Tag Archives: Italy

Mantova Festivaletturatura

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Mostly written on 9th September.

Mantova! I’m so happy to be back here.

Everyone says I look so happy. This is true – and not only for being back this year. Even last night, B said that I looked happy. It’s how life should be.

I’m sitting at Grifone Bianco, having lunch. The antipasto was a rather tasty Leek and Cheese Pie.

My Italian is still not that good and sometimes I confuse things. I thought I had chosen a veal pie for my secondo. What came was three, rather large balls of veal tartare. Luckily, I eat everything so it doesn’t phase me – other than it was slightly unexpected. It was, in fact, the most fantastic tartare I’ve ever had. After the meal was over (I was the last diner to leave), the woman behind the counter said that she was sorry she hadn’t recognised me before. It was nice that she had recognised me at all – it being a couple of years since I had last been there!

I only wish that F could be here with me. It’s warm and muggy; the sun hidden behind clouds – moisture hangs heavily in the air.

I got here much later than I had planned. I forgot to set the alarm and so we woke up at 9. 9, I tell you! I didn’t wake up that late when we were on holiday! I guess I needed the sleep. I guess that even more because I have developed a sty – and I’ve always believed they were a result of a lack of sleep. Or, maybe, that’s an old wives’ tale from my mother or grandmother. I don’t know any more. It’s what I believe anyway and so that makes it true, even if it isn’t.

I was asked about V both last night and when I arrived here. It’s to be expected, I suppose.

I’m ashamed to say that, last night, at least, I told all that I had heard. I gossiped with gusto. It was the first person I had done this with. It was the first person who I had seen since I had heard the gossip and who had known us as a couple.

I wanted to stop but I couldn’t. Today, on the other hand, I kept it simple and kept most of the information to myself. It’s better like that.

I asked about editing. I would give up my job and my English teaching if I could earn enough with that. Maybe this was the job I was actually destined for?

Anyway, it’s something I can do even if we move to the other side of the world – but that’s a different post. I’m afraid I don’t tell you everything, especially if it’s only an idea and more especially if it’s not even my idea but one that’s reliant on other people who I don’t really know very well – actually almost not at all!

It’s a late lunch I’m having, having only got here, to Mantova, at 1.30 and to the restaurant at about 2.30.

After lunch, I wander a bit. Mantova is one of those places that you really should visit. It’s a pretty town, surrounded by lakes. The problem with the lakes is that, when it’s really hot like this, it’s also humid – more, even, than Milan.

I go to a talk with Tim Parks, a writer who has lived in Italy (somewhere in or close to Milan, from what I understand) since the early eighties. He speaks Italian very well. I understand a lot. I even understand some of his jokes. This is good, really. It’s during his event that I realise that Mantova is more humid than Milan. He seems a funny guy and enjoys his time on stage. I leave when the questions from the audience start as I have to get back.

I take my leave of the staff. I wish I were able to stay. Maybe I can organise it for next year as this one has been too hectic.

But I’m so happy that I came. If you get the chance you should go to the Festivaletteratura. The atmosphere is great and the weather is (usually) very good. For me it’s another of those things that extends the summer.

To next year! And thanks to M and S and all the other staff who always make me feel so welcome.

Fine, thanks. No fine, thanks. When is it right to fight the rules by disobeying them?

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I’m being a bit crap at the moment.

Sorry.

I have started to update the links on the right. If yours hasn’t appeared yet, it is on it’s way, I promise. But, probably, not until next week.

In the meantime, let’s talk about rules and laws.

I mean, is it OK to break them? Sometimes, if these rules or laws had not been broken by a significant number of people, the law or rule would not have been changed or abolished. But which rules are OK to break and which not? Who should decide which are irrelevant rules and which are not?

There are things that are obvious (although sometimes less obvious here). For example, driving the wrong way down a one-way street. Here, I see bicycles regularly being ridden the wrong way. And the cyclists seem most put out that you, a car, driving the right way down the street seem to think that the cyclists are in the wrong.

I’ve even seen (as I may have mentioned before) cars driven the wrong way. OK so this was at 5.50 in the morning and there’s hardly any traffic – but ….. still …….

I’ve seen a car driven down the tram tracks (which must have done some damage to the car, I would think) where there is no road but it’s similar to a train track (without the sleepers).

I would guess there is some law against these things but the question is, is it OK to break this law?

Cyclists, here, regularly ride on the pavement. In the UK they would almost certainly be caught (I think) but here it’s almost the norm. Perhaps there is no rule or law against it.

Then there’s turning left or right at some traffic lights when there are signs that say you are prohibited from doing so. If I’m behind one of these people, I become ‘all Italian’ and blow my horn like crazy. But, if ‘everyone does it’, surely that almost makes the rule illogical and, almost, unenforceable? So, should that particular rule be relaxed or abolished?

Then there’s parking. They have gone a bit mad with the blue paint in my area – meaning that we should pay for parking (blue boxes are metered parking; yellow boxes are resident permit holders only).

Just after someone had made a ‘prohibited’ left turn and was roundly slagged off by the person who was driving me, it came to light that this person parks in ‘resident only’ areas because ‘I object to paying for parking’. And so, it made the rule regarding parking invalid. Apparently.

I tried to point out that the guy turning left was, in effect, only ignoring another of the rules regarding driving and parking and I was told that it was a different thing.

Ah, yes, of course it was.

The breaking of a rule prohibiting you from turning left is, quite obviously, something for which there should have been a policeman at that particular moment whereas, stopping a resident with a valid parking permit the chance to park outside their home is something that should be tolerated. Ha!

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not perfect. I’m sure I do things that aren’t ‘quite right’ but I can hardly criticise those who turn left when they shouldn’t and in the same breath say that, as I have decided parking in a resident-only parking bay without having a valid permit is perfectly OK, I am not guilty of the same type of fault.

I realise there are ‘degrees’ of breaking the rules and, maybe, illegal parking is not quite as bad as turning left when you shouldn’t. But I’m not sure that I actually have the right to say that it’s OK to do.

Rules are rules. And they are there to make life (society’s life as a whole) more comfortable. With regard to road use (or pavement use, for that matter) I have found that Italians are a tad selfish and I am coming to the opinion that, if you can’t beat them, join them. But it makes me uncomfortable in my English way.

Still, rules are rules and breaking of them can (and should?) have consequences. It’s just that there’s a mentality that says – if I don’t agree with the rule or it doesn’t suit my purpose, then it’s OK the break this one.

In the end, we came out of the restaurant and there was no fine on the car for parking in a place that was not supposed to be parked in.

What do you think? Can we break the rules that we don’t agree with? Or should we abide by all rules and laws?

Is that it?

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Is that it?

The first day of September. Not, officially, the first day of autumn – but it might as well be. Thunderstorms and showers – oh, yes, and a bit of sun. It’s still warm though, which is nice. I mean, warm enough to still be wearing sandals and a T-shirt (although, as I write this I am not wearing those things – but I was at 6 a.m. this morning).

And I’m sure that it’s not it, really. I’m sure we shall have some really nice warm days during September and, if we’re lucky, through to October too!

I went out for a drink last night with An, F’s friend. On waking this morning I got the usual after-a-night-drinking-and-having-too-many-and-not-keeping-my-mouth-shut thoughts. I.e. I said too much about F and stuff. I shouldn’t. But it’s ages since I’ve been able to ‘chat’ with someone. Especially a woman and so I kind of ‘let go’. Damn. Oh well, I’ll get over it.

F is away. I join him tonight. Me and the dogs. The weather will be better apart from, maybe, Sunday. But it’s OK anyway.

Orsoblu; French = gay?????

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Well, it was far better than the last deal we went to, that’s for sure.

Another Groupon deal, this time Orsoblu, picked especially because not only was it close but it was also a fish restaurant.

The interior is smart, modern, chic and ……. well, …….. blue. It was a Monday so it was fairly quiet but that was fine. It was a fixed menu, since that was part of the deal. We chose (well, he chose) the wine. It was some Chardonnay. It was quite nice.

It took some while for each of the courses but that’s OK. I don’t mind waiting except that it was a Monday night and, because I had had a lesson booked (which was subsequently cancelled), I had booked it for 9.

There was the antipasto. Nicely presented. It included a raw shrimp, some salmon, a scallop (as an aside, I could not remember the English word for this. I had to look up the Italian – cappesante – which I remembered. This is shocking and, to be honest very annoying. It’s not as if I could spell the word correctly in Italian anyway, so that makes it even worse!!), some unidentified white fish, a mussel and something that was like a lump of polenta – oh, and a razor fish. It was quite nice. Too much bread-crumbing for me, personally (the scallop, the mussel), however, the razor fish (which I’ve had once before, bread-crumbed) was not bread-crumbed and therefore better, although I’m not sure if it’s quite as good as it should be – I’m not sure what to expect with razor fish. I mean, there’s hardly anything there! It was the first time he had had it so he wasn’t sure how to eat it. That made me smile.

Then there was the primi. On each plate was some sort of pasta (like slightly flat spaghetti) with clams – this was nice and some risotto. The risotto was flavoured with orange and was ‘fishy’ – i.e. had some fish thing going on – but I’ve no idea what. Still, they were both very nice.

Then we had the main course. Half of a very well filleted branzino (Sea Bass), with a sauce that was quite rich, with mushrooms (that were quite nice) and some breaded pieces of potatoes, roasted or fried. The taste of the branzino was a little lost in the richness of the sauce but it was well done.

Then we had cannoli. This is a particularly Sicilian sweet. Quite often filled with ricotta cheese. A lot of Italians love it. As far as I’m concerned, it is OK but a bit too sickly sweet for me. But, then, I prefer something with fruit, to be honest.

By now it was already 10.30, so we paid (with the voucher we were paying only for the wine and water – the bill being 23€!)

Overall, I would say that it was nice. For me there was a bit too much going on with the dishes. I’m not a great fish eater and I always prefer simple. This was not the Lamparo. But, to be honest, they did a good job, trying to give us a sample of the things they can do. I prefer my branzino with little else – just steamed or fried.

On a minus note, the waiter spoke so softly that I don’t think I actually heard a single word he said. But, maybe, that was just me. The service, although we waited a long time between courses, was good.

Yes, I would go there again but no, I wouldn’t rush to go there, choosing Lamparo or Baia Chia before it.

Oh, yes, and it’s sponsored by Vivienne Westwood! Who knew that restaurants were sponsored?

On our way back to the car I was informed that French (the language) was very ‘gay’.

Guess who I was with? ;-)

The Lost Leonardo painting – NYT article and update.

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A couple of posts back, I urged you to support or, at least, repost the request for help to discover the lost Leonardo Da Vinci painting, ‘The Battle of Anghiari. Well, hopefully to rediscover it.

Here we have a rather good article in the New York Times about the history and the current situation with the project. Since last week, the funding has doubled in size (possibly as a result of the NYT article) but there is still a long way to go.

Here is the Kickstarter Project which is, apparently, the biggest Kickstarter project of its kind to date. Here you can donate money for ‘things’ promised. Including a personalised tour of the very palace itself.

Do go and have a look. It’s all terribly exciting.

Never doing anything; Work or not?

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I get easily hurt.

V didn’t realize quite how much he’d hurt me until sometime after we had split. The night I made him cry. He said – “I didn’t realize how much I’d hurt you”. Yeah. Well. Too late now, isn’t it? Yes, it is. And it was too late then and, even, before then.

The problem, of course, is not him, nor them but me. I know that but, still, I can’t change it – the way I am, I mean.

His father said that nothing had been prepared so we couldn’t come. He told him that he had told his mum the night before that we would come over tonight. And he did. I was there and, even if I don’t understand Italian, I understood that. I told him that he had told his mum. “Good”, he said, “I thought I was going mad”.

“What shall we do?”

Now, for me, this is not a problem. We could do anything and that’s OK. I suggested a couple of things. One was too expensive. Another was too far. The third was …… well, he explained, it’s Saturday night. He meant that we would never get in. It would be too busy.

“So, what shall we do?”

“I don’t know”, I replied.

“We never do anything”, he says, spitefully.

See, there. That’s the wounding thing. Why? I mean to say, why say such a nasty, untrue thing. Of course, this plays over and over in my mind over the next few days and on the trip back home. It’s not true or, if it is true then it’s because he is ‘a little bit tired’; ‘has a bad back’ or ‘doesn’t feel to’ (sic). Or is so late over at mine that it’s too late to do anything.

I think about the times that I’ve suggested things. Going to the cinema; going for a drink with friends; visiting somewhere. It’s simply not fair or reasonable to throw that one at me.

Later, I think that he’s angry with his mum. Which he is. Often. It would seem.

But I don’t like it when he takes out that anger on me. Worse still is that I am left so shocked by it that the logical thoughts that answer it afterwards do exactly that. Answer it afterwards. Often days later. Not at the time. At the time, I go quiet. I say nothing. It makes me feel powerless and useless and, unsurprisingly, more hurt. In any event, I don’t like it.

And it’s all a bit ‘gay’. By that I mean, his thing – it’s all a little bit dramatic. And I’m not a lover of the dramatic and particularly the over-dramatic.

And, so, next time this starts, I shall be saying that, not only is it not true but it is also not fair nor reasonable. And then stop. Busting for a fight really doesn’t do it for me. Nor does thinking of the correct response afterwards.

And then I read Annie’s blog post and particularly Rita’s (wise old bird that she must be) thing about not confusing love with praise and attention. It’s difficult though since lovers always heap praise on you and give you their full attention. And then, when the love has worn off ……? Worse, of course, is when there is plenty of praise and attention which seems like love but is actually just praise and attention.

And some people are mean fuckers and know that what you want is love but you will assume that praise and attention IS love and so they pile on the praise and attention because of their needs without any love behind it. Like a cheese sauce that looks like a cheese sauce until you taste it – when you find out it is a cheese sauce without the cheese – which is just a tasteless gloopy sauce.

On a side note, I really, really have to do something about my job. And by ‘do something’, I mean get out of this. This was NOT what I intended to do when I got here. The introduction of more petty rules and regulations drives me to distraction. It’s so easy to fall into the rut of being in work and so paying the bills and then getting caught up in all the crap AT work – where you think (and it sneaks up on you so that you hardly notice) that work is, in fact, the world whereas, in fact, not only is work NOT the world but it is also much less significant than anything else. Apart from paying the bills, that is. But that’s not really a good enough reason to stay in this narrowing and blinkering environment, is it? Is it? No, it isn’t.

So, what to do? My mind screams ‘anything – so long as it’s not here’.

Of course, as I have learnt, everywhere is the same. And, probably, everywhere, even your home, has a dangerous tendency to become ‘world’ and grow its pettiness accordingly.

Bah!

Searching for ‘The Battle of Anghiari’ and your help is required.

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There’s this nice American (but he can’t help where he was born, can he?) guy that I know, living in Milan who is a professional photographer.

He has a project and it’s exciting.

It goes something like this: Leonardo (of the Da Vinci fame) did this huge painting which was regarded as a bit special.

Then, just like changing the wallpaper, they got some guy (Giorgio Vasari) who was paid to paint over it except that, being a bit of a fan of Leo, he probably didn’t just paint over it but rather painted over a wall in front of it.

Another guy (Dr. Maurizio Seracini) reckons that the Leo’s painting will be behind it but cannot get to it.

Dave, the photographer, got involved and there may be a way to ‘see’ it using some special gamma camera.

Although this project has been funded by National Geographic to a great extent, they now need some funding for the camera itself.

And this is where you come in. Please visit the link below and if you like the idea, pledge some money. If not, you can still help by posting it on your blog or on Facebook or passing it onto friends. They have a lot of money to raise before October 10th and it would be so good if it can be done. Any help is gratefully received.

The Search for the Lost Da Vinci is here.

Please help!

Our July was stolen!

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It’s all gone a little awry.

Let’s be honest, June and July were, as far as the weather was concerned, a bit of a let down. Where were the 40° highs? It was, mostly, warmish but really nothing like previous years.

August started off quite mediocre and then, around the 15th it seemed that July had come, finally. Like August had nicked July.

Milan is now hot. I mean to say that this morning, at just after 7, on my drive to work, the temperatures were reading 27°. It was also about that, this morning, around 6 when I took the dogs out. The forecast I use says it will get to 33° this afternoon but I think it will be hotter.

F is not really happy about it since he’s not really into heat and, now that our holidays are over, he wants it to cool down.

The dogs aren’t really happy either but they have plenty of fresh water.

OK, so even I have to admit, lying in bed at night with sweat pouring off me isn’t the most comfortable of things. However, it’s only going to last until about Thursday, so I’m sure I’ll manage.

Oh yes, I suppose I could get some air conditioning – but it would be for about a week a year so hardly worth it and, anyway, I couldn’t use it if F were there because, like all Italians, they are susceptible to ‘air’. This can produce many illnesses which include a sore throat and, in F’s case, a bad back. I was allowed to keep the fan on last night but only with it pointing away from us. When I left this morning he said he wasn’t feeling well. I guess there’ll be no fan tonight!

Knowing me, knowing you

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He thinks he knows me now.

This is good and bad. It makes me laugh and makes me annoyed, depending on the situation.

We’re at the supermarket checkout. He complains that this line is too slow. I say, “Never mind, we’re on holiday”.

A few moments later, I start laughing. I had been watching the checkout man scanning the stuff through. For each item, he took several moments to find the barcode, then scan it, the read the label of the good, then place it carefully on the conveyor belt, before carefully selecting the next item to be scanned. He was very, very slow. As F said, the checkout girl on the next counter scanned four items to his one.

But, for some reason it just made me laugh and soon F was laughing too. As was some woman a couple of people behind us.

Later he said that he was right about the slowness and that I had, as usual, done my internal rolling of my eyes, and issued my usual conciliatory remark.

He was right about what I was thinking and doing after all, I’ve had over 20 years of practice with V and it’s automatic.

….. to be continued ….

Seagulls on our heads!

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Well, here we are, almost at the end of the two weeks and two days of holiday.

Summer, this year, was tardy, arriving as it did on the 14th of August, more or less.

The holiday has been great and relaxing even if, for two of the nights in Umbria (including last night; our last night in Umbria), I hardly slept.

I write this on the beach on the Tuscan coast, the sky cloudless and the sun severe – but decidedly less hot than there, earlier today, yesterday and the last week.

But I wanted to tell you of a dream I had after I went to bed (again) about 10 to 4 this morning.
I’m sitting in my kitchen but it’s slightly different in that there’s an open fire, not needed yet, it being so warm.

M, my colleague is sitting besides me helping me with some technical thing. As I turn to him, I see a bloody big seagull on his head. I tell him he should get it off and realise I have one on my head too.

I get mine off my head or off his and it’s in front of me with a huge beak, open wide and lunging towards me.

I stick my arm down it’s throat. It can’t escape. I take it, like this, to the open window and let it dangle there, from my arm, it’s wings flapping.

I woke up.

I don’t understand it either!