Thes – Old English for "this", neuter of thes, of West Germanic origin: Mediolanum – old name for Milan: Lif – Old English for "life", of Germanic origin; related to Dutch lijf, German Leib 'body'
Category Archives: Outside Italy
Things that happen when we travel outside of this Bel Paese
For those of you who don’t drink alcohol, I guess you’ve never had this. That moment when you wake up, your brain seemingly turned to some sort of half mush and having grown so that it is attempting to expand your skull. The woolliness of thought and motion as you try to grapple with even the simplest of tasks, including rising from the bed in the first place.
Ah yes, the painful joy of knowing that last night was a ‘great night, wasn’t it?’ Maybe the mixing of drinks didn’t help?
And, inevitably, there is the ‘Oh my God! What did I say/do that for?’ An embarrassment that surely, next time, will make you stop just one glass of wine or can of beer earlier. That ‘never again’ feeling.
Except that, on Thursday morning, at around 4 a.m., when I woke up with all these symptoms, the thoughts of guilt and shame did not stem from the night before when I did not say or do anything untoward. No these horrors that I foisted on the rest of my associates/friends/relatives happened around 30 years ago! Worse still, I wasn’t drunk. at least not from alcohol. From youth and lack of knowledge, perhaps.
And, as can only happen during the mother of all hangovers, this was particularly clear and concise thinking that led me to understand what a hopeless bastard I was at that time and that the things I did then (for this particular ‘problem’) were really juvenile to the extreme. And it made me wonder that, if I had approached and reacted to the situation differently, would it have made any difference to my life, to the path that my life has taken?
Probably not. And, even if I should have behaved so very badly, I still stand by the things I said and did – although maybe now I could have said things is a more meaningful way and done things slightly differently. And I also realised that enormous sway that they held over me at that time, for I was young – too young and unable to handle anything with real maturity.
However, the effect on me of these thoughts was the same as if I had acted terribly the night before and woken up with my befuddled brain to be appalled with the antics I had carried out the previous night and filled with shame over whom I may have offended with such outrageous behaviour.
But not quite. For, as it was 30 years ago, I cannot remember it so precisely. And I forgive myself as, in any event, things are as they are. One little incident would not have made such a huge difference either way. But it would be interesting to see the parallel universe and see how things turned out by a change in my behaviour.
5.30pm: With perfect timing an email arrives from Philip Crowley at the state department:
The United States is pleased to announce that it will host Unesco’s World Press Freedom Day event in 2011, from 1-3 May in Washington, DC.
Ironic? Read the next paragraph from the press release:
The theme for next year’s commemoration will be 21st Century Media: New Frontiers, New Barriers. The United States places technology and innovation at the forefront of its diplomatic and development efforts. New media has empowered citizens around the world to report on their circumstances, express opinions on world events, and exchange information in environments sometimes hostile to such exercises of individuals’ right to freedom of expression. At the same time, we are concerned about the determination of some governments to censor and silence individuals, and to restrict the free flow of information. We mark events such as World Press Freedom Day in the context of our enduring commitment to support and expand press freedom and the free flow of information in this digital age.
I have no words that adequately express how I feel about such a thing. From the Guardian
“We could have this?”, he says. This, being a fish pie.
To be honest, I know it doesn’t sound terribly exciting but I’ve never actually made a fish pie in my life. And I’ve been around the block a few times. In fact, I’ve never really cooked fish until I met F. And I find it a bit of a struggle. Born and brought up in the wilds of deepest, darkest Herefordshire, fish wasn’t something that was really ‘local’. When my parents (and I) moved to Gloucestershire, near the river Severn, we sometimes had salmon – provided by the next door neighbour as they were caught up in the water filtration used for the nearby nuclear power station – and, of course, the obligatory (we are British) fish and chips – which I always hated, by the way.
So, fish. Difficult. But with F not eating any meat (except mince, polpette (meat balls) and sausages) it poses a problem for cooking. Lamb chops (my favourite) are a definite no-no. And, here, we were talking about Christmas.
The plan had been to go to Vienna for Christmas. F’s friend had a friend who has offered us their flat for the four of us (us and the two dogs) but with Rufus’ unpredictability with illness (although for the last few days he has been very well), we are thinking not. Not this year anyway.
So, whereas I would choose goose for Christmas, as last year, it is not to be. F’s face, at the mention of it, screws up in disgust with an ‘oh, no!’. To be honest, I’m not sure why. He is a bit fussy as far as food is concerned which is a little galling but not enough to make me not love him – after all, we go out quite a lot and then I can have meat. And I eat meat at work every day. So all is not bad.
However, I thought it would be nice to propose having fish for Christmas lunch. I know that, to those of you in the UK, it will sound very strange but here, fish for Christmas lunch is normal. I know, I know, it doesn’t seem Christmassey to me either but it’s a compromise and I’m happy to make it.
To stat with he suggested that I should do meat and he would just have vegetables. But I really can’t be doing with that – I would feel mean eating meat and him just having veg.
He had suggested lasagna (we can buy it Christmas morning if we pre-order it) and it would be lovely. After some discussion, about what we would have, as we were eating the above mentioned fish pie, he suggested that I do this very dish. And he would do a fish lasagna!
Again, perhaps it’s just me but fish lasagna just doesn’t sound quite right. And, anyway, I was quite looking forward to having a nice meaty lasagna. As I explained to him, eating a course of meat and then a course of fish is really no problem for me. And I am doubly surprised by Italians not going for it – they do have vitello tonnato after all (thin slices of veal covered with a thick tuna based sauce – which, incidentally, I hate – having a fish course followed by meat (or vice versa) is one thing but to mix fish and meat together makes me feel sick.)
Ah well. It’s one of the prices I pay. And it’s not really a great price to pay. It’s not like we shall starve or anything.
On the plus side, he really liked my fish pie (as you may have gathered) so now that’s two fish recipes I can do and that he likes (or, at least, says he does). And I know that he knows that I am making a real effort to make him happy – which I do not because I want him to know but because I’m glad to make him happy in the same way that we have gone to all-meat restaurants because he knows I love meat. It’s just the normal give and take. As you do. Or, rather, as you should do.
“countries that restrict free access to information or violate the basic rights of internet users risk walling themselves off from the progress of the next century”.
Of course, this is a quote made beforeWikileaks posted cables from US embassies around the world. However, the USA government, it would seem, are putting pressure on all the organisations that ‘permit’, by use of their services, Wikileaks ‘to be seen’ by Internet users and, so I have read, US government agencies are restricting their employees from accessing the Wikileaks documents.
So, is it wrong to act as they are or not? Should the government be permitted to act as effective censors?
Well, according to quote, it would seem it is not a good idea.
And, of course, the quote came from Hilary Clinton, a slightly well-known American government official. Hmmmm. A touch of ‘do as I say and not as I do’ methinks.
Art. It’s all down to what you like. Just because someone says it is good doesn’t mean you like it (even if you can admire it for it’s skill, of course).
Modern art – even more so. Picasso doesn’t really do much for me, I’m afraid. Damien Hirst and his polka dot phase also left me very cold, although I did like the half a cow thing.
However, my favourite modern art stuff is video art. I don’t know why but I can get quite excited about it all and watch it for, well, if not quite hours, certainly a long time. Video art to me is NOT a film. It’s something else. It can be almost mundane but, somehow, to me, intriguing, interesting, fun, etc.
If anyone is going to London, I always tell them that a ‘must see’ in my opinion is the Tate Museum of Modern Art – for me, possibly, the most wonderful place on this planet as far as museums and art galleries go. There I have seen the film of a woman eating a sausage, rotting fruit, a boxer and others (I know it doesn’t sound like great stuff but, really, it is).
I know it isn’t everyone’s cup of tea – but video art does something for me that most other media don’t quite achieve – and, if I lived in London or nearby, this one I could not miss. Below is the still. You probably won’t find it exciting at all but for me it almost took my breath away. If you go to the site link (above) you will see another still. Really, this is something incredible.
The headache was so intense that I actually found some Nurofen and took two. It made it better ….. eventually.
I hate Mondays. The problem is not that it’s a Monday but that I have a lesson that starts at 9 p.m. for an hour and a half. I take the dogs out afterwards. But, instead of being able to go to sleep straight away, I always struggle – thoughts going round in my head, etc. It’s just like if you have been driving for a few hours – you need time to relax.
Of course, it’s made much worse if F is not here. Even if the flat is not so cold, I feel colder without him. I don’t have him to cuddle up to, to be comforted and safe.
And, then, last night all these things (including the blasted headache) were there.
I got to bed about 11.15. I switched on the telly for a bit. Then switched it off – I thought sleep was almost here. But, of course, I was wrong. Sleep was not here. It was somewhere else. It was missing in action. It had escaped like a wayward cat and was not knocking on the door – even if I was so very tired.
I switched the telly back on, went and got the cigarettes from the kitchen (F is not here and so I can smoke in the bedroom if I want – he says, defiantly!) and came back to bed. I surfed through the channels. They’ve just made virtually all the channels digital (at least in Milan) and so there is a veritable feast of channels now available. It doesn’t make the programmes better, of course – a bit like satellite – there are just so many of them, mostly churning out the same pap. It’s the same in the UK except that the type of programme is slightly different.
There is, basically, a choice of two types of programme. There’s the singing programme where, in the main, there are some rather run-of-the-mill singers singing rather run-of-the-mill songs – probably with some half-naked dancing girls thrown in for good measure.
Or there is the interview/discussion panel. Here it allows the Italians to indulge in their favourite pastime (after eating, that is), namely navel gazing.
Apart from the Sara/Sabrina story which continues and is currently gripping this country, the rest is not of much interest – made much worse by the fact that I don’t understand so much, even if my Italian has improved.
I flick through the channels. Rete 4 is showing films. I pause. This looks interesting. It’s in black and white. No, wait. There’s a splash of red. Just one item, coloured red. I recognise this film. The volume is set low – if I manage to fall asleep with it on that’s OK.
Wait! Surely I misheard. It sounded like an English word but not ‘OK’ or ‘relax’ which are used here. Strange, I thought, so listened harder. Yes, they were speaking English. Well, American. It’s not dubbed as all the other films are!
Surely I know this film. The blonde-haired woman being beaten by some older, long-haired lout. He goes to the bathroom. As he’s taking a pee, behind him there is the bath with a closed shower curtain round it.
He shouts out something like “I don’t hear you making those calls”. This is to the blonde woman. We are looking at the back of his head. In the mirror in front of him, we see the curtain go back. Ah, yes, I do know this film. One of my all-time favourites. It is Sin City. I can’t help but watch it, especially as it is in English.
Even as I’m watching I think how stupid this is. I could, at any time, go to the DVD collection and get out the original! I could do this tomorrow and get some sleep now. But, already, I am hooked.
The film finishes (it was less than half-way through) although I keep thinking of a scene that wasn’t there. Or maybe that was a different film. I wonder if they cut it. Maybe.
I don’t turn the telly off although I do turn over and try to sleep. At some point, I do wake up enough to turn it off – without even looking to see what was on.
I sleep the sleep of the dead. It crosses my mind that these bloody headaches are for one of two reasons. Either I am so tired (which I am at the moment) or I am grinding my teeth again. Or both. Or it’s that I spend too much time in front of the computer. Or all of those and something else, like stress or something. Or it’s just in my head, so to speak. So, in fact, not one of two reasons after all!
I hear the alarm go off on my phone. It’s a piece of music that has a name but, I think, was especially composed by someone famous for Blackberry. I am sure that I pick the phone up and put it to snooze for five minutes. It is, after all, 5.40.
After a short while, I think I hear the alarm go again. But I’m not sure, aware, as I am, that the sound could just be playing in my head because I know it so well. I try to ignore it. It is persistent. Ah, well, even if it is not actually going off, I should get up. I reach for the phone. It is going off. I look at the time on the phone. It is 6.23! Not only is it going off but has been doing so for almost three quarters of an hour!
And, come to think of it, maybe I just dreamed that I put it on snooze. I am late. I still have my coffee after taking the dogs out. Rufus being a bit slower today and, possibly, after two days of feeling fine, ill again. Ah well, poor thing.
I have a shower and get ready. On getting to work (only 15 minutes late) I find that I have forgotten to wear a T-shirt under my shirt. And it is colder today. And I must book the flights to Copenhagen. Grrrrr.
No, I hate Mondays. And, so, I leave you with this. I’ve always liked the song.
Well, I’ve now been and it was lovely but, as I’m not from the USA (I guess), it was, more or less, like going to dinner at someone’s house.
I’m talking of Thanksgiving.
I’m talking turkey, mashed potatoes, and a rather glorious stuffing.
To be honest, I thought it was going to be an all-American affair (except for me) but it took on quite an International flavour. 3 Americans, 1 Canadian, 1 Australian, 1 Italian and me. The turkey (which I’ve never been mad keen on) was rather good and well cooked. The stuffing was fantastic. The wine and conversation flowed and we even had a rather difficult conversation with N & S all the way from San Francisco – the ‘difficult’ part being the connection which, unfortunately kept dying.
I got home at about 3.30 a.m. I then spoke to Ag on the telephone. She was in need of someone to talk to. It meant I got to bed about 5.30. I was, unsurprisingly, tired on Saturday. My headache was still here (but that could have been just ‘cos I’m tired).
F phoned me during the day on Saturday. He said that things were going rather well and he was going to be coming home that night so that we can go to a concert. He had booked it before he knew that he would be away and there had always been some doubt about whether he would be there.
He got home in the late afternoon and then we met up and went for a pizza at Liù (see link at side) – except Liù was full so we went to Time Out 2 instead. Then strolled down to Il’s flat and took a taxi with her to see Chiara Civello at Blue Note.
She was fabulous although I was so tired and we went to the second concert of that evening – it started at 11.30! He knows her because his ex, M, from Rome, knows her. After the concert we went backstage and I was introduced to her as ‘my new boyfriend’. I had been similarly introduced to someone who sat with us and was a friend from some time ago. She works for Moschino or somewhere like that. It was then added that I was a ‘real man compared to S’ – which always makes me smile – although I never, ever make any comment, of course.
Anyway, there are a couple of Chiara’s tracks at the bottom. I hope you enjoy them. She was lovely, always smiling and the music is really good.
Yesterday, as F is away, I had promised A that I would do Sunday lunch for him and Fr – you know, the Roast Beef type of Sunday lunch, which F would not enjoy so much.
A had baked some bread which we had with something that was like a light pâté that F had brought back from Germany. There was goose-liver and reindeer – they were delicious and not at all heavy as pâté can be sometimes.
Then we had the roast beef and, with my new cooker, the perfect Yorkshire puddings – YAY! I will do a post with the recipe since it has never, except once, let me down. The only reason it didn’t work before was my old oven, I was sure – and this proved correct when, this time, they were well risen and light – just as they should be. Also, when I had been in France last year, I had bought some red horseradish sauce – and it was quite hot, which I liked.
After that we had Apple and Blackberry Crumble with whipped cream. This was all followed by cheese (including Stilton) and some rather fine port, bought for me by a colleague when he went to Portugal. The problem was that then I just couldn’t stop drinking it. I had to ‘force’ myself to stop, even after A & Fr left.
Anyway, they enjoyed it – as did I.
I spent the rest of the evening washing up :-).
F is back on Wednesday as that is the day that the new shop will open. I will be very happy when he is back, as will Dino. And Rufus who is a LOT better. Thanks for all your kind wishes.
Anyway, enjoy Chiara – these are some of my favourite songs of hers.
It’s just annoying. But at least it seems I can post things. Don’t know about accepting comments or replying to them yet as none of you have made any. But I guess I’ll find out.
I have looked into alternative hosters and, unless it’s fixed by tomorrow, I shall be going down that route, I expect.
Which is a shame – but it only really works if you can publish your website and then actually retrieve the website and write new posts!
I seem to be getting busier with the old English teaching lark. And, to be honest, I WANT MY LIFE BACK! I had forgotten how much work it actually takes. A says that I do too much for it. V used to say the same. I can’t do it differently though. I’ve also looked at doing the three kids and decided that I could do it – but I have put forward a price that is a little high. If they don’t want me to do it then that’s fine – after all, teaching kids will be much more work.
Anyway, enough of all this. No time, no time.
To get you a bit more up to date:-
I’ve got the Christmas Stamps! Yay! Now all I have to do is write the cards
Rufus seems a lot better – since Monday, which is good.
F is working from tomorrow through to next Monday and, therefore will be away.
This means that I will have to go to my first-ever Thanksgiving Dinner alone (Friday night)
It means that we might not go to the concert that he booked for Saturday night.
It means that I have invited A (and F) for Sunday Lunch (Roast Beef, Yorkshire Puddings, Stilton Cheese and a very nice bottle of port direct from Portugal) – there being far too much stuff that F doesn’t like in all that.
It means I will miss him
It means I will get some sleep
It means I can write the Christmas Cards
In other news, South Korea and North Korea might be on the brink of war. Some miners died in a mine in New Zealand. The students are revolting (they should wash more hehehehe). Britain is to recognise my birthday by making the day a Bank Holiday.
Apparently there are also some other things happening on that day too, which I’m sure is pure coincidence. Checking, actually nothing much (apart from my birthday and the death of St Catherine of Siena) is going on. Oh, except there may be a wedding. Well, in fact, there may be quite a few. In the UK, I mean. Some woman called Kate and a bloke called Bill. Don’t know if I’m invited yet ‘cos they’ve only just announced it. Can’t go anyway, it will be me and F going to Giacomo, I very much hope. So, just in case you should read this, Bill (You don’t mind if I call you Bill, do you? Only William seems so, well, formal.), I’m really sorry we can’t be there. Anyway, the weather in the UK then is always a bit touch and go, especially on that day. You know, it could be raining, likely as not. Here it should be considerably warmer and sunny (I hope).
More stuff to follow (but maybe tomorrow if it’s all working properly)
Well, I’m back …… sort of. I’ll explain more in a moment.
This morning, for the second time since I’ve been here, I understood a joke on the radio. And by understand, I mean completely understood
It’s not really much of a joke but that’s not the point really. It goes like this:
A dog is ‘home alone’ in the house and the telephone rings. The dog answers the telephone.
“Bau”, he says (bau being the Italian equivalent of woof).
“What?”, the caller replies.
“Bau”
“What? Pronto?”
“Bau”
“What?”
“B as in Bari, A as in Ancona, U as in Udine”, the dog says (To determine letters as you spell them, Italians use cities).
Anyway, I thought it was quite amusing but I was more interested that I could understand a phone-in listener telling a joke. I’m not sure if I translated it or not!
Anyway, the reason for no posts is that the hosters I use had a hacker attack. As a result, they have blocked the IP address (from work). This means I can’t really do much. I’m now using a proxy but it’s not very good. They have said that they will add the IP as an exception – but, unfortunately, I can’t tell them what it is until tonight – I don’t have any access to them or their servers.
I’ve found a way round it ……. but it’s not ideal as it keeps logging me out!
Be back properly very soon (I hope). I have a lot to write about including the fact that, finally, it seems, the UK is recognising my birthday and they are going to make it a Bank Holiday
Buzz Lightyear. He believed that he was invincible and was there to save the world.
So, too, with Berlusconi. (Aren’t they so similar?)
This latest news seems to affirm that Mr B and the Italian Mafia (in this case the actual Mafia from Sicily, rather than the Camorra or the Ndrangheta) were closely linked. I would be surprised if anyone thought this was surprising.
There’s a problem here. The Mafia (in all their forms) are powerful and have their fingers in many pies – illegal and legal. The latest thing, recently, is Roberto Saviano’s assertion (apparently because I was told by a colleague) that the Mafia own a lot of restaurants in the north of Italy. Again, not really a surprise. I would think it would be almost impossible to be completely shielded from them. Sure, they may arrest, from time to time, some top leader (as they have a couple of days ago – the guy living, it seemed, an almost normal life in his home town – for 14 years or something like that, without being caught!) but one man is not the whole organisation. Mr B is one, I suspect, of many, many people who have no choice but to pay off the Mafia to get things done; to build things they want; to ensure that their business interests are safe. The Mafia are in every walk of life here. Like you cannot separate the Church and State here, you can’t separate the Mafia from Italy nor the life nor the people here.
And there’s the rub. Is there anyone in power who isn’t or hasn’t given money, even if inadvertently, to the Mafia? Probably not. And, then there’s the ‘in nero’ thing that, I would think, all Italians do at some time or another. It’s almost a way of life, much more so than in the UK.
How can you ever get rid of an organisation that has its grip on Italian life and whose tendrils stretch everywhere?
The only Italian that I know here who regularly insists on having a proper receipt for e.g. a restaurant bill, is A. But he’s one in a million, I think. And, if you pay cash, without a receipt so that you get quite a good discount, how do you know that the money you are paying them isn’t, in some way, helping to launder Mafia cash through the system? Of course, you don’t. And how do you stop it anyway if it is so much part of the Italian way to be? In the UK, I never knew of a restaurant that would routinely offer a discount to it’s regular and trusted clientèle. Here it seems to be the norm – no questions asked – as long as you don’t need a receipt, of course. Happiness all round, it would seem.
Perhaps it happens in the UK too? I don’t really know. And, since, anyway, getting something cheaper and avoiding paying the government anything by way of the transaction tax is something that, even in the UK, is ideal, no one can say their hands are clean, I guess. And even A won’t be whiter than white, I suspect.
And the solution? Whatever solution is thought up, it has to rely on 90% of the people abiding by whatever rules apply. And I don’t think that’s ever going to happen here any time soon. And so the solution is that there is no solution. However depressing that may seem, if one accepts that, then one can concentrate on the things that are solvable. Insolvable things don’t mean that you can’t try and exercise some control – just don’t think they are solvable.
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