Category Archives: Italy

Overall thoughts on Italy and things we do

The Good Things

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There are, as there always are, many good things happening right now, in spite of some other things that are not so good.

The weather is warmer, in general. Currently it has to be above 25 degrees and, as I am now at home, I have, for the first time this year, got out and am wearing, my sandals. OK so maybe not a big deal to you it is one of ‘those things’ that makes living here such a wonderful dream. To explain (although I may have explained before), in the UK I could wear sandals for only a few days a year – probably some days during June, July or August but hardly ever for more than the actual day, needing to put socks and shoes on in the evening. Although it is too early to be wearing sandals for the evening, it was with great joy that I went into the cupboard and dusted off my favourite sandals and put them on this afternoon. This time of year makes me so happy – knowing that, in a few more weeks just sandals, shorts and a T-shirt will be needed day and night. It makes me feel free and, although I know that is an illusion, it’s a good illusion.

And the reason I am home early is that I went for the results of the test. At first, because they spoke to me in Italian (not realising I didn’t really understand) I thought they had said that something was not good. Me, being me, had gone through the various scenarios before today. I was ready for the bad news even if, in my heart, I didn’t believe there would be any. But, when they realised I hadn’t understood, they told me that every test was fine. They wondered why I had worried and I had to explain (because it was a different doctor) but it was all good. To be honest, I would have been shocked if it had not been fine but it was nice to hear and nice to see it written down. So, thanks for your help, Lola.

And, of course, the other good thing is F. We are becoming more ‘together’ as time goes on, in spite of my previous post. As those of you who read my blog often enough know, I am always full of doubts and uncertainties but even if we don’t seem to talk about anything important, of F I am certain and I thought I should tell you, lest you get the wrong idea.

And now I shall write a post on the current political happenings in the UK – just by way of a change.

In the event that a volcano erupts, please panic!

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When I was young, so less than half a century ago, we went abroad once. I was 14. Actually, that’s not entirely true. When I was about 5, my parents took me and my sister to Guernsey. I remember it because we had a thing called ‘High Tea’ about 5 p.m. This was for kids only and was something like beans on toast. I guess we didn’t have ‘Dinner’ later but I don’t really remember.

Anyway, I digress. Our holiday, when I was 14, involved a caravan trip. My parents reckoned (and they were right) that this would be the last holiday that we would go on as a ‘family’.

The six of us, with the caravan trailing behind us, overloaded with the awning in which the kids would sleep, made our way to Portsmouth (or maybe Weymouth) on the south coast and then, by ferry to France. We then motored through France to the south west, somewhere near Bordeaux.

It was before package holidays took off.

Before that, when I was about 10 or 12, I remember my father going to the USA on a business trip. I remember it because he brought back a gonk for each of us kids

Gonk

and a pair of bright purple loons for me!

Loons - but not mine

Which I loved, by the way. And, anyway, no one in the backwater of Hereford had them, fashion not quite having reached Hereford by then (has it now?).

Certainly, when we went to Guernsey, we flew. This must have been very expensive as this was the days before package holidays and easy air travel. It was all more ‘exclusive’ then. a little bit special.

How different is it now? Now, we think nothing of hopping on a plane to go to the other side of the world. In fact, we consider air travel first when we think of going abroad – just like we shall be going to the UK at the end of July. It never even crossed my mind to go by rail or coach or any other means. It was just a matter of searching for the cheapest flight.

Which, of course, leads us to now. Now, with a volcano erupting and throwing ash everywhere. How very inconsiderate it is?

I feel sorry for the people ‘stranded’ far away from home. I know some that are. It is difficult. However, it is also an adventure! The adventure being to find another way home or to find something to do or somewhere to sleep or eke out savings or credit cards. It could be fun, if you put your mind to it.

I also feel sorry for those whose businesses rely on people being able to fly in and out of any country they wish – hotels, restaurants, the general hospitality industry. Then are those flower sellers in Nigeria (isn’t that close to some countries where people are currently close to starvation?) having to throw away all the flowers because they can’t fly them to Europe. Then, of course, there are the providers of exotic, perishable goods – with warnings that the shops will soon experience shortages (I’m sure it won’t make much of a dent in Tesco’s record profits for next year). Yes, all these people whose lives and businesses are affected – it’s really dreadful for them.

But, those of you who do read my blog often enough will know there’s always a ‘but’, lets’ take a little step back from this.

No one actually MADE these people go abroad for their holiday. If you have a business, think how it was done back in the 60s – one rarely flew abroad for business then, did one? So, if you ARE stranded, before getting angry that no one has yet come to save you, think, perhaps about why you are there and get on with getting back. There are ways. They still have ships plying between New York and the UK, for example! And, apparently, you can book from (anywhere) on board some freighter ships!

If you’re stuck in the EU or the USA, remember these are civilised countries and there will be help available, if you look hard enough. If you’re stuck in some shit-hole, please try to remember that you CHOSE to go there. If it’s not ‘civilised’ – well, what was the point in going there if all you were going to do was stay in a four-star hotel and sip drinks on the terrace?

And then there is the coincidental loss of business.  I do feel sorry for the Nigerian ‘farmers’ forced to throw away all those exotic flowers they grow so that (said in voice using received pronunciation – i.e. like what the Queen speaks) ‘one can have a rather glorious flower arrangement for one’s table’ – but I just can’t quite get my head round the fact that, on the same continent, there are people dying for want of food!

No, there’s something wrong somewhere, for certain.

To be honest, our little experience was all rather fun and interesting – but, then, it wasn’t me with the problem – I was just helping. And, as I write this, I see that flights are, again, coming in to Malpensa and Linate and, in fact, flying all over Europe!

But the things I have written above was brought about because people are starting to get angry, it would seem. Angry? Are you joking? 40 or 50 years ago only the rich would be in this position. Now everyone is at it but still they expect it to be ‘handled’ by the government. They expect that they shouldn’t be ‘ripped off’. The world is a crazy, crazy place.

But I kept thinking about the air safety drill, given on board aircraft before you take off. You know?

In the event of a loss of cabin pressure, masks like this one will come down from the panel above your head.

In the event of us landing on water, you will find the lifebelt under your seat.

In the event that a volcano erupts, please panic!

>p.s. I just want to add that there are some people for whom I feel genuinely sorry. Not everyone has a credit card to enable them to get home or family or friends who will help. It’s just the people that get so angry about it all and I keep on thinking – but no one actually MADE you go there in the first place!

Whoops, sorry …………

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Yes, I know. I’ve been very remiss. I mean, it’s been almost 10 days since my last post.

There are a load of posts half-written but I just didn’t get the time to finish them off.

Best Mate came and went. We had a lovely time. Went to Venice one of the days and sat in the hot sunshine at a very nice restaurant in a little square at the back of the Duomo. F & I agree that Venice is, for us, the most romantic city in the world (that we know).

Best Mate left two days before the fun started with the volcano and the no-flights-to-almost-anywhere.

Unfortunately, the Paris colleague of F didn’t and learnt, on her way to the airport in a taxi that the flights to Paris were stopping. And, so, she’s been staying at F’s flat whilst F has been staying with me. She re-booked and re-booked and, eventually, this morning we got tickets for a train on Monday (the next available seats) and then she took today’s train – just like loads of other people, judging by the number of people sitting on cases (since all seating must be pre-booked here – at least for the decent services).

Obviously, F (and I when I wasn’t working) entertained her but she was so sweet. We had a good time. Last night we met up with L (another colleague of F’s) and her husband, L and another colleague, M and went out to Puro e Semplice where I had the best quail I have had in a long time. Not a cheap restaurant, done in the modern, simple, kinda rustic style but really excellent food. F had a cottaletta Milanese which I tried and was also fantastic. We had beer and that was wonderful too.

And I say it was really good in spite of eating out nearly all the time for, what seems, about 2 weeks and, to be honest, I am getting a bit fed up with it (words I thought I would never write!). Too much food, too much drink ……. too fat! Or, at least, that’s how I feel.

The upshot being that, even if I were rich or worked as a restaurant critic, the odd day with something really simple at home would be a must.

In other news, F has been taking the ‘babies’ (as he calls them) out quite often for walks now that they are clean and tidy.

OK so this will have to be short because I’ve just seen the time and we are off out (again) this evening with an ex-colleague who is over here from the UK for a couple of weeks, her husband and A, who has been (it would seem) abandoned by Fr who is in the south of Italy (and given that Milan airspace is closed, may be down there for a few extra days longer than expected).

Monday we were due to have an important meeting with customers from the USA but I guess that won’t happen now and so, Monday, maybe, I’ll get more chance to write up stuff.

Everyone’s just a little nervous

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F’s a bit nervous about meeting Best Mate.

Best Mate’s a bit nervous about meeting F.

I’m a bit nervous about them meeting each other.  It would be nice if they liked each other.  They’ll each say they like the other anyway.  Of course, I want approval from Best Mate for my choice and I want F to really like her.

But, already I am so very excited she’s coming.  And for so long.  I have booked the train for us (Best Mate and I) to go to Venice on Monday as she requested this. Maybe we’ll go to Pavia or somewhere on one of the other days.  F goes to London for the day on Friday and will be home late.  On Sunday he will be working (probably) as next week is the Salone (Furniture Fair) in Milan and, although not involved in furniture, there are so many wealthy clients that will be coming that everything has to be just-so.

So, also, Monday and Tuesday he will be busy.

Still, we have booked Baia Chia (see side) for Saturday night.  And, anyway, Best Mate and I don’t really need much to keep us entertained.

I just hope that they really like each other.

Five minutes away and yet ………

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“I’m going to stay at yours tonight because I will miss you so much”

That would have been nice.  Instead, the reason given was that “I won’t see the babies”!

“But you will”, I protest.

“Yes, I know but I won’t be there with them at night”

“But you can stay, you know?”, I reply.

“Yes but you have visitors and it will be difficult”

Of course, I’m not upset that he wants to be with the dogs.  It pleases me a lot that he likes them so much but, you know, it would have been nice if he had said that he would miss me too.  I’m not really complaining though, it just crossed my mind.

Italians are funny when it comes to hospitality and staying with other people.  We (people from the UK) are definitely more relaxed about it all.  He seems to worry that he can’t stay at mine whilst Best Mate is here.  I have explained it’s OK but to no avail.

I only wonder if I will miss him so much that one night I have to go and stay with him?  Of course, as the dogs will be clean and with short hair, they could come with me – but then I would leave Best Mate alone and, so, I probably won’t.  So, 5 nights without him and yet he will be just 5 minutes down the road.  Hmmmph!

The Easter Bunny has left the building…….

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Well, of course, as you all, probably, expected, everything was fine.  No, that’s not quite right.  It was wonderful.

It was a delightful couple of days in Pallanza, in spite of one whole 24 hours of rain.  We played cards but it was so enjoyable.  B was there, with her friend S and the four of us had fun and relaxed.  I learnt some new card games, which was good since F really likes to play cards – and really likes to win, which I find very amusing.  I was struck, from time to time, how like V he could be but there are many things, also, that are different and that I really like.

He loves the dogs so much and I love him for that.

And, although he may not say it, he makes me feel loved.  And that is, after all, what counts.

As I suspected, he wasn’t that keen on going.  Or, at least, that’s the implication afterwards.  But he really likes B (which makes me very happy as I do too) and he liked S and liked that everyone liked playing cards (including the fact that the liked that I liked playing cards) and so, after a few hours, he relaxed and enjoyed it.  And now he is talking about going back there and spending some weekends there.  And as I truly love the place, for me it is great.  And now we have something in common :-D

I suppose, the most notable event, apart from me (almost, phew!) losing the keys that B had to lend me because I had forgotten the set at home (!), was the loss of the chocolate Easter Bunny.  Bought by Betta for us to enjoy on Easter Day, we left it in the lounge/bedroom that F & I used.  The plan was that, after the meal at Osteria Dell’Angolo, we would go back, have a game of cards or two and eat the chocolate egg.

The dogs were out of the bedroom when we got back, in spite of the closed door and greeted us a little too enthusiastically.  The reason became clear.  The wrapping on the floor and one tiny bow were the only things that remained of the chocolate bunny.  I knew it was Dino since Rufus would never have done that.  Of course, it being Dino, everyone forgave him almost immediately and everyone was worried as to whether he would be OK, so it stopped me being really angry with him.

But, for me, the real highlight was the fact that F & I seemed to be closer than ever before.  And, therefore, Easter was fantastic.

We got back last night and, later, went for a pizza. He said – ‘Imagine how it would have been if I didn’t like dogs’ and, yes, it does make a huge difference that he likes them so much.

In the supermarket (Siamo in Italia)

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He is at the back of the queue.  I have to squeeze past him to get the the two bags of dog food – which is all I want.  By the time I get back, he is still at the back of the queue but with a woman who, I assume initially, is his wife as he is has no basket.

They are talking.  eventually, due to the slowness of all operations, the queue edges forward.  He offers to let the woman go before him.  I see, then, that he is holding a toothbrush whilst she has a basket.  She declines but he insists, explaining that he has only the toothbrush to buy but also only has a large denomination note.  I see it, wrapped round the toothbrush.  My knowledge of large denomination notes being a bit hazy (if only I were so rich!) I suppose it is €200 or something since it is not the orange of the 50 nor the green of the 100.

When she reaches the conveyor belt she unloads her shopping but, just before the cashier starts putting it all through, she gestures to the man behind (who is immediately in front of me) to say that he only has the one thing and he should go first.  There are a few moments that must have been something like – ‘No, it’s OK, you carry on’ – ‘No, you only have the toothbrush’ – ‘But, really, it’s OK’ – ‘No, I insist’, etc, etc.

He hands the cashier the toothbrush and she rings it through.  He proffers the note, unfolding it at the same time.  I see now that it is a €500 note!

The cashier says she can’t take it.  He mumbles something about it being all he has.  She says he has to go to the main desk or, because there is some sort of strike, to the only other cashier who is wearing a white coat.  At this point, with all the time wasted, I am hoping that the other cashier is wearing a white coat so that she can take me away before I kill him, the woman who let him go or the cashier – or, all three!

He asks if what he should get is change and the cashier replies in the affirmative.  She cancels the operation and serves the woman in front whilst the man wanders off.

The cashier completes the woman’s shopping and tells her how much it is.  The woman is still putting things in bags.  She is slow.  Instead of offering the money so that things can move on, she continues to pack as if she is deaf and has not heard the cashier ask for money.

We wait.  Eventually, she has finished the packing of things into bags – two bags when it would easily have fitted into one.  The bill is €11 and something.  She hands over ten Euros.  She then proceeds to dig around her bag for her small purse with change.  It is the tiniest purse I have seen and black.  No wonder it took her five minutes to find!

She takes out all the change and proffers it to the cashier with an open palm.  The cashier takes two Euro and gives her the change.

It’s my turn.  Except the man with the toothbrush returns.  He excuses himself and I grunt.  The cashier rings up the toothbrush.  It is €2 something.  He comes out with the smallest note he had been given – €50!

This she can accept but she asks for the change as they do here – i.e. the few cents.  He explains that this is all he has.  I seriously want to kill them all at this point.  I want two bags of dog food FFS!

He pats his jacket and trousers in a show of ‘Look, I really have no money’ and then, as if by magic, puts his hand in one pocket and brings out some change!  I am gobsmacked!

He offers the change to the cashier.  She explains that, by giving him €3 in coins, it is not necessary to use the €50 note.  She takes the €3.  At this point, if there HAD been something else I am almost fairly certain that I would have killed everyone.  So, all this time he actually had the money, more or less, without needing to resort to using/changing the €500 note nor holding up everyone with long explanations of why he was using a €500 note when in fact he didn’t need to use it at all.

As I say, Siamo in Italia (sorry Lola, Pietro et al).

First Time

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It will be our first time away.  That is, away – together.< More importantly, it will be the first time that we shall actually spend 24 hours together or maybe 48 or maybe a little more. Best Mate said, last night, that I worry too much.  This is true, of course.  Will we be able to stand each other for all that time together?  Will he still love me tomorrow?

We are going to Pallanza on Lake Maggiore.  We shall be with a friend of mine, B and a friend of hers over from Canada – but we shall be together for the whole time.  Perhaps even Saturday morning through to Monday evening!  Normally we have quite a number of hours apart – in our respective homes; shopping; doing odd jobs, etc.  We’ve never spent this amount of time together – and we won’t have any other distractions.  Hmmm.

OK, but the thing is that I don’t need any other distractions, I will have him. I worry that he does need other distractions though. Anyway, I won’t be here for a couple/few days from Saturday morning, so in case I don’t get the chance to say before, have a very Happy Easter.

Gay – the new ‘black’

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First, there was Mine Vaganti (Loose Cannons is the English title but the direct translation, apparently, is Wandering mines (as in sea mines used in war)).  Then there was some famous latin-pop singer.  It seems there’s a lot of it about!

Then there are the discussions about it.  First the Italians talking about the film.  The reaction, in general, is that it is a ‘nice’ film although, if the Italians talking about it had three children and the two male children were both gay, I’m really not sure how that would really go down.

And then there are the discussions about the famous latin-pop star.  They basically fall into two categories.  There is the ‘who cares – his music was crap’ to the ‘who cares in 2010′ and then there is the ‘what a surprise (not)’ to the ‘oh look, he has a biography to promote’.

Being gay has never been so ordinary nor so popular!  I guess I must also be a very fortunate homosexual too, then?  Actually, not really.  I’m a very fortunate guy, certainly.  But being gay has absolutely nothing to do with it

But I do get a little disheartened by it all.  So let’s get some things straight (so to speak).

Being gay – maybe it shouldn’t make a difference and, in many ways it doesn’t but in some ways it really does make a difference and it does mean that you have to consider every action, every word spoken, etc.

I regularly (here) see couples embracing.  In fact, for me, being British, it can be downright embarrassing on the basis that they seem only a small step from having full public sex!  But, imagine walking down the street and seeing two men or two boys doing the same thing.  It’s OK, or not?  I’m thinking that, however open-minded you may be, it may not be completely OK.  Even I would be more embarrassed than I already am!

The coming out.  There’s no right time.  Of course, there should be no need to ‘come out’ at all, you may say.  But, especially if you’re straight-acting, the automatic assumption is that you’re straight.  So, women may make passes at you; colleagues at work will talk about a beautiful women in the context of you being interested, etc.  I have no problem with women making passes at me.  It is, after all, very flattering.  However, I do feel that it would be unfair if I let them continue when there’s no chance of it going any further, don’t you?  And, so, there IS a need to come out, unfortunately. And although it’s not necessary, strictly speaking, I do really get fed up with people make lewd comments to me about females and expecting me to react in a ‘blokish’ way and, so, would love to ‘come out’ to them. I noticed that, with people who know, there are no comments about women in that way – at least not in my company.

The Family. OK so this is, probably, the hardest of them all. It doesn’t really matter how difficult it is or isn’t to come out to your friends or in the workplace – but coming out to your family is an entirely different thing. The problem here is that, however, relaxed and open-minded they may all seem (and for certain mine weren’t so I knew what the reaction would be before it ever happened), it’s an entirely different ball-game when it’s your son/brother/cousin/father/uncle etc. Even then most open of people can, deep down, harbour those prejudices that we are ‘taught’ when young. And, of course, it’s worse when it’s one of ‘your own’.

I mean, how can you face the outside world? What explaining you’ll have to do!

And, just in case you think that, just because I write all this here I am one of those people who are ‘out’ well, yes, to some degree. But not everyone knows at work and, having gone through all the crap between the ages of 18 and 25, I just can’t be bothered to go through it all again – except I find myself having to do so here, in this country where the film Mine Vaganti rings true as it would have done in the UK about 20-odd years ago!

So, although everyone ‘knew’ about Ricky, and although I don’t have any particular feeling about him (gay or not), I can feel the slightest bit sorry for him. Whether he did it now or later; whether it was for the book, to boost his flagging career or none of those (the timing would always be wrong for some people); whatever the reason, we shall never really know the reasons why he kept it secret for so long (what pressures he was under to ‘keep it all under wraps) or why he decided to come out now (maybe writing the book and seeing how his life to date was built on lies). At least he has come out and now we can get on with loving or hating his music and he can get on with his life.

How to find a new job

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Here, in Italy, it seems to be all about people you know.  Certainly, A, who is currently looking for a new job, finds it much more difficult because his family are not from this area and his network of people is smaller.  Therefore, his search is made more difficult.

In the UK, of course, it doesn’t work like that.  Or, does it?

Certainly for the more menial of jobs, the lower end, the starting, it may not work like that.  Higher up, except for public office, it probably does, more or less.

So, if I was to go back to the UK and start to look for a job, almost certainly, the first thing I would do is tell all my friends in the hope that, one of them would know someone who was looking for someone like me.  For someone who is looking for a very well paid job in the private sector it is exceedingly difficult.

If you are currently in a position but know that, soon, you will be, in effect, redundant you need to make discreet enquiries.

And, should you be lucky enough to have an informal discussion with the potential new employer, it is, of course, important to sell your skills and abilities and bring your best attributes forward.  So, if you have a particular skill that is very relevant to the job in question, you would try to show the potential employer how your skill is better than anyone else’s.

This becomes more difficult if you are talking about a soft skill and you will be a consultant.

If I were going to an English company, trying to tell them how my Italian experience could help them, for example, I might say that my Italian is pretty good.  I might also tell them how I have a number of contacts in the field in which they were working and how I might call those contacts to help me to help the new company to gain more business and more market share or, if they were looking for suppliers, how I could get special prices or a particularly good service or something.

Of course, all this would be ‘off the record’.  And, to be honest, I could not come with guarantees – but I wouldn’t be telling them that – and, anyway, they should know that.  I would only be affecting introductions to the people I know.  It would then be up to them to make those contacts work, to sell the company (although, of course, I would help with that).

What I wouldn’t do is to wait until I was redundant and then try and hawk my round potential employers.  That would be madness.  And, if I didn’t find a job quickly, the contact list may go a little cold.  No, far better to look for a job whilst you are still employed in the old job.

It all seems very reasonable, yes?

Then why, I ask, is it quite OK for everyone to do that type of thing except politicians?  Politicians, let’s be honest here, live in an unreal world and invariably have very little real-world skill except the ability to speak and convince people of their ideas.  They are, in fact, like salesmen.  Knowing nothing of real value except, perhaps, they do have a lot of mates in places of power and influence.

When they become unemployed, what the hell do they do for a job?  And certainly, a job that will pay them the sort of salary they and their families are used to.

And this latest craze for setting up a ‘sting’ to trap current politicians into saying things we would rather they didn’t – like, I’ve got a lot of good mates in a position to, maybe, help you with government contracts, etc. – is really out of order.

We expect them to behave like angels whilst in office (which is unrealistic anyway, since they are only human beings) but to expect them to be perfect once they know they will be leaving and to NOT use their contacts to help them with their ‘next life’ seems more than unreasonable but completely stupid.

I’m not a fan of politicians.  The days of altruistic men and women, going in to the government to make this world a better place seem long gone (although, probably, it was never thus).  They seem a more sleazy, corrupt bunch of people than one finds outside their crazy world but this latest attempt to ‘out’ them seems unjust and simply a media trick to sell more newspapers or get more TV viewers.

You know, there’s those sayings about throwing stones and glass houses and things.  I wonder when this will all come back to haunt the people doing the throwing?