Well, not quite. In fact, not really at all but, I suppose, it’s better than nothing.
Ansa has the details (in English)
In fact, it’s “a measure of formal recognition” in “local law” only. But, it is ‘in’ Italy (even if not the whole of it) and it does give some form of recognition.
Welcome to the 21st Century 
Note: I wrote part of this on the train, on my way to the Mantova Festivaletteratura. 6th September. The rest is from memory.
It’s 8.15. I’m on the train. I have butterflies in my stomach, partly because I am always like this when using public transport and partly because, since last night, I have been quite excited about going to the Festival.
It is far too early to be up on a holiday but I decided, this year, to take the train rather than drive. It means I don’t have to worry about drinking, the traffic, parking, etc. But also, I think, it is much cheaper, even if I am travelling 1st class against motorway tolls and petrol.
So I sit in leather seats, in comfort, with room to move around and can relax.
As I write, we have left, exactly on time. The rail service, here, is really very good. And 1st class is worth the 5€ extra.
The countryside is not really beautiful, to me. We are in the Lombardy plain, there are no hills. The flat fields to either side are full of ready-to-harvest rice – which plants look similar to sweet corn (maize to Americans, maiz to Italians), like dead stalks rather than food, or just-harvested fields with the few inches of dried stalks left.
Occasionally we pass buildings. Old, abandoned buildings – except they aren’t really abandoned. There are telltale signs – window shutters open, a car parked outside, washing hanging from the window.
Or small villages or towns, clustered houses which end abruptly to fields of sweet corn or rice or hay.
We pass through a station called Pizzaghettone (or something like that) and then, immediately over the river Po, I assume, the other side of which is a small village – which reminds me of Crespi d’Adda – a factory (still operating) with purpose-built houses and blocks of flats nearby. I must check it out sometime.
There are points on the line where the rail is single track. the train slows and passes through wooded areas. It looks so beautiful as the early morning sunlight shines through so it is not gloomy. We could be anywhere.
We arrive, on time.
This is, in fact, the first time I have come to Mantova by train and, if I am on my own, it is certainly something to consider next time.
I walk from the station through to the centre and the Festival office. I arrive at the square near to Piazza del Erbe. There is a café there that sells some special Mantovan pastry. I stop and sit at a table. In any case, I need coffee. It is hot and perfect.
The waitress comes and I try to get what I want but, either they have run out or they don’t sell it any more. I have coffee with a doughnut. It’s not brilliant but it’s OK.
I walk round to the office. It’s the first day of the festival but there are plenty of people around. I go into the office. They have changed things around a bit. I look for Marella but can’t see her. I see Sara and the guy from Sweden or Norway or somewhere of whom, to my disgust, I can never remember his name. He’s such a nice guy too. But I am crap with names. Sara explains that Marella is not feeling well. I am disappointed because I usually spend 10 minutes chatting to her and it’s always a nice start. However, Sara sorts me out, including which events to see. I have all day and only three events so plenty of time for sitting, relaxing, drinking and eating.
So, I leave the busy office, not wanting to be a burden, knowing, having worked at the Hay Festival, that you really don’t want people just hanging about. There is work to do, after all.
I make my way up to Piazza Sordello and one of the outside cafés. I sit and, even if it is about 11 a.m., I will have a beer
Except the waiter ignores me. And I read about my first event. I check the time – it starts in less than 15 minutes. I abandon my idea of a beer and get up and walk towards the location. As I near the place, I pass another cafée and decide that I will have that beer after all.
I sit outside and order. I have 10 minutes. It’s enough time.
As I drink my beer, a ‘minder’ comes with two people. Americans. Since the couple have a minder, he or she must be an author or, at least, speaker. I look at him but don’t have any idea who he is. The minder is obviously bored with them or cannot find things to say. She checks her phone. I contemplate the idea of talking to him (for his partner has gone across the street to take photos) but don’t. After all, I don’t actually know who he is and just because I speak almost the same language, doesn’t mean I have to speak to him. Indeed, just because you’re gay doesn’t mean I will like you – in fact, I don’t really have many gay friends – I find I have little in common.
I suddenly realise I am going to be late and finish my beer, pay at the counter and go to the event. It is called Translation Slam. It may have been wonderful if it had been an English author but, unfortunately, the author was Spanish – so although I understood some of the Italian, the whole thing was quite difficult to follow.
After this, it was time for lunch. Lunch, of course, had to be Griffone Bianco (see link on right). I wandered up to Piazza Erbe. I could see some of the old buildings fenced off – the earthquake near Modena affected Mantova too – but none of them seemed to have fallen down – just a few bricks or slates having fallen to the ground.
As I walked up to the restaurant, I saw Peter, sitting on his own. I went to say hello and he invited me to join him, even if he was already on desert. I had a very pleasant lunch time and we chatted and ate and drank (although he only drank water) and it took about two and a half hours.
The next event was just after 3. Steven Greenblatt. It was OK and, obviously, all his bits were in English which helps a lot
On my way back to the office, I passed a shop which sold belts (amongst other things) and called in and bought a belt which I had needed for ages. Then I went to the office to enquire about Marella. Apparently she was going to come in later. But then I was off to my next event. It was Peter interviewing Aiden chambers – so all in English (with translations for the Italian audience. Mr Chmabers did seem quite a crazy guy (in what he thought) but it was interesting none the less.
During the event, Marella texted me to ask how it was going, were there many people, etc. There were a lot of people – almost full and I thought it went very well – the audience seemed to appreciate it.
Then, as Marella was now in the office, I went down to see her. Whilst waiting for her, Peter arrived and she grabbed him to ask if he would go to dinner with some important people of the Festival. Then she asked if I could come too. Is said I could for about half an hour as I had to catch a train. She said that was fine.
We got a taxi and ended up at the ‘staff canteen’. Mantova has an enormous number of volunteers – mostly kids from schools and universities and the one thing that Mantova does well is look after them. They have a huge canteen serving food all day and evening. I found it amusing that we were going to dinner there – what with such important people in Mantova!
We followed Marella into the ‘authors & special people’ dining room – away from the hordes of kids (thank goodness). There were about 10 very large, round tables, with tableclothes on. We were introduced to these people (a couple – the woman of which I had seen at Peter’s gig). Then we got food from where they were serving and sat down.
Considering these people had really wanted Peter to come, they hardly spoke to him which both Peter and I found quite strange. In fact, the guy spoke more to me – about the dogs, as it happens.
And, finally, Marella and I got a few moments to talk when I promised to try and bring F (and, maybe, the dogs) there next year. Well, he’s met Lola now and likes both her and G, so I’m on a roll right now!
Of course, because the time was short, I completely forgot to ask about Marella’s daughter – which I felt terrible about afterwards.
I left quite soon and walked to the station. I arrived with a few minutes to spare and got on the train. It left on time but, unfortunately, there was a delay on the way back (another train in front had some problems) and so I didn’t get into Milan until 11.30.
But, I thought as I caught the tram back – here (as opposed to Hay), I can wear my sandals all day and night – and that makes everything so much more pleasant.
However, I had a super day and was so glad that Marella (even though slightly sickly) was able to come. I’m sure that, without her (sorry Sara), the festival wouldn’t actually be quite the same at all.
So, next year, I have to try and persuade F to take a day off and come – even if it is his busy time of year.
“Family are important”
He wanted me to blog that I had said that since he found it strange or funny or both. Not the sentiment, you understand, just that I had said it.
But, to understand the statement, you need to understand the background.
He has a girlfriend. Or a might-be girlfriend. Or a maybe girlfriend. In any case, they’ve spent some time together.
“Have you met her parents yet?,” I ask.
Of course not. Relationships, for some people, go at snails pace. I know that, but I like to ask these things. Like I liked to ask “Have you kissed her yet?”
Please note that I didn’t ask for intimate details. I really don’t want to know about others’ sex life. A) it’s not my business and B) it is better not to be put into a position of imagining it all. I really don’t want to know. But, on the basis that, once, I was told about a girl with whom he had ‘had lunch’ several times and who was a ‘serious contender’ for the title of ‘Mother of my children’ – but who, with further questioning turned out to not know she was in the running for ‘mother of my children’ title and, in fact, had absolutely no idea that he was even interested in her, I like to ask questions to try to determine the ‘real’ state of things.
For your interest, the answers were 1. No and 2. Yes.
The ‘No’ was because ‘it’s complicated’. Complicated by the fact that the mother is a friend of a cousin and, therefore, word would spread and then ‘Mother’ would be involved and he doesn’t want interference.
I can only imagine.
But I justified my question by stating that ‘Family is important’.
After all, if she is to win the competition for ‘Mother of my children’, you need to know that a) you LIKE the family and b) that the family LIKE you.
He did make a valid point of the fact that this would be impossible for a partner of mine.
But to counter that I would say that, even if I could have children with my partner, my family would never know, let alone be involved. And, in any event, my family wouldn’t like my partner on the basis that he would be a man.
So the correct statement should be that ‘Family are important – as long as it’s not mine’.
Anyway, it seems like the competition for ‘Mother of my children’ is moving forward.
Of course, to me, every new one is a winner. That’s because I only get the barest of information about them and I only get that after asking A LOT of questions, since information is NOT forthcoming. It would, indeed, be easier to get blood from a stone.
And, sometimes I get a bit frustrated. Hence the question ‘Have you kissed her yet?’ And, anyway, asking a question like that gets a real response – at least non-verbal, which can sometimes say more than a verbal response.
I guess I’m quite wicked sometimes
The pinetta is an area, only a little way from the sea, that is a planting of pine trees. These trees, with their topmost branches, create a cathedral roof-like canopy which, whilst not creating dark, create shade. In fact, separated by roads and streets, it stretches along the whole of Marina di Cararra.
The wonderful thing about these areas is that they stay much cooler than outside them and, as a result, during the day, are full of people (mainly the elderly) socialising in a very pleasant environment. Quite shady and definitely cooler by some degrees.
In one, the most southern one, there is a dog area. A large dog area that is well fenced and cool and looked after by locals so that it is clean (of shit) although there is little grass (on account of the trees) and almost all dirt. I say dirt rather than earth as the top layer is like dust..
We go there most mornings and evenings. Dino loves it because it is large enough to throw sticks or pine cones that he can fetch; Piero loves it because it is full of other dogs, some of whom he loves to play with – playing until he is completely exhausted.
After the pinetta, we usually take a walk into the town and then back to the car. Sometimes, if we have time, we go back to the pinetta a second time. In any event, Piero always wants to go back to the pinetta and I have said to F that I am sure Piero would happily live there.
Of course, during ‘play’, he goes for the feet. Other dogs do the same, so I guess it’s normal.
With one of the dogs he plays with, Sofia, he has this thing about her tail and, when he is chasing her, he grabs at her tail and holds it until she stops, turning back on him to bite him back, as young dogs do when they play.
Today he found ears. Not only with Sofia but with one or two others as well. The beauty of ears is that once you have one of them in your mouth, your opponent can do little about it to stop you.
He’s a little bugger, really
Of course, I may be wrong.
Last night, I got home from the beach about 6.30. Almost immediately, I knew there was ‘something’. Piero had been chewing the newspaper I had left on the floor for him to pee and pooh on (not that he seems to need it). I have a theory about the chewing of newspaper – he only does it after he has been ‘disturbed’.
I went into the kitchen to have some milk as I am wont to do in this hot weather and noticed that the rubbish bag for plastic was not where I had left it. In fact, it was nowhere to be found. But when I opened the fridge I saw a bag had been left for me with food. Also the normal bin had been emptied. F’s mum had been in.
Yesterday, at the beach, F’s niece and boyfriend had come to the beach about lunchtime. I was eating my lunch – an ice-cream. I told them this and they laughed as I expected.
Today, she comes again and this time comes with a small tub of diced water melon for me. And she has tried to ring the vet.
I think they are all trying to look after me. And, I suspect, that F has something to do with this!
It’s kinda sweet, really, even if I don’t really NEED looking after. Still, we are in Italy and children stay children forever and, as I am F’s partner, I guess I qualify as a kind of surrogate child. Bless them.
20 – 22/8
The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield.
Books, to me, are like films. Films that last a few days rather than a couple of hours.
With both films and books, I “lose” myself whilst I become involved, encapsulated into the story. I love both but, with exception of some films, books provide a greater satisfaction. Except, I do like a more “open” ending.
I really don’t want a book to “finish”. And they lived happy ever after is not for me. I want a book that is like a dream or a nightmare where the end is left hanging so that I can decide, based on my mood, what should happen next.
So, I start this latest book and find it is (at the moment) about reading. About the joys of reading. About the smells and the requirements for good books.
And I wonder why I was never really involved in “books” at some level.
The book was good but, given the ending, I think that, probably, I am in the minority when it comes to ending. It seems most people like to have the ends tied up with a neat bow.
Although the ending to this one (with one small exception) was not really ‘happy ever after’ and so it scraped through into the reasonable catalogue, in my brain.
Now I have started Visibility by Boris Starling.
So that’ll be book 6 then. In fact, as F is not here, I took book 5 home and finished it last night. After all, I wasn’t going anywhere and, after dinner, it’s nice to read with a glass of wine. The only problem is, now, that dusk falls too early and I had to finish reading indoors – even if it was really to hot to be inside!
Interestingly because here, in Italy, it seems twins are everywhere (I have NEVER seen so many twins as here), both books 5 and 6 include twins.
Maybe more on that later.
You would think that, at some point in your life, you would grow up. I wonder what it takes? I wonder what it is for others to be “grown up”?
I am not incapable and, as an adult of some advanced years, I can DO things. It’s not as if I’m helpless.
And yet ……
I dropped him at the station. We were early. Of course we were early. For he is worse than me when it comes to public transport.
“I will wait with you”, I had said.
But no, it was not necessary.
“But I can help you with your suitcase. Lift it onto the train for you. With your bad back, it will be better.”
“And who will help me in Milan”, he said, dismissing my argument.
I tried to suggest that, by me helping here and after over 3 hours relaxing on the train, he would, maybe, have a better back. But it came out mumbled and wrong. I was incoherent putting my clear thoughts into words that he would understand.
I offered to stay a few more times but he was having none of it. And my arguments were weak.
He stopped the car and got out, opening the boot. I got out and got his suitcase out.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to wait with you?”, I asked.
No, I should get back and go to the beach. There was, apparently, no reason for me to stay.
“I would wait with you because I love you”.
There, finally said. The only reason. He kisses me on the lips.
And then he walks away.
And every time he’s not there leaves a hole as if I’m not quite whole without him.
I drive back and, suddenly, everything I do in this strange and foreign land is a battle, something where I must force myself into action.
When I get back home, Dino looks past me as I open the door. Looks past me to F, who isn’t there. It’s as if I’m not quite good enough, as if it’s all not quite complete. Which, of course, it isn’t. And Dino knows that well enough.
I come to the beach. People greet me as I come or, later, as I’m sitting here, reading my book or typing this, as they come.
But it’s not the same.
Tonight I have some leftovers from our lunch at his Mum and Dad’s (our first meal there this holiday – but that’s another post) and I have wine and the dogs.
He has suggested that I take a walk to the centre of the town (and, yet, here it’s not a town – more like a really large village or a suburb – even if there’s a castle tower in the centre) with the dogs, like we often do, and buy an ice-cream and take them for a while in the newly discovered and rather nice dog area.
But these things frighten me. Not so that I won’t do it but enough to make it doubtful. For there I will have to interact and I don’t have his charm or style. Or language, of course.
If I were about 5, I am sure I would wail and howl with this feeling of abandonment, with this feeling of being so alone.
But that’s quite stupid, as I well know. I can get by. I can walk the dogs this evening and get and ice-cream. But it all takes such an effort and such resolve by me to do even the simplest thing.
Without him.
And yet ……
I am not a child.
My forecast says that, in about an hour, it will be 35 degrees C but it will feel like 41!
In fact, I suspect it is more since, this morning, on our way to Pietrasanta to meet Lola and G, many of the displays outside chemists were already suggesting it to be 34 degrees.
For certain, it is VERY hot but, whichever way you look at it, it’s much, much better than being cold – well, unless you are F, of course.
I have forced the dogs to come outside in the garden. They weren’t keen to leave the house – which is the first time I can remember. But it is equally cool (or, rather, slightly less hot) at the back of the house, which remains in shade all day. There is the chance of a small breeze outside, from time to time.
And it is peaceful.
And, I am British, so outside when the weather is nice is a “must” – which, to be honest, is not Italian.
We had a nice (though smallish) lunch in Pietrasanta with Lola and G and the dogs.
Lola is getting a new dog tomorrow so is very excited. And, in September/October, we shall go to their place so the puppies can play in their garden – which will be lovely. I would tell you the type of dog but can’t as I have been sworn to secrecy by G. However, it’s a fantastic dog and I think Lola will be very happy even if it’s not going to be like Duick.
Now I am alone with the dogs whilst F goes to get his hair cut.
It’s perfect weather for a nice glass of cold wine or beer so, once I’ve posted that, I think I will be drinking just that.
Enjoy your weekend.
I don’t suppose I’ve ever mentioned before but this place reeks of marble. This is, so I am told, the place for it. It is mined (or is it cut) from the mountains that sit behind me – me being on the beach, looking out to sea.
Apparently, this place (of which I had never heard before I came here with F) is famous, if not infamous, for it’s marble and. In particular, it’s white marble.
Various famous people have come here to pick their own marble for their kitchen or whatever. There are big yards, near where F has his house where there are huge, almost square blocks of the stuff, where they also cut it into huge flat sheets. Yesterday I saw some people who were being shown round one of these yards, obviously choosing the block or sheets they wanted.
The marble, since Roman times, was hauled down the mountainside, to the sea front where it has been shipped all over the world.
As one would expect, with marble being such a big thing here, marble is used in some of the strangest of places.
I mean, there are the usual, expected sculptures and monuments. At every roundabout, variously placed outside public buildings, in squares and one, of what looks like a baby polar bear, outside the school.
Some are modern, like one with waves with hands and heads sticking out – I guess to remember those lost at sea, some old and rather forgotten like the one of a dog, about 5 feet tall.
Then marble is used on houses that, elsewhere, would be unthinkable. Like, for instance, the base of houses, up to the damp course. And for tables and instead of skirting boards.
Then there’s the street. The pavements are not paved with gold but often marble. And, for me, the most extravagant thing is its use for kerb stones.
This is certainly a place for marble and mostly white marble. And it gives the place a rather opulent feel.
Today, as it was cloudy, was the day for bau bau beach.
Bau bau is what young kids get told are dogs, much like we say ‘doggy’. Bau bau is also the Italian for woof woof or bow bow, being the noise a dog makes when it barks.
We took them to the pinetta first so that they would be tired. They were definitely tired – just not tired enough, it seems.
Actually, bau bau beach is one of the free beaches – i.e. one doesn’t have to pay. But you don’t get any facilities – like a bar, tables, a cabin, loungers or umbrellas.
Except, for €15 per season, you can use one of the loungers and one umbrella (that you must put up yourself).
Unlike a normal free beach, however, on this one you can take dogs.
It was Piero’s first time. He wasn’t keen on the water but, as it was the only way to get to some other dogs, he went in.
Dino wouldn’t go in further than his belly – until we threw a stick in. Then he went to retrieve it. Dino’ hair is short now so getting wet made no difference. Piero has never had his hair cut so when he got wet, he looked so skinny and drowned!
We did the paddling/swimming thing a few times and then went to sit under our umbrella for a bit. Piero found his voice. He wanted to be with a couple of border collies that were playing on the shore and, sometimes, swimming in to retrieve a ball that was thrown out for them. Piero didn’t like not being part of it so barked – a LOT!
But it was good fun for a few hours.
Then we took them to the pinetta again and then had breakfast (it being nearly 12.30). After doing some supermarket shopping we tidied up the garden a bit.
F is now having a bath, after which is dinner – stuffed tomatoes, watermelon and fruit salad.
Today was the dogs’ day. They are exhausted. And so am I!