Tag Archives: Holiday

Rufus goes on holiday

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Rufus_goes_on_holiday

There with his little bag packed.  Will he miss us, do you think?

Actually, the bag was a plastic carrier bag from Unes.  Filled with the food bowl, the water bowl (actually a plastic sandwich box – to give that to Dino would mean that it would be chewed, I think) and enough food for a week.

The idea was, because of the heat and the fact that, when it was really hot, he did suffer a bit, he would go for a few days to N’s, who is on her own right now and has a portable air-conditioning unit, so that he would, perhaps, be more comfortable – and to give him a few days break from Dino.

Although, maybe, also, to give N some company and so she would go walking in the park, etc., etc.  Not sure who it’s for really.  As the weather has broken, maybe more for N than Rufus?

As it would be too difficult to leave Dino in the house whilst taking Rufus over, I take them both.  Dino now happy to go in the car.  Dino is a ‘licker’, licking everything – it’s like we would shake hands or give a kiss – he has to taste everything.  I’m not sure how I get him out of that habit as not everyone likes it.  I’ve never had this so much with dogs before.  Hmm.

Anyway, we get over to the flat.  Dino, as a puppy, wants to go everywhere, Rufus just lies down and goes to sleep, as normal.

We have pizza and then go and meet some ex-pats who are trying to sort out their move to Italy, for an ice-cream, taking the boys with us.

Dino and I leave Rufus in his new, temporary home.  Rufus won’t miss us at all.  I was intrigued as to how Dino would be without Rufus.  We arrive back and he is the same as always except, perhaps, a little quieter, which is no bad thing.  It doesn’t seem to bother him though.  It was certainly quicker doing the walk this morning.

Soon, given Rufus’ age, this is how it will be.  Then I will have to make more of an effort to ensure we go walking when and where other dogs are about as, normally, at the times I take them out, we rarely see any and Dino will need some ‘dog stimulation’ for certain.

I’m sure N and Rufus will have a great time.

On holiday in a different city.

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The street is long and straight. I pass the local café, the sun is shining and it’s quite warm. I pass the small supermarket – the same as the one I used to use a lot, but tiny. I pass a Tuscan restaurant that must be new. I stop to look at the menu. Maybe I’ll try it some time. As usual, Tuscan restaurants are more expensive than most Italian restaurants.

A store owner/manager is in the doorway of his shop, having a cigarette and comments on how pretty the dogs are. He talks to a woman that he obviously knows, about how nice they are. Of course, it is the first time they have seen them. I walk on, past the dry cleaners, the card shop (which, as usual, sells children’s toys and tat).

I look at everything with a different view. This is like a small community. It seems that many people know each other. It seems like a small town.

I am, in fact, in the street that is parallel to the street on which I used to live. I know this street (or, rather, I thought I knew this street). It is the Perfect Street. Except, I never used to stroll down here on a daily basis. And now it is different. It is The Perfect Street – but it is completely different from how it was. I am on a street that is one street away from where I lived (one block for my American readers) and, yet, it feels as if I am in a completely different city. It is all new; the people are new; no one has seen the dogs before; the shops are small and the whole thing has this “village” feel. How could I not know this before?

But, not only am I in a different city, I am also on holiday.

n the past, you would go on holiday to a small cottage or caravan. Everything would be as it was in your house, except smaller. The fridge was smaller: the cooker had two or three rings and was tiny: even the sink was cute. Of course, you couldn’t live there for long and it was always great to get back home with the “full-sized” stuff.

Well, it’s not quite like that but, compared to the last place, it is kinda small – cute, one might say – and so, with it feeling like a different city when I step out of the door and the feeling of being in some sort of holiday cottage, it does feel a bit like actually being on holiday somewhere.

My only concern is – once the holiday feeling has worn off in a few weeks, will I still like living here?

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.

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As my first post of the New Year, I should, perhaps, be wishing all my readers a very Happy New Year.

And, for those of you in the UK, suffering the very low temperatures, I should say that, although our temperatures are around freezing, we have had snow. And snow like I never saw in the UK.

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Gift Wrapping – is not always for gifts!

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After a slightly heavy post yesterday I thought it was time to lighten up a bit and also post something about one of the differences between here and there.

I was struck by this, taking Rufus and Dino out for walk yesterday, late afternoon.

There was a smartly dressed couple, obviously on their way to friends or relations for dinner or a party or something. Here it is Santo Stefano day and, similar to the UK, a public holiday except that they do not start their sales (that has a date set by the government sometime later in January) and nearly all the shops are shut (except for the Chinese ones around Paolo Sarpi, much to N&S’s delight).

Anyway, this couple were each carrying, like a tray, a beautifully wrapped parcel, with ribbons, etc. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought it was a present. But I do know better, and they weren’t presents at all.

They would, in fact, be one of two things. Either a tray of hand-made chocolates or a tray of small cakes. We have the gelateria just below us who sell less ice-cream at this time of year (although they still sell some, which amazes me every time I see it) and, so, have gone into the business of turning half their shop into a hand-made chocolate shop, which they make on the premises. Imagine, if you will, Thornton’s (if they still exist in the UK) but these shops are, generally, not a chain and the one below us certainly isn’t.

We went to a party on Christmas Eve (it started at 10 p.m) and when I asked what to bring, I was told some sweets. So I duly went to the gelateria below and chose my tray of chocolates, selecting eight of each type which she carefully arranged in rows on the tray.

Now, cast your mind back to “Love Actually” and, in particular to the scene in Selfridges or wherever with Rowan Atkinson where Alan Rickman is trying to buy a gift for the girl in the office whilst his wife is in the same store and, having selected the gift, wants to just pay for it, whilst RA spends the next 20 minutes gift wrapping it.

That’s, more or less, how it is here. I spent 10 minutes selecting the chocolates and the girl then spent at least 10 minutes gift wrapping it, even putting a small Christmas tree decoration to add the festive touch. They also do that for nearly anything (pens, scarves, etc., etc.), at any time of year, if you tell them that it will be a gift (regalo).

It is one of the nicest touches here but don’t be in a great rush when you are shopping for gifts (or chocolates or small cakes) as it can make the whole process twice as long.

But the finished product, when you hand it over to your host really is so much nicer and so much better than a bag of sweets or a box or whatever as they are always so beautifully done.

If you come to Italy, you should, at some point, buy something and tell them it is for a gift just to get the nice packaging. And be prepared to wait. It’s worth it.

Just thought you should know…….

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The thermometer on the balcony, in the shade, says it’s currently 38 degrees. Wow, Yes!

I shall be away for a few days next week. Another fabulous trip to the delights of Wolverhampton, via Bristol airport. Oh joy. Guess I will have to dig out some of my winter stuff. :-P

Whilst I am away, given the hours that V is working, I expect the remaining live plants on the balcony will be dead and that Dino’s toilet training will suffer a large setback. By the way, Dino is now almost the same size as Rufus, shoulder to shoulder. Scary, considering he’s only coming up to five months old!

And next week is the final week before our (where I work, that is, not a holiday with V, of course, since that’s what we won’t be having) 2 week holiday. Which also means it’s only 11 days until S is here, with the kids. Yay. Although, notoriously, the weather breaks around the 15th (Ferragosta). I’m just hoping that this year is an exception. I mean we don’t need 38 degrees to be sitting at a café but the high 20s/low 30s and no rain would be good.

Hunger!

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Now, of course, I’m feeling hungry. At the moment, as I write this (it’s 2.15 p.m.), my mind flicks over between a nice panini (of course, I should correctly say panino since I am only thinking about one…..no, come to think of it, my mistake was putting the word ‘a’ in front of nice panini) to a plate of pasta. And then, A, bless her, has suggested we meet with her and another friend, B, for a Thai next week (and by that I mean, of course, dinner in a Thai restaurant – not some random person from the Thailand).

Of course, this is entirely all of my own doing – me feeling hungry, that is. I have noticed that, in the last few years a number of things are happening. None of them are really good but I put a brave face on them by saying something like ‘well, I am quite old now’ or ‘at my age why should I bother about that’.

I lie, not only to myself, but also to others, including V but V never reads the blog so I can mention it here.

So, I am not eating anything for lunch. Now, those of you who know me and, in particular, have worked with me, will know that I never really ‘did’ lunch. Lunch was for wimps. Actually, so was breakfast. The only time I ever did lunch was when I had to for business purposes and the only time I did both was when I was on holiday or stayed in a hotel for business purposes.

Not a new thing. I started this at the age of 14 (so more than a couple of years ago). You see, by that time I was hooked on the smoking thing. And, at 14, we moved to a new house and so, to a new school. The fantastic thing about this school was that, at the start of each week, we were given money to purchase tickets for lunch (we used to call it dinner money – strange that, since it was for lunch and not dinner).

But, of course, I soon learned that if I didn’t use the money for dinner I could go into the town and buy something that I really wanted – so that would be cigarettes, then!

And that continued for the rest of my life until …. we came to Italy and, more specifically, when I started this job. The problem was that I used to teach here. I used to do a class in the morning and another after lunch and they gave me free lunch and, since most of my classes seemed to revolve around food (important for both me and every Italian), the offer of a free lunch in the canteen here was really not something I could (or could be seen to) pass up. The other problem is that, on some level, it is still like I’m on holiday – but all the time.

And now I work here. And the canteen is good. It’s not a five-star restaurant, but G (the cook) does fabulous meals.

So, I always have the pasta course and the main course.

And there’s the rub. Because then I go home and we have a meal similar to those we had in the UK (in terms of the amount, not the quality).

Unsurprisingly, I have gained a little weight. Well, that’s true up to a certain point. Not only have I gained a little weight but it seems my body has decided to redistribute itself. Weight (fat or muscle, it’s difficult to remember what it was really) from my top half is going with gravity whilst weight from my bottom half is defying gravity.

They are meeting in the middle. Not really very good. This wasn’t supposed to happen until I was, say, about 70! And others can say that I don’t look my age, but when I look at myself and the redistribution that has occurred, I think only of my grandfather who is (was) always in his 70’s – in my mind. He had the same problem – but, then, he was 70+, for God’s sake!

So, now, I’ve gone from not having lunch (well, hardly ever) to having lunch every day to not having lunch every day. Providing that I don’t go anywhere near the canteen and cannot smell the food cooking, I am fine (more or less).

This week I have done really well. I had lunch on Wednesday. This was a determined effort by me since last week I ended up having lunch every day – and my stomach didn’t shrink. So, this week only Wednesday. To be honest, Monday was easy, Tuesday less so and Wednesday I gave in.

S came back from lunch and said that the lunch was OK (actually, Friday is not my favourite day, the choice is not so good) and I felt rather proud of myself that I had only had one lunch this week. And then that made me think of food and then I felt hungry. Oh yes, and I can’t get rid of the pictures of the very nice salami that is currently in the fridge and I even started thinking about having lunch tomorrow by having some of that salami!

People here have suggested that I only have one course in the canteen or have a salad. But I just can’t do it. G and P are so nice and although I have managed to get them to give me less, it is impossible for me to say no.

And this has been the most dreadful, rambling blog post that I think I have ever done. For which I apologise.

P.s. as I’m posting this, S has just offered me a small piece of chocolate, which, to be polite, I did not refuse ;-).

Dreaming in a Dreamworld; Last few days.

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Does anyone else feel that they’re in some sort of dream? It’s how I feel quite often. Like this morning. Driving to work, our first day back, felt somewhat surreal. I am constantly amazed that I get in the car and, well, just drive the thing. I don’t have an accident; nothing happens; I just drive.

And that got me to thinking: Living here often feels like some sort of dream. I almost expect to wake up soon.

But, is it normal? I never really felt like this when I was in the UK. Perhaps it’s just because I live here?

New Year was another ‘dream-like’ situation. We went to friends for a very, very nice dinner. Plenty of wine; good food; good company. We decided not to go to the Castle in Milan to see the fireworks; it was far too cold. But at midnight, we went outside (careful to avoid the fireworks being thrown from balconies) and lit our own fireworks. A group of kids lit theirs. Fireworks going off everywhere. Then we went back inside to more wine and more conversation. All in all, a perfect New Year. I have never enjoyed the New Year so much as since we moved here. Every single one I remember well and have enjoyed so much.

Yesterday evening we were at some friends’ house for drinks and, again, had a very pleasant evening

But now it’s back to work and the normal stuff. However, I can come back to work bright and happy after a wonderful Christmas and New Year and looking forward to this year when so many special events will be happening*.

So Happy New Year. I hope many good things happen for you during 2008.

Update: * Little did I know what those Special events would, actually, be!  They certainly weren’t the ones I thought would be happening!

Christmas Cards; White Lights; St Ambrose

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We have started to receive Christmas cards, which is really nice. First, as always, we had one from R who is now living in New Zealand. But also from M & B who are on their way to Vancouver for Christmas and New Year and also one from B and L and about whom I feel very guilty since they don’t have computers and I should really write to them more often.

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