Tag Archives: Italy

My head, my face and what actually comes out of my mouth.

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It is 7.30 a.m. The sign reads 25°C.

I like it a lot although it is pretty humid, especially last night.

And, about last night. We went for a beer, just the two of us. We were chatting and P, my next-door neighbour came into Polpetta. We were chatting. She’s giving up her flat. Her lease runs out and they are increasing the rent – considerably. It’s too much for just one person and times is hard, especially in her line of work. And, so, she’s moving out of Milan, in November. It’s a shame as she is the only one in the building that I speak to.

F asked her about her rent. She does have a really good deal now, for sure. F and I talked about the flat below mine. I have asked about the cost of that flat. They will let me know in September. Then he asked about checking out the one with the terrace that is opposite the courtyard from mine.

And then he said (again) about how he couldn’t live with anyone again. The reason is: what happens when we split up?

I don’t say anything stupid like ‘Well, that’s not going to happen’. That would provoke the response of ‘You never know. Nothing lasts forever’. Instead I say, ‘Yes, I understand what you mean’.

And, I’m not really sure how this happened, but then he said, within the next 10 minutes that, perhaps we could live together and ‘would I want that?’.

My face stays flat. Without emotion. In my head I am screaming that yes, of course that’s what I want. My face says nothing and my mouth says, ‘Well, at least I wouldn’t have to worry about a cleaner’ and then I laugh.

It’s almost as if, if I don’t say what I really want, that’s what I get from him. It’s different to any other relationship I’ve had before.

And now, because I received the anonymous email and then made an unexpected post, last night, I’ve reached post 999.

As I’ve mentioned, I’ve written post 1000. I’ll set it to publish whilst I’m away. It gives you, my dear reader, something to look forward to. I hope it doesn’t disappoint and hopefully, the guy won’t manage to get my blog taken down in the meantime but I have backups and, if it does go, it should be back within a couple of days after I come back from my holiday.

Enjoy. E buona vacanza

It’s a drag

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There are so many things to do.

Instead, I am at work, doing nothing of importance since most people are on holiday or we are waiting for some answers (which never seem to come).

And, so, I sit here, waiting for the time to go. To go and do some useful things.

I have a couple of things to iron. And I really should pack (and NOT leave it until the last minute – like tomorrow night at about 8 p.m.) and get stuff ready for the dogs and things like that.

I have one telephone lesson tonight – but that’s only about half an hour.

And, again, I feel like I can’t hurry this along enough.

This blog will be slightly closed for a couple of weeks since I am not taking a computer and do not intend to go to an Internet café. Obviously, I will be writing stuff – in long hand – like the olden days – and then some of them may be transferred here as posts when I’m back.

If you’re going away, then have a good holiday. If not then have a good fortnight.

p.s. there won’t be enough posts to post my 1000th post before I go and so it will wait until I get back although I have written it already.

p.p.s. I suppose I might come back to a land of disarray, if Italy gets dragged into the same boat as Portugal, Greece and Ireland.

p.p.p.s I see that our marvelous British tabloid papers are getting all excited about the thought of the MPs debating capital punishment because it’s ‘what the people want’. I’d just like to say that when there was a lot of rumpus about paedophilia, a paediatrician’s house got attacked by a mob of upstanding British subjects. Apparently that’s what ‘the people’ wanted. Just ‘cos they want something doesn’t make it right. People! Bloody dangerous, if you ask me, especially when their thoughts are stoked by the tabloid press.

Head in the sand or super-intelligent?

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Now that the USA have managed to agree to borrow a whole lot more money, the speculators have, once again, turned their attention to Europe.

As a result, yesterday, according to the reports, the borrowing of both Spain and Italy came under renewed pressure and their interest rates (for the government borrowing) went up a bit. Well, I know that isn’t quite right but it amounts to the same thing.

This, apparently, puts them in the same position as Portugal and Greece were in just before having to have a bailout. Let’s be honest, the markets are sure the Euro will fail or one or more countries will default on their debts – meaning that they can make a killing on betting that the Euro will, instead of being quite a strong currency, fail or fall dramatically.

Who gives a shit about the people who actually live and work there? It appears not these guys.

But, the people around me (well the few who talk to me about it) are convinced that, in spite of everything, Italy is perfectly safe. This is either crass stupidity or they’re really knowledgeable. One guy says that there won’t be any problem because the taxes will rise to pay for it and the Italians always pay up. Another said that, because of the uniqueness of the Italian mentality and the fact that they have so much in savings, the reality is that it won’t be a problem and that actually, Italy is in a much better position than Germany or France – with a better productivity than any other country – mainly because they don’t finish work at 5 p.m. but, rather, stay until 8 or 9.

Hmmmm.

For what it’s worth (which isn’t much) my opinion is that both Italy and Spain will be forced to ask for help being, as it is, more important that the speculators make their money from the fall or demotion of the Euro. Until one or more countries default on their debt, they won’t be happy.

Of course, the most sensible thing is to get rid of this model and try something different. But that will only be forced through by ‘the people’ who won’t do anything.

The people with money have the power and, whilst they have the power they will always have the money. Such is life.

In the meantime, the countdown is on until Spain and Italy are dragged into making a cry for help that is neither necessary nor prudent.

And for me it will mean that the belt must be tightened and luxuries will be forgone. Probably. Let’s see.

Words and deeds. Chalk and cheese.

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Just like eating food, here, means that people talk about food, so going on holiday leads to people talking about holidays. Not always this one but future ones.

Sunday. Lunch. It was F’s Dad’s birthday and it reminded me that it was only a year ago when I first met ‘the Family’. In fact, this time last year, we went to the same restaurant, the day after his birthday. For his birthday, the whole family went to a fantastic restaurant on the side of a mountain. The Sunday was a lunch at a restaurant at the beach.

We’re back at the same restaurant. This time it is different. This time I know the people and they know me. There is talk – of holidays. F is suggesting that we could go to Sicily next year. There is talk of his sister coming plus brother-in-law and niece. Apparently, I learn, they have a house down in Sicily too!

I’ve never been to Sicily. I have been told it is a wonderful place. I would very much like to go. He asks if I would like to go and I say ‘yes’.

There is talk about the travel down there – plane, boats and road. I think F wants to take the plane from Milan. His brother-in-law is suggesting ferries. The first leg to Naples and the second to Messina. It’s cheaper that way. Each journey will be about 6 hours, apparently.

It is accepted that I will be there. I like it a lot. Even if S gets mentioned quite often, it’s not said in any way to make me feel uncomfortable (which it doesn’t). Anyway, it seems that barring the detail, next year it will be Sicily in a house I didn’t know about!

Except.

Of course, words are one thing. Deeds are another.

We’re at Polpetta with An, last night. The talk is of holidays. Her parents have a house in Puglia. F says that we will go there next year. I say it would be lovely. Of course it would. I learn that F hasn’t actually been back to Sicily since he was about 12!!!!!! He says it won’t be a real holiday since it would mean having to go round to relatives all the time. And lots of eating. But, since he hasn’t been there since he was 12, I’m thinking that he doesn’t really know. It’s OK anyway. I know these are words. Words are very different from deeds – at least, to him.

We differ a lot.

I empathise with the Sicily problem although, quite obviously, I don’t see this as a problem. I can empathise because I’ve heard it several times before. So when I say ‘Yes, of course’, I mean ‘Yes, of course, I’ve heard this before’. When I say ‘It’s not really a holiday’, I’m repeating what he has already said to me and not because I actually believe it.

So, this year is set. One week in Carrara followed by one week in Umbria – where we went last year.

Next year is only words. It’s OK. Maybe it will be Sicily or maybe Puglia or maybe just Carrara (He’s mentioned that already as it will be much cheaper). To be honest, I don’t really mind, as long as I’m with him.

Oh yes, and last night it is mentioned that we shall be going to Sardinia in May. Or maybe St Tropez. Or some place in the very south of Spain. It’s his friends 50th birthday and she wants to celebrate big time. I wonder when he knew? I wonder why he’s only told me now? Still, words are only words.

The Kiss

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It could have been missed.

Like an autumn leaf brushing against your hand in the wind. Not one of the hard, brittle, dried out leaves but the orange or yellow ones, still soft with the life that was – before rigour mortis sets in.

Of course, in previous lives it wouldn’t have meant much, really. Perhaps that’s all part of it? The rarity making it more precious, more meaningful.

It was almost stolen.

And the stealing of it made it more important. It’s not like there aren’t any – just none like this or, at least, not very often. And, in itself it would not normally mean much.

It was ‘in passing’.

As if not to be significant. Just like a ‘Hi’ to a friend across the street – even a mouthed ‘Hi’ – and yet, by its very casualness, it meant more.

It was so light.

Had I been busy I may not have noticed. They say ‘as light as a feather’, yet this was lighter.

No words were said, of course. They never are. I’m beginning to understand that they aren’t really necessary. In fact, almost by the lack of words, it means more – but I’m not sure I would have understood that years ago. In fact, I’m sure I wouldn’t have. You see how it all fits in – the timing, the meaning, the everything?

And talking of timing, we’re talking of microseconds. Not even a second. Being, as it was, unexpected, it could have been imagined. Except it wasn’t. I’m tuning into these things now, I think.

So, it was nothing really and yet, everything. Telling all, meaning everything as I stood in the kitchen doing something, as he walked behind me and his lips brushed the back of my shoulders in the microsecond of a kiss.

Musings from the beach

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They disliked or maybe, even, despised jewellery on a man. I wonder, then, what they would have thought of the old man at the umbrella before me, wearing his log gold chain with a square of gold dangling from the middle. Hardly a medalion but, then, he’s hardly a medalion man – being, as he is, about mid-70s, where everything is already on its way South and his small breasts in need of some support. I wonder if it all heads South as that is where the ground is and where he will lie sometime (soon?) – almost as if it points the way to his destination?

And then I thought about my parents disliking jewellery on a man and thought that, perhaps, they disliked me as much as I did them. I disliked them for their values – and mine are opposite, to the extreme. Did I get my ‘opposite values’ because I disliked them and theirs or did I get mine first and disliked them (my parents) because their values were not mine.

All this is lost in time. Never to be known. Such is life.

Luncheon vouchers?

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I’ve never worked anywhere that gave luncheon vouchers.

Here, we have a canteen that is, in my opinion, very good. Every day (more or less), I have a pasta dish and a meat dish with a vegetable. It’s good value for money in that only about 7 cents is deducted from my wages.

Also, our cook is very good and tries to be a bit imaginative, which I really like.

But we are into the holiday period and, I have been informed, the canteen is getting some sort of make-over. And, so, it’s closed in August – for the whole month.

Here, in Italy, lunch is provided almost everywhere you work. Provided for a small fee. I think this sort of thing happened in London, at least until the Inland Revenue saw it as a useful source of extra tax. If your company (in Italy) does not have a canteen, then you are provided with these tickets. The value depends on your company. It is usually about €7 or so.

And so, we have some tickets for this period. The value of each ticket is only just over €5. Some people are less than happy with that. To be honest, I don’t really care. It’s not so important. After all, this will give me the chance for a bit of a ‘diet’ for the week before I stuff myself with food for two weeks and a week’s ‘diet’ for the week after the two-stuffing-weeks. It may, after all, be quite a good thing.

So, I shall probably, for the first time in my life, be like so many other annoying people at the supermarket queue – using my tickets for the shopping!

I am very excited. Does it show?

Last Weekend

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Obviously, we’re back online :-)

I’ll be adding posts written in the last few days and here is one:

26/7/11
Well, that was all rather nice. I think they enjoyed it. We didn’t seem to do much except eat and drink and do a little tourist stuff and a bit of shopping and then eat and drink.

My perfect holiday.

We did go to Bagutta, a restaurant in Milan, just behind Via Montenapoleone. We ate in the garden. It wasn’t so hot and there weren’t so many mosquitoes, which was good (although it could have been hotter for me, of course).

The waiter was funny (as in funny, ha ha not funny, strange) but he did bring us fried courgette flowers to start which were delicious. It was the first time that I’ve had them like that. Before they’ve been filled with ricotta cheese or something. I had some culatello (meat – like ham, thinly sliced) with figs. F had prosciutto with figs. I tried some. I should have had that.

I had penne with a ragù sauce (which included peas). We skipped main courses because this was enough! However, I saw that they had raspberries and wild strawberries so I asked for a mix of those with some cream. It was lovely (even if the raspberries were not as tasty as those we had the other week in Cararra.)

We had wine and water and mirto or limoncello at the end. It is expensive, coming to over €270 for the four of us but really nice and the food and service were excellent.

The night before, we had gone to Porca Vacca. F is so taken with that restaurant now that he suggested to An, when we went out for a drink with her on the Sunday night, that we should go this week. So we are going on Wednesday night, apparently.

But the main thing was that D&S enjoyed it – which I think they did.

La Piccola Versilia

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It started off quite well. We were greeted and given an option of several tables. We chose one. The background music was quite loud and a slightly strange choice – it was more like dance music!

The restaurant was small. It was more like a bar that had some tables. The decoration was ‘modern’ but, to be honest, there wasn’t really much in the way of decoration. There was a mural behind me which was fairly nondescript and high on the wall opposite was the front of an old fiat 500 (I think), the lights supposedly being lit – but only one of them was.

The antipasto arrived. This was quite lovely and gave me high hopes. There was a bacon thing, fried. Very tasty, probably smoked, with mostardo – one cherry and the sauce. With it was some nice cheese. F didn’t want the meat so I had his and only had a taste of the cheese. We had water and they asked about wine. We asked for white. They were sorry but they didn’t have white apart from the house white.

This has got to be the first restaurant in Italy that I have ever been to that didn’t have a proper wine list. The house white was OK but nothing special.

Then came our primi. This was risotto. Risotto Milanese, of course, with a small osso bucco. It was OK. I’m not really a big fan of rice but I knew this was what we were going to get. The presentation was fine but the risotto itself was nothing stunning. After the starter this was a slight disappointment. Still, there was coteletto to come!

It came. It was thick and on the bone. I prefer the thin and no bone myself. So does F. We had ordered roast potatoes with it. They were fine. The crust of the cottoletto was slightly strange. More like the coating to southern fried chicken but without the spices. Maybe it had been deep fried?

We finished. They took away the plates and the bread (which was quite nice). F finished his glass of wine (we had 2 glasses each) and his water. We waited for them to come over and suggest sweet or coffee. They didn’t. The restaurant was very small and they had two people as front of house. There were a total of 3 tables occupied. We were surprised that they didn’t come over. But we were ready to go and so we got up and paid. The Groupon voucher was supposedly worth €58, the bill for the cover charge, water, wine and potatoes came to €22 – so a total of €80 for the meal.

F said as we walked to get an ice-cream, that he wouldn’t go back there again, even if someone invited us. And I agreed.

Enocratia, the last one we went to with a ‘set meal’ for the Groupon voucher was a million times better. We felt that the food could have been a little bit more ‘special’ but that the service could and should have been wonderful – and that would have made a difference to our whole experience.

I would give it one star for the antipasto thing and nothing for anything else. We discussed Porca Vacca where the Groupon voucher experience, although not worth much, means that we shall be going back (on Friday, actually) or Enocratia where, if only it were closer, would become, I’m sure, one of our favourites.

As we discussed, with this Groupon voucher it is a chance for us to discover new restaurants and for them to show how good everything can be. La Piccola Versilia failed quite miserably, I’m afraid.

Summer socks

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I love September. The days are quite often warm and, although the nights and early mornings are a bit on the chilly side, it’s the extension of the summer – at least, here.

There’s also the smell of the fallen leaves. The dark nights which should be cold (in my head) but are warm enough for sandals, T-shirts and shorts. There’s the warm rain at nights (at least, hopefully warm and only at nights). And, there’s the rub. You can’t really rely on the weather. And that’s the bit I hate (also the fact that it IS the end of summer.)

But, what I definitely DON’T like is when September comes early. Like last night. And this morning. It’s July, FFS!

Last night we had rain. Rain in summer is OK as, here, afterwards, it is warm and pleasant although a degree or two cooler. But not last night. After the rain during the night, this morning it was 14°! It was chilly. If not, cold.

I am wearing socks again. I don’t like wearing socks, at least not in July. Not in this country.

It is the end of summer. It is September. I am wearing socks. We are all doomed.