Tag Archives: Milan

Back to the grind; a little lopsided

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Well, finally, I’m on my way! Yessssssss!

I met my first student yesterday. Very sweet and, I think, it will be a lot of fun. Then, I was telling FfI and it might be that she can put some work my way, which would be very cool.

And I did some things I have been putting off; tidying stuff in the house and sorting some things, so I feel like I really did something this weekend, which also makes me happy.

Now, tonight, I must start digging out the stuff I need to teach English and start doing the photocopies and stuff.

Saturday night, we went to a ‘new’ restaurant – Piero & Pia. We sat outside as it was warm but with a nice breeze. I had goose liver pate with some warm, sweet bread, followed by rack of lamb (and for once, here, in Italy, it was cooked right – pink) with roasted potatoes and then a thick, creamy rice pudding with a sprinkling of sultanas and a light dusting of coconut for sweet. It was all delicious. With wine and water it was something around €50 per head. Not outrageous but not cheap either!

The only problem was at the end. F insisted on paying for it all. It’s just that I really can’t afford it right now but I’m annoyed at myself for being in a position where we can’t go ‘dutch’. This is one of the reasons for going back to English teaching. It will just give me the spending money I need and, hopefully, will just give me that bit extra for our holidays. I know F can afford it (the occasional meal, etc.) but that’s not really the point.

Ah, well – soon it will be different :-)

The games of a relationship – part one – jealousy

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Relationships are bloody difficult, for everyone, it seems.

A, on a ‘break’ from Fr, and I went to this cocktail thing last night. The wine was good. The food was good. It was ‘finger food’, A’s new craze right now. He’s doing us Sunday lunch this weekend – which will be finger food.

Fr phoned him several times. He was annoyed.

“She shouldn’t be phoning me because we have agreed to meet at 9.15″, he moans to me. He doesn’t answer her calls.

As we’re walking away from the cocktail do to his car, he tries to phone her.

“She’s switched off her phone”, he moans further.

I ask where they were going to go. He says just ‘for a walking’ near to her place. I suggest that he goes to her flat anyway – the risk being that she doesn’t answer the door. I also suggest that he doesn’t say he was in the swimming-pool all the time as, if he gets to see her, she will smell the alcohol on his breath. I suggest, instead, that he blames me (as, anyway, she blames me for his drinking too much).

I tell him that he should stop playing games with her. Her phoning and he not answering. Then him phoning and she not having her phone on. He, of course, denies playing games, as, probably, would she. But, the reality is that, as in any other relationship, he (and her, probably) is playing a game. We all do it to a greater or lesser degree.

I don’t know whether he went round or not. I will email him now.

And then, this morning, S, my colleague, was upset. Upset because of her husband who she had seen, sitting at a café with other people. One of these people was a woman who, some time in the past, he may have had an affair with – perhaps – maybe. And she rang him and so they had a fight. So she wanted advice (but, as is normal, didn’t really want advice at all but to be told that what she planned was the right thing). She’s going to change her route because then she doesn’t see it – but, of course, that doesn’t mean it goes away. Her husband, of course, denies everything. She then spoke about, maybe, she should start going out with her friends. It’s more game. I suggested that she didn’t as going out with her friends meant that she would be doing it to try and make her husband jealous and if it didn’t work, then where would she be?

And so, interrupted by colleagues, she has been telling me the story over the last ‘x’ years. And why it all happened and asking what I thought. And I feel sorry for her as I do for A and I wish I could make it better for them but I can’t. But I did try to explain to her that I, too, have these feelings of jealousy – it’s just that I know what they are and I force myself to act in a proper way and not give in to them.

My example was this week. F texted me to say that he was going out with a friend. Of course, my immediate reaction is – who, what, why, where????? And what relationship do you have with them? Or have had with them?

I do none of that. I know that for what it is. And I prefer that he feels free enough to tell me this much. Later, on the phone, he said that he did not stay with them and went out for dinner on his own. It was complicated and he will explain it to me after; later; apparently.

And that’s OK. Maybe I will mention it or maybe not. In any event I have to explain the other night so that he knows I am not angry with him. Maybe it will come out then. Maybe I should explain that I have the feelings but don’t act on them. Maybe. Perhaps. Or not, of course.

A asked me when will we move in together. I said not now. Not yet. Maybe never. He didn’t understand. I said I would wait for F to decide. He thinks I’m crazy and that I should push. I know that I should not. When or if it is right, it will happen. F complains that his flat is too small. It will come – in time. There is time (or, at least, one has to hope for time). And, anyway, if there is no time, then there is little to be done about that.

In the meantime, I am, again, like a rabbit in car headlights. The fear of everything is causing me to freeze; to do nothing and, therefore, making everything far worse. However, today I did some stuff. And some stuff is better than the ‘nothing’ I had been doing until now.

At least, now, finally, the weather is more like summer. High twenties already and set to get higher with almost clear blue skies.

Even if my life is not perfect, I love it still. F returns tonight and I shall pick him up – he asks if the ‘babies’ will be there too. I say maybe. And, as he flies into Terminal 2, which is smaller, maybe I will take them. I know that Dino would love it. And so would F. And, as long as F and my dogs are happy, then that is all that matters.

And, whilst I may play some sort of game with our relationship, it’s not the one of A nor S nor their respective partners and I will not let the jealousy thing become the thing that controls me and takes me over. Each time it happens I will make it stop in my head.

It’s too nice a day to have problems like that.

Two “I can’t tell you”s in one post – only one of which is a secret!

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I shouldn’t have had those two kit-kats – but, then, I didn’t know he’d phone with that offer.

“I’ve been invited out for dinner with a friend”, he says.

“OK”, I reply. I mean, what am I supposed to say?

“Would you like to come?”, he asks. Well, sure but it was all a little strange, for reasons that I cannot explain; I don’t have the words to explain why it was strange and not because I cannot tell you because it is a secret or anything.

“Well, yes, sure. If I won’t be in the way”.

It turns out it is with Sa, a work colleague. And this was the invitation that had been promised to me some time ago. This is his (probably) favourite restaurant in Milan. Or, maybe, second favourite.

We walk from my house. It’s about 10 minutes. Sa, I have met before. She is lovely (even if she is German :-) ). She loves dogs – so that has to be good.

Al Grissino is not a restaurant, from the outside, that one would immediately associate with the good and great of Milan. An unprepossessing entrance in a street that, although surrounded by streets with the houses of Milan, is not that great. Not right in the centre of Milan either, it’s not one that you would ‘find’ as you were walking by – simply because it’s unlikely you would be walking by in the first place!

Inside it’s OK but nothing really special. No, here one goes for the food. And one pays the price for this food. I actually don’t know if there is meat on the menu. We dispensed with the menus. We decided on four antipastos. Three chosen by F & S and one chosen by the waiter. I preferred the one chosen by the waiter which was some clams with zucchini (courgettes). Each of the four, served one after another, were individually served on three plates. The wine was a jug of house wine with strawberries and raspberries thrown in!

Main course was some fish (again decided by the waiter) – the only stipulation being that it had carciofi (globe artichoke). Italians really like this stuff. For me it’s OK but, probably not having been brought up on it, it is not something I go crazy for.

The fish was cooked to perfection and was so nice. It was served with a few roast potatoes. The presentation of the main course was very nice.

For sweet, F had zabaione, Sa had tiramisù and I had meringue (more like ice-cream and meringue tart slices) with hot chocolate sauce – mine was the best, the chocolate sauce rich and thick – but all were damned good.

After sweet they served us some really nice amaretti biscuits with tiny choc bars – yes, as in ice-cream choc bars which I never seen before. They were wrapped wonderfully in that it was a complete surprise when you bit into them (even if they were, obviously, cold to touch).

Fantastic meal. It is a little expensive though, so not somewhere to go if you’re on a budget. It cost around €180 for the three of us.

Lovely though. It will be nice to go there from time to time, for certain. And, for reasons that I can’t explain (because it is a secret) we didn’t have to pay. My favourite way of dining :-)

Didn’t she almost have it all?

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When one has potential it always seems such a shame when the potential doesn’t materialise. Worse still, when it’s your own fault.

I’ve seen her before at, what I would say, was the peak of her career but actually near the beginning. For me the first two albums were the best and it was steadily downhill from there.

When I saw her I hated the fact that she acted like a diva. It seemed that 10 minutes of song were followed by 20 minutes of nothing – whilst she went off to get changed into yet another frock, whilst we were entertained (or, rather bored to tears) by some dancers or some music. She annoyed the hell out of me because we had tickets to see her and I wanted to hear her sing not see what pretty dresses she had in her wardrobe.

But, there was no doubt, the voice was tremendous, the songs superb (I just wanted there to be more of them).

But it was with some trepidation that I went last night to the Milan Forum at Assago to see her on her ‘come back’ tour.

I’d read some reviews (particularly those of Birmingham in the UK and some in Australia) and watched some clips on YouTube from the recent tour. Ah well, I thought, perhaps now that she’s been doing the tour for a while and got rid of the ‘bugs’, it will be a lot better.

But I wasn’t really too hopeful.

The first couple of songs were from the new album. I don’t know them. OK, so her voice didn’t seem perfect but it was OK, as far as I could tell. Then a couple more.

The voice cracked in places. The same sort of ‘crack’ that happens when a boy’s voice is changing. Then she seemed to beg. Begging to be liked is never a good thing and this is what it seemed like. During the whole thing references were made to the fact that she was only human, that she hoped that her voice would be OK. She said something about there being a cold draught from one side of the stage and that, as any Diva would tell you (which made me almost laugh out loud – her? A Diva??), was a difficult thing – comparing herself to Aretha Frankly and Dione Warwick! WTF?

Then she went off. We were ‘treated’ to her brother making some dreadful attempt to sing one of her songs. I hardly recognised it. There was some boring dancing. We waited.

She reappeared in some sparkling, golden, diva-style dress with a fur coat over the top (to stop the draught, I suppose). She looked old and fat – but fat because she was bloated not fat that comes to us all with age. She looked tired. She sweated a lot (and I mean A LOT).

And then she sang some songs. It was as if the almost acceptable woman had gone backstage and changed outfit but also changed into a different person. It was absolutely dreadful.

It sounded more like a really poor Ertha Kitt – at least Ertha could hold a tune!

OK so, the most well known song wasn’t as bad as the ones I had seen on YouTube but, still, the range has gone and the voice did crack in one place.

It was like watching a train wreck happening in slow motion. At one point, as she went to sit on a high chair, it seemed as if she was going to topple over backwards! She seemed older and, to be honest, it seemed as if she had had several lines of coke whilst she had been backstage.

There were occasional flashes of what she was. Some parts of some songs, filled with the emotional power she became famous for; held in tune.

But this was sad. I wouldn’t have been surprised to see her collapse on stage and to be told later that she had died. It was like everyone was there to see her very last performance.

The crowd went wild at many parts. But this was not because she was good. This was because of what she had been and the fact that they were fans. I am not a real fan. I could hear how dreadful it was. Quite a number of people started leaving before the end – maybe they had other reasons to leave.

I shook my head as I watched her; I squirmed inside for the sight of a once-great singer singing out-of tune; I felt sorry for her and for what she should have been but, now, would never be, even if she did ‘clean herself up’.

Towards the end was this one below – but by then it was apparent that she couldn’t sing any more. I prefer to remember her as she was. This song was the one that used to get me excited about going out – going out to a club and dancing – curbing my natural shyness.

Whitney Houston could have been great by now. Not, perhaps, in the same way as Barbara Streisand but great, nonetheless. Instead, it would have been better for her not to have performed. If I had paid the €180 it cost to sit in the first few rows, I would have been more than disappointed.

But it was sad to see and hear. And, in spite of the cheering and ovation, I wonder how many of these people would go back to see her again?

Such a shame. This song of hers seems to sum it up.

Update: Of course, within a couple of years she was dead and so, I saw her twice. I prefer to remember the first time.

Italian begging is different.

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There are a lot of beggars here, in Milan.

There are those whose ‘job’ it is, sitting on the pavements, hand outstretched, wanting money. Italians, down on their luck; people with deformities or missing or mis-shapen limbs – showing off those limbs like some circus freak show; ordinary people who want to cadge a cigarette from you.

And then, yesterday afternoon there was the guy asking me for a couple of euro for ice-cream!

I mean to say, I understand all the other people – but begging for ice-cream?????

Only in Italy, I’m sure.

Maybe it’s not what it seemed?

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It’s an up-market restaurant. I have described it before. Most of the men wore suits and normally with a tie, in spite of the weather outside being close to 30 degrees; the women wearing evening/cocktail dresses – often black since, in spite of fashion trends, ‘black’ will always be the new ‘black’.

F recognised someone who owned a shop near Jil Sander in Milan. The clientèle being of that calibre – wealthy! The tables are really too close together – and too many and the acoustics are terrible – not enough soft furnishings to quieten the noise from the diners. The place was full – you could say heaving.  And, yet …………

The food was divine. As a antipasto, I had three large pieces of octopus sunk into a bowl of purée but coloured with saffron – very hot; the octopus meaty and yet not tough, not chewy. The portion was more than generous. We knew it would be and, so, opted to skip the primo. For secondo I had manzo – entrecôte steak – cooked to perfection and as you cut it, like butter – as you eat it – the texture of properly done liver – so soft and nice. But the sweets – I had pastry tart filled with crema (like custard) and topped with wild strawberries which were so sweet; F had the same base but filled with a kind of thick chocolate cream (but really chocolatey) topped with pistachio – we had half and half of course and the chocolate desert was to die for.

Sure we (or rather, I, since it was my birthday) paid a hefty sum for this meal – not far from €200 – but it was worth it – the food being divine. And we talked. Not about anything in particular but, still, it was talking and laughing and having fun and it was lovely.

As we were there, ‘one’ table of about 6 people finished and the left. The waiters then split the table in two and on one there were three ‘business’ men and the other was a couple.

Well, I say ‘couple’. The man, probably in his 40s but looking older, ugly and very overweight, dressed in a dark grey suit sat opposite a guy who was, probably in his thirties. As a couple they looked very out of place. The younger guy looked so out of place in this restaurant. I mean to say, we were not in suits but rather jeans and shirts – casual but smart. But we were both the same – dressed at the same level. The younger guy in this situation was in jeans and a check shirt and wore a baseball cap (the wrong way round as is the norm for teenagers – and he was no teenager) which he continued to wear whilst he ate. He spent some time on his mobile telephone; he was laid back in his chair like he was being over-casual about everything; when he got to eating he ate in a way that indicated he had never been shown how to use a knife and fork – he just didn’t belong there!

Except, of course, probably, he was there as the ‘guest’ of the fat, ugly guy and later, once he had eaten his expensive meal, there would be something in it for the FUG.

It’s just that you don’t see it so often. Again it makes me grateful for the life I’ve lead and the partner I now have and that I have never had to resort to ‘buying’ my partner, even short-term. Even so, there was something almost paedophilic about it, even if, in reality, it wasn’t since we weren’t talking young kids or, in fact, in spite of the baseball cap, kids of any kind. Still it was, sort of, disgusting.

Of course, maybe I got the wrong idea – but then, that would be both of us and, probably, most of the restaurant.

The restaurant being Ristorante di Giacomo.

The Good Things

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There are, as there always are, many good things happening right now, in spite of some other things that are not so good.

The weather is warmer, in general. Currently it has to be above 25 degrees and, as I am now at home, I have, for the first time this year, got out and am wearing, my sandals. OK so maybe not a big deal to you it is one of ‘those things’ that makes living here such a wonderful dream. To explain (although I may have explained before), in the UK I could wear sandals for only a few days a year – probably some days during June, July or August but hardly ever for more than the actual day, needing to put socks and shoes on in the evening. Although it is too early to be wearing sandals for the evening, it was with great joy that I went into the cupboard and dusted off my favourite sandals and put them on this afternoon. This time of year makes me so happy – knowing that, in a few more weeks just sandals, shorts and a T-shirt will be needed day and night. It makes me feel free and, although I know that is an illusion, it’s a good illusion.

And the reason I am home early is that I went for the results of the test. At first, because they spoke to me in Italian (not realising I didn’t really understand) I thought they had said that something was not good. Me, being me, had gone through the various scenarios before today. I was ready for the bad news even if, in my heart, I didn’t believe there would be any. But, when they realised I hadn’t understood, they told me that every test was fine. They wondered why I had worried and I had to explain (because it was a different doctor) but it was all good. To be honest, I would have been shocked if it had not been fine but it was nice to hear and nice to see it written down. So, thanks for your help, Lola.

And, of course, the other good thing is F. We are becoming more ‘together’ as time goes on, in spite of my previous post. As those of you who read my blog often enough know, I am always full of doubts and uncertainties but even if we don’t seem to talk about anything important, of F I am certain and I thought I should tell you, lest you get the wrong idea.

And now I shall write a post on the current political happenings in the UK – just by way of a change.

In the event that a volcano erupts, please panic!

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When I was young, so less than half a century ago, we went abroad once. I was 14. Actually, that’s not entirely true. When I was about 5, my parents took me and my sister to Guernsey. I remember it because we had a thing called ‘High Tea’ about 5 p.m. This was for kids only and was something like beans on toast. I guess we didn’t have ‘Dinner’ later but I don’t really remember.

Anyway, I digress. Our holiday, when I was 14, involved a caravan trip. My parents reckoned (and they were right) that this would be the last holiday that we would go on as a ‘family’.

The six of us, with the caravan trailing behind us, overloaded with the awning in which the kids would sleep, made our way to Portsmouth (or maybe Weymouth) on the south coast and then, by ferry to France. We then motored through France to the south west, somewhere near Bordeaux.

It was before package holidays took off.

Before that, when I was about 10 or 12, I remember my father going to the USA on a business trip. I remember it because he brought back a gonk for each of us kids

Gonk

and a pair of bright purple loons for me!

Loons - but not mine

Which I loved, by the way. And, anyway, no one in the backwater of Hereford had them, fashion not quite having reached Hereford by then (has it now?).

Certainly, when we went to Guernsey, we flew. This must have been very expensive as this was the days before package holidays and easy air travel. It was all more ‘exclusive’ then. a little bit special.

How different is it now? Now, we think nothing of hopping on a plane to go to the other side of the world. In fact, we consider air travel first when we think of going abroad – just like we shall be going to the UK at the end of July. It never even crossed my mind to go by rail or coach or any other means. It was just a matter of searching for the cheapest flight.

Which, of course, leads us to now. Now, with a volcano erupting and throwing ash everywhere. How very inconsiderate it is?

I feel sorry for the people ‘stranded’ far away from home. I know some that are. It is difficult. However, it is also an adventure! The adventure being to find another way home or to find something to do or somewhere to sleep or eke out savings or credit cards. It could be fun, if you put your mind to it.

I also feel sorry for those whose businesses rely on people being able to fly in and out of any country they wish – hotels, restaurants, the general hospitality industry. Then are those flower sellers in Nigeria (isn’t that close to some countries where people are currently close to starvation?) having to throw away all the flowers because they can’t fly them to Europe. Then, of course, there are the providers of exotic, perishable goods – with warnings that the shops will soon experience shortages (I’m sure it won’t make much of a dent in Tesco’s record profits for next year). Yes, all these people whose lives and businesses are affected – it’s really dreadful for them.

But, those of you who do read my blog often enough will know there’s always a ‘but’, lets’ take a little step back from this.

No one actually MADE these people go abroad for their holiday. If you have a business, think how it was done back in the 60s – one rarely flew abroad for business then, did one? So, if you ARE stranded, before getting angry that no one has yet come to save you, think, perhaps about why you are there and get on with getting back. There are ways. They still have ships plying between New York and the UK, for example! And, apparently, you can book from (anywhere) on board some freighter ships!

If you’re stuck in the EU or the USA, remember these are civilised countries and there will be help available, if you look hard enough. If you’re stuck in some shit-hole, please try to remember that you CHOSE to go there. If it’s not ‘civilised’ – well, what was the point in going there if all you were going to do was stay in a four-star hotel and sip drinks on the terrace?

And then there is the coincidental loss of business.  I do feel sorry for the Nigerian ‘farmers’ forced to throw away all those exotic flowers they grow so that (said in voice using received pronunciation – i.e. like what the Queen speaks) ‘one can have a rather glorious flower arrangement for one’s table’ – but I just can’t quite get my head round the fact that, on the same continent, there are people dying for want of food!

No, there’s something wrong somewhere, for certain.

To be honest, our little experience was all rather fun and interesting – but, then, it wasn’t me with the problem – I was just helping. And, as I write this, I see that flights are, again, coming in to Malpensa and Linate and, in fact, flying all over Europe!

But the things I have written above was brought about because people are starting to get angry, it would seem. Angry? Are you joking? 40 or 50 years ago only the rich would be in this position. Now everyone is at it but still they expect it to be ‘handled’ by the government. They expect that they shouldn’t be ‘ripped off’. The world is a crazy, crazy place.

But I kept thinking about the air safety drill, given on board aircraft before you take off. You know?

In the event of a loss of cabin pressure, masks like this one will come down from the panel above your head.

In the event of us landing on water, you will find the lifebelt under your seat.

In the event that a volcano erupts, please panic!

>p.s. I just want to add that there are some people for whom I feel genuinely sorry. Not everyone has a credit card to enable them to get home or family or friends who will help. It’s just the people that get so angry about it all and I keep on thinking – but no one actually MADE you go there in the first place!

Whoops, sorry …………

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Yes, I know. I’ve been very remiss. I mean, it’s been almost 10 days since my last post.

There are a load of posts half-written but I just didn’t get the time to finish them off.

Best Mate came and went. We had a lovely time. Went to Venice one of the days and sat in the hot sunshine at a very nice restaurant in a little square at the back of the Duomo. F & I agree that Venice is, for us, the most romantic city in the world (that we know).

Best Mate left two days before the fun started with the volcano and the no-flights-to-almost-anywhere.

Unfortunately, the Paris colleague of F didn’t and learnt, on her way to the airport in a taxi that the flights to Paris were stopping. And, so, she’s been staying at F’s flat whilst F has been staying with me. She re-booked and re-booked and, eventually, this morning we got tickets for a train on Monday (the next available seats) and then she took today’s train – just like loads of other people, judging by the number of people sitting on cases (since all seating must be pre-booked here – at least for the decent services).

Obviously, F (and I when I wasn’t working) entertained her but she was so sweet. We had a good time. Last night we met up with L (another colleague of F’s) and her husband, L and another colleague, M and went out to Puro e Semplice where I had the best quail I have had in a long time. Not a cheap restaurant, done in the modern, simple, kinda rustic style but really excellent food. F had a cottaletta Milanese which I tried and was also fantastic. We had beer and that was wonderful too.

And I say it was really good in spite of eating out nearly all the time for, what seems, about 2 weeks and, to be honest, I am getting a bit fed up with it (words I thought I would never write!). Too much food, too much drink ……. too fat! Or, at least, that’s how I feel.

The upshot being that, even if I were rich or worked as a restaurant critic, the odd day with something really simple at home would be a must.

In other news, F has been taking the ‘babies’ (as he calls them) out quite often for walks now that they are clean and tidy.

OK so this will have to be short because I’ve just seen the time and we are off out (again) this evening with an ex-colleague who is over here from the UK for a couple of weeks, her husband and A, who has been (it would seem) abandoned by Fr who is in the south of Italy (and given that Milan airspace is closed, may be down there for a few extra days longer than expected).

Monday we were due to have an important meeting with customers from the USA but I guess that won’t happen now and so, Monday, maybe, I’ll get more chance to write up stuff.