Tag Archives: Shopping

Plastic People

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I am way, way over my head here.

And how different this was from the previous night!

I am introduced to various people, only one of whom I will remember – and that’s because we’re going to his wife’s shop (or, rather ex-shop) soon.

Eventually Si and I go to get a glass of prosecco and I manage to grab a small chocolate sweet from one of the waiters passing by who, until now have passed close to me but not close enough for me to grab anything and, anyway, seem to be moving through the room at something close to the speed of light. Most of the time, the ones that get close enough are carrying empty plates back.

The people around me speak mostly Italian and far too fast for me to understand. The men are dressed in suits with ties (no jeans) and the women have on their finest designer outfits and are all “beautiful” and “thin”.

This may be Design Week but one could be excused for confusing this with Fashion Week.

Si had only texted me when she had arrived at the shop (or, as we should now call them, Flagship Store.) Initially, I thought I’d say “no”. I was already tired from the night before but then I thought that I never really do these things and that I really should. What’s the point in living here if I don’t experience the “high life” once in a while. So I had rushed to change and to get there and I was now hot and bothered. She is dressed with a pink theme but doesn’t look out of place. I feel out of place since I have jeans, a casual white shirt (a little unusual – as is my wont) and a “suit-type” jacket.

After a little while we go to our next place. Si’s colleague, M’s wife used to own one of the most famous jewellers in Milan (apparently since I had never heard of them). We walk to the shop. On the way, in Via Montenapoleone (one of the main fashion streets in Milan), we pass their other shop. M goes over to say hello to someone there and then beckons us over. Apparently we should be going to this shop and not the other one. This shop, though, is not their historical main store but, rather, one that is exclusively for Rolex watches. In fact, I learn, this was the very first Rolex Flagship store in the world.

The party is in full swing. As for most places, there are people on the door checking if you are “on the list”. If you’re not “on the list” or know someone inside, you won’t get in. Of course, we are with the husband of the ex-owner (her cousin now owns it but she goes because it’s expected as she can meet and greet some of the long-term clients that will be there), so we get in.

Si seems very pleased with all this. She works in Marketing for a Luxury Brand (but not fashion) so there could be a tie-in.

Here the clientèle at the party are richer than the previous party. The men are not all in suites but, then, the crowd is older. I say older and that’s not entirely true. The men are older, some of the women are older but some are there because they’re not. However, there is so much plastic in the room – most women seem to have been under the knife, some with disastrous results (in my opinion.) There was fur; there were jewels; there was plastic – everywhere.

The shop is not that big but opulent would be a good word to use. The carpet thick, the wood special and lots of it and, of course, the watches. Now, personally, I really don’t like Rolex as a watch. Too much – I prefer simple watches – simple faces, preferably white or blue – even if mine are quite expensive (not as much as a Rolex though.)

The food was fantastic. They did little burgers that were so tasty (and, obviously NOT McDonald’s) and some proper Risotto Milanese. Si knew the chef (I’m not sure how she found that out) who is quite famous here, apparently and has a restaurant near Bergamo. Anyway, she mentioned something to one of the waiters and the next thing was that the chef came out to say hello to her – and me – and bearing another tray of the delightful mini burgers (just a mouthful each time – I had about 5!)

The shop had a “vertical” garden at the back, a roof terrace on the top floor and, on the same floor, a very large balcony that overlooked via Montenapoleone. Quite stunning.

It was all very nice but, to be honest, I preferred the previous night. There weren’t any real “designers” at these parties, just people who were to be “seen”.

I wasn’t way over my head because of the people so much as the fact that I don’t have the “culture” knowledge that they do. I mean, I know stuff but when people mention this designer or that artist, quite often I don’t have a clue who they are. Mostly I say I don’t know them. Sometimes, just because otherwise it gets boring, I say “Oh really?” – thank God they don’t ask too many questions.

Although, obviously, these people, especially at the Rolex shop, do move in a different world from me.

Still, it was all very nice and I’m glad I went but I did prefer the previous night where I got to meet “real” people rather than “plastic” people.

How excited are we?

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Well, it seems, very excited.

Bordering on hysterical.

Now, when I say “we”, I don’t actually mean “we” as in F & me. I mean my colleague, S.

She is a bit “snobby”. Not in a horrible way, of course, but she does like to think of herself as better than she is. More elegant, more beautiful, etc. I find it funny, to be honest.

Anyway, it’s the Furniture Fair in Milan this week and F’s shop has a display of some furniture, the fabric for which was designed by the designer (of the clothes, obviously). And there is a kind of small “party” which is really just an aperitivo, tonight. I am going, of course and, as F requested, invited certain people (it means that the shop will be full and that’s always good). There will be prosecco and the event is catered with some very nice “finger food” and there are waiters mingling to hand out this finger food. I go because F wants me to go and he can introduce me to English people and I can talk to them, which he likes.

Anyway, amongst the people I invited was S, my colleague. I knew she would like to be invited and half expected her to say no but, instead, she said yes. What the hell, I thought. She almost certainly knows of the existence of F (being quite good friends with some people that know of F here, at work) and I’m sure she is being just slightly nosy. But, in addition, it is a party with, for her, the glamour of Milan fashion and, so, something to be seen at.

However, I wasn’t expecting the reaction we have so far – she is wearing something but has bought a dress to change in to if I thought what she was wearing wasn’t good enough!

As I’ve tried to explain, this is just a small party in the shop. It’s not really something you have to wear a cocktail dress or evening gown to. It starts at 6.30 and will be all over by 8!

However, she is VERY excited. and a little bit apprehensive, which surprises me.

So, we shall see. The “tension” will be mounting throughout the day. Probably.

A supermarket is a supermarket is STILL a bloody supermarket

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Italians like their food. Especially fresh food or proper original food.

Therefore, the best pesto (apparently as, to be honest, it’s NOT my favourite thing) is made in Liguria (and, more specifically, Genoa.)

Obviously, you can get pesto here, in Milan. And, sometimes, F, who is just a tad crazy over pesto, says that the pesto is good (normally the fresh pesto sauce we get from the local pasta shop – yes, they have pasta shops selling just pasta and sauces.) Rarely has he said that about anything we buy from a supermarket.

There have been exceptions, of course. The Parma ham I got from our local Carrefour was, apparently, rather superb. It was from the deli counter so was cut extra thin, on his instructions, didn’t have much fat and was “sweet”.

If we want some much better food than the supermarket, we go to the pasta shop, the veg shop, the butchers, etc. For really good fruit and veg, the Tuesday market is the best.

But, if you want really special versions, go direct to the producers, of course. The very best mozzarella that I’ve ever tasted was one that F’s parents served up one time. They get a lot of their food shipped specially to them (from relatives) or from local small holders. F, for example, doesn’t like to eat eggs from the supermarket because they aren’t “fresh” (his words.)

Supermarkets are great for cleaning products, dog food and stuff like that. Day-to-day food (coffee, sugar, dried pasta,etc.)

They buy in bulk and get everything for a good price which means they are cheaper. But, things like strawberries, etc. are, usually, pretty bland and tasteless (as is mozzarella, imho).

Even up-market supermarkets aren’t that “wow!”

And up-market supermarkets will quite happily sell you the same (for example) wine that you can buy at Billa or Carrefour but at a much higher price.

Now, I confess, I’ve never been to Eataly. But, I know people who have. In Milan, just recently, a great theatre (Smeralda) was closed down, was refurbished and re-opened as the flagship Eataly store in Milan. People swear by it. But, so I have been informed by someone who knows a thing or two about wine, it is nothing more than an up-market version of any old supermarket. It sells some “special” things and then some ordinary things but at much higher prices.

But, I have to admit, their marketing is definitely up-market in that people really believe they are getting something special. I’m sure there are some things that really are special. However, I suspect that most of it will not be although the prices will be special.

In this country of wondrous food, this kind of faux-speciality really annoys me.

Instead, if you want the real stuff, seek out the smaller shops that really do have something special.

I go to buy some shoes …… again …. and again ……. and again!

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Seems simple, doesn’t it?

I need some new shoes. For work.

I had worked out (and it’s only taken me about 3 years to do this) that my “cheap and nasty” shoes that I get for work really are worth peanuts. Although I never normally spend over 30€, they are really crap. Not only do they let water in if it rains hard, they are like wearing just a pair of socks when it is very cold.

Since most of the day, I am sitting at my computer and since the MD considers anything above about 10°C too warm (and, therefore, most people in the office are really cold during the winter), my feet get exceptionally cold. And, when my feet are cold, it makes for a pretty miserable day where my only thoughts are on how to keep warm.

The other day, because I knew it was going to rain A LOT, I wore my new walking boots to work and I noticed that my feet didn’t get cold and, as a result, the rest of me felt pretty much OK. The day after, I wore my normal shoes and I really could feel the difference. I could feel the cold from the pavement seep through the shoes.

So, the solution was to spend a bit more money. I decided that normal shoes might also let the cold seep through and decided that what I needed was shoes that were designed for real walking (or treking, if you like) as these would be made with the idea of keeping the feet warm.

The only shop that I know sells walking boots (and where I recently bought my boots from) is Decathlon. Unfortunately, the only Decathlon I know that is not outside Milan, is over the other side of town. I had quite a lot to do on Saturday. The plan was that, after breakfast I would go to the supermarket, then to Decathlon, then to get some cologne for work, then do some editing, brush the dogs and, if time was left over, watch a film.

It started so well, if a bit late. Breakfast was about 10.30 and then I went to the supermarket as planned. I got the stuff I wanted and, these days, to avoid more interaction with people than is necessary, I use the self-checkout tills. It generally means that I don’t have to talk to anyone at all in the supermarket, which I much prefer.

I paid by credit card and then took my shopping and the receipt to the service desk (about 1 step away) and signed the credit card receipt for them. I went home and packed everything away.

Although I didn’t really want to leave the house again, the weather was OK and I really wanted the shoes. The question in my mind was – should I go up the road and get the cologne first or the shoes? I chose the shoes first. After all, the shoes required a metro journey (which I also dislike). So, off I went.

I arrived at Decathlon and, since I had been there for boots a few weeks before, I knew exactly where to find the shoes I wanted. I do like that – walking into a shop and just being able to go to the place you want without having to search the shop. In spite of the fact that it is sale time, there weren’t too many people in the shop, thank goodness.

I go to the walking shoe/boot area. There’s nothing exactly as I want but there are some that are near enough OK. I select these brown shoes. Well, actually they are a little like small boots – but that’s OK. They are for work.

I need size 43 or 44. Since these are walking shoes, they tend to be oversized so I try a 43 first. It fits perfectly and will be big enough even with thicker socks.

I go back to the “43 rack” and find the other one. In fact, there are only two pairs of these shoes in 43. It’s obviously the most popular size! I try on the other shoe and that also fits perfectly. I walk up and down a bit to make sure there’s no obvious problems. There aren’t, so I go to pay.

At the payment area, I have to queue a bit but it’s OK. I wait for about 5 minutes and then go to the cash desk that’s become available.

The guy checks the shoes. Inside is a little label. He checks each shoe.

“They’re different sizes,” he says. “One is 42 and the other is 43″. He hands them back to me and I thank him although, really, I am a a bit annoyed that they had a 42 on the 43 shelf.

I go back downstairs. This will only take a moment.

I check the other shoes on the 43 shelf. In fact, what I thought were another pair were, in fact, two right-foot shoes. and, in spite of them being on the 43 shelf, they are size 42. So, there is one right-foot shoe in size 43 (in my hand) and two right-foot shoes, size 42, 42 on the shelf and one left-foot shoe, size 42, in my hand. That’s it!

Bugger! I check the size 42 shelf below. Yep, they are all 42. The shelf is jam packed with pairs of shoes at size 42.

I check the shelf above – the size 44 shelf is jam packed with pairs of size 44. There is no left-foot 43 to be found!

Double bugger!

I think for a moment. Well, the size 42 actually fits and the size 44 will be too big. I decide to try a pair of 42s. I get a pair that are fixed together by a thin piece of plastic wire. After all, these should be the same size!

Still, I double-check the small label inside :-)

Yes, both 42. I try them on. They are fine. I take them up to the tills.

There is a short queue. There are only two tills open but it should be fine. Sure enough, one till becomes free almost immediately.

Unfortunately, the guy in front of me has two baskets full to the brim with stuff. He is buying things for his kids for skiing. He is going to take a (long) time at the till. I look at the other till. The couple are only buying about 4 things. Three of them are scanned by the assistant but there seems to be a problem with the fourth item. I don’t know this for sure but it seems as though the price the guy thought the product was is different from that which came up when it was scanned.

There’s a discussion and the assistant rings someone else. I am patient but I really do want to get out of here now. I’ve done with shopping.

The guy goes off (downstairs, I guess) to either get the right product or whatever and as the assistant starts putting their shopping on “suspend” so he can serve me, they open a third till.

I go there.

The assistant checks the size – but I know they are the same size and so I get my wallet out and open it up to get my credit card out.

As the guy rings up the shoes on the till, I see that my credit card is not there. I check to see if it is loose (rather than in it’s allotted slot) but, even as I do so, I already know where it is. Or, rather, where it was. It was in the payment machine at the self-checkout in the supermarket.

Fuck!

I tell the assistant that I left the credit card in the supermarket. I explain that we can try my debit card but I’m sure it won’t work. It doesn’t. I’ve maxed out my account, as I knew. I have more than enough cash but I don’t really want to use cash. He asks if I want to hold the shoes while I go and get my credit card.

I say “no” for two reasons. One is that the supermarket is the other side of town (which I explain to him). The other, of course, is that, maybe, horror of horrors, the credit card may not be at the supermarket any more!

However, I’ve got to try.

I go back towards home and straight to the supermarket, dreading the thought that it may not be there and having to stop the card, go to the police station and do a statement, fax that to the credit card company and then wait for a new one, etc., etc.

Plus, of course, here, in Italy, I’ve heard all sorts of tales about things like: even if you stop the card, until the statement is faxed, it isn’t really stopped – and you’re still liable! Plus, people don’t check the signatures here (take the supermarket which allowed me to sign without even seeing my card!!!!). Occasionally, like in Decathlon, you are asked for ID – but that isn’t guaranteed. So, more often than not, you can get away with using someone else’s credit card.

My friend, A, for example, regularly signs the slips with Mickey Mouse or something – and nobody checks!

I go to the service desk and ask about my card.

“What bank is it? What does it look like?” I am asked. Luckily, the company card is from the same bank so I show them that and say that it’s something like it.

They have a STACK of cards left behind! She searches through. She asks my name. I give it in the way it is on the card (surname first). She asks for ID.

RESULT! I have my card back. I toy with trekking back to Decathlon but decide not to as I really need to do the other things and the editing is important and I’m not sure how long that will take.

I go and get the cologne though, which is something.

My friend, FfI, texts me. Can we do coffee in the morning? I am almost certain that I can’t really as F and I shall go for breakfast in the morning and, probably, that won’t be early.

I suggest (as I MUST get these shoes for work) that she could come with me to Decathlon tomorrow. She say OK, maybe, and to call her tomorrow. At least this way I will definitely go and get some and not put it off (and then suffer all week with cold feet).

The next day dawns and we sleep through that (dawn, that is). In fact, we don’t get up until after ten. I take the dogs out while F cleans (again). I come back with the dogs and he hasn’t finished cleaning. In fact, I am pressed into doing some stuff. We go for breakfast about 11.30. After breakfast he goes across to the supermarket and, as I go home, I text FfI and suggest she comes to Decathlon with me. She arrives at my flat about 15 minutes later. We walk towards the metro stop. She keeps going on about taking the bus rather than the metro. She says she hates the metro. She says she always goes by bus and she prefers to “see” where she is going.

She also needs coffee as she hasn’t had breakfast.

I say OK to both, even though I point out that the metro is quicker. In fact, the real reason she wants to go by bus is that, going by bus she can get away without having a valid ticket. Going by metro this is not possible. She doesn’t say this directly but I’m not stupid. It’ll save her 2.60€!

As we approach the bus stops, she finds that the cafè she was hoping to go to is closed. We go to Sissi – a well-known bar here, in Milan.

She grabs something to eat and we order two coffees. She has something else to eat. I let her pay for my coffee (after all, she is making this trip to Decathlon veeeeeeery long).

We get on the bus and, after some time, arrive at Decathlon.

We go and find the shoes. I double-check the sizes and, just in case, try them on again (size 42).

I go and pay.

We go back to the bus stop. It really is a beautiful day although a little cool. The sky is a wonderful blue and so clear and, in the sun, it almost feels warm!

We get back near my house and she wants another coffee. We go up to a bar near my house. I hang the bag with the shoes on the back of the chair. We have coffee and smoke a few cigarettes and chat.

We leave to go home. Just a few steps from the cafè, I realise I don’t have my shoes. They are on the back of the chair. I go back and get them wondering if, in fact, these shoes are not really meant to be mine after all!

As I sit here, writing this, I have on the shoes. My feet are definitely much warmer so it was worth all the effort. The shoes aren’t as warm as the boots but, still, with thick socks too, I’m absolutely certain that my feet will be much warmer than last year! I bloody hope so after all the trouble I’ve had to go to to get them!

I am excited.

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I’m quite excited.

This weekend I am going to buy an external hard disk for my computer which is now completely full with music, pictures and films.

I have picked the one I want and can get it from FNAC near the centre of Milan.

We have a holiday on Friday (!st of November) so I’m going to go then (if it’s open) or Saturday.

It will also mean that I will be able to “tidy up” my computer and, so, make it run faster.

Actually, I’m very excited. Just thought you should know :-)

I’m going crackers for Christmas

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Chatting to an American friend (FfI) over coffee, today, she was telling me how she and her boyfriend watch the cooking channel. They like Jamie Oliver but also watch Nigella Lawson.

And she asked me what the silver tubes were. They had been stacked in a pile and looked really nice, apparently.

And it struck me again how, things we take for granted at Christmas are just our things. I mean, Italians, too, have no idea about them.

I had to explain that, these were Christmas Crackers. At each end the silver paper is pinched and that, two people pull the cracker which makes a small explosive crack. Inside the roll is some sort of item (small – like a toy or something), a joke or something on a piece of paper and a folded, paper hat.

The crackers are pulled before the lunch/dinner and then everyone wears the paper hats and tells the (usually stupid) joke.

It’s a British thing. But I got some shipped from Bowie’s in Hay-on-Wye and they look rather good. We’re going to have ours on Boxing Day when we have some Italian friends come over for lunch. Should be good. :-)

And, below, a picture of a Christmas Cracker:

Christmas Cracker

and a typical Christmas paper hat:

christmas_hat

Whatever special or unique things you have at Christmas, I hope you have a good time.

Another thing I did today was make the mincemeat (which for the uninitiated is not meat at all but, rather, a mix of dried fruits, nuts, sweet spices, etc.) so that, tomorrow, I can make mince pies. I know it’s not Italian but you might have it in the USA.

Transferring the site ….. and other things

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4/12

Well, it was all going rather well in day 2 of the GREAT MOVE.

I found that, on the new hosting company, I can work on it without it being ‘live’ – meaning the existing one can remain in place.

Except ……..

It seems that the SQL database I am using is, in fact, the existing SQL database!

WTF?

But, it seems a slightly bastardised version of the existing SQL database.

Time for a break whilst work takes over.  And then we shall see.

Update 1:  The support team at the new hosting company assure me that I have must have restored it/transferred the data otherwise, what I am experiencing “is not possible”.

However, I think it may have something to do with the fact that I created an alias in order to set up the blog before cutting the old one.

But, and this is where the really worrying bit comes, am I looking at the old database or the new one?  If the new one, how can the data have come across when I haven’t, as yet, tried to restore it?  If the old database, then how am I able to look at it if they are held on different servers?  And, what will happen when I cut off the old one?  Will the old database and the new database disappear?

And, even more worrying is: How safe is the data if it can “suddenly” appear in the “new” database without me having done anything?

Bugger.

Update 2 – 10/12:

We’re almost a week on from the above.  Nothing has changed.  My blog is still being hosted on the other servers.  However, today I found something that said it would be easy, so I updated the nameservers (pointing the blog to the correct, new servers), killed the database, restored the database from a backup and checked it was OK and, finally, transferred all the WP files from the backup I created.

Perfect.

Except, of course, not quite.

Not quite as in it didn’t work.  I checked all the passwords, made small adjustments where I found errors and ……..

Still problems.

Then, I suddenly remembered that, the reason I was going to do this at home, last weekend, was that home was where the full file download was.  Here, the copying of files kept timing out – at home, it was fine (except for 3 files).

So, now I can do nothing, until I get home.

So, given the fact that it was a long weekend you may ask why I didn’t do it.  Well, Friday, I did other things, including booking the meat for Christmas and Boxing Day and wandering around looking for presents.  Actually, having wandered around, I found some things but, in the end, I didn’t want to buy them because, for me, now, Christmas Eve is the time for these things and I really wanted to come back on Christmas Eve and do it.  Nowadays this is part of what makes Christmas great.

I did pop into Euronics to see if they had a turntable (the main present for F) as I couldn’t wait for Christmas Eve for this.  They didn’t but, whilst I was there, I looked at televisions (F wants to get me one for Christmas) and fridges (as mine is very old and, sooner or later, will die.)

Saturday, during the day, was mostly spent searching for, researching about and phoning around for the said turntable.  The one I wanted which was supposed to be ‘arriving soon’ at a very local shop, was, in fact, not arriving, they told me.  It was not arriving because it hadn’t been ordered.  However, I could have a different one for only a couple of hundred Euro extra.  I told them I’d think about it.

Then, on another site, I found one.  Not the one I had been looking for exactly but, whilst researching, it seemed that Technics was the make to go for and this was a Techincs.  I phoned them.  They had 2.  And, yes, they would be open on Sunday.

Sunday morning came and, after breakfast, I went to get it.  Perfect.  Whilst waiting for the bus back to town, I saw that someone had posted some crap post about me being 40% happy and thought, “You know nothing”.

And then I got home.

I had forgotten to put the chair against the power lead to the fridge.

Piero had part-chewed through the wire and, somehow, managed to short it without killing himself.  So, now I had no fridge.  I told F and we ended up at Euronics where, for Christmas he bought me a new fridge (to be delivered on Wednesday) and we (together) bought a new telly, which we took home straight away.

But, obviously, to put it up, we had to clean behind where the telly is.  And, so, in the end, I didn’t sit down at the computer until about 5.30 – which was too late to do the move.

So Sunday, was, in the end, a mixed day – although I would say that I was still more than 40% happy, maybe I wasn’t quite 100%.

So you still have to wait to read this.  I hope that, by tomorrow, all will be, more or less, back to normal.

Update 11/12

So, now it’s back up and running and almost done.

Of course, it didn’t quite go as planned.  I got home and uploaded the files.

Except, some were missing and I had no idea until I uploaded them.

So then I had to bugger about this morning – uploading new WordPress files, uploading the ones from work that I had deleted and then resetting the config again.

I did think it was going to be a real pain but, in fact, once I’d done that, all was OK.  Now to fix the picture at the top and we’re done.

Thank goodness.  And, just in time for Christmas too.

I’ll be along to view your blogs and catch up as soon as I can.

Ciao

Christmas is coming …..

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Further to my post about Amazon and my desire NOT to use them, I have to tell you that it’s actually quite difficult. I found a website – The Book Depository – who were independent – until being swallowed by Amazon. I ordered from them anyway. I found Powell’s – but it’s an American site.

It seems that Amazon have got the market pretty well stitched up. I’m still working on it.

But, back to Christmas presents. One thing was bought months ago. Unfortunately, he saw one of them in a shop abroad and said they were not that good. Oh well, it’s bought now.

Then there’s the turntable. This is proving more difficult. I have delved around the Internet and found a couple that are good contenders – but trying to find a shop (any shop) in Milan that might stock anything like them, is proving difficult. I may have found some but I’ll have to go and look. Luckily, they’re quite near my flat.

Then there is the problem of other things. In past years, buying DVDs or books means a trawl through the Amazon site but as I said above, I am making a concerted effort NOT to use them.

Then I shall buy him an Italian version of the movie “Up” – if I can find it. He liked the version I played to him – but it was in English and it would be better for him in Italian.

Other things must be thought of. But it’s difficult when every Saturday is the dreaded painting.

Last Saturday, it was the hall. But, I must admit, it’s looking a lot better. We reorganised the furniture so now it looks (and is) much larger.

He has been saying to people that he is looking forward to Christmas and having a tree and cooking (which he generally doesn’t like) and being with the dogs. Me too. I will buy the tree but, of course, he will decorate :-)

And the flat will be newly painted and very clean, of course.

But, for now, the getting of the presents is the most important thing.

And finding an alternative to Amazon would be good, if anyone has any bright ideas.

Street Markets in Milan

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Actually, this is all down to a colleague.

She wondered if I knew about a “very famous” (her words) street market in Milan. She gave me the address but the piazza name she gave me didn’t exist.

She can be annoying at times.

So I went on the hunt for somewhere which listed the street markets in Milan.

Everyday there is a market somewhere.

Perhaps the most ‘famous’ is Papiniano. This is on a Saturday near the canals (Navigli) and stretches up a couple of long roads. It sells clothes, mainly. Not all street markets are the same. The one near me (on a Tuesday) sells mainly fruit and veg although there are at least a couple of stalls selling the usual street market stuff (clothes, household goods, etc.).

In fact, people looking for somewhere that’s the equivalent of Primark, here, would do quite well to go to the Papiniano market, since we don’t have either a Primark or, as far as I am aware, an equivalent.

But to get a full list of what street markets are where and when could look here. It’s a comprehensive list and shows a map for nearly all of the markets.

For certain, wherever you live there will be a market somewhere, nearby on one of the days in the week.

Update May 2015: It seems the link is currently broken. Here are some alternatives, although the link above was the best a it was easier to “see” the closest market to where you were living or staying.

1. Where the original map came from. Markets are listed by zone (but you need to know which zone you are in) but no other details (other than street name given).
2. Showing some of the “best” markets, ordered by day and linking to a map.
3. All markets and shown on a map. Click on each flag to bring up details of when it’s on. (In Italian, I’m afraid).

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.