You might think it’s a day late, but it did take the BBC a whole day to make it the top Europe story on their website. I’m talking about Milan’s new Congestion Charge – called the Ecopass, here.
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!
It’s how it feels. The traffic is terrible; the urgency of everything is at its height (work, home, etc.); we are out every night this week as so many of our friends leave for extended breaks with their families; the shops are full to bursting (see below); people start to lose their ‘nice’ gene.
And it happens every year. But why? I realise that, if you don’t get presents before Christmas then it makes less sense but it’s not a disaster. And if the client does get the parts on the day before Christmas, what on earth is he going to do with them? And, if you don’t get bread and milk today then the supermarket WILL be open tomorrow, with new supplies.
There’s this thing about Christmas that is a proper milestone in nearly everyone’s mind.
And, considering this is supposed to be the season of goodwill, where the hell is it?
Apart from the story below, I think the best thing to do is to chill-out. Take it easy. Don’t worry. Even if you don’t get the presents/parts/bread, it’s not the end of the world. Honestly.
Anyway, my experience of trying to get that ‘last minute’ something:
I know what I want. I know exactly what it should look like. But finding it is so difficult. A present for some friends. Candlesticks – but it’s got to be glass, got to be square pillars and not round, preferably smoked or some sort of opaque glass.
And, we’re in Milan, the design centre of Europe? But can I find what I want? No. It seems so simple. We traipse up Corso Buenos Aires and into all the probable shops. V has to go on his work’s Christmas outing (I am joining him later) and so I go to the centre of town to try La Rinascente (like Selfridges or Debenhams as it used to be). I get off the metro and walk up the steps to the outside and it is cold. The crowds are tightly packed. Everyone seems to be going to the same place. I join the slow-moving queue to get inside. I enter and then the crowds are more tightly packed. There is no way to side-step the snail-paced human traffic jam.
We shuffle along and, if I am honest, this is exactly why I don’t like Christmas. If I had any other choice (I guess I DO have another choice but …) I would have turned round and joined the shuffling queue out of there.
At the escalator, going up was more difficult. So I went down – as this was one of the places to look. Downstairs is busy but tolerable. I see some very nice examples, not really what I wanted but suitable, except for the price. I would even pay up to €100 but €300 to €3000 are just completely out of range.
I join the queue to catch the escalator up and up and up. They have ‘bouncers’ at the end of each escalator. But it’s not to check that people aren’t stealing things, it’s to keep the flow going. Why do people reach the top of the escalator and think that it’s OK to stop and look about them? So we move on, as fast but no faster, than the escalators themselves.
I reach the floor I want. Ah, here are candlesticks. And reasonable prices. But not glass and not what I want. I look lost. Some very nice assistant asks if I need help? I explain what I want. She guides me, through, over and round the people pointing out a type of candlestick here, another type there. Eventually I say I will look at them and decide and thank her for being so helpful.
There is a glass one, with a brown glass stem. Not really. Some silver type ones from India but totally wrong. And then I see some small, silver, candlesticks that are ideal only they have been out too long and need serious cleaning. But I have seen silver like this before and it doesn’t always clean so well.
I find another assistant (I should have gone back to find the nice one). This one says that it only needs cleaning. I ask if they will clean it. She says they only have cleaner for glass but she will try. She tries. It doesn’t work, making me more nervous. Will you give me my money back if it doesn’t clean up? I ask. As usual here, in Italy, the answer is no. They only give you a replacement article(s) or, if you’re really lucky, a credit note.
I decide against it. I walk up to San Babila and walk along a street I know that may have something. A shop window looks promising and inside I find what is, almost, perfect. How much are these, I ask. €80 is her response, it’s plexiglass. Not exactly what I wanted but pretty close. Do you have two, I add. No, only that one.
I give up at this point. It’s just not to be and I have a trifle to prepare. I go home, thankful that I don’t have a sackload of presents to buy as I couldn’t stand it for much longer. I’m not really a Christmas Shopper!!
It’s nearly midnight and I start the drive back to the Lakes. I had offered to go back just as we arrived in Milan and would have been back before 10, I reckoned, but was informed that although it would be difficult, it would be alright and that ‘one’ would manage.
Then, as I was finishing up my drink and closing my computer I hear an ‘Oh, no!’ wail from across the hallway. It seems that the tickets for the flight to Rome and to that very important meeting, the next day (but only just) were in the bag left behind. So, instead of going to bed to sleep for 6 hours (which is the very minimum I need to function like a human being of any sort), I get my shoes and coat on and head out the door. To return a few minutes later to collect the bag with the car documents which are essential here as it’s illegal to drive without all the documents, both for the car and for yourself.
In the car, I forget to take off my jacket first so I know it will get too hot, but I cannot be bothered to stop.
I start to drive and it’s foggy. In fact, it’s very foggy. I’m driving out of Milan, on the motorway, and I’m thinking that, at this speed, it will take me all night. Luckily, the fog stops not too far from Milan and the roads are clear so it makes for an easy journey. Me, of course, grumbling about the fact that I could have done this several hours earlier and be in bed by now.
Then, just off the motorway, I get flagged down by the police. Thank God that I went back for the bag containing the documents. After about 10 minutes they hand everything back to me and I continue.
I arrive back at the house to find the door bolted from inside. This means I have a choice. I can go sleep in the car until about 6 a.m. or I can raise them now. ‘Them’ being the relations that live in the same building (it’s owned by one family).
It’s about 1.20 a.m. I’m thinking of a warm bed against the (very soon to be) cold car. And, of course of the fact that it’s getting colder and that there may be more fog by morning.
So, I rang the bell. They were very understanding but I just wish, so much, that I had gone when I first thought of it and then I would not have had to wake them up at all. V owes them (and me) a present for this!
The drive back was uneventful. The fog stretched further from Milan but did not seem quite so thick. I made it home just before 3. That meant 3 hours sleep. However, so far, today, I haven’t felt so bad. I know that I only have to hang on for a couple more hours (well 4 to be precise) and then I can be in bed.
And the special prize this morning – the flight was cancelled. I presume they caught another as I have had no word from V, so I guess the meeting with all the important people, went ahead.
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.
And the weather was truly fantastic. On Sunday from about 11.30 a.m. for about 3 hours or so, we sat outside a café, in the sun, without coats, watching the lake and the people, Rufus lying at our feet (having had several long walks already that day).
The entry on this blog for 4th November has GOT to be the funniest I have read. In particular the conversation with the drunken customer about the pizzas (or, more correctly, pizze) and, more specifically, this bit:
Everyone has something that they like to wear. Some item of clothing that, when they put it on, makes them feel different, more confident, someone ‘special’.
There are moments when I am happy to be alive and, particularly, happy to be here, in Italy and, for that matter, in Milan.
I know it’s not just me. S agreed with me. Well not about the slippery water but that’s because she comes from the Hay area where the water is soft anyway.
So the first time I used the water in the hotel room to wash, the water was weird. I must be so used to the crap water in Milan that here, in Segovia, I find it a strange feeling using this soft water.
But, far worse, and this was where S agreed with me, the towels were slippy. It was like drying yourself with brown, waxed paper. No absorbency.
I have found over the last few days that it is best to use the first towel to wipe the water from you and use the second one to try to wipe off the dampness that remains. Plus, my room is so bloody hot in the morning. So after a shower, within 5 minutes I feel I need another one. But it is cold here in the evening and morning, for certain.
I also learnt, today, that the taxi will pick me up at 3 a.m. so that I can get my flight at 6.30 a.m! And then, when I arrive in Milan I shall be going to work until at least 6 p.m. It’s going to be a very, very long day. I may not be doing much, if I can help it, tomorrow.