Category Archives: Italy

Overall thoughts on Italy and things we do

I’m learning a new language

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Well, you might say “of course you are” but it’s not quite what you think.

I’m having various conversations with a girl who’s about 14.  Don’t get the wrong idea here – it’s not a bad thing.  She is the daughter of Best Mate.  And the conversation is the sort of general conversation that one would have with the teenage daughter of your Best Mate – except for one thing – it’s via Facebook and so is more like texting or chatting online.

And, as she’s 14, although she uses English it’s not quite the English that I write here.  And on more than one occasion I have had to ask Best Mate what a certain word or acronym means.

Because, let’s face it, I am old.  I remember mobile phones when they first came in and were almost as big as a small briefcase.  And the first portable computer was like a laptop – but the screen was a normal screen that you had to carry separately.  So, texting and chatting online requires that I learn a different language.

Some examples would be soz.  This is short for sorry.  Said is written sed.  How gets the ‘h’ dropped off the front.

All these things make remarkable sense.  However, I do find it difficult to do this.  I’ve just about mastered using ‘u’ instead of ‘you’ and ‘r’ instead of ‘are’ but I don’t even do that all the time, so writing ‘i sed i wuz soz’ I would still be writing as ‘I said I was sorry’ – even in text form, even going to the trouble of making the ‘i’ a capital.

And, in addition, I text Italians.  For me it is almost unthinkable as an ex English Teacher to write the short form.  The best I can do with F is to write ‘cos’ instead of ‘because’ (and even with that, the first time I did, he asked what it meant).

English is a wonderful, rich language (although the Italians always think theirs is better and richer – and, being a guest in their country I would not disagree – at least in front of them) but having been with V’s family (many of whom are first-generation from Jamaica), I became very aware of the the fact that there is no really ‘pure’ English.  It’s all bastardised all over the world.  Even here they take words and give them slightly different meanings (e.g. relax, which they don’t use verb even when it should be in the context in which they use it).

And so, this new form of English, widely used (I guess) by most English people (maybe even English-speaking people) under the age of, let’s say, 30 – where will it end up?  In 20 years will the common spelling of ‘said’ be ‘sed’ and ‘sorry’ be ‘soz’ – at least in the UK?

Every language changes over time but I suspect new technology and the need to type words on keyboards, touch pads and keypads could accelerate the changes to the language.  And since I know the same thing happens here (‘che’ becomes ‘k’, ‘per’ becomes ‘x’), I wonder if all languages are now under some pressure to change to meet the growing need of the younger generations to be able to communicate in ways that we never even imagined when we were at school.

Just a thought.

I live in a Pigs

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No, the title is not a mistake.  I could have said that I live in Pigs but I don’t live in all four of them but only one of them.  Apparently, I live in the ‘I’ of the Pigs.

The ‘I’ of Pigs is, of course, Italy, with an economy so bad that it, together with Portugal, Greece and Spain, are collectively bringing down the Euro.  Of course, Buzz Lightyear (my nickname for Berlusconi) is still saying ‘to infinity and beyond……’, convincing the Italians that they have a strong economy.  The really strange thing, for me, is that they must believe him otherwise they wouldn’t keep bringing him back and, yet, they know that the situation is bad.

Anyway, the Guardian take on it is here.

Snowing in the garden

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We are lying in bed.  I turn my head and look out through the open door of the bedroom, through the hall to where the dim daylight – it is dawn – shows through the window that looks out on to the garden and lets me see that it is snowing.  I see the snow falling and the trees covered in snow.  I turn and tell F, who is just awake, that it is snowing.

Except, of course, that didn’t happen.  Yesterday, my colleagues wanted me to look up the weather on a website that I use and I found that within three hours, it had changed and forecast snow for today.

And this thing that happened, happened in a dream last night.

He doesn’t have a hallway through which I can see a window.  His flat is on the third floor and, like most houses in Milan, he has no garden in which there are snow-laden trees.  And I didn’t wake up to know that it was snowing.

However, as I stepped out of the door of the block of flats, it was, indeed, snowing.  Not as heavily as in my dream and not covering anything but, still………

Not really so strange but, for a moment, it made the dream seem all the more real.

The ugly building

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There’s not really enough time to smoke a whole cigarette.  That’s nice, really.

As I walk back, I look at the buildings since this is a ‘new’ walk, even if I have done it several times before.  There is the house (small block of flats) which is amazingly ugly, right on the corner.  Someone on the second floor has put in new shutters.  They are bright green against the incredibly ugly grey/brown of the building itself.  These shutters are half closed or fully closed depending on the window.  Further on, beyond the traffic lights, Via Modena stretches on, beyond GS (which have now all been officially changed to Carrefour anyway, just this last week) with, from the corner of Via Dei Mille, some beautiful buildings.  And yet, this ugly, three-storey building stands there like it wants to prove a point.  What point though?  And what made someone decide that this concrete square blob could, in any way, ever look nice?

I turn the corner and continue to walk back.  I didn’t sleep well.  Maybe it was the deafening sound of the complete silence in the flat.  I had strained to hear the sound of anything.  Of the trams that are less than a cigarette-smoke away, of the buses, the cars, even birds (this morning).  There was nothing, except, maybe, occasionally, the sound of a car……..maybe.

And it was dark.  I mean pitch black.  No light.  And, whereas I used to like that a lot, I found that I couldn’t see him and I wanted to.

The new duvet was incredibly light and very warm.  But, when he got up this morning, to go to work, it all felt so cold.  It was so weird.  I found myself, all night having to have some part or all of my body outside the duvet but this morning, as soon as he got out, snuggling under it to keep warm.

And, although I should have gone back to sleep, I found I could not and so, about half an hour after he left, I got up anyway.

I stayed a little bit, playing on the computer and had three cigarettes.  Again, I noticed that the flat seemed to fill with smoke so easily and this is not a good sign.  Again, I opened all the windows and let the air flow through to disperse the smoke and I hope it’s OK for when he goes home tonight.

For tonight he will go home.  And put more things tidy, etc.  And go to bed very late, I think.  And so we shall sleep apart, I expect.

And, so, as I walked home this morning, being grateful that we were closer, at least, it was tinged with a little sadness.  For now we are three again and I quite liked being four.

A habit that I like

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I know he’s awake.  Well, when I say ‘awake’ I mean semi-conscious, at least.

People have habits.  Each person has different habits.  Things they do that are not necessarily strange in themselves but are done to excess (comparatively) or are fashioned only by some ‘freaky’ way that their body is built or their mind works.

I have the ‘habit’ of washing my hands.  I do it a lot.  My hands feel ‘dirty’ often and I take every opportunity to wash them.  Well, that’s not entirely true.  I am aware this is some sort of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and so I actually stop myself from doing it quite often – aware that, in fact, it is not really necessary.  But, for instance, when I put hand cream on (which I have to do since the end of 2008, at least from time to time) my immediate thought is that I want to go and wash my hands.  Which I don’t do, obviously, since it would negate the effects of the hand cream and, anyway, it was because of prolonged ‘wetness’ that they became like this in the first place.

I am sure I have many other annoying or funny habits.

F has, for me, very peculiar (but quite beautiful) feet.  If I say they are similar to the Hobbits feet from the Lord of the Rings films – but less hairy – that would give you the wrong impression.  But, in some way, they are.  Not large like Hobbits feet, nor, as I have said, hairy but he really has no ‘little toe’.  I mean to say he DOES have a little toe it’s just that it’s not so little.  In fact it looks the same as the other toes and almost as big.

But there’s a thing about his feet.  When I move my toes, including the big one, they all move together.  they are not like fingers.  What F can do and does subconsciously, I am sure, is move them individually.

And so, in bed, if his feet are pressed against my leg or feet and he is semi-conscious (i.e. as he’s waking up), he will (and this is the only way I can really describe it) drum his toes against my leg/foot.

And, like almost everything about him, I love it.  It’s a peculiar thing to him (as far as I am aware although readers may put me straight on that, I suppose) and, so, ‘special’.  And, every time it happens, I like it and think of his feet and feel safe and warm and comfortable.

Thank goodness he doesn’t actually read this blog!

Hair today………….. ; All change; Doubly dippy

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“I’ve just got to clean my teeth and do my hair”, I say.  He is lying under the covers.  I have just brought him a cup of coffee having been out with the dogs and drunk mine and now about to get dressed to go to work.

And, to prove he is not as asleep as he would have me believe he comes out with ‘which hairs?’

Now, I know I don’t have much hair on my chest and, unfortunately, my hair is thinning on top but…..
‘Bastard’ is my response.  He laughs.

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The wardrobe came last week.  It has mirrors.  It is big.  It is fabulous.  Not all clothes are sorted yet but they will be.  Soon.  The bedroom already looks much tidier and less ‘dirty’.

There are many things to put away and they will be done, mostly this weekend.

And I took the opportunity to have a bit of a move around.

So the TV was moved to the bedroom.  This has pleased F no end.  The night before last, as I hadn’t yet got a long enough cable for the aerial, we watched a video – during which he fell asleep.  Last night, having got the aerial and a digital decoder (as V couldn’t be bothered to find the remote for the one he eventually gave me back) and F having tried to sort out the getting of channels, we watched TV.  F is happy, there is no doubt.

The desk I have moved to where I thought I would have put the Dining Table.  On it is the computer.  Being an iMac, it is easy to move having only the power cable to worry about, the keyboard and mouse fitting snugly under the screen/computer to enable carrying.

I don’t think I like it where it is.  The table/desk, I mean.

I go back to my original idea of having the table near the window.  I think it will be better there.

A agrees.  He was round on Sunday making all sorts of suggestions as to how it should be changed.  It was nice of him but it’s not really for me.  And, anyway, he didn’t really understand that I wanted F to come up with ideas – it would make him feel more at home in the same way that the telly is now in the bedroom.

It all makes me sound rather wicked, perhaps?  But it isn’t meant to be that way.

So, undoubtedly, the table will be moved.  Maybe, even, this weekend, we shall see.

That means moving the ceiling light or, as A suggested, getting a cord by which to hang it across the ceiling.  Then there’s moving the other things around and, hopefully ending up with an acceptable living room/dining room.

Then all I shall need to complete it is a proper dining table and we’re done!

But I shall ask F, when we have time.  I would prefer if he were ‘involved’.

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Finally, I’m pleased for all you UK readers to learn that the UK is out of recession.  You must all be very pleased

Of course, here, in Italy, Buzz Lightyear was saying that Italy and the Italians wouldn’t be affected (oh, yes, apart from those businesses that went out of business and the people who lost their jobs).

I do worry that, for the UK, the house prices are still far too high and wonder how long it will be before ‘double-dip’ is added to the word recession by the UK media.

I hope I’m wrong.

Proof. I’m sure of it.

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Google’s announcement made a big splash across China. On the day, many net users voiced their support for the company and some even demonstrated in front of the company’s headquarters. Local people were showing their respect for a company that will finally apply its global motto “Don’t Be Evil” to China, treating it the same as other markets. I am sure traffic on Google.cn doubled, if not tripled, on that day as Google removed the content filtering. This proves how eager Chinese users are for an unfiltered internet environment.

I’m not sure that Google are all that wonderful.  After all, they did agree to a form of censorship in the beginning and there was a lot of criticism at the time, I seem to remember.  So now that they’ve decided they don’t want to do it any more, how does that make them something great?  Something great would have been to not have agreed to it in the first place.  Although, being as cynical as I am, it would not have grabbed headlines for so long.

However, that’s not why I have posted this quote from here.  No, the reason is that I was shocked to read that it is now ‘proved’ that the Chinese are eager for unfiltered access.

What proves it? You may well ask.  Well, apparently, it’s the doubling (or, even, tripling) of traffic on Google on the day they removed the filtering.

I say ‘apparently’ because, in fact, it is not a fact.  However, the author is ‘sure’ this is the case.

I am sure that I am the most handsome man, ever.  Therefore this proves that I am.  Aren’t I just lucky?  (It’s OK, there’s no need to comment, folks!)

Streets paved with…….what?????; Ironing what?????

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It’s cold.  We’re all wearing thick coats and hats.  Mind you, there’s not that many people around.  I guess, partly, because it’s still lunchtime.

I’ve had my hair cut and am walking to the cigarette shop.  I go down the street with the fantastic Art Noveau buildings – something to be seen in Milan, one of which is pictured at the top of my blog.

I’m following this guy, rather rotund, wearing one of those hats with the fur flaps that come down to cover the ears – like a deerstalker a bit but I don’t remember the proper name.

He didn’t look like one of the homeless guys. I mean he was only carrying one plastic bag which looked like it only had a couple of things, at most, in it.  But his next action was quite surprising.

He suddenly stops, looking at something on the ground, then stoops and picks it up.

Not as you might think, a coin or something that might be of either value or interest.

No, he picks up a comb.  An ordinary black, plastic comb. On the street. Probably used.

Puts it in his pocket and continues to walk on and around the next corner.  As I am going straight on, I turn slightly to glimpse someone who is probably around 60, grey beard, not untidy chap.

What a strange thing to do, I thought.

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F has changed me in many ways.  Or, rather, I do some things now that I would never have done in the past.  One of these is ironing sheets  For me, what was crucial was that they were clean.  Now, yesterday, because my bloody cleaner is so slow I find that all the clean sheets are still to be ironed.

So, as a couple of weeks ago, F, who had been really busy was so apologetic about the fact that he had had no time to iron the sheets, I ironed sheets.  Never really saw the point of it myself.  I mean, you put them on the bed and by the end of the first night they are never perfect.  So why bother?

Yet here I am, ironing sheets.

OK, so I admit that they are better having been ironed.  But still.  As someone who loathes ironing, this was really going over the top!

Bah!

Hang on, my jewelry is escaping…….!

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I’m sorry but this is a little disconcerting for me.

Pets are one thing.  I don’t really like the idea of dogs with coats, cats that aren’t allowed out of the house, etc.  But……..

Encrusting your pet beetle (?) with jewels and then wearing it as a brooch?  Now that they’re stopping the docking of dogs tails and the slicing of their ears, I would have thought that this, too, would be considered wrong.

I can understand a pet beetle, kept in a tank and in an environment that, at least, can be made similar to the real one – but on your jumper, pinned as some sort of jewellery and, even worse, encrusted with jewels?

The world has gone mad.

Last Night and Today

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The alarm clock goes off.

As I wake from my very deep slumber I briefly consider the idea of not going to work until later, if at all.  I reach for the phone and select the ‘snooze for 5 minutes’ option.  That always works, me never being able to get to sleep again because I’m constantly thinking things like ‘did I hit the snooze but or have I switched it off?’ – often meaning that I wake myself up again before it goes off a second time and get up.

I want to turn over and snuggle up to F.  I think, for the second time during my time in bed, that I really wish he were here so that I could do that.  But he’s not here and I’m not there and, like last night when I wanted him for warmth (but also because I don’t like being apart from him) I think about how, perhaps, I should have made the effort to have gone up.

But the last couple of nights have been ‘bad’ nights.  I am immensely tired.  I do sleep to be woken again by the alarm.  This time I get up.

I start to pull on my clothes.  Rufus is there wanting attention but Dino is not, safely secured in the kitchen following last night’s small disaster.  I think how nice it is not to have to shout at them; Rufus being so less boisterous now and Dino not being there to be over-excited.  I get up and go and get my glasses from beside the computer.

I go to the hall and put my scarf and hat and gloves on then let Dino out who, like some crazed Tasmanian Devil spins and jumps and twists around.  But he’s been a good boy and so I show him that he’s OK.  Then realise I should have put my coat on and got more ready before I let him out.

As we’re walking up the street I realise I am still more than half asleep.  I forgot to put the coffee on!  Ah well, it doesn’t matter.  Perhaps I shall have a shave before coffee?  Maybe a shower too?

The ground is wet but it’s only spitting rain now.  Thank goodness.  However, the dog walking areas, still not recovered from the rain the other day, remain wet and waterlogged.  I consider not letting them into the areas and then decide to anyway.  The cleaner guy comes today.

I put the coffee on when we get home, having the flame much higher than normal.  I need this coffee.  I do the milk and then go and sort out their water and collect the bowls for the food.  I measure in the milk and find that whilst I have been doing all the other things, the coffee is nearly done.

I take my coffee to the computer.  I sit at the computer for about 20 minutes, drinking my coffee, Dino asleep by my side, wary of the nicking of stuff on the footstool now….perhaps?  I hope so, for his sake and mine.

I write this post which goes nowhere between a rather hectic day with telephone calls and work interrupting; by now, forgetting entirely why I even started this.  Except that I am tired and I really miss F and I want to be with him tonight, even if, at the same time, I really want to be asleep.

Today, this day, I just can’t wait for work to be finished and to be at home.  I wonder if F, who is at the shop today or, at least, was this morning, will be home late or early?  I hope early.

And now I remember the reason for writing this and the reason I am so tired.  I was out last night.  It was to meet FfC’s Mum.  FfI was there and so was V.  F wasn’t there because he is so busy and couldn’t be there.

It was a Chinese restaurant.  I’m sorry if you were one of the attendees but, apart from the Duck with Orange (whole orange segments that were particularly juicy) it was mediocre at best.  And I don’t like Sushi to be bigger than my mouth.  It’s supposed to be food that you can put in your mouth in one go – as far as I am concerned.  And the sauces were too glutinous and the taste not fine enough and the service was crap and THIS is why Italians are wary of Chinese food (although you wouldn’t think so by the fact that the place was full) and I really don’t blame them.  And it cost over €40 per head.

And I looked at V and knew it was done.  He looked older and like he needed some rest.  I guess I do too.  And, now, his ways seem far less endearing than I remember, even if they are the same.

But, at least I wasn’t let down by either person and, for that, I am pleased.  But I didn’t get home until midnight and then I had to walk the dogs and couldn’t have driven to F’s place and so I phoned F on my way home and said how sorry I was but that I really couldn’t come over tonight as I couldn’t drive (too much to drink) and that I couldn’t walk there (too long) and so I would just stay at mine – if he didn’t mind.  Which he said he didn’t.

And that’s why I wrote this post although now, at the end of the working day, I lack the enthusiasm to write it properly and fully and tell you the thoughts that went through my head last night.

But, basically that was last night and today.