Category Archives: Experiences

Moving; Dino steals packing tape; other things

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Well, it’s now Thursday as I wished. And, to be honest, I’m glad that yesterday is over even if everything is not perfectly sorted.

However, I do not have internet access right now. It is a post all on its own, so I will save it until later.

Yesterday was the whole range of emotions. I woke at four. Dozed until 5.45. Got to bed just after midnight. I am quite tired, as I’m sure you can imagine.

I went round to the flat the night before and had absolute panic as it was SO SMALL! So much so that I could not imagine how everything would fit in. This is part of the reason I was awake at four. I was going through different scenarios – would I have to get them to take some of it away; would I be able to sleep on the bed or would that be impossible – the place being stacked floor to ceiling with boxes.

The removal company arrived. I was, by this time going completely insane with worry, panic and about every other emotion you could imagine.

Dino, I found when I was packing some days earlier, really liked the sound of the packing tape being pulled out. You know, it makes that kind of screech (for want of a word that isn’t in my head) and it must be a particular pitch that he liked or, at least, found fascinating. First, as I was stretching the tape out to put over a box, he would be there, right in my face. A couple of times, if I put it on the floor or chair or something low enough for him to reach, I would turn round and find that it was suddenly gone and would then be trying to find Dino to retrieve it.

The removal men did quite a bit of packing, including putting protective packaging around pieces of furniture. Obviously, they were not, immediately, aware of Dino’s fascination. Until, after a very short while, Dino found that they were much more fun as they kept putting down a roll of tape within his reach, usually, on the floor. And so it became a game for him of trying to get hold of a roll of tape.

The men found this very funny and endearing. I spent nearly all my time, when not explaining something to the men, checking to see where Dino was and retrieving the roll of tape from him to give back to them.

And once, I actually saw him doing it – he was watching the man who was pulling out the tape; like any good thief, as the man put the tape down, he edges round a little so that he wasn’t going for the tape directly, then he almost crept forward, until he was there by the roll; snatching it quickly he then high-tailed it as fast as he could out of the room and to his bed! I watched him do this and couldn’t help but laugh. He’s not really a stupid dog, after all!

I did ask the removal men, several times, if they wanted me to shut him away but they seemed quite in love with him. They thought the stealing of the rolls of tape was quite funny too. Dino had many strokes and compliments during the morning. I left them (the dogs) in the old flat whilst moving into the new one as it was/is much smaller and I wouldn’t be able to shut them away anywhere. One of the men seemed quite disappointed that he wasn’t with me! Anyway, they do not seemed stressed at all.

By the afternoon I felt quite a lot better. Not only did all the stuff fit in (and I was able to sleep in my bed) but I now know it will be fantastic when everything is sorted. And, although there are lots of boxes, not as many as I thought. In fact, as they were finishing, I couldn’t believe it was all the stuff and asked them! To which they replied that it was! They also liked the new flat. Later A&F came round (last night) (I needed A to help with the internet connection) and they both said it was lovely but I think F really liked it as she said it was exactly the sort of place that she liked.

One problem, or, rather, potential problem, is that, the only door that actually closes shut is the one to the bathroom! Lets’ see how that goes but I may have to do something very fast to keep the boys separate whilst I am not in the house! I’ll let you know.

Make-your-own Chicken and Mushroom Pie – don’t look at the contents and it really IS very tasty.

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Make your own Chicken and Mushroom Pie

Whilst away, on business, we were taken to the client’s canteen for lunch. Canteens are canteens – never the best food in the world but this one, whilst nowhere near as good as ours is OK, although the food can be a bit odd sometimes.

We walk in and the main course is, what can only be described as, the results of someone having been very very, very ill.  Globby, congealed, pale and, to be frank, quite sickening to look at.

Our hosts showed us how it was done. Next to the grey/light-brown ‘mess’ were some ‘fancy’ pastry cases. You took one or two of these and filled each with the sickening gloop which, I was told was chicken.

But, then I tasted it. I realised it had been some time since I had eaten Chicken and Mushroom Pie where the pie crust was make from flaky pastry. It used to be quite a favourite of mine although we never saw it served like this, of course.

But, to be honest, providing you didn’t really look at what you were eating, it was really nice. Served with peas, which was always the perfect accompaniment!

And then I realised that ‘pies’ of any sort don’t seem to be that common here, it Italy. I mean things like Steak Pie, Steak and Kidney Pie, Chicken Pies, in fact, most pies really don’t exist. Strange, isn’t it?

My own private jet….and airport…..and security……. aka the joys of travelling these days.

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My_own_private_jet_and_airport_and_security_aka_the_joys_of_travelling_these_days

I remember, 10 or 15 years ago, travelling, for me, was still exciting and pleasurable. There was the thrill of the flight as I really love flying; the fun of having an expense account and being able to eat and drink, more or less, as I wanted; the prestige of being one of those ‘business travellers’ that you see or hear about.

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When a town is not a town

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It was last weekend when I went. It has the word ‘town’ in its name so, I thought, it must actually be a town. Seems reasonable to me. Being an ‘outlet’ town, I was expecting something similar to Bicester Village, Vicolungo or Serravalle.

I don’t really like them, as you may remember but this was one of the first in this area and is in Switzerland and, travelling by road, to and from the UK, I have passed it many times.

In fact, it’s only just past Como, so immediately, one thinks of beauty with the backdrop of the Alps.

And, as it was so famous, I did want to see it. It’s less than an hour from Milan and easy to get to (Motorway all the way unless you don’t want to pay the annual motorway fee in Switzerland.

Apart from the fact that it rained all day; we weren’t high enough to see snow-capped mountains; and the place itself – it was wonderful.

So, why didn’t I like it? Well, it’s not a town. It’s called Fox Town but, really, it’s a shopping centre (or mall, to you Americans). And a very ugly one at that. Everything seems Italian (the language, the people) except the currency which is Swiss Francs. The prices are not so cheap for the fact that it’s stuff that’s already out of fashion – certainly no cheaper than Vicolungo or Serravalle, although on the plus side, the guy assistant in Iceberg was rather cute.

Overall, much more of a disappointment than I thought would be possible. And then, back in Milan and my umbrella was ‘borrowed’.

To be honest, if it’s a nice day, I would prefer one of the other outlet centres, should you be visiting here and insist on doing outlet shopping.

Meeting up with Helena Christensen

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We get invited to some charity auction thing at Tommy Hilfiger’s. The shop is quite close to our house and we shall be meeting friends, so it will be nice.

We are late, of course. V has decided to wear his kilt. I no longer care if he wears a kilt with me around as I am no longer responsible and he can look as ridiculous as he wants. It’s impossible to tell him that he does not look good, especially when the Italian women just want to feel him up! But, I’m sorry, he just looks like a prat. His legs look shorter and stubby. It’s not a good look.

We arrive and wait for our friend with a second home on the lake (FfC). She arrives by taxi and we go in. Unfortunately, the apero part has, to all intents and purpose, finished and they are on to the charity auction. The room is filled with Italians who are there to be seen and would-be models walking around expecting something (probably attention). They spend most of their time looking around the room to see who is there that might be important. V tells me that ‘there is the guy from MTV’. This is lost on me since I rarely watch MTV and care less about someone who presents on MTV.

Luckily, there are waiters who are serving drinks. The trick is to grab a drink as they go past or, since these are free and this is Italy, beating your way through the throng to grab a glass.

The same for the bite-sized food that they are serving although by the time we are in they are on to deserts. One I had was two raspberries sandwiched with the tiniest amount of whipped cream. You get the idea.

FfC goes somewhere. V and I are alone for a moment. V says, excitedly, ‘There’s Helena Christensen’. I know the name. I knew she was going to be there.

‘Where?’ I ask.

She is standing with her back to us about 6 inches away. V is exasperated that I fail to recognise someone I am not interested in. However, she is dressed in an off-white (magnolia) dress that does look rather nice. She is not as tall as I would have thought. She’s older than I thought. I’m not really sure what I was expecting.

FfC arrives back and V excitedly tells her, having failed to make any real impression on me. FfC is suitably awed.

‘I want to have my photograph taken with her’, V exclaims!

She is standing next to a shortish guy who is, probably, someone very important. Maybe Tommy Hilfiger or someone? I don’t know. They are talking and I’m thinking that V, acting like a little super fan, is just going to be a pain in the arse for her.

‘I don’t have a phone that takes photos, can you use yours?’ he asks me.

So, he asks Helena for a photo and, graciously, she says yes. I am holding drinks so FfC tries to take the photo but cannot seem to do it so I handed her the glasses and I took it. I’m afraid it is not a good photo – we were outside, the lighting was not good and it’s only a phone camera – but it will have to do.

V_and_some_woman_called_Helena_Christensen
V and some woman, who is famous or something.

[Update:  After downloading it, it really is a dreadful photo but the only one I have, so there!]

After that, of course, the floodgates opened and everyone wanted their photo taken with her.

Anyway, she seemed really sweet and waved to us after several more photos had been taken and she was escaping with the little man! Oh, yes, and she also thanked us for coming. Hey, Helena, it was free booze and, had we got there earlier, free food as well! And, of course, we met you! What more could one ask?

After we went for an Indian with FfC and, once again, V explained about the ‘retreat’ weekend and more of that later in another post, probably.

Borrowing – a loose term here, in Italy

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OK, so, to be honest, even we, in the UK, will say something like – “Can I borrow some sugar?” or “Could I borrow some paper to write on, please?” – when we really will not be borrowing it at all but taking it, using it and, probably, not replacing it.

However, here, there is an element of “borrowing” that one could say was stealing.

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So, why the hell ain’t I HAPPY?

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Well, I know why. But isn’t it just bloody annoying? In theory, I should be, more or less, on Cloud 9. Bugger!

I have signed for the flat. It was all a little strange in the usual Italian way in that things said did not quite tie up with actual fact and vice versa. But, hey, siamo in Italia and that is life here.

She gave me back the money, in an envelope. I didn’t open the envelope. After one minute I returned the envelope to her. She didn’t open it either. It could have been stuffed with worthless bits of paper, who knows? Sometimes, I think, this is a seriously screwed-up country! Definitely, in the UK, that (the game of passing the envelope) would not have happened. But, then, it’s less likely we would have been passing an envelope around with cash in it (unless you lived in the underworld of crime, drugs, etc.).

Now, there are a million and one things to do, for which I still need help. I wish I could do it on my own! It’s the problem of being in a foreign country and not knowing enough of the language. Damn!

p.s. One of my very favourite songs was in the video originally posted on this page but, unfortunately, it no longer works and, as I didn’t write here what it was, I don’t remember!

Be More Cheerful!

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Be_More_Cheerful

Yeah, right.

It bothers me that the blog may have become a little depressing. After all, I’m not sure that it helps and it must make for terrible reading. It’s difficult to make it more cheerful, to be honest. At least right now.

But, let’s look for some cheerful things to say. After all, we are into spring now. The forsythia is blooming, leaves are starting to show, the sun is shining and, for the first time this year, the back door is open as I type. See, already it’s starting to look better, isn’t it?

Back to the flat (the new flat). I had postponed the meeting to sign the flat until next Tuesday for various reasons. However, we have someone visiting the factory on Monday and Tuesday of next week. Originally, I thought that they were coming for 3 days, so sloping off a little early on day two would not be a problem. However, then they said they were only going to be here for two days and I do want to see what they say at the end of the visit – so, I got the MD to phone up.

But here’s where the slightly strange bit came in. When I first went to see her I thought she was the owner. It turns out she was the Administrator and she wanted her commission. I nearly walked out at one point but, in the end we agreed on €500, which I paid in cash and got a receipt. Because the figure was low (for her, anyway), she said that, once the contract was signed, we would tear up the receipt. In other words, it was to be “in nero”. No real surprise – we are in Italy, after all.

So, as I needed to move it to Wednesday and as it was because we had a visitor, I asked my MD to make the call. When she rang, what had originally been agreed was a little changed. Instead of getting some special savings-account passbook, I could bring a cheque. Then later I could get the passbook and the cheque would be ripped up! And, also could I bring €500 cash. When my MD got off the phone, she explained this to me saying that, apparently, I knew about the €500 thing. I thought it was very strange. I said that I certainly didn’t know about it and couldn’t understand what it was for. She kindly phoned back. Apparently the €500 I paid before was not the commission/expenses of the Administrator but rather a ‘deposit’ that would be returned to me at the signing of the contract. I would get this back and then I would pay the commission! What?

The reality is that either the old-lady Administrator forgot that I had already paid the €500 or she was trying to scam me for more dosh or this really was the way it works. But then, why tell my MD to tell me not to forget the €500 in cash if it was the last one? I won’t need the €500 in cash if she’s going to give me back the €500 I gave her! I’m going for one of the first two and I’m so inclined to believe it was the second one. Perhaps, in my old age, I’m just getting far to cynical.

Anyway, hopefully you found this post a little more cheerful. For those of who have it, enjoy the sun in the first few days of spring.

I understand a joke!

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Two men are in the desert.

One says to the other ‘I am very thirsty’

The other replies ‘eighty-eight’.

I am, of course, immensely excited. I cannot believe that I got it. It is, as you may have guessed, what they call ‘lost in translation’ since it’s down to a play on words.

My Italian improves but, oh, so slowly. Obviously it would help if I practised or studied it!

Every morning I listen to the radio on the way to work. I choose to listen to a music station, not unlike how I remember Radio One was before I switched to Radio Four. I would listen to the Italian version of Radio Four (if I even knew what it was) except that I don’t really understand Italian well enough.

So, here I am listening to Radio 105 (actually not on 105 but on 99.1 or something – don’t ask, we’re in Italy) and, every morning at about 10 to 8 they have a jokes section. People phone up and leave a recorded message telling their joke. They play about 5 jokes. I listen and try to understand. Sometimes I understand two or three sentences but never enough to get the punchline.

Mondays are when they play the kids jokes. I’ve been waiting for so long now to understand a Monday morning joke (on the basis that, if it’s kids, they will tell simpler jokes and speak in simpler Italian)

And, this morning I got this one.

OK. You may not think it is funny, however, you have to translate it into Italian to get it – which means it is even better that I understood!

‘I am very thirsty’ more or less translates into Italian as ‘Ho tanta sete’. Because the ‘h’ is not pronounced in Italian, it sounds similar (particularly to my ears) to ottantasette which is 87. Unsurprisingly, then, ottantotto was the response, meaning 88.

See, it just doesn’t work in English – but I got it! Finally!

It may not be the best joke in the world but it’s the first one I have fully understood and I didn’t even think about it in English!!!! I would like to thank the kid who allowed a stranger in a very strange land to have a first and start the week off so well.