertz, etc. But no Budget. We are with Budget. I consult the “ticket” I had printed out when making the booking.

“The car hire desk is located inside the main terminal”, it says, quite clearly.

I go back inside. I look. The terminal seems too small for a car hire desk to be here amid the few small shops and bars. I walk to a shop selling chocolate and ask, in my terrible Italian, if the Budget car hire desk is here.

She tells me that, No, it isn’t. They are all outside. F joins me and we go back out and follow the signs to the car hire offices that, like most small airports now, are “conveniently located” some walk from the terminal building.

When we get there, Budget is still not on the list outside. I am doubtful about the booking now. “Typical” is already forming in my head but I check the “ticket” once again. No, I did book it from the airport and not the town.

I tell F to wait whilst I go inside to ask. For once, he suggests that he will do it as, should there be any problem, he has the language skills to cope. I let him and a few seconds later he emerges calling me in.

I have booked a Fiat 500 and that’s what we get.

I’ve brought my navigator. We switch it on and type in the address and find what I hope is the right place. It’s near the sea anyhow.

The navigator, as it is wont, takes us, not on the major highways and longer route, but on the smaller (but main, here) roads, over the hills that form the foot of Italy. Or, Calabria, as it is properly called. They have, quite obviously, had a lot less rain so far than Milan but F informs me that it is much greener than expected. Even Calabria have had a crap spring.

The roads, as usual in the more rural areas, don’t seem to be quite understood by the navigator, it telling me to turn right or left when it’s a bend in the road and, sometimes, omitting to inform me to turn right when it thinks the road goes straight on. And so, we get the inevitable, annoying, “recalculating”.

At one point, we have to make a u-turn, which is always annoying. Around 4, half an hour after we expected, we arrive at Baia Dell’Est. The hotel.

It’s like a resort hotel. As we were coming down the hill, towards the coast, I spotted it and pointed it out to F. It has promise. It’s a hotel and restaurant. It’s much like a 70s style place, in my mind. We walk down the path to the reception. Patric comes out and F takes over, as he does everywhere we go – bars, restaurants, etc. It’s one of his “things” – yet still he calls me lazy when he speaks of my Italian (or lack of it).

Patric shows us to our room. Our room is, in fact, a small flat, with a bedroom, bathroom, lounge, kitchen and large terrace. The view is of the sea.

The place could be beautiful. Maybe once, in the 70s, it was beautiful. And modern. Now it is a little jaded and tired. And, maybe a little bit scruffy.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not terrible, nor is it dirty. But it has seen better days. But, then again, it’s costing us €25 per person per night. Yes, our total stay is going to cost €150 – which is only slightly higher than the hire car!

We relax a bit and then decide to go to the supermarket to get provisions. We go back to reception. We ask about dinner tonight in the restaurant. But this is not really a tourist area and the restaurant is closed apart from July and August. They can, however, Patric offers, get us pizza or some other takeaway?

We ask about restaurants nearby. He suggests one. We ask about supermarkets and he gives directions. We were right to hire a car – you need one here.

We drive off. We buy water for F, milk for me and some chocolate for both of us. As we go to pay, K, the guy getting married (for that is why we are here), texts to ask where we are. I tell him and that we’ll be back in 10 minutes.

Patric has told us, already, that, last night, 270 beers were consumed by 30 people. He scratches his head. He doesn’t really understand the English. But, then even the English struggle with that.

The “English”, or some of them, have already started on the beers. We don’t say anything when we leave the hotel but now, as we come back from the supermarket, K is there. So is M, his bride of the next day. She had been there when we left but I wasn’t sure it was her (I met her once in Milan) as I remembered someone shorter and considerably fatter.

We say hello and they thank us for the present (which was money paid directly into their “holiday fund” account).

We go off to the side for a chat and he tells me that he is a bit pissed off as the guests didn’t hire a car and expect him to organise things for them to do – for here, there is really nothing! Poor guy. As if he doesn’t have enough to do without all that crap!

I tell F later. Apparently, English people are, generally, selfish. I bite my tongue a bit. F goes on to say that, obviously, not everyone but that S, his ex, was selfish.

I find it interesting because I would say the same of Italians! But F wouldn’t listen to me anyway. As I write this, I know that the problem isn’t that the English or Italians are selfish (though in slightly different ways) but that people are, it seems, inherently selfish.

We go to the restaurant. It’s ok. The main thing is that you can get a pizza for as little as €3! This is unheard of in Milan. But the food was quite nice.

Then back to the hotel. K, we know, has gone to pick someone up from the airport. I think we should wait for him but, although all (actually, not quite) the people are English, I don’t know anyone. We hang around at the entrance then some people speak to us, asking if we are friends of K or M. She explains that she is K’s mother and introduces us to K’s father – who talks with a strong Irish accent.

Whilst we are talking to them, an old colleague of mine comes over. It is R and G his “girlfriend” is in tow.

We chat with them and a Spanish lady and her sun and drink a beer. All around us, K’s family are getting drunk. I think the beer total will be superseded tonight!

We stay for an hour or two and then go to bed. Tomorrow (today as I write this) there will be the wedding.

Where I get to see a bit of Italy I haven’t seen before.

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I’ve lived here almost 8 years now (I know, I can hardy believe it myself)!

And, much as it was in the UK, I know I’ve seen hardly anything of Italy. There are tons of places I’ve never been to, even places near Milan!

But, this weekend (well, as of Thursday) we shall be going to the toe of Italy, namely, Calabria. It’s my first time a) in that area and b) that far south in Italy. Not right at the big toe, so to speak, but in the toe area – more like the instep now that I’ve looked at the map to check.

We’re flying down and so leaving the dogs at the place we bought them from. Then hiring a car to get to this place called Catanzaro. Well, not actually there, but close by.

We’re going to a wedding. Not one of F’s friends but, rather, one of mine. And not an Italian friend but, rather, an English friend who is marrying someone from there. Actually, it’s an ex-colleague from the time I had the business. And he’s of Irish extraction, so the place will be full of Irish people getting, I suspect, absolutely plastered. We’ve decided to stay a few extra days and make a long weekend of it.

Normally, when you speak of somewhere in Italy (that isn’t Milan), Italians will tell you how lovely it is. Not this time though, which was a little bit of a shock. I had been under the impression that everywhere in Italy was beautiful (according to Italians), except Milan (which, as you know, I think IS beautiful).

We’re staying at the hotel that is the venue for the reception. It means drinking without having to worry about driving.

But, then, I thought I would just check Trip Advisor. All the English reviews don’t have anything good to say about it – apart from the views. The Italian ones, say it’s wonderful. I’m tempted to put a review up after we’ve been – just to try and balance it one way or another. I thought that it must be OK as it will be local to her family and a lot of the English guests will be staying there. Surely, they wouldn’t have the reception and people staying in some sort of dump? No, surely not. Well, we shall see.

The place is near the sea – so beaches may be involved. It must be near some other things that may be worth a visit – I must check some of my books to find out.

Anyway, it will be a weekend away and one where we don’t have to get up early to walk the dogs. And the forecast suggests that, although it may not be as warm as Milan, it should have almost zero chance of rain which will be nice.

And then there will be the food – which should be good (although, of course, that isn’t guaranteed).

So, a weekend away without the “children”. I am looking forward to it :-)

Living together – maybe not such a good idea?

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Perhaps living together is not such a good idea?

I mean to say, it would be great in many ways. On a practical level, we would save money (on bills, etc.), we could have a cleaner every day, there would be someone there with the dogs more often, I would live in a much cleaner house (hahahahahaha).

But, there would be downsides.

I would have to be “cleaner” (Don’t get me wrong, I do clean and stuff – I just don’t always put things away immediately, if you see what I mean), I would have to cook more often (which I do enjoy – but sometimes I just don’t want to bother) and ……………

I would become amazingly fat! More like a tub of lard. I am sure.

But let’s go back a bit.

You remember that I made him a courgette and ricotta tart because he was going to be home for days and I didn’t want him to just eat sandwiches or salumi (cold meat slices).

However, as a sign of how much he loves me (as he doesn’t really like cooking), he made me some ragù (Bolognese sauce to those who don’t live here) and bought some raspberries and spray cream.

So, last night, we had pasta with ragù, a very small slice of the tart I had made (he had eaten most of it during the day!) and then raspberries and cream (because he knows that is my absolute favourite sweet).

Bless.

However, I eat lunch at work (because it costs about 7 cents a day and I get a plate of pasta and a meat dish with some vegetable). Therefore, I don’t actually NEED any more food. OK, so, sometimes I will have a biscuit or two or a piece of chocolate in the evening – but, in general, I don’t eat. And, with him coming home from work about 7 and not getting to me until about 9, we don’t tend to eat – or, rather, he might eat but I don’t.

We do go out sometimes and, obviously, I can eat and do – but it’s a maximum of once or twice a week. I was very full last night after the food and I know that, after a few weeks of that, I would be the size of, if not a villa, a small flat.

So, maybe it wouldn’t be such a good idea to live together?

Using your telephone at inappropriate times.

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Everyone seems to have a different idea about when and how you should use your mobile telephone.

Now, with the smartphones, there are games (like Ruzzle) that you play in competition with other people. I still have a Blackberry, so I don’t have these games. They only work with a touch screen.

But, surely, there are times when it’s quite acceptable to use phones and times when it’s not.

I don’t like it when F plays Ruzzle during, say, a meal in a restaurant – although I say nothing. I dislike it more when he is playing (at any time) and doesn’t answer me when I speak to him. It’s not like he does this all the time but I will be very glad when he gets fed up with the game.

I don’t think you should be using your mobile when you drive (and I’m sure I’ve mentioned this in past posts). It is, after all, dangerous.

I watch groups of people using their mobile phones and think, sometimes, that mobile phone usage seems to have replaced “real life”!

I once rang a colleague, some years ago. There was an echoey sound. I asked them where they were. They replied that they were “on the toilet”! I couldn’t believe it. I felt kind of dirty – as if I were in the cubicle with them! I told them to phone me when they had finished. And then I had to go and wash my hands :-)

And then there’s this latest thing..

The thing that caught my attention (as it was meant to do, of course) was that 29% (that’s nearly one third, folks) of Italian women admit to using their smartphone DURING SEX! How that made me laugh.

But, I’m intrigued – are they playing Ruzzle or texting or making/receiving calls? And, one other thing, the partner – don’t they say anything????

Of course, this was a survey and we don’t know what the question was – but, even so……..

Any Italian ladies out there who are brave enough to give us an insight? Lola??? ;-)

Update: A male colleague has suggested that she is answering a call from her husband :-D

He comes to stay. And other things

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I went to a second-hand book fair last Saturday.  It was organised by the Anglican Church in Milan of which, one of my friends here is a member.

I came away with 6 books to add to my other 2 that I am saving for the summer weekends and weeks on the beach.  I can’t remember all the titles or authors but they included Bleak House which I have never actually read.

In fact, I realised as I bought it, the only Dickens I have read was when I was at school and I thought it was about time I read one of them for pleasure.

Previously, I had bought Life of Pi and the Hilary Mantel book, Wolf Hall, her historical fictional account of Thomas Cromwell’s rise to power.  In fact, I shouldn’t have bought Life of Pi at all.  I was lent it by someone but then Piero got it and it was turned into small pieces of paper, spread all over the flat, so I bought another copy and I might as well read it before I give it back.

So, that’s my summer reading all sorted now.  All I need is summer which is taking a rather long time to come through and all the rain we are having is rather annoying, not to say anything about how cold it is.

F, having spent all last week in Spain (for work), became ill but still travelled down to his Aunt and Uncle’s 50th Wedding Anniversary “party” on Saturday.  I was invited but I don’t think he was so keen for me to go, so I didn’t.  However, he rang me during the meal because his Aunt wanted to thank me for the present (which F bought in Spain – but which he said was from both of us) and his cousin just wanted to say hello.  It’s nice of them but I still get confused with S and, in fact, his Aunt called me S.

But that really doesn’t bother me at all on the basis that they see us as a couple in the same was as F & S were and, after all, they’re both foreign names to them :-)

F only went down for the day (the party was a lunch) but by the time he came back he was worse.

Sunday we went to the hospital.  The sister of P (One of F’s best friends and who got married last year in Villa Singer), E, has just had her kidney replaced (she had been on dialysis for ages) and, until the middle of last week, had been doing so well, they were going to send her home.  Then it started rejecting and so they needed to put her on stronger drugs and keep her monitored.  Obviously, as she comes from Cararra, she is a long way from home and F tries to see her as often as possible.  Sunday, we went together.

The hospital is one of the biggest in Milan and only a little way outside the city. It took us about 10 minutes to get there by car).  The strange thing was that, apart from the hospital beds and people walking around with bags hanging from them containing liquids of various kinds, it didn’t actually SEEM like a hospital. I mean it didn’t have the usual hospital smell that I really hate. It almost seemed quite nice!

Anyway, P rang F later to say that she had been very happy to see us, so that was nice.

By Sunday night F was feeling worse. Yesterday, he didn’t go to work and this morning, he went to the doctors to be told he had otitis and he’s off work until Friday (which is good because we have the Lisa Stansfield concert on Friday night).

Now, here’s thing. I mean to say, here’s the point of this post.

F doesn’t really do being ill very well. In fact, he always prefers (he says), to be on his own.

However, he has gone home, on his way back from the doctor’s, to get changes of clothes before he comes to my place to stay with the dogs! This is a huge difference from previous illnesses when he would go home and stay there. Of course, I guess it helps that I am there in the evenings to make drinks and other things for him. Bless.

More Tourist stuff to do in Milan

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Jean was here for a few days. She had just turned 70 and, for her birthday present, I bought her the ticket to come.

The first time she came, about 18 months ago, we did all the things I do, if possible, for first time visitors – Duomo, Duomo roof, Dialogue in the Dark, Villa Necchi.

So, what to do this time?

Well, although it involved an early start, the day after she came, we went to Venice. I didn’t tell her where we were going and, in spite of the fact that the train was for Venezia, I hoped that Venezia and Venice were different enough for her not to realise. Luckily I was right. She has only started going abroad in her 60s, so is a little more naive than most – but in a good way.

We passed Verona (which she had heard of) and the sun was shining. As we approached Venice, the weather was a bit more miserable – fog – and it seemed cold. We got to Mestre, the stop before Venice and the sign said VE Mestre. She asked me what VE stood for and I said it was just part of the name. I said that the weather didn’t seem so good so at the next station we would go back to Verona.

When the train pulled up in Venice, we got out (with everyone else, of course as it was the end of the line) but she didn’t seem to notice. I said that we needed to see when the next train back to Verona was. And then I said I had to have a cigarette first. So we walked outside to the front of the station which looks out over the Grand Canal.

She cried, which was rather sweet. Anyway, we had a rather lovely day, although, in Venice, there are just too many people/tourists. Living there must be a nightmare!

Day two was much easier. I took her to Casa Museo Boschi di Stefano, which is only a short walk from my house. Then we sat at a café on Corso Buenos Aires, then did a bit of shopping, then another café. As we were sitting, we saw one of the sightseeing buses and I asked if she would like to do that for the next day. She replied that she would. After all, we had walked so much in Venice I was a bit worried about over-doing it.

So,day three was a trip to the Castle where we caught the City Sightseeing bus. It costs €20 per person and there are three different routes (the €20 covers all three) or you can get a 48 hours pass for €5 more! The automatic guide (you get headphones to plug in) are in a number of languages. We went on two of the routes and, if you’re a first-time visitor, I think it’s well worth it. You get to see all the main tourist sights, can hop on and off at any of the stops to visit something you want to see and/or enjoy the ride. It was the first time I had been and I wish they had had them when I first came to Milan.

I’ve put a link to the right (in the useful sites for Milan section).

If you come, do it. It’s a great way to see the city.

Erm, I’ve just funded a film!

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Yes, I have.

It’s almost like I’m a movie producer or something.

Of course, I didn’t fund it all. In fact, I funded a little bit of it.

You can see the details here (it’s a Kickstarter project).

And there’s a teaser here (well, until midnight tonight)

And the film is called Nina Forever.

I’m very excited :-)

And, I’ll get the DVD and some other stuff.

Sometime towards the end of next year.

This is my second Kickstarter project – unfortunately the last one didn’t make the target amount so nothing happened, which was a great shame. At least this one will happen.

And, as a bonus, it seems like it might be a good film :-)

Tourists – always watch what you’re doing but if you pay over the odds – walk away and enjoy your stay

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I suspect that we’ve all been there.

You’re abroad and not paying quite as much attention as you should. After all, you’re on holiday and relaxed (one would hope). You go to a restaurant, sit outside and order something – say, lobster. You enjoy it as it’s really fresh. One of your party doesn’t like it and spits out the piece they are eating but the rest of you finish everything.

Then the bill comes and you find that you’ve been stuffed for a couple of hundred pounds.

This was not helped by the fact that one of your party had been to this country and had already warned that, before asking for something, agree the price – especially for fish at restaurants. Of course, that made it quite funny, in spite of the shock of the bill.

That was a true story from some years ago when we were on holiday in Turkey. G went there quite often for work, so we relied on him to tell us how to go about things – but the thought of lobster made us forget everything. We reckoned that the piece that V spat out was worth about £8!

What we didn’t do was to complain about it. After all it was our fault. We should have known better but, what the hell, we were on holiday and these things happen.

In Italy, of course, one has to be careful about “hidden” charges. These charges aren’t, generally, hidden, of course, but displayed (although you may have to know a little Italian).

If you go to a bar, for example, have a cup of coffee for about €1 – IF you stand at the bar.

Go and sit down outside the bar and get the waiter to come and serve you and you’ll pay more. It could be as much as €4 for the same cup of coffee! It’s the Italian way. Everyone knows that.

Go to a restaurant and there is, invariably, a cover charge. This will cover the bread sticks and bread and the service (although you can tip up to about €5 if the service is REALLY good). The cover charge (coperto) WILL be somewhere on the menu but isn’t always easy to spot. It varies quite a lot but is usually something like €4 per person.

Go to an ice-cream shop and there is a dazzling array of options …….. and prices. Usually, for a small cup or cone with one small scoop of delicious (or, rather, usually delicious) ice-cream.

Of course, you can go for bigger ice-creams with, usually, up to three scoops. Of course, for this you certainly won’t be paying a few Euro. But you will have, in your hand, something that is almost a meal in itself.

So this is really quite annoying. I mean, there you are in one of the tourist hot-spots in a capital city and you go into the ice-cream shop. You see the prices start from a few Euro so you have the ultra-large cone with three scoops and think that that will cost you 3 times (say) €3. But, of course, each scoop of ice-cream will be double the size of the small scoop and the ice-cream will be hanging well over the sides of the cone. It’ll probably take about 15 minutes to eat it and you’ll feel quite full afterwards.

So, stop complaining. The prices will have been on the board in the shop – it’s just that you were being a tourist and forgot to check properly. Have a laugh about how you should have checked it better and move right along to enjoy your holiday.

So, stupid people. Not for missing that price nor paying so much – but for complaining about it afterwards to the British press.