Category Archives: Outside Italy

Things that happen when we travel outside of this Bel Paese

Religion, Lies Part 2 (and THAT film.)

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It was really not easy, yesterday, to find the ‘film’.

First I had to find the name of the ‘film’. Before that I had to find the ‘writer/director’ of the film. I looked all over the place. eventually I found the name of the guy and, from that, the name of the film.

Actually, it wasn’t a film but, supposedly, the trailer for a film. The film being The Innocence of Muslims directed and written by Sam Bacile.

People are upset. People have died.

Because of this ‘trailer’.

I read it had a budget of $5 million.

But, having watched the trailer, I don’t see how that is possible. Low-budget doesn’t even begin to describe it.

But the problem is not that it was low-budget, nor even that the ‘actors’ are more wodden than trees, nor that the ‘actors’ are, quite obviously NOT in a desert but floating some way above it, nor that the ‘actors’ voices seem to have been dubbed, nor that it is a ‘shitty little film’.

For it is all of those things and more. The fact that you can post a film or trailer on YouTube doesn’t make it good. In fact, that’s the whole point. You can put any old crap up there (and this trailer is most certainly that).

Nor is the problem that the story is, most certainly, a complete load of bollocks.

No, the problem is that there is any story about this at all. Worse, that people (who may have never seen it) have been incited to kill people who almost certainly never watched it and, certainly, had nothing to do with it.

And, the real story may be that it was made with the specific intention of causing this problem, of inciting this murder.

And, if the reports are true, by a group of people who are supposed to be religious. Again!

These so-called religious people are Coptic Chirstians – but not Coptic Christians in the actual country but ex-pat Coptic Christians who don’t live in Egypt and won’t have to suffer any of the problems that, almost certainly, the REAL Coptic Christians will now suffer on behalf of a film they had nothing to do with!

Intolerance of others is unacceptable. Inciting hatred is despicable.

Religion should be banned.

p.s. since I wrote this I found the ‘full?’ 15-minute film. As is normal, the trailer showed the ‘best bits’. The film is not only dire and a load of old crap but really shouldn’t even be called a film at all. Terrible, terrible, terrible.

Saving? Where? Oh – you mean NOT spending more than before? Is that saving? Really?

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Imagine I spend €300 per month, every month.

Then imagine that the government decide to increase sales tax (VAT/IVA) or something from next month. It will mean that, in future, instead of spending €300 I will have to spend €350.

Then, imagine that the government decide to postpone the tax increase until, let’s say, the end of the year.

So, instead of spending €300, as I do now, I will be spending €300 – the same – until the end of the year.

Let me just count out how much I have ‘saved’. Oh, I see that, in fact I have not saved anything but I will not be spending extra for a little while yet.

Compare this with:

I spend €300 per month every month.

The government CUT taxes from next month. It will mean that, instead of spending €300 per month, I will be spending €250 per month. In this case I will be spending €50 less and, so I can actually ‘save’ that money. It’s a kind of bonus to me and is a real saving since I will, actually, be paying LESS.

People’s ideas of ‘saving’ is incredible. The only way you save anything is to spend LESS than you did before.

V used to try this thing with me some times, a long time ago, and it’s logic was of the very worst kind.

The little scenario went like this:

“Do you know how much I saved with this shirt?”

“Well, as you actually SPENT money, I can’t see how you have SAVED any at all!”

“But it was a bargain”

OK, so I paraphrase a lot – but you get the picture. I know other people who do this – it’s not just him.

But back to recent news.

If a tax increase is not put into effect, nobody has SAVED anything at all. It does mean that, in the future, people will not have to spend as much as they might, but it hasn’t made anything cheaper.

And so, this latest so-called U-turn by the government of the UK to NOT put up the tax on petrol (gas to you, Gail) as had been planned, is being lauded and trashed by all and sundry at the same time. But it seems, to me, that everyone is missing the point or points.

This decision to postpone the tax hike will NOT mean that anyone will SAVE money. They will just not spend as much as they might have done.

And this is no U-turn. The hike is not cancelled – merely postponed.

So here is something that is being done in response to the beating they were getting for daring to increase a tax when the country is all but down the drain (See my post Death Valley – UK High Street). But don’t think, for a moment, that anyone will be saving anything.

And then there was this little piece with a video of the Newsnight “interview”

… and then this stupidness – in the same paper!

To be honest, she deserved everything she got. The answer to “When did you know?” is very simple and involves a time or, at least, a date. From there on, it was always going to be downhill.

But, then, if they can equate ‘saving’ to ‘not having to spend more’ then, I guess, we’re all doomed. Might as well have V go and be Prime Minister! :-(

There’s the truth and then there’s a whole load of lies!

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To be frank, I never wanted to go in the first place.

I had joked about it raining so much that, maybe, it would all be flooded and then we couldn’t go.

We flew with Monarch to Birmingham. We arrived and had to put jackets on. It was decidedly chilly. We followed the crowd to go and reclaim our bags and then came to a grinding halt.

The ‘hall’ was fuller than full. The queue snaked back and forth on itself, as these things do now.

It took us one hour and a half to get through to our bags.

I noticed the signs on the side walls, explaining the delays. Apparently they were checking that the document you had used for the flight matched the one you were using now.

Except, like all the misinformation about security and stuff, it wasn’t that at all. It couldn’t have been! We got to the desk and I gave in my passport (which must, of course, be taken out of its holder – but only in the UK) and my colleague gave in her ID card. You can travel throughout Europe on your ID card and it was used for the flight.

“Don’t you have a passport?”, asked the surly man. It was said too fast and with a thick, brummy accent. I answered for my colleague knowing that she hadn’t understood. “No”.

I wanted to add that quite obviously, she couldn’t use her passport because you were checking with the flight and she hadn’t used the passport for the flight.

He sighed. He then proceeded to type the number into his computer. But the thing is – why? What’s the point? I mean, she’s from Italy, is Italian and wouldn’t ever want to stay in the country longer than necessary.

So there’s an excuse for the long queues which is, quite frankly, a big, big lie.

Instead, the whole experience left me with the over-riding feeling of being unwanted in the country – and it’s MY country!

Someone said that it was something to do with the Olympics – not that we were anywhere close to the Olympics. But if I had a ticket for one of the events I would now, seriously, consider selling it.

My advice: if you don’t need to go to the UK, then don’t go. Once you get there it’s not that good anyway.

Death Valley – UK High Street

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It was so sad. So down-at-heel. So without inspiration or hope or anything. It could have been in one of the most run down suburbs of any large town. Some shops were closed. Some shops looked like they were about to close. The shops selling things for £1 or less were stacked to the gills with gaudiness and tackiness.

Everything seemed to be on sale. No, everything seemed to be cheap both in price and quality. Every building seemed like it needed a facelift.

Oh, there was no litter anywhere, nor any graffiti. People used the ashtrays provided so there wasn’t even a cigarette butt to see. So it SHOULD have looked better, shouldn’t it? But it didn’t. It looked shabby.

There weren’t many people around either. And those that were there looked burdened by poverty and miserableness and unhappiness and dread. People slouched and seemed to drag their feet. Like all hope had been sucked out of them. Like there had been a plague of Deatheaters (re: Harry Potter) seconds before.

But, then, it’s not a “quaint” town with “things to see” or, at least, not famous ones. No one I have ever known has said “Let’s go to Wolverhampton!”

It only took a few moments to feel as depressed by it as it all looked; as all the people looked! We walk along the street in order to ‘look around’ and, maybe, buy something but within those few moments, all I wanted to do was to go back to the hotel.

There is no ‘town centre’ any more – just ‘death valley’. I forced myself to buy some sandals. I looked at buying a T-shirt. But I really did want out of there. It makes it seem more unlikely I could go back.

It’s not to say there aren’t similar ‘dead’ zones in Italy, of course but not, I think, in what should be a major city. Nor is it to say that we don’t have closed and boarded up shops, nor that we don’t have the equivalent of Pound Shops or temporary stores – even on Corso Buenos Aries (a main shopping street in Milan – not far from my house)! But, somehow, it doesn’t seem depressing …….. yet!

They’ve got some woman in the UK government to try and ‘breathe life’ into the high streets of the UK but I think it’s too far late now. Now people are used to going to out-of-town shopping centres or mega superstores. These, in fact, are the new high street.

With the changes that Mr Monti wishes to make in Italy, I think we could have the same disaster here, in about 10 years, which would be such a shame. Some will survive – as long as they are tourist destinations – then the place will be full of gift shops and clothes shops and antiques shops.

No, it was sad to see and horrible to be walking there. I shan’t be doing that again in a hurry.

I’m going to take my toys away and not play any more.

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[We are] sympathetic to those needs, we want to see a society in which gay people are fully included and their needs are fully provided for.

Except, of course, in this one case, where we don’t actually want them to be fully included at all.

In fact, if you do this, we’re going to take our toys away and sulk in the corner. And that’ll show you, won’t it!

Surprisingly, this is not a three-year-old child talking but some senior adult person in the Church of England.

They are, as you may have guessed, talking about marriage and the fact that by changing the law it will change the whole idea of marriage. Because marrying two people is not the same as marrying a man and a woman.

And, because they’re frightened that some of their powerbase will disappear and they will become irrelevant by virtue of some countries splitting from the CofE and becoming the Church of Nigeria or some other backward place.

However, what I didn’t know until now was that the CofE is obliged to marry a man and a woman (if they are residents of the UK) in their church, even if they are not of ‘the faith’. Apparently, it’s law. They have to do it. And they are worried that, for all the ‘safeguards’ from the government, the European Court of Human Rights might see things differently and determine that the current law should also apply to queer people.

Apparently, “Marriage benefits society in many ways, not only by promoting mutuality and fidelity [which, quite obviously it won’t be able to do once we allow gay people to marry], but also by acknowledging an underlying biological complementarity which, for many, includes the possibility of procreation.”
Hang on! Only 25% of people get married in Church anyway. So, that would be many (but not all) of that 25%, I guess. So, maybe 20% of the population!

And they say that gay people are a minority and trying to ride roughshod over these 20% of people’s views. So that’s a minority trying to tell another minority what to do? Whereas, the 20% that are saying we want everyone to be equal except in this case are NOT a minority trying to tell another minority what they can and can’t do?

Hmmmm.

If the church was fairly irrelevant before, it becomes more irrelevant with this kind of skewed argument.

But, didn’t they used to have all sorts of other ‘rules’ too? Like not marrying someone who was black to someone who was white? Did the change in law take anything away from the ‘institution of marriage’?

Not that I have a beef one way or another, since I won’t be getting married in or out of any church. But, really, what a hypocritical, bigoted bunch of w£$%&!rs they are. May their demise or revelation come quickly.

Quotes came from here

I am in a Tim Burton film!

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Nope! Still too much to do and not much time. And we have visitors here, at my ‘real’ job – so I’m just catching a few moments.

And tell you a story: but it may take more than one attempt.

It’s the Hay Festival going on right now. And, maybe that’s the key.

I’m not at the Festival, as such, but, rather near there. Or, at least, staying at the Crown. This is a pub/hotel. Even if this is not THE Crown, as in the one in Hay itself, it’s close by. I know this because the bar is packed with festival goers and authors and others. There are lots of people I know and I am fast becoming quite drunk. It feels as if it is my birthday or something. As if it’s a party for me, even if it’s not.

Then a ‘blast from the past’ walks in. A guy named Mike. He used to be one of the company’s trainers but I knew him when we were trainers well before that. He had a drink problem. A serious drink problem. We tried very hard to patch him up. The last I had heard was that he had finally solved the problem and the drink problem was no more.

It was unexpected, seeing him.

“Hi Mike!”, I said. I grinned because it was so nice to see him. However, he seemed a bit shifty. I asked him how he was. He evaded the question. I asked him again but he wasn’t giving an answer.

Then K walked in. Another surprise. We chatted for a bit.

Then someone rang the telephone at the bar and asked for me.

It was John. For some time we were owners of the company until one of the recessions took hold and John left to become a contractor. We had remained friends after that. Again, John had worked at the same company as Mike where I had been a trainer. So we all knew each other quite well.

“You’ll never believe it”, I exclaimed, “but both Mike and K are here”.

I went on to explain about Mike seeming a bit down and pondered whether it was that he had taken up drinking again.

The call ended.

I went back to the place where K and Mike were and told them that John had telephoned. I was really happy to have had the chance to speak to him. It had been many years.

Then, someone said:

“But, didn’t John die some years back?”

Ah yes, in both my drunken stupour and the happiness of this whole evening, I had forgotten that John was, in fact, dead, having died some years ago.

“How strange”, I said. It gave me a slightly weird feeling.

But I shrugged it off. It had certainly ‘been him’ on the phone and, yet, it couldn’t have been. Ah well.

The night carried on and I carried on drinking. At one point, I went to the toilet. As I walked in to an empty Gents, I heard someone coming in as well. I turned round. It was John!

“John”, I said, “What are you doing? Are you trying to scare me or something?”

He didn’t reply. That may have been because, although it was certainly him, dressed in a long raincoat, he didn’t have a head.

“C’mon John”, I asked, where’s your head?”. And I laughed.

I went back to the bar. There, sitting at a bar stool near to where I had been was P, John’s wife! I couldn’t believe after what had happened that she was here! Standing behind her was R, her (and John’s) eldest son.

“P”, I exclaimed, “how lovely to see you!”

I went on to tell her about the strange phone call and then seeing him, headless, in the bathroom. She started to weep. I know they were close. I turned for a moment at some distraction. When I turned back, she and R had gone. I went looking for them. I really didn’t want P to be upset over what I had told her. I couldn’t find them.

Later still, I was very drunk. I don’t remember going to my room but obviously I got there.

In the morning, on waking, I found that my room didn’t seem to have a bathroom. I went out of my room door which opened into the bar area where they were already serving breakfast. I went up to a waitress.

“Excuse me’, I said.

“I don’t have time now Sir. Please wait your turn”. She was abrupt. But I needed the bathroom. And I needed to shower. Today I was going home to F and I wanted to go home. I didn’t feel particularly bad (i.e. no bad headache, etc.) but my mouth was all ‘fuzzy’.

“Look”, I replied, tersely, “I don’t want breakfast but I do need the bathroom and there isn’t one in my room”.

“It’s the door round the corner of your room”, she replied, seemingly annoyed that I seemed so stupid.

I went back to the room. I went round a corner into a small area that I had failed to notice before and, sure enough was the door.

I went into the bathroom. I went to the mirror. I was looking at myself to see how I looked.

Except the mirror image wasn’t looking back at me but had its head down, so I could see the top of my head. I needed to force myself to lift my head. My forehead seemed abnormally large, more like an alien than a human. God, I thought, I must be feeling much rougher than I thought!

As I raised my head, my eyes came into view. A shockingly piercing but slightly dark blue set of irises looked back at me. Almost with malevolence. The blacks of the pupils seemed to be much blacker than usual and bigger – but this blue of the eyes was unreal.

I needed to shower. From the bathroom was another door. I didn’t want to go out and ask again. I found the door locked but one of the keys on the hotel key fob opened it.

I was outside. Into a garden. But the garden was also the shower. There were shower heads dotted around the garden with soap near each one. As I walked nearer to each shower, the shower started automatically. The temperature was perfect, some had aromatic smells, some plain water, some had coloured water. I started to shower.

Then some other people came into the garden. They wore swimming costumes. I didn’t know there were other people allowed. One of them said that I shouldn’t be naked. They had been told to always wear a costume. I explained that I hadn’t been told that and went to another shower to continue showering.

But this John thing was worrying me. I mean, what did it all mean? This was starting to resemble some sort of ghost story thing! I wanted to get home.

But what of John? And what the hell was I doing, naked, trying to shower in a GARDEN?

I woke up. It was, in fact, about half past midnight, last night!

As some of my weird dreams go, that has got to be one of the very strangest. As F said, when I told him a little of it this morning, it resembled a Tim Burton film!

A little uncertainty

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I’ve got more to say about Vienna – but no time right now.

In the meantime, since we’ve been back, there’s a touch of uncertainty in the air. It seems F is looking for a change.

However, I have learnt that, just like V, he tends to say things that aren’t always followed through. I learnt, too, whilst in Vienna, that the problem with Brazil was that it was just too far away. Apparently. Obviously, for me it wasn’t a problem.

Now we are considering Vienna. And doing a B&B. He’s looking for a sponsor. He’s fed up with work. I’ve now heard this for three nights in a row, so maybe it’s true. We shall see. For me, it’s not a problem. I liked Vienna very much. Especially as they are a) more dog friendly; b) permit smoking in bars and restaurants (although, to be honest, I’ve got used to going outside); c) it’s cleaner than Italy (I mean no rubbish on the streets, etc.) and d) I can always teach English and do copy-editing.

As I’ve mentioned before, I’ve kind of ‘done’ Italy now – in that I’ve been here 7 years, more or less, and survived. Of course, I would be very happy to stay here but I’m equally happy to move now, even to the other side of the world and even at my advanced age. After all, new challenges might be fun.

But, as I said earlier, F can be a little like V sometimes. What he says will happen won’t always happen, so I won’t be holding my breath.

But, you know, Vienna might just be a nice place to live?