Category Archives: Italy

Overall thoughts on Italy and things we do

I am not a child

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You would think that, at some point in your life, you would grow up. I wonder what it takes? I wonder what it is for others to be “grown up”?

I am not incapable and, as an adult of some advanced years, I can DO things. It’s not as if I’m helpless.

And yet ……

I dropped him at the station. We were early. Of course we were early. For he is worse than me when it comes to public transport.

“I will wait with you”, I had said.

But no, it was not necessary.

“But I can help you with your suitcase. Lift it onto the train for you. With your bad back, it will be better.”

“And who will help me in Milan”, he said, dismissing my argument.

I tried to suggest that, by me helping here and after over 3 hours relaxing on the train, he would, maybe, have a better back. But it came out mumbled and wrong. I was incoherent putting my clear thoughts into words that he would understand.

I offered to stay a few more times but he was having none of it. And my arguments were weak.

He stopped the car and got out, opening the boot. I got out and got his suitcase out.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to wait with you?”, I asked.

No, I should get back and go to the beach. There was, apparently, no reason for me to stay.

“I would wait with you because I love you”.

There, finally said. The only reason. He kisses me on the lips.

And then he walks away.

And every time he’s not there leaves a hole as if I’m not quite whole without him.

I drive back and, suddenly, everything I do in this strange and foreign land is a battle, something where I must force myself into action.

When I get back home, Dino looks past me as I open the door. Looks past me to F, who isn’t there. It’s as if I’m not quite good enough, as if it’s all not quite complete. Which, of course, it isn’t. And Dino knows that well enough.

I come to the beach. People greet me as I come or, later, as I’m sitting here, reading my book or typing this, as they come.

But it’s not the same.

Tonight I have some leftovers from our lunch at his Mum and Dad’s (our first meal there this holiday – but that’s another post) and I have wine and the dogs.

He has suggested that I take a walk to the centre of the town (and, yet, here it’s not a town – more like a really large village or a suburb – even if there’s a castle tower in the centre) with the dogs, like we often do, and buy an ice-cream and take them for a while in the newly discovered and rather nice dog area.

But these things frighten me. Not so that I won’t do it but enough to make it doubtful. For there I will have to interact and I don’t have his charm or style. Or language, of course.

If I were about 5, I am sure I would wail and howl with this feeling of abandonment, with this feeling of being so alone.

But that’s quite stupid, as I well know. I can get by. I can walk the dogs this evening and get and ice-cream. But it all takes such an effort and such resolve by me to do even the simplest thing.

Without him.

And yet ……

I am not a child.

A trip to Pietrasanta and back to the Garden

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My forecast says that, in about an hour, it will be 35 degrees C but it will feel like 41!

In fact, I suspect it is more since, this morning, on our way to Pietrasanta to meet Lola and G, many of the displays outside chemists were already suggesting it to be 34 degrees.

For certain, it is VERY hot but, whichever way you look at it, it’s much, much better than being cold – well, unless you are F, of course.

I have forced the dogs to come outside in the garden. They weren’t keen to leave the house – which is the first time I can remember. But it is equally cool (or, rather, slightly less hot) at the back of the house, which remains in shade all day. There is the chance of a small breeze outside, from time to time.

And it is peaceful.

And, I am British, so outside when the weather is nice is a “must” – which, to be honest, is not Italian.

We had a nice (though smallish) lunch in Pietrasanta with Lola and G and the dogs.

Lola is getting a new dog tomorrow so is very excited. And, in September/October, we shall go to their place so the puppies can play in their garden – which will be lovely. I would tell you the type of dog but can’t as I have been sworn to secrecy by G. However, it’s a fantastic dog and I think Lola will be very happy even if it’s not going to be like Duick.

Now I am alone with the dogs whilst F goes to get his hair cut.

It’s perfect weather for a nice glass of cold wine or beer so, once I’ve posted that, I think I will be drinking just that.

Enjoy your weekend.

The White City

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I don’t suppose I’ve ever mentioned before but this place reeks of marble. This is, so I am told, the place for it. It is mined (or is it cut) from the mountains that sit behind me – me being on the beach, looking out to sea.

Apparently, this place (of which I had never heard before I came here with F) is famous, if not infamous, for it’s marble and. In particular, it’s white marble.

Various famous people have come here to pick their own marble for their kitchen or whatever. There are big yards, near where F has his house where there are huge, almost square blocks of the stuff, where they also cut it into huge flat sheets. Yesterday I saw some people who were being shown round one of these yards, obviously choosing the block or sheets they wanted.

The marble, since Roman times, was hauled down the mountainside, to the sea front where it has been shipped all over the world.

As one would expect, with marble being such a big thing here, marble is used in some of the strangest of places.

I mean, there are the usual, expected sculptures and monuments. At every roundabout, variously placed outside public buildings, in squares and one, of what looks like a baby polar bear, outside the school.

Some are modern, like one with waves with hands and heads sticking out – I guess to remember those lost at sea, some old and rather forgotten like the one of a dog, about 5 feet tall.

Then marble is used on houses that, elsewhere, would be unthinkable. Like, for instance, the base of houses, up to the damp course. And for tables and instead of skirting boards.

Then there’s the street. The pavements are not paved with gold but often marble. And, for me, the most extravagant thing is its use for kerb stones.

This is certainly a place for marble and mostly white marble. And it gives the place a rather opulent feel.

Woof Woof Sands

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Today, as it was cloudy, was the day for bau bau beach.

Bau bau is what young kids get told are dogs, much like we say ‘doggy’. Bau bau is also the Italian for woof woof or bow bow, being the noise a dog makes when it barks.

We took them to the pinetta first so that they would be tired. They were definitely tired – just not tired enough, it seems.

Actually, bau bau beach is one of the free beaches – i.e. one doesn’t have to pay. But you don’t get any facilities – like a bar, tables, a cabin, loungers or umbrellas.

Except, for €15 per season, you can use one of the loungers and one umbrella (that you must put up yourself).

Unlike a normal free beach, however, on this one you can take dogs.

It was Piero’s first time. He wasn’t keen on the water but, as it was the only way to get to some other dogs, he went in.

Dino wouldn’t go in further than his belly – until we threw a stick in. Then he went to retrieve it. Dino’ hair is short now so getting wet made no difference. Piero has never had his hair cut so when he got wet, he looked so skinny and drowned!

We did the paddling/swimming thing a few times and then went to sit under our umbrella for a bit. Piero found his voice. He wanted to be with a couple of border collies that were playing on the shore and, sometimes, swimming in to retrieve a ball that was thrown out for them. Piero didn’t like not being part of it so barked – a LOT!

But it was good fun for a few hours.

Then we took them to the pinetta again and then had breakfast (it being nearly 12.30). After doing some supermarket shopping we tidied up the garden a bit.

F is now having a bath, after which is dinner – stuffed tomatoes, watermelon and fruit salad.

Today was the dogs’ day. They are exhausted. And so am I!

Minutes away ………..

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Well, this is it!

The last time for getting up at 5.30 a.m. for 23 days.

And the last time for getting up at 5.30 a.m. with a temperature of at least 26°C until, probably, next summer, since it will be almost September by the time I do it again.

And my test worked, and I am happy about that.

In one hour, I leave work. I go home, hold T’s hand whilst she does her test; pack; shower and, with any luck, we shall leave.

F is going to be really busy today and doesn’t know what time he will finish – but I reckon he will try to finish as normal which will enable us to go.

It is so very hot an humid here, right now and, although it’s hot and humid there – it’s not as bad as here.

Less than 1 hour now.

Not that I’m counting down the minutes or anything ……….

Half-preparing

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Well, my first night ‘free’ for a long time.

I have been so busy and will continue to be busy for the next two days before the hols. I have tried to set up this WordPress thing to allow me to post by email. I got it working partially but the text of the message came out as gobbledygook. I might have another go tomorrow. It would allow me to post whilst I’m away or, at least, it would be much easier to post. Still, if I can’t do it that way, I can try something else. We’ll see.

I should have done a few minor repairs to some jeans and trousers but I will take the stuff away with us and do it then. Maybe. I mean – maybe I will take it away. And, anyway, even if I DO take it away, maybe I will do it. The probability is that I will take it away and bring it back in the same state. But I do have one week without F and I think I might do it then.

I have given the dogs their monthly anti-heartworm and flea stuff tonight so they’re ready to go.

I did the last shopping (I hope).

Tomorrow evening, I shall pack as Friday will be busy and I don’t want to have to do it then.

Two nights from now and I should be eating pizza (with aubergine, asparagus and lardo) in Bati Bati on the first night of our holiday (subject to F finishing work early enough, T finishing her English Test early enough and the traffic not being horrendous).

The weather is very hot right now but is due to change on Monday (typical). This evening, walking the dogs, it said it was 34°C which is quite warm really. Still, even when it changes it will still remain n the high 20s, so not too bad.

And I sit here finishing my nice cold beer before I take the dogs out and go to bed, for I am exhausted.

Till my next post. If you’re going on holiday too, then have a nice time. If not, then have a nice time anyway.

Social or Anti

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I don’t know why but during the weekend I kept thinking of my parents. Well, not thinking of them, exactly, but rather how much they wouldn’t like this. This thing that I do now.

I always thought that I would never pay to go onto a beach. But I used to hate carrying everything. Not that I actually carried everything, of course, but as I was the eldest, it was always more. And, instead of setting up camp near the entrance to the beach, we always had to go where there was no one else. Which meant walking on the beach. And walking. And walking. Laden as we were with deckchairs and windbreaks and costumes and food. And walking until I thought I would die. Or felt I would die. Or wanted to die with shame and embarrassment.

Even when we arrived at what seemed to be the furthest possible location, it wasn’t finished. For there was the setting up of the windbreak, the deck chairs, the changing into costumes, one at a time, using this thing that my Mum had fashioned out of, what seemed to be some sort of toweling but was almost like a curtain – but a very ugly curtain, with elastic at the top or drawstrings or something so that it covered you from the neck down. I absolutely HATED changing on the beach.

Then there was the food. We were a family of 6 so there was a lot of food. Sandwiches made that morning, sausage rolls made last week and kept in tupperware, rock cakes, hard boiled eggs. And other stuff.

It all seemed such a palaver.

But, being 6, I guess they couldn’t afford to go to restaurants and we didn’t have burger places then – except Wimpy, which was dreadful (not that the burger places now are much good). I understand now and I think I understood then.

That doesn’t mean I liked it. I didn’t. I HATED it. I hated everything about it. It’s like we were some sort of tribe, invading the beach. But with the embarrassment of it all I was, kind of, glad that we weren’t near other people. But they seemed to hate it when other people came near. If someone pitched up near to us they would complain and ask (themselves) why the person had to park themselves so close to us.

And, on reflection, perhaps that is one of the reasons I find it hard to socialise, in general. I wasn’t brought up to socialise, I guess.

Of course, in the early evening (unless the weather was not so good) we had to reverse all this. Packing away the food left-overs, uprooting the windbreak and rolling it up, collapsing the deckchairs. Getting changed again using the stupid and hateful changing robe thing. And then carrying the whole lot back to the car.

However, now, I love the fact that we just go to the beach. We take towels. We take personal stuff. But we don’t have to take deckchairs or food or an umbrella or a windbreak. It’s not a 6-mile hike to the spot we have. Of course, there are people always nearby. It’s not like we can hide away. And because F is from there and so are many people on the beach and that we share an umbrella with another couple (who only come for about an hour), you can’t really NOT talk to anyone.

But it’s nice.

And, coming back to the point, a lifetime away from anything my parents would have done.

I am not 20

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Personally, I think it was the last mojito that did it. After all, it wasn’t a mojito at all but, rather than rum, was something else entirely.

I was, as said by one of the characters in the Fast Show, Rowley Birkin QC, and shown below, very, very drunk.

Of course, I didn’t go out with the intention of ending up completely wasted. No, no. It was just a meal out with friends. We didn’t even start off by drinking much. OK so an aperitivo at the bar we all met up in. And, I suppose, I did drink most of E’s drink since she didn’t like it.

Then we ahd some wine with the meal. Well, three bottles of the good stuff and a carafe of the house wine but that was between six of us.

OK so one person hardly drunk any, another only slightly more, so I guess effectively 4 bottles between 4 which, I suppose, is a bottle each.

But it was the beach party that did it really.

One of the nice things about Italy is the cocktails. There’s no such thing as gills. Or is it gils? In any event – measuring. They don’t do it.

Since the barman was the son of E (who’s drink I had nearly drunk earlier), he did the mojitos for me and Alf. I’m not a fan but it was a disco (with the dreadful Italian summer music) and there was sand beneath my feet and it was warm and people were dancing and it seemed to go down quite well.

At some point, someone mentioned going for a swim in the sea but, even in my inebriated state, I knew that was dangerous and declined – saying it was dangerous. In the end, no one did go for a swim. Maybe I had frightened them. Or, at least, made them think.

I wasn’t going to have another but, you know, it seemed we weren’t likely to go home any time soon and so, I thought, why not?

Of course, in the light of day there were a million and one reasons why not. But it was not the light of day but about 1 a.m. These reasons did not even cross my mind. But, apparently, they had run out of rum and so our wonderful new friend, the barman, suggested something else which we agreed to try.

To be honest, by then, it could well have been antifreeze and I would have drunk it. Perhaps it was antifreeze? I drank it anyway. And then I remember very little until about 7 a.m. when I first woke up.

Not when I GOT up, mind you. Just woke up. The dogs were being a bit of a pain so I let them out in the garden.

F woke up about 10.15. I had woken up several times between 7 and then. We got up and took the dogs out.

In the end, we got to the beach about 12.30 – about 3 hours later than we usually do. As F said, we shouldn’t really do this very often and I totally agree. It’s not like we’re 20 any more.

Still it was a nice evening. From what I recall!

Breakthrough!

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I’ve had a bit of a breakthrough. Well, thanks to a colleague, actually.

As you know, I’ve been a bit concerned that the chewing of furniture in the lounge could pose a problem and wanted something to protect chair legs and table legs, etc. I was thinking of getting some plastic and it was suggested I could use old water bottles – the water bottles made of plastic. I could cut the top and bottoms off and then wrap the bottle round the leg.

Brilliant! Perfect! I am very happy.

Now I must drink a LOT of water because I have less than two weeks! And I don’t even LIKE water!!!

Oh yes, I forgot to tell you. Piero will be with us around 8th/9th July.

My plan is sightly different from F’s plan. F’s plan is that I go, after work, on the Monday to pick him up.

My plan is that we go together – coming back earlier from Carrara on the 8th and going straight there. I know F’s plan but F doesn’t know my plan yet.

Yet.

F’s second plan doesn’t involve me. It involves him taking Piero to work with him on his first day with us.

“But he’ll pee and poo all day!”, I exclaim.

“No problem”, replies F.

What I haven’t said is that it will also be the first time he will have been on a lead (more or less), so there’ll be lots of pulling, trying to run away and sitting down. This means the journey to work will be long and fraught. It also means that, by the time they all get to work, everyone will be tired. And then it will be time to come back :-)

I’m half inclined to let F find out for himself. Is that too cruel?

In preparation.

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Well, I think it’s as good as it will get – subject to plastic around important legs, which will have to wait.

Of course, I THINK it’s OK but know, in my heart, that I have, quite obviously, missed something.

There are, one hopes, what with F buying something every time he goes abroad, enough toys to keep the little bugger occupied. In the process I have cleared out some food in the fridge and found that I have far too much wine. Maybe I should drink more? ;-)

Tonight, we should be going out with the Austrian friend and her husband. They are here to select clothes for next year, it being the start of the showroom sales.

Next week is the Paris fashion shows, so F is in Paris next weekend. Dino and I will be going to Carrara, even if I prefer to be with F.

I have suggested to Best Mate, that she comes for the first week in August (as F will be working and I shall be in the first week of my three-week holiday) – she can get a cheapish flight to Pisa and we can spend the days on the beach or sight-seeing or something. I don’t think she will come but it would be rather nice. And it would be a weeks holiday for her.

Of course, there will also be Piero, which makes it more fun. We could have barbeques in the back garden and stuff. Yes, it would be all rather fun, I think. I hope she says ‘yes’.

This afternoon, we are going to see Piero and, hopefully, choose. F says that he will like them all and be unable to choose, so I will do it. He says that he will always, then, prefer one of the others. But I think there will be ‘the one’ – and you know that I always believe in ‘the one’ for both dogs and boyfriends :-D

In the meantime, these next few weeks will be SO busy, with hardly an evening or weekend free to do anything. Weekends in Carrara being the only time to relax. And then comes Piero – so even more so. But it’s OK. It will be fun, I know that much.