Category Archives: Italy

Overall thoughts on Italy and things we do

Listening – it’s bloody hard sometimes.

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Most of the time, I bite my tongue.

After all, if he wasn’t listening two seconds ago, he won’t be listening now, will he?

We’re talking about things that need to be done. He is going to be there for the Fastweb engineer on Thursday. I want to ask the engineer if he can put a wire from wherever the box goes, through to my studio for my computer. This may be something that he does for cash and, given that we’re in Italy and the wages are so low here, the chances that he will do it are high.

“it will be better,” he says, “as he can do any drilling through the walls before we move all the stuff in.”

I agree. I add, “And I can sort out the connection from my PC to the television before we move, too.”

“That’s not important. It can be done afterwards. It’s more important to find someone to run a pipe from the gas point to the place we want it in the kitchen.”

Well, yes, I know that. after all, without a kitchen, we can’t really move in.

“You’ve got different priorities than me,” he adds.

Well, actually no, I haven’t. The kitchen is the number one priority. The extension for the cooker was given to you to sort out, since you speak Italian and the chances of the plumber speaking English is far less than some technical thing that I should do.

He becomes tetchy because in his head, all I’m worried about is my PC.

“No, the kitchen has to be done before we move in,” I say, “but I also need my computer when we move because of the lessons.”

This, of course, carried no weight. He has already stopped listening to me, if he was even doing that at the beginning. He continues saying things about how our priorities are different and how I’m not concentrating on the right things, etc., etc. I don’t want you to get the wrong impression, I listen to the things he says but, since he’s not listening to me, it is better not to respond. I’ve learnt that much. I cannot argue my point because he misinterprets almost everything I say. I can’t explain. And, anyway, the difference in our languages makes everything more difficult. It’s one of the drawbacks, for certain.

I know that it is better just to let it lie. Although it is a bit frustrating. It means we can’t talk about the thingS we need to do, only the thing he is concentrating on at the moment.

I try to let it all wash over me, and, my strength of will makes it so. After all, it is only this moment and he doesn’t mean to do it. It’s not like it’s going to kill me.

He suggests about moving stuff over. I explain I don’t like doing it. He says he does. Again I get the “I’m not trying to tell you what to do” thing, even if, in reality, that’s EXACTLY what he’s trying to do.

It’s OK. He knows I’m quite stubborn and I’ll just do the things my way anyway.

It is extremely hot. It’s already half nine or so, and it must be close to 30°. We talk about the dogs, as Dino, in particular, is struggling a bit in the heat. He’s going to get some sprayer thing so he can spray him with cool water from time to time. We can try. Anything is worth a try.

He then suggests that, soon, we can start going down to Carrara. Especially because it will be nicer for the dogs. He will have to work some weekends, one of which will be going to Paris. He suggests that I should go down with the dogs on those weekends. I say it will depend on what needs to be done but, secretly, I think I might. I miss the weekends in Carrara – the asparagus and lardo pizza on Friday; days spent on the beach with some books; eating at his Mum and Dad’s; the morning coffee and croissant at the bar overlooking the sea. Yes, I’ve missed those this year even if it’s been for a very good reason.

So, maybe we will go down.

As I’ve written this, I think about something I’ve read recently – listen without trying to form a response in your head at the same time. I must really try to do that. It’s difficult though, isn’t it?

I get a surprise!

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“You know my family know, don’t you?” He means that they know we are moving in together.

Well, yes, of course. I didn’t really think it was a secret since his cousin had posted something to some pictures added to Facebook.

“What, everyone?” I ask.

“I’m sure,” he replies. “B (his sister) telephoned me.”

“I saw that E (his cousin) had made a comment,” I said.

“Yes, and she will have told everyone.”

I wonder, since he and I are, where not exactly a secret couple, shall we say, a couple of really, really good friends, even though, of course, everyone knows, what his parents think then, assuming they have been told that we will be moving together.

“We can invite them up,” he says, “maybe for Christmas.”

Now – “invite them up” is all the family? Surely not!

“Who?” I ask.

“My Mum and Dad,” adding, “I can go and pick them up but we would have to sleep on the sofa.”

I have no idea what to say to this. Inside, I know this is the “final” acceptance. This means that he is so relaxed about “us” that he can now invite his Mum and Dad up to stay into our flat and that, as they would see we only had the one bedroom with a double bed, there couldn’t really be any doubt – even though, of course, he would never, ever tell them. But that’s OK for me. I don’t need for everything to be explicitly said. Not any more.

“What a lovely idea!” I exclaim.

Of course, I can’t add all the feelings I really have inside – but I am really very happy about this surprise announcement.

“Maybe, not for Christmas but for a weekend, anyway.”

OK, as you want, I think and, probably, say. He goes on to say that his Mum has only ever been to Milan once before and his Dad never, despite him living here for well over 20 years! They don’t have this need or desire to travel. Even in Italy! I mean to say, I’ve seen a honeymoon picture which, I think, was taken in Rome but I’ve never heard tales of any travel.

Of course, I realise this may never happen, this trip to Milan but that’s not really the point. The fact that he’s thinking about it means so much in so many ways. Every time I think about it brings a new insight into the fact that he’s so very happy we’re together. Happy and more and more relaxed about it.

Which is more than can be said about the actual “moving” thing. For that he is exceedingly stressed. But it will settle down once he’s moved his stuff over – which is happening right now.

But that’s for another post.

As I read, so too, I hear

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I read this a few moments ago –

And I could hear her reading it on stage, all those years ago. Truly awesome.

And, remember, she read it with spaces.

Still I Rise by Maya Angelou

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may tread me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops,
Weakened by my soulful cries?

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don’t you take it awful hard
‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

Thank you for having been here.

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We were going to dinner.

But this wasn’t just any old dinner. This was an “after the event” dinner. The event where, because of V, we were sitting on the very front row.

The event itself was indescribable. Really! The power of the words and the power of the voice stunned me. The voice so rich and deep and warm. One that felt more like a really comfy sofa that you just sank into until you couldn’t see anything – her voice covering all other sounds with its tones and undulations and silences.

Yes, silences. For each sound was measured and weighed against the lack of sound. Each word made richer and more meaningful by the lack of a word that followed. Each sentence punctuated by silence in just the perfect way to highlight that, what you had just heard was “stand alone”, was worthy of your paying attention.

Oh I could have sat there all night, listening to her speak. Her words or, to be frank, any words she spoke (although hers were always better).

And then we had dinner. We drove to this big hotel that was a former country house – big and grand in a beautiful setting under Welsh hills.

We sat at a large table. I, next to the American First Minister to the Court of St James’s wife. But she was almost opposite me and to the left. I really can’t tell you much about the dinner (although I do have a story about the woman next to me – but not for this post) since I was trying to listen to the main lady of the dinner. To me, more than the Queen – it was a lady of power and strength beyond any other.

After the dinner, we retired to another room for drinks. The lady “held court”, everyone being introduced to her – there were singing of songs, reading of words and, of course, the beauty of her presence and voice.

I was in awe. I was also scared. This was someone to whom I really felt inferior.

Eventually, just before we were about to leave, we made our way to her to speak to her. To thank her for the dinner which she had “hosted” and for her words and for being her.

“Oh,” she said, “I’ve been so wanting to meet you two. You look so interesting.”

At which point, with her words said with that voice seeming to have ripped into my body and squeezed my heart, I lost all sense and reason and reverted back a two-year-old child. Nothing sensible came out of my mouth.

Oh, she understood but that wasn’t the point. I wanted to say something wonderful or, at the very minimum, nice. But my brain had stopped working and, anyway, was no longer connected in a meaningful way to my mouth.

I deeply regret not having gone to her earlier; not being able to say something coherent; not being anything other than a right prat.

However, I won’t ever forget her nor the power of her words with that voice nor the fact that I touched her nor that she spoke to me, nor that I was in the presence of such greatness.

So, it is with sadness that I learn she has passed away.

RIP Maya Angelou.

And, thank you again for having been here and having done everything you did.

Tomorrow – will the Daily Hate Mail have won?

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I do my best but it’s difficult.

After years of crisis and depletion in spending power and savings, someone HAS to be to blame.

The popular newspapers have done their very best to pin the blame on a number of people which include those who are not working (the difference between not wanting to work and being unable to work is rarely made – and, anyway, the point is that “these people are taking your money for doing nothing”), people who are stealing from the system (often rolled into the previous group – at least by implication) and immigrants (illegal or legal).

In particular, they’ve being doing this, more or less, since 2008. That’s six years of propaganda. And six years of constantly pounding people with the same stuff has an effect.

Then, along comes the UKIP. Now, I’m unsure if the media want the UKIP or not. Certainly, they’ve being helping the three main parties to sling as much mud at them as possible. They have been effectively dubbed the “Loony party.”

However, there’s a major problem. In spite of the media and other parties attempts to discredit them, they ARE, in fact, repeating a lot of what those popular newspapers have been saying for all these years. This includes stopping immigration, removing the EU red-tape and making sure everyone pays his/her way. They repeat, for the most part, the headlines of the last six years and, because people have been reading about it for so long, it all makes perfect sense.

After World War I, The Germans went for similar rhetoric. Instead of blaming the huge debts that Germany was having to repay on both the other nations that were enforcing it and the government and its policies, they took the easy option of blaming the Jews. And we all know how that ended up.

And yet, it seems that the “how” of that happening has been lost and forgotten. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not drawing a direct comparison between the UKIP and the Nazis – the UKIP haven’t yet been talking about a “final solution”. But, there are similarities, don’t you think?

Even here, talking with colleagues and friends, there is a feeling that “immigrants” are to blame, especially the illegal immigrants. I point out that, without these immigrants, there would be no badante (private carers) to look after the increasingly aged population, since Italians don’t want to this type of work. But you can see I don’t make any real impact.

And, to be honest, it scares me. the problem is that I DO understand to some extent. The illegal immigrants that try to sell you a rose or some trinket or novelty lighter – sometimes one every five minutes – when you’re having a drink with friends outside a bar. It’s more than annoying. I point out that the problem is that “people” buy the roses. F, for instance, will, occasionally buy a novelty lighter. And so they continue to ply their wares. If you don’t want them here, annoying the hell out of you, DON’T buy anything from them and don’t give them money!

As I’ve always said, just like “charity begins at home”, look at your and your friends’ actions – THAT’S often the reason these people are here, still; still trying to sell you stuff you don’t need nor want.

And, since I’m an immigrant here, remember, when you say you agree with sending the immigrants home, that would include me! And I want to stay here, if you don’t mind.

So, we shall see what will happen tomorrow for the UKIP. I hope they don’t get the huge support that is being suggested. I fear, unfortunately, that they will. Their simple messages coinciding with the messages that have been fed to the populace over the last few years.

Bloody frightening.

Something that didn’t happen is reported as fact

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Someone posted an article on their Facebook wall.

To it, that someone added – “Can’t they just piss off”. The title of the article was “Girls Fined for Wearing Swimsuits That Offend Muslims”. Underneath was a Muslim in an abaya (I think) on a beach next to a woman sunbathing in a bikini. Oh my God, you may think, it must be true what they say about Muslims trying to take over the world!

Except, when you read the article, it’s not quite as it seems. I clicked upon it because, underneath the headline, it read: “Submit, convert, or pay a fine. When you go to a beach now in Italy, you better …….”

Apart from the terrible grammar, my attention was caught by the “in Italy” and I really found it hard to believe. Here, where sun-worshipping is a national sport and pretty much essential to most of the population, with the beaches packed solid with scantily-clad sunbathers, how could this possibly be true?

So, I started reading. Firstly, this was by a right-wing, so-called “media” website (on which, by the way, one of the buttons was entitled “ArmedandFemale”), a part of Liberty Alliance (which, of course means Liberty for all as long as you agree with us) – but, that aside, who could know? It may be true?

The first paragraph was:
“Civilization jihad is a process that Islam uses to methodically transform nations. It has proven to be an effective way to take over without violence.
Political correctness and ignorance are their best weapons.
Civilization jihad works by infiltration, then complaints about our culture, pushing for acceptance of islamic practices and threats of lawsuits over non conformity.”

OK, I may disagree with the overall argument but it’s not the worst I’ve ever seen.

Paragraph two:

“An example: The report about three women being fined for wearing swimsuits on a beach that were offensive to muslims, has generated a firestorm in responses. Though it has proven difficult to confirm, it is similiar to what is confirmed and already happening around the world in places where Islam is attempting to control the culture.”

Now this I have a bit more or a problem with. “proven difficult to confirm” – meaning it is just hearsay. So not real then? “Already happening around the world” – well, yes, but I think you’ll find this is in predominately Muslim countries – which is NOT the UK nor the USA and, certainly, not in very Catholic Italy!

Para three:
“There are already discussions by our own legislators of making negative speech about Islam a crime.”

Hmm. So, they are considering laws to make negative speech about Islam a crime, eh? Would that be similar to the non-discrimination laws they brought in some time ago, to a great deal of opposition, saying that you can’t racially abuse black people? Yes. It should be the duty of most people to ensure that they don’t verbally abuse anyone else, no matter what their race, gender, sexual orientation or religion. And, surely, as Americans for Liberty of all, you would agree with that. Or not? Does it only apply to the things that you, personally agree with?

Para four:
“It IS a perfect example of civilization jihad that the muslim brotherhood uses in their documented plan for the destruction of a nation from within.
Here was the basis of the report: ”

Hmm. “documented”? By whom? Where are the documents? And this hearsay which can’t be confirmed has suddenly become a “report”!

Para five:
“Submit, convert, or pay a fine.
When you go to the beach now in Italy, you better pack a full set of loose clothes and a hajib or get ready to shell out some serious money. This, according to a number of media outlets, reporting on an alleged case in Messina, Italy.”

I’m specifically ignoring the awful grammar. “a number of media outlets” – but not named. And, given this “media outlet”, were they even real media or something like this website? And these outlets were “reporting” on an “alleged case”. Again, not substantiated and so, quite possibly not real at all!

Para six:
“Reportedly, a justice of the peace in Messina, Italy has fined three girls an amount of approximately $3,500 each for wearing what is considered common beach wear in Italy, because the uncovered skin offended some Saudi Arabian tourists who were also at the private resort of Taormina.”

This implies that it was true. Except, remember the use of the words “alleged” and “difficult to confirm” used before. If this was really done by a Justice of the Peace, there would be hard facts and transcripts.

Para seven:
“Whether this is actually factual or not is not the issue… it is certainly the direction civilization jihad takes a nation.”

WHAT????? If you’re going to put the headline you have, it’d better be factual! Being factual IS the issue. Really, the second part doesn’t even make any sense.

To be honest with you, at this point I stopped reading. If it’s not factual then it’s not true and so the headline and everything else is just a load of crap. Worse, it’s being paraded as real and “happening”. However, for completeness (and this post) I continued.

Para eight:
“It has become common place for Muslims to make demands upon others to adhere to their standards, so it should not come as too great of a surprise that they filed their complaint.”

As opposed, of course, to the baying mob who want to impose their standards! Hahahahahahahahahaha

Para nine:
“This is what Islamization of a free society is all about and it is coming to YOUR state, your town, your neighborhood soon if you don’t fight back. This case happened in Italy. It is no accident. It is part of the muslim brotherhood’s plan for the destruction of a country from within. It is a very carefully planned, full proof meticulous process of slow but deliberate transformation….. Islamization.”

Second sentence first; This case DID NOT happen in Italy. It is a scare story and cannot be confirmed or verified. It is, in fact a GREAT BIG LIE! And, who are these “muslim brotherhood” people? Oh yes, they are the semi-political party in Egypt! So, they aren’t in the USA and they are NOT bringing this big plan for the destruction of the USA to you, the USA, any time. Neither sooner or later. This is just a hate-filled, illogical, lying rant!

Para ten:
“Don’t be fooled. What happens over there is already a process underway here in America.”

Over where? In Italy? Are you out of your fucking mind? But, of course, the majority of the small-minded people in the USA who read this, won’t actually know how to find the facts and, so, will be taken hook, line and sinker by this trash “report”.

Para eleven:
“The encroachment of Sharia Law continues virtually unchecked.. We have over 50 court cases in this country where American judges have allowed Sharia law to trump Constitutional law in cases involving Muslims.”

Rubbish, rubbish, rubbish! And, if the writer doesn’t know this then they are stupid. Being stupid doesn’t stop them writing which, unfortunately, makes them dangerous.

Stupid and dangerous is NOT a good combination. God help America if this is the type of person it turns out.

Para twelve:
“Think situations like this are an outrage? Get ready America…. They are here and the demands to submit to “their way” are already happening all around us.”

This whole “report” is an outrage and I am constantly shocked by the lack of any outrage to articles like this.

So, let me summarise for you.

Something didn’t happen but let’s say it did and express our hatred at a group of people who believe in something that doesn’t fit with our idea of what should be believed. Are we ready? Everybody hate these people!

I’m afraid I won’t link to the “article” as I don’t want them to get any more traffic but I have quoted it word for word (exactly as it was written.)

The real lesson behind this is: read each thing with scepticism and DON’T believe everything you read, especially on the Internet.

Visits are like breeding rabbits.

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So, as far as it goes, The Visit number 2 was OK. In fact, in the end, I did The Visit number 2 and The Visit number 3, since The first Visit had spawned 2 other Visits.

Overall, so far and touch wood, everything is fine. In fact, it’s all too fine.

As a result, I am now required to go on another FOUR Visits!!

FFS!

I think the theory being worked on here is that there SHOULD be something and they will go to extraordinary lengths to find this something.

When I say “they”, I mean “they” want “me” to do Visits (and pay even more money).

On the other hand, the “too fine” bit meant that, apparently, I am one of very few very, VERY lucky people in the world. So I was told. And that’s a problem. Apparently.

And so, 1 Visit leads to 2 more Visits which leads to 4 more visits.

Anyone spot a pattern here?

Is one of the new Visits going to result in another 8 Visits? God, I hope not. This is too stressful for me.

My worry is kept hidden, of course, except from you, my dearest reader. I am, during these Visits, at my most charming and am able to happily (on the face of it) chat and laugh and cause others to laugh. My favourite joke is that I am giving them a free English lesson too!

But, it is no laughing matter. At least, not for me.

Visit number 4 now takes place tomorrow. This is the one that (I’m sure) the person at my Visit number 3 “hopes” will provide something – otherwise, it’s just not fair. Which, I guess, is true.

But this multiplication of further Visits is exactly the reason why I never really wanted to go on the first Visit.

Bloody people.

Notes from a far-off country

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Monday, 28th April.

It is very dark o’clock. The alarm goes off and I know that I must get up. I have only left myself 20 minutes before the taxi expects me to be downstairs. I’m hoping it will be enough.

The dogs stay with me, hopefully, for about 5 minutes until they lose hope and realise that I won’t be taking them out after all.

I leave the house at about a minute to 4. It is tipping it down. Miserable, bloody weather. Still, I will be out of it for a few days. Not that I want to be, you understand. I’m off the that far-off country. One that everyone agrees is “lovely” and I hate, almost without measure.

I get to the station for the train to the airport. It is still dark and still raining. I realise that this thing we have, with airlines leaving before about 10 or 11 in the morning – not before 9, anyway.

The sooner I am out of this effing rat-race, the better.

I have a cigarette – only my second so far – but I know this train – there is no warning it will leave so, even if there is 5 minutes to go, I get on.

Lots of people are on the train but it is silent. Some people seem to be sleeping and I wish I could. A woman gets on at the second or third stop. There’s lots of goodbyes to one or more people at the station and then she spends the rest of the journey on the telephone. I wonder who the hell she can be speaking to before 5 in the morning?

We arrive at the airport and, as expected for the far-off country, the check-in is “special” and requires the longest walks.

I go out for several cigarettes and then in through the security control with its massive queues and, again, I wonder at this need (real need) to fly everywhere so early.

I get through there and up to the gate area and head for the café for my shot of caffeine. And then a final cigarette.

On the plane, I stupidly offer the window seat to one of my colleagues, one of whom takes it up and then proceeds to sleep through most of the flight. Still, it’s not so important as I have a book. A new book; one of those supposedly for summer at the beach.

I read over half on the four-hour journey. This is not good. Obviously, I still have the problem of reading too fast. More books will need to be bought!

As we’re on the plane, I realise that I just don’t like people. In fact, I loathe them, especially in a crowded place. I’m talking people in general, making no discrimination between races, young or old, male or female. People are just bloody horrible.

We arrive. We go through passport control which is more special here. Don’t they realise that I really don’t want to be here?

“Why are you here?”

“Because I have to come and subject myself to this bloody horrible country with you bloody horrible people”

“Who are you coming to see?”

“Some of the most vile people I have ever had to deal with”

“Was it at their invitation?”

“Invitation?! If only it were so simple as something I could refuse? Believe me, I would have gratefully declined.”

Of course, the questions were real, my responses less so. A lot less so. In fact, nothing like what I have written.

I collect my case, I go straight out to have a cigarette. I go back in to get cash. I am told, by my colleague that the little fucker who is our agent here, has come to pick us up. Surprisingly, as he had indicated he wouldn’t.

Apparently, we weren’t grateful enough for this “sacrifice” but since he is a shit-stirrer, I couldn’t care less. I remember the last trip here. The trip just before Christmas when it was ‘too much trouble’ to take us anywhere!

Whilst driving to the customer, I made the mistake of asking how he was. We get the “holocaust story”. I really wish I hadn’t asked.

I spend the afternoon, sitting, bored to fuck while the engineers talk about dimensions and stuff.
I’ve already had enough!

Update and Easter

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Well, obviously, it’s not all cut and dried …. yet!

It seems that the building expenses weren’t quite right and, in fact, are higher. What I still fail to understand is why they weren’t right from day 1 as the people involved MUST have known the correct figure!

So, last night we went through the options and I suggested offering something with the option to go a little bit higher, if necessary.

F decided to make the offer as suggested and not go higher. And, he’s kind of right. So, we’ll see what happens.

I’m still hopeful though.

Apparently, the agency phoned him yesterday (they’d given us the correct figures just before Easter and were closed on Saturday and, of course, Monday) – so they’re obviously keen to let it to us.

If it doesn’t work out then it isn’t meant to be, so I am calm and relaxed about it. And, anyway, I’ve got the work visit to another country (where I dislike both the country and the people), so the flat, at the moment, is not at the forefront of my mind.

In the meantime, the weather at Easter was fairly crap – apart from Easter Sunday which was nice and when we went out for a meal with friends to a little place called Il Fontanone. It’s basically a small fishing lake with a wooden hut. The wooden hut is like a slightly bigger version of a garden shed and probably seats about 30 people and they serve a set menu. The lunch is served at 12.30 sharp! The food isn’t “wow” but it’s good and wholesome (one might say “rustic”). We had an antipasto, some pasta (and three of us had second helpings), some grilled and roasted meat (including lamb chops – there is a tradition of eating lamb here for Easter) and roasted potatoes, a colombo (a type of cake they have at Easter) with cream and coffee. We also had about 4 bottles of wine and coffees. The total cost was €20 per head! Which, given the amount of food and wine we had was a real bargain.

The day itself was quite warm and sunny. We sat outside for a bit, walked around the lake and, generally had a lovely time.

On the other hand, it was raining nearly all day on Saturday and the same on the Monday, when we were on holiday. Also, Monday was bloody cold.

Now, of course, when we’re back at work, it’s beautiful and warm outside. Typical!

Still, this week is a short week (Friday being a public holiday) and the following week we have the Thursday and Friday off. And, in between this work visit, the only bonus of which is the thought of the Tapas restaurant we went to last time we were there!