Category Archives: Outside Italy

Things that happen when we travel outside of this Bel Paese

There’s Moaning and there’s Moaning.

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Mantova, Saturday, 8th September.

We are staying in Residence in Centro, in Mantova, having got kicked out of our previous place (more later). The room is a small flat with its own kitchenette (we can do our own coffee in the morning) and the bedroom on a kind of landing, up some creaky wooden steps. All very nice – except for one problem. The series of ‘flats’ are in a converted outbuilding. The way they have been built means that you can hear a pin drop about 3 ‘flats’ along (not quite, but you get the idea).

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Slippery Water and Towels

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I know it’s not just me. S agreed with me. Well not about the slippery water but that’s because she comes from the Hay area where the water is soft anyway.

So the first time I used the water in the hotel room to wash, the water was weird. I must be so used to the crap water in Milan that here, in Segovia, I find it a strange feeling using this soft water.

But, far worse, and this was where S agreed with me, the towels were slippy. It was like drying yourself with brown, waxed paper. No absorbency.

I have found over the last few days that it is best to use the first towel to wipe the water from you and use the second one to try to wipe off the dampness that remains. Plus, my room is so bloody hot in the morning. So after a shower, within 5 minutes I feel I need another one. But it is cold here in the evening and morning, for certain.

I also learnt, today, that the taxi will pick me up at 3 a.m. so that I can get my flight at 6.30 a.m! And then, when I arrive in Milan I shall be going to work until at least 6 p.m. It’s going to be a very, very long day. I may not be doing much, if I can help it, tomorrow.

Segovia is hot now

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The second day. I must remember to tell the story of the late night dinner with the Mayor and the Chief of Police.

In the meantime, lunch with Valeria (an Italian working in Madrid but temporarily helping at the Festival) answered my question about twins.

The reason that the Italians treat the first twin who comes out as the youngest is because it was (obviously) the second one created! All makes sense now, doesn’t it?

The funny thing was that they assumed that this was the same rule all over the world! But then, I thought our ‘rule’ was the same. It’s a strange world.

She also added that it quite annoys her when people say something like ‘What’s it like to be a twin?’ How would she know what it’s like NOT to be one. It’s just one of those stupid questions people ask.

Here it was bloody freezing last night and this morning but quite warm now as the sun has been shining all day. The Spanish seem to take even longer over buying tickets than most people. It seems the event number and the number of tickets required is just too simple and there needs to be a half-hour conversation about it. Unfortunately, all in Spanish, so most of it goes completely over my head.

We are reckoning this afternoon may go a bit mental as people finish for the weekend in Madrid and come over to the Festival. Should make it fun.

Very nice place for a Festival, though.

Segovia or bust!

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Well, here I am at another literary festival. This one is one run by the Hay Festival but in Segovia, near Madrid.

To get here I had, what I can only describe as the journey from hell which I would hope to post about later, when I have more time. However, there was a point (probably after we had been sitting on the tarmac for over an hour) when I really thought I wouldn’t get here this side of Christmas!

I arrived in Segovia at about 1.30 a.m. this morning. Had a few beers with S, got to bed about 3.30 a.m. and was up at 8 to be at the Box Office for 10.

So, we have the normal problems with the Box Office (people picking the wrong events, tickets not having arrived, leaving their tickets at home, etc.) plus the added joy of everything being in a foreign language – and I’m a little tired.

However, unlike Hay, we closed the Box Office for a whole hour for lunch; I was interviewed by some Spanish television company; the sun is shining; and we are likely to finish the Box Office before midnight.

Also I have met some lovely people already, including some Italians who are helping out here. It’s quite nice to talk to them and they are very sweet. They are ‘stage’ (like an unpaid apprentice) in Madrid for one of the Festival organiser’s husband.

I am, of course, stuck in the Tourist Information centre here, which is where we have our system set up.

I’ve just been interrupted by a lady trying to find out how to work her video camera. Obviously, being the TIC, they are supposed to be able to answer any sort of question. Aren’t people strange?

We have a firework display this evening to mark the opening of the Festival in Segovia and I will, hopefully, see some of it.

More later…

Writing Something Worthwhile

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I am jealous. I mean really jealous. Take Corpodibacco’s post (Unfortunately, the blog no longer exists) as an example. Here’s a guy who isn’t mother-tongue English, writing stuff that I really like to read. OK so his English isn’t perfect (sorry C) but it’s pretty good and nothing a good editor couldn’t fix if it were to go into print. But his description, the imagery is all there. I, on the other hand, seem to scribble rubbish. Just the trivial facts, nothing of any real meaning.

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People are nice and good things happen.

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It is true that, mostly, people are nice. And when people are nice, it lifts you and gives you warm and good feelings inside.

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Peter Florence as King?

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I found this the other day and it amused me, so I thought I would share it:

If Peter Florence ran the British government, then the entire Whitehall bureaucracy would be pared down to about four blokes and a pencil sharpener. On the upside, Britain would enjoy an amazingly vibrant cultural life; on the downside, bad things would sometimes happen, like forgetting where we put the Royal Navy or losing the Isle of Wight”

Lifted from Toasting Napoleon.

Dad’s Birthday and Famous people that you know

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It’s V’s Dad’s Birthday today. It’s also V’s ‘official birthday’. Just like the Queen! Actually born on the 18th of this month, but V’s passport and, therefore, all Italian documents, show today. The passport came with the wrong date and I don’t think either of us noticed until we came to Italy and it was a bit late by then. The only thing is that we have to remember, when quoting the birth date, to quote today, when we’re here.

Onto the main subject. I know some famous people. And I mean know, rather than saw or met, once. Some writers, journalists and broadcasters like Kate Mosse, Francine Stock, etc. Peter Florence, who runs the Hay Festival. Etc.

However, I have just learned that I know the Aberystwyth Hula Hoop Champion of 1984! How fantastic is that! I can say no more as they wish to protect their identity. I’m sure that, if people knew, they would be inundated with requests for autographs, etc. Maybe it would even attract stalkers.

However, I am really pleased to know the Aberystwyth Hula Hoop Champion from 1984.

Belgium – not a boring place.

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Belgioum not a boring place HAH

Don’t you just hate it when you have busy-bodies as friends. You know the sort. They come into your house and surreptitiously wipe their finger over a table to see if the house has been dusted properly. Or, maybe, as they sit down to dinner they pick up the glass and peer through it towards the light, looking for fingerprints or greasy smears.

Worse, they go into your bathroom, supposedly to use it but really to check that it has been hygienically cleaned.

Or maybe they ‘help’ to wash up, just to check that you do it properly and when they feel you are missing an important part of the process, they tell you all about how ‘they’ do it and why and why you should do it like that too!

Don’t you just hate those sort of people?

Which made me all the more amused by this story.

Yes, I know it’s a few days old, but I’ve been so busy that I just haven’t had time to post much, sorry.

However, my take on this was as follows:

Guy, who has told his friends that his wife and stepson are away visiting the stepson’s father, invites said friends to dinner. The women, of a certain age at the gathering, offer to help clearing away the dishes. Guy, who has had a few too many to drink, thanks them. As they are clearing away, one of the women (we’ll call her ‘the nosey old trout’ or NOT), feeling sorry for him and, probably, having already checked that the general state of the place is OK by doing as I suggested above, decides that she will put away some of the uneaten food in the freezer (and will also check that he has enough to eat whilst his wife is away).

NOT goes to the freezer and starts rummaging around to see what else he has there and, underneath a pile of food finds the bodies of the wife and son. She runs back to the kitchen to consult with one of the other ladies and they phone the police.

Then, they return to the dining room and carry on as if nothing had happened, waiting for the police to arrive!

Of course, it begs the question as to why he was keeping the bodies in the freezer, why he took the risk of inviting friends round when he had the bodies in the house, etc? Judith, an expat Belgian, living in Milan, says that a lot of Belgians are quite nosey and that Guy was quite mad to invite his friends round in the first place.

There! Who ever said that Belgium was boring?

It’s all about persistence, persistence, persistence!

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Its all about persistence

Persistence is the key here, in Italy and, in particular, Milan. This is true especially when it comes to bureaucracy. It comes down to the big, age-old problem of ‘taking responsibility’.

You see, from my experience, in general, they just don’t like taking any responsibility and especially if it means going out on a limb.

So, one queries how anything ever gets done here. How does anything change? If it’s not done in the time-honoured manner, then it just can’t be done.

R, my boss, explained to me that, seven years ago, a law was introduced allowing certain official documents to be circumvented (at least temporarily) by composing a self-certification document. I have the particular article of the law in front of me and the list of acceptable self-certification particulars is long.

For instance, you can certify your place and date of birth; where you are resident; professional qualifications, etc.

One small problem. For the first two years after this law was introduced, nearly everywhere refused to accept the self-certification as an official or allowed document, according to R.

And even now, some people, even if it is on their own organisation’s website, are adamant that these things are not acceptable! It’s incredible although, the more I am here, the more credible it is, given the way Italians are.

Anyway, the persistence thing comes in to play in almost every aspect, especially when dealing with officials. One office/department/even official will tell you what they know – which of course may not always be exactly how it should be – just how they know it. But, as another will tell you something slightly differently or even something opposite, it pays to keep digging and keep asking – if you can stand it, of course.

Oh, Italy would be a great country, a world-respected country, if only there wasn’t this Italian mental shrug of the shoulders – which is really to shrug off the responsibility from oneself.