Tag Archives: Italy

Hibernation?

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Well, here we are, near the end of October and having had some of the most unseasonable weather – in that, it has been quite warm and little rain.

Certainly, this year, the heating came on before I got seriously cold at home.

But, according to the forecast, this is set to change on Sunday.

Already, today, we have rain.

Tomorrow, we have more rain (but not as much as today).

Sunday we have even more rain and the temperature is set to drop to a maximum of 7°C (with a minimum, on Monday and Tuesday mornings, of 1°C). Time to get out jumpers and warm socks and coats and stuff.

With any luck, there will be just 4 months of this, with things improving in February.

I should be like a bear and hibernate. Or like a bird and fly south.

No, I think hibernation is best. Waking up when it’s nice. Sounds good to me.

Expat? Immigrant?

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There was a tweet, recently, relating to an old Guardian piece about the fact that an Indian guys didn’t feel he could be considered an expat.

Of course, it depends on your audience.

If, as an immigrant to Italy, I wrote a piece in an Italian newspaper, I could hardly call myself an expat since a) I am NOT Italian and b) I have not moved out of Italy.

For me it’s a matter of simplicity. Here, I am an immigrant – unless and except when I am talking to other English/American/Canadians here. When I talk to them I am an expat. They are expats too.

However, when I’m with Italians, as, in fact, I have done in the past, I point out that I, too, am an immigrant.

This is usually when they are complaining about the numbers of immigrants here.

It’s interesting that when I point out that I am also an immigrant, they usually respond with something like “Ah, but you’re different.”

What they mean, of course, is that, even if I can’t speak the language (whereas many immigrants can); even if I look different from the majority of Italians (with my blue eyes); even if I act differently (like being more courteous), I am OK because I am white and English and their friend.

As opposed to black or brown, non-European and selling roses or trinkets or working in a kitchen in a restaurant.

But I am mindful that I remain and will always be, an immigrant here.

I am from one of the current EU countries and so I have some “right” to be here – but, I guess, I could also be shipped back to the UK should the authorities deem it necessary.

Here, I have no roots; no “original” place to go to. And so it was true of the Indian writing the Guardian article. So, speaking to a British audience, he was always going to be an immigrant and not an expat.

I don’t think it’s that difficult an idea to grasp?

Some things just don’t fit, do they?

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I remember coming to Milan many years ago, probably the second time, staying at the Antica Locanda Solferino,* and walking from there to somewhere and chancing upon a McDonald’s.

Here we were, staying in one of the areas that retains the oldest buildings in Milan, in a city that is in a country where “fast food” – e.g. a slice of pizza – is always available, permitting a company that puts a tasteless piece of cardboard (called a burger by them) between two bits of soggy, over-processed bread buns, with some bits of highly-sugared/salted extras to mask any tastelessness and calls it food, the chance to sell their rubbish (or “poison” as I call it).

Oh, yes, I don’t really like McDonald’s.

I was, frankly, both shocked and saddened. But, I thought to myself, surely Italians don’t actually go for it? I mean, compared to a slice of pizza or foccacia, there is no contest.

But this was in a slightly out-of-the-way area. It closed within a few years. Yay!

Imagine, if you will, one of the prettiest places in Milan – the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II, just across from the Duomo, the place that leads from the Duomo (Cathedral) to the famous opera house, La Scala.

The picture doesn’t do it justice at all. You have to be there to see the beauty of it. Of course, being the main way to get from the Duomo to La Scala it is almost always full of tourists. At Christmas they usually have an installation, e.g. a HUGE Christmas tree, done by Swarovski, so full of glass ornaments that catch the light in such wondrous ways. The glass ceiling is wonderful; the murals, high above the ground, marvellous; the floor itself, beautiful – and it’s full of shops (high-end, of course – Prada, etc.) and elegant, old-time cafés. One can imagine it has hardly changed since 1877, when it was finished.

Of course, the cafés are over-priced. But to sit there, under the glass ceiling, protected from the cold or heat (depending on the season) is one of those ‘must do’ things for a tourist.

So, given my hatred of McDonald’s, I was truly shocked to see a McDonald’s there, right in the centre of the arcade. Worse still, people used it!

OK, so it wasn’t the usual garish McDonald’s with the over-sized M but, still …….

However, it is no more. The other day they were giving away free burgers as they are closing up and moving on. And hurrah for that, I say!

As you can see above, it almost blended in – but to me, in this land that prides itself on its food and flair, McDonald’s is an antithesis. C’mon, you cannot disagree?

Now it will be replaced by Prada. Anyway, there are enough cafés there.

It’s a shame they don’t replace all the other McDonald’s in Italy with something else.

My thanks to the Guardian for the story and the picture of McDonald’s.

* p.s. The Antica Locanda Solferino is quite a wonderful place to stay. A short walk from the centre of town, the rooms (that I’ve stayed in) are very large and comfortable. They do B&B but the breakfast is served in your room as there is (well, was), no dining room. One of the strangest things (a little disconcerting) is (was) that there are (were) no locks on the doors to the bedrooms! But in all the years we stayed there, we never had any problem. It was a wonderful, quirky hotel and I have recommended it to others. Not cheap but if you don’t want the standard hotel with the standard room, this is for you.

p.p.s I even put the tag “Food” against this post – even if it pained me to do so.

A change.

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It all feels a bit unreal.

As if I’m in some sort of fuggy dream. As if I’m not really there.

The change seems overnight although, in reality, it’s over a weekend.

And now, for me, it’s a race to the other end; a race to the light – almost literally.

I had promised to take the dogs out this morning as it was probably going to be raining and would probably keep right on raining until later in the morning. Which it has.

Although, when we were out, it didn’t seem too bad; not the heavy rain predicted, more of a lighter rain – the one just after or just before the heavy rain. It was dark, of course, but, then. it had been dark at this time for a few weeks.

As we approach the second traffic lights, they change from flashing amber to the normal red/green. I thought I must be late but, instead, it’s the lights’ change that’s early – by about 5 minutes.

The dogs (even Piero) keep as close to the buildings as possible.

I don’t let them into the dog area. They are wet already and there’s no need to get them really dirty as the puddles testify that the area will be just mud. Anyway, there are no other dogs in there (and probably won’t be, at least this morning), so Piero isn’t missing any play time. But, then, there aren’t usually any dogs in here at this time.

It’s raining, slightly, but not really ‘cold’ as such. About 13 degrees.

We walk back home. We, all three of us, want to get back.

As we wait for the lift, Dino is trying to dry himself on the walls. He looks forward to the towelling he has when he gets wet.

We get in the flat and I get the towels, Dino not taking his eyes off me, knowing what’s coming. Obviously, I do him first, dropping the towel on his head and starting to rub him down vigorously. He throws himself into this ritual and I think he would like it if I didn’t stop – but the other one has to be done.

The other one, on the other hand, does not really like it and tries to escape. But he’s still small enough to be able to keep in check without too much effort and he gets ‘done’ anyway.

I get ready and have coffee and leave to go to work.

It’s still raining – in much the same way – not too hard.

The car is close and, since it’s service, starts first time, which is great.

But it’s the drive to work that’s different. It’s still dark. It’s miserable. And different to Friday morning when it was light.

Of course, it’s made darker by the rain clouds.

But, as I drive, I don’t feel altogether “there” and it’s unnerving.

The traffic is, for the most part, quite light. Soon it won’t be like this.

It starts to get light on my way but I see the 50-shades-of-grey clouds, patchy and bleak, in the sky.

The race is on to February or March when it will (hopefully) get warmer and brighter.

On the plus side, F noticed that the heating was on last night (at home, obviously. At work the place is close to fridge conditions – especially as these fucking crazy Italians feel the need to change the air – or let the bloody cold in, as I like to say) and I am VERY happy about that.

It’s here!

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And, it’s not necessarily a good thing, just inevitable.

I’m talking Autumn (or ‘Fall’ to Americans because, I guess, Autumn is too difficult to spell).

Last night, on our way back from the restaurant, I looked up the street and you could see a light mist – an obvious sign of Autumn, if ever there was one, even if, last night, it was not cold enough for a jacket (at least for me).

This morning, the same mist hung around. But this morning was a bit chillier.

And, as the mist hasn’t really lifeted much but, rather, made everything grey and miserable, the temperature has stayed lower and there is a chill in the air. Not really a ‘nip’ – yet. So, not winter (as everyone here has been predicting) but definitely Autumn.

The trees still have their green leaves though, although maybe there’s a tinge of change.

But, since the heating should (officially) go on in the middle of October, this year we’re quite late getting to Autumn. Normally, by now, I’m wishing for the heating to be turned on (because I’m bloody freezing) – this year, so far, it’s not been necessary – even for me.

One only hopes that Spring won’t be late coming (well, at least I only hope).

Plain stupid driving.

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I’ve seen some strange things here.

For example, there was the live parrot in the taxi some time ago.

Then there was the rioting. And the winds that blew down the scaffolding in front of a 7 or 8 storey block of flats.

Then there was, one time, I saw a car driving on the tram track.

But this morning was, to be honest, amazing.

The trams run on rails. Sometimes, the rails run through roads and there, the top of the tram rails is the same height as the road. Obviously.

In some places, however, the road is at the side of the rails and the rails resemble normal train rails – i.e. the rails are not set at the height of the surrounding grass or small stones. Especially where the tracks have recently been re-done.

Like on Viale Regina Giovanna. The road is so wide (Viale meaning Avenue) that the road is split with dedicated tram tracks in the centre, lined with trees. The tracks have recently been relaid and, whereas before, the grass areas between the tracks were only slightly below the top of the rails, now the small stones are well below the top of the rails.

So, it would be really stupid to try to drive say, a car, down the tracks. Unless, maybe you had a 4×4?

Not least, it would be stupid because to enter the tram-exclusive area is not easy. I mean, you really have to make a concious effort to do so and you would have to be a) completely unaware of the trams and b) actually turn onto the tracks as opposed to following the road.

And, yet, this morning, holding up the trams, was an nice new Audi, stuck, with the rail being so high as to make the wheels ineffective.

There were about 3 or 4 guys trying to push the car backwards to, I guess, a place where the wheels would have some grip.

The shame was that I was in traffic so I couldn’t stop the car and take a photograph.

I wonder how long it was before he managed to get out. And, how embarrassing it must have been.

Mind you, some people are just plain stupid.

1 Englishman, 1 American and 2 Italians in a pub.

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There’s an Englishman, American, two Italians and two dogs, sitting in a bar ………

Sounds like the start of a good joke, doesn’t it?

OK then, let’s continue …..

The humans are talking about this and that, having a few drinks. It’s a pleasant evening, quite warm and, whilst not exactly outside, they are in a semi-covered area, stuck in a corner. It was the only place available. They are sittiing around a small, round table.

They haven’t seen each other for a while and it’s good to chat.

Suddenly, and without warning, there is this awful, retch-inducing smell.

The Englishman, being English, says nothing but pretends that nothing is happening.

The Italians, being ‘out’ say nothing and pretend that nothing is happening.

The American, having lived in Europe long enough, politely says nothing and pretends that nothing is happening.

The dogs, being non-human, say nothing.

The position in the bar means that there is no escape. And, to move would be to ‘know’ and no one wants that, do they?

Two, three or maybe four times this happens.

Each time it seems worse than the last.

Eventually, everyone leaves to go home.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

“It was Piero,” says F, as we are walking home. And I agree.

We had brought the dogs with us as our friends wanted to see the puppy, even if he is 5 months old and quite large now.

I mean, you get this problem with oldeer dogs. Occasionally, Dino ‘drops one’. But for such a young puppy – but it’s true and I agree. That night, when they were in separate rooms, it comes again and confirms it’s Piero.

Bloody dog! I haven’t even changed his food!

In any event, it wasn’t a joke at all. But what were we to do?

Drinking in Italy – now there’s an “under age”?

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I have mentioned this before – but then, I’ve been writing this blog for a while now, but when we first came to Italy, one of the things we found very refreshing and pleasant was the absence of drunks, even in the centre of the city.

I mean, people drink but they don’t (seem) to get drunk and, in particular contrast to the UK, for example, when drunk, they don’t become agressive. Nor do they become so drunk that they are throwing up all over the place or going to sleep (?) in the gutter, etc.

Of course, that was then. This is now. And things have changed.

Maybe you can blame it on those alcopops – made to look and taste like soft drinks. Or maybe it’s youth unemployment. I don’t know. Anyway, now it is said to be a problem, this drinking to excess, at least for young people.

So they say.

And, while looking for some information for a colleague, I saw this on the CiaoMilano (tourist) website:

Be careful: starting July 18 2009 teenage drinking is prohibited all across town and anyone who supplies youths under the age of 16 with alcohol – either wine or spirits – will face punishment.
The Milan City Council was among the first to introduce a regulation of this kind in Italy.

Whether you agree or disagree – at CiaoMilano quite frankly we find it a little over the top – please keep in mind that a fine of up to €450 will be imposed on the parents of offending children and on shopkeepers or bar owners who serve them.

I didn’t even know! Not that I hang around with those under the age of 16 (or those under the age of 30, much) – but, still, I haven’t seen signs or anything in any bars or restaurants.

And I used to think (well, I still do) that teaching kids to drink in moderation – at dinner or lunch – was a good thing. F still often has water in his wine – a way of introducing kids to wine – not making it such a big deal, like it was in the UK.

However, it seems like there’s another bit of Italian “culture” going down the drain. I’m really not sure it’s a good thing.

Add water and wait a few days. Surely it can’t be THAT much different?

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The shock! The horror!

I sat down to lunch. Someone had seen, on an Italian news programme – Strichia La Notizia (which, apparently is very famous) – that the English can buy Wine Brewing Kits.

I was asked if this was true.

And, of course, I replied that it was and that’s it’s been around for years.

The Italians were horrified.

“It can’t be true!

“It would taste horrible!

“It’s simply not possible!”

The consternation this caused was mixed with some humour at the very idea of producing wine ‘from a box’. The idea that the taste could be anything other than vinegar – if, even, that good.

I further explained that, when I was a kid, my father used to brew Dandelion wine (and a few others, I seem to remember). Again, this was treated with some derision.

I CAN understand this – in a country where even the smallest patch of ground can be used for grapes and wine can be cheaper than water. However, their shock (and, frankly, disgust) at this was a little over the top.

As I tried to explain when someone said that you needed to use grapes and go through a fermentation process – but why not, at some point during that fermentation or before, extract the water from it and then, later, you can reconstitute it by adding the water back?

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not rushing to buy a kit just to prove to Italians that it can be good but I did suggest to one colleague that, the next time he goes to the UK, he should buy a kit and then, after he’s made it, do a blind tasting with his family.

Even he liked the idea of this.

And I do admit that getting a home brew kit for, say Chianti or Primitivo and bringing a bottle to work for colleagues to give their opinion (without knowing it was from a kit) would be kind of fun.

Especially if some of them (or even one of them) were to quite like it.

How would they EVER live that down? :-D

Bloody normal

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It’s not really unusual in itself – it was just more than usual last night.

F is away and, whenever he’s away I seem to have a bad night.

Last night it took me aaaaaaaaaaaaggggeeeeeeeeeees to get to sleep. I went to bed about 10.30 but probably went to sleep about midnight.

And, at 3 I was wide awake!

I got up, had a drink and a few cigarettes and, about 5, went back to bed.

But I didn’t sleep and got up about 5.30.

Of course, now, as I write this, I could sleep forever.

When I walk, my legs feel like tree trunks – big and heavy. My eyes are gritty and sore. My slight headache has gone (thank goodness) but I know that everything will be a real struggle today.

I feel, in a word, like crap.

I hope nobody crosses me today. My temper will be short.

Bah!

p.s. and the weather is crap too. Colder and rainy and miserable – (I suppose it is September) – which does not help my mood at all!