I was struck today, whilst having lunch, about the difficulty, when moving to a foreign country, of knowing the correct/polite manners.
Table and other manners; class differences
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Category Archives: Italy
The Rose Sellers of Milan
From the comments on the previous post, I felt it was time I spoke about the rose sellers on Milan’s streets.
Italy, as you probably know, has very porous borders and illegal immigration is a big problem, here. This, in spite of the fact, that, as a throw-back (or so I believe) from the fascist era, everyone is required to carry identity documents with them at all times and show to any policeman, if requested – and we have a lot of policemen around and about.
Still, it seems that illegal immigrants are everywhere. Of course, having got here, they have to support themselves in some way. It seems that many people from eastern Europe become restaurant waiters or openly beg in the streets; people from the Philippines/Indonesia areas become cleaners/nurses; people from Africa sell bags/belts/CDs on the street; the Chinese work in China town or as cooks in restaurants and, people from the Indian sub-continent sell jewellery on the street or roses.
And it’s the last category that I want to talk about. They come out, generally at night, as that is when most people are out dining for pleasure. They carry a bunch of roses – about 10 to 15, long stemmed in a single colour (red, pink, blue) and they sometimes sport an instamatic camera.
They are, from what I can tell, given an area to work. I don’t know whether they buy the roses or are given them. Either way, they must have to sell a certain number or they have no money/get beaten/something else. They are persistent. As smoking is, generally, not allowed in restaurants and many people here still seem to smoke, it is common practice for small groups of people to leave the restaurant during the meal to get their nicotine fix. These are the people first approached by the rose sellers. The rose sellers proffer their roses by pushing them right under the potential punters nose. Usually the man but sometimes the woman. They don’t move. A ‘No, grazie’ doesn’t seem to put them off. In fact, they are quite happy to stay there, smiling and, if they have the camera round their neck, proffering the camera to explain that they can take a picture of you with the rose. They are likely to proffer the rose more than once and often will not depart until you show signs of obvious irritation or, even, anger.
Some restaurants let them enter and some restaurants don’t. For the ones that don’t, they will, sometimes, risk the wrath of the owner by going in anyway before being chased out.
Obviously, the best places are the more touristy areas. I guess these places are saved for the best ‘agents’.
So the real question is – should you buy a rose or not? If, by buying the rose, you are perpetuating this problem, shouldn’t you NOT buy a rose? I know someone that will always give them the €2 (or whatever the amount is) and not take the rose. Some time ago, I made the decision never to buy and I never do but I do feel a little guilty, knowing that they have to earn some money somehow. And I do feel somewhat sorry for them. It’s hard enough being a legal immigrant somewhere without having the illegality of it all to the problem AND having to work watching the rich people (comparatively speaking) enjoy an evening out – and all you want is to sell them a rose for a couple of Euro.
Incidentally, I often see them holding the bunch upside down under the many drinking fountains to keep them looking fresh. Be assured that these roses will be lucky to last the night let alone any longer. And, for goodness sake, don’t do what a friend once did – buy the whole bunch for his wife. This enraged the restaurant owner who, probably, wasn’t happy with them hanging around in the first place.
Art for Art’s Sake; Dino is funny
Thank goodness, at least for this morning, the feeling deep in the pit of my stomach has gone; the first time for weeks and weeks. And I suddenly feel more positive, which is great. I know that it’s not all over yet but, at least, there is an end to it which is now in sight.
An Invitation and I’m reminded of wonderful food (again)
Italians, of course, gave us many things. Many of these things are food (pizza; pasta) and, as I have explained before, Italians talk about food a lot. And I really mean A LOT! Especially when eating. Then they often talk about other food that they have had recently.
I really dislike winter. For the last two days there was snow. Snow is always beautiful when it’s snowing and fresh. The white blanket covers the ground and doesn’t show the imperfections; the silence from the street; the walking in it and making the first imprint in the virgin whiteness. As my first post of the New Year, I should, perhaps, be wishing all my readers a very Happy New Year. And, for those of you in the UK, suffering the very low temperatures, I should say that, although our temperatures are around freezing, we have had snow. And snow like I never saw in the UK. After a slightly heavy post yesterday I thought it was time to lighten up a bit and also post something about one of the differences between here and there. I was struck by this, taking Rufus and Dino out for walk yesterday, late afternoon. There was a smartly dressed couple, obviously on their way to friends or relations for dinner or a party or something. Here it is Santo Stefano day and, similar to the UK, a public holiday except that they do not start their sales (that has a date set by the government sometime later in January) and nearly all the shops are shut (except for the Chinese ones around Paolo Sarpi, much to N&S’s delight). Anyway, this couple were each carrying, like a tray, a beautifully wrapped parcel, with ribbons, etc. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought it was a present. But I do know better, and they weren’t presents at all. They would, in fact, be one of two things. Either a tray of hand-made chocolates or a tray of small cakes. We have the gelateria just below us who sell less ice-cream at this time of year (although they still sell some, which amazes me every time I see it) and, so, have gone into the business of turning half their shop into a hand-made chocolate shop, which they make on the premises. Imagine, if you will, Thornton’s (if they still exist in the UK) but these shops are, generally, not a chain and the one below us certainly isn’t. We went to a party on Christmas Eve (it started at 10 p.m) and when I asked what to bring, I was told some sweets. So I duly went to the gelateria below and chose my tray of chocolates, selecting eight of each type which she carefully arranged in rows on the tray. Now, cast your mind back to “Love Actually” and, in particular to the scene in Selfridges or wherever with Rowan Atkinson where Alan Rickman is trying to buy a gift for the girl in the office whilst his wife is in the same store and, having selected the gift, wants to just pay for it, whilst RA spends the next 20 minutes gift wrapping it. That’s, more or less, how it is here. I spent 10 minutes selecting the chocolates and the girl then spent at least 10 minutes gift wrapping it, even putting a small Christmas tree decoration to add the festive touch. They also do that for nearly anything (pens, scarves, etc., etc.), at any time of year, if you tell them that it will be a gift (regalo). It is one of the nicest touches here but don’t be in a great rush when you are shopping for gifts (or chocolates or small cakes) as it can make the whole process twice as long. But the finished product, when you hand it over to your host really is so much nicer and so much better than a bag of sweets or a box or whatever as they are always so beautifully done. If you come to Italy, you should, at some point, buy something and tell them it is for a gift just to get the nice packaging. And be prepared to wait. It’s worth it. I don’t know whether I’ve mentioned it before but our canteen at work is pretty good. And it only costs me 7 cents for a starter and main course. And we get freshly-made pizzas on Friday as long as you order them on Thursday. I have mentioned it previously but it has been raining quite a lot recently. Not all day, every day but it certainly feels like it. However, it has rained heavily and for very prolonged periods (yesterday it seems that it started about 9 a.m. And finished some time after I went to bed). On Friday, I went into the smoking room to get warm and have a cigarette. Later, just before lunch, I went in again – the heater had gone and the chairs had been rearranged now that there was vacant space! The heat already in the room from the heater kept the room above freezing for the rest of the day, so better than nothing. Several people have said that, in the New Year we shan’t be able to smoke inside the buildings any more. It will be quite funny to see the MD outside lighting up! We shall see. On the plus side, at least it won’t get so cold in my office as she won’t have the window wide open in hers whilst having a cigarette. So there are advantages to everything, I suppose. Last night was a fancy dress party. It was held in a friend-of-a-friend’s shop in an area of Milan that, they say, is up-and-coming. She sells designer clothes from lesser-known designers from all over the world. I absolutely HATE fancy dress parties. I never have a clue as to what to go as and am always genuinely shocked at other people’s ingeniousness and how something so simple can look so good. As we had less than 2 days notice and it was Friday night (so no time to try and do something special on Saturday), V came up with the idea of going as 70s people. My era. Sadly, we had all the necessary items in our wardrobes including, for me, a pair of real platform shoes that I had worn only once before. They had brought them in as new items in the 80s in Schuh, in Birmingham, hoping for some sort of revival, I guess. Well, it never took off but I kept them as I loved them. Boy, they looked good last night but how my calves suffered! Anyway, it was a cool party and we got back about half one in the morning. Finally, I had written a long post about the jury’s verdict on the de Menezes case but feel it was far better covered over at Stef’s site. If I lived in the UK now I would be very, very afraid. What kind of future is there when you cannot trust the police to be truthful and themselves uphold the law against murder? Oh, yes, and it hasn’t stopped bloody raining for days!Water, water, everywhere……….
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.
Gift Wrapping – is not always for gifts!
Christmas Lunch
The Assault Course
The mysterious case of the disappearing heater; fancy dress parties; Be afraid, be very afraid (the de Menezes travesty of justice)