Tag Archives: Strange things

Be More Cheerful!

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Be_More_Cheerful

Yeah, right.

It bothers me that the blog may have become a little depressing. After all, I’m not sure that it helps and it must make for terrible reading. It’s difficult to make it more cheerful, to be honest. At least right now.

But, let’s look for some cheerful things to say. After all, we are into spring now. The forsythia is blooming, leaves are starting to show, the sun is shining and, for the first time this year, the back door is open as I type. See, already it’s starting to look better, isn’t it?

Back to the flat (the new flat). I had postponed the meeting to sign the flat until next Tuesday for various reasons. However, we have someone visiting the factory on Monday and Tuesday of next week. Originally, I thought that they were coming for 3 days, so sloping off a little early on day two would not be a problem. However, then they said they were only going to be here for two days and I do want to see what they say at the end of the visit – so, I got the MD to phone up.

But here’s where the slightly strange bit came in. When I first went to see her I thought she was the owner. It turns out she was the Administrator and she wanted her commission. I nearly walked out at one point but, in the end we agreed on €500, which I paid in cash and got a receipt. Because the figure was low (for her, anyway), she said that, once the contract was signed, we would tear up the receipt. In other words, it was to be “in nero”. No real surprise – we are in Italy, after all.

So, as I needed to move it to Wednesday and as it was because we had a visitor, I asked my MD to make the call. When she rang, what had originally been agreed was a little changed. Instead of getting some special savings-account passbook, I could bring a cheque. Then later I could get the passbook and the cheque would be ripped up! And, also could I bring €500 cash. When my MD got off the phone, she explained this to me saying that, apparently, I knew about the €500 thing. I thought it was very strange. I said that I certainly didn’t know about it and couldn’t understand what it was for. She kindly phoned back. Apparently the €500 I paid before was not the commission/expenses of the Administrator but rather a ‘deposit’ that would be returned to me at the signing of the contract. I would get this back and then I would pay the commission! What?

The reality is that either the old-lady Administrator forgot that I had already paid the €500 or she was trying to scam me for more dosh or this really was the way it works. But then, why tell my MD to tell me not to forget the €500 in cash if it was the last one? I won’t need the €500 in cash if she’s going to give me back the €500 I gave her! I’m going for one of the first two and I’m so inclined to believe it was the second one. Perhaps, in my old age, I’m just getting far to cynical.

Anyway, hopefully you found this post a little more cheerful. For those of who have it, enjoy the sun in the first few days of spring.

Can’t Fit, Won’t Fit; I know, let’s wake everyone up!; Sending emails to Gmail accounts is difficult!

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I know that V will survive without me but, sometimes, I wonder how?

I mean, take last night as an example. He arrived home and asked me if I had a washing machine where I was going. I replied in the affirmative. He suggested that we could get one for free from a work colleague and all we had to do was pick it up. This would, indeed, be useful as the washing machine no longer works and both of us are fed up with hand washing.

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A party – or something else?

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I mean, it’s a nice idea but, the last time that we did a party with many different types of friends was when we did the ‘Leaving for Italy’ party. That was a very special event as we did not know how often, if at all, we would see these friends again. And, in fact, we have not seen most of you since we left for Italy. This may have something to do with the fact that we rarely come back to the UK.

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And, the winner is…………..

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It’s not all done and dusted yet but it’s getting there.

Last night it was the revisit to the flat-with-the-terrace with FfI. She had already decided that this was the flat I should have

First, we met in our mutual friend’s shop. She’s from London and has a clothes shop – but not just any old clothes, specific designer clothes from the UK and Japan She is lovely and beautiful – tall, black and just stunning. Her shop is in Isola.

We walked to the flat-with-the-terrace. On the way, FfI saw a couple of guys (who looked a little like Beppe Grillo) and we spoke to them for a bit. They are jazz musicians who live in Isola and play, regularly, at the Blue Note Café which is also there. Nice guys. When FfI explained what we were doing one of them said we should go to his friends agency round the corner – but the problem is agencies. They always want between 10-20% commission (based on the annual rent). This equates to thousands of Euro which, given that I have to put down a deposit, pay three months rent in advance AND move furniture, etc. is just money down the drain, as far as I am concerned.

Obviously, when we first came here, we had no choice as we didn’t know the “rules” of renting in Italy – but oh how I wish we had known. It would have meant a much nicer flat for less money than we actually got in the end. Still, as I say, we didn’t know squat then and had no one to help us with the translation or anything, so it had to be.

The guy was there to show us round. When my friend had phoned originally, she had asked if it was an agency and had been told that “no, it wasn’t really and there would only be a very small charge as he was doing this as a favour for someone”.

The flat was great. Empty, the balcony on the front, overlooking the church was big enough for a small table and several chairs; the terrace at the back was, really, another room, only overlooked by the flats above. The kitchen seemed bigger than I remembered. Nearly all our furniture would fit if V chose not to take anything.

It was going to be such a difficult decision.

Then my friend asked about the rent (which was very reasonable) and the “spese” (this is the annual charge for the upkeep of the building, the cost of the doorman/woman, etc. She was shocked at how much it was. But again, the guy said that we could make an offer and he was sure that the total payable per month would fit my budget. It was looking good. The owner wanted the 3 months deposit and 3 months rent in advance, of course. This was going to make things a bit tight but it was do-able.

But then, my friend asked about the fee. It was to be 20% of the annual rent! It now became impossible. My friend suggested that, maybe, it could be paid over a period of time. “Oh yes”, he replied, “it wouldn’t have to be paid until the contracts were signed”! As my friend said – that means a couple of weeks from now!

Well, on the plus side, it took away the need for choice. It was now down to the perfect-flat-on-the-perfect-street.

Off we trundled into the centre of Milan to meet with the owner of the perfect-flat-on-the-perfect-street, as had been planned.

We arrived at a fabulous old building, just off Via Torino, one of the main shopping streets of Milan. The offices were on the first floor. We went up to see a typical Milanese older lady (probably in her 60s), smartly dressed, with money, jewellery, style, etc. She seemed nice.

On the internet, whilst searching for a flat, you can, usually, select those flats that are being offered privately (rather than through an agency). For this one it was in the private section and the woman living in the flat explained that she had put it on because otherwise she would lose 6 months rent. There was no agency involved.

However, whilst, maybe, not saying that we would have to speak to the owner (although I’m sure she did), she certainly implied it. In fact, this woman we were in front of was the Administrator of the building and not the owner (apparently the owner is 99 and I would get first dibs on the flat, to buy, when she dies!).

Now, here’s the thing, if you get a flat through the Administrator, it is similar to the agency thing. They want their “cut” She wanted 1 months rent as her fee! This was considerably less than the agency fee but, still, with 3 months deposit and 3 months rent in advance it was extra expense that I could do without.

So, I started to get my coat, explaining that the woman in the flat had said/implied that this was with the owner directly and a private deal not through someone wanting their cut.

The Administrator reduced her fee and then reduced it some more. My friend suggested that I pay the three months in advance and one months deposit, over time, building that up to three months deposit.

The woman asked someone else who said absolutely not but – I could pay three months deposit and then pay the rent monthly!

Perfect!

I filled in some details and paid her the ‘fee’. Of course, as it was so much less, although I had a receipt for the fee, once the contract was signed we would tear up the receipt so that the fee would be ‘in nero’ (in the black/under the table). Anyway, the result is that I pay less than I thought in advance even with her fee!

So, it was done! Obviously the contracts have to be drawn up and signed and the woman will try to get the current tenant out by the beginning of April. As soon as she’s out I can move in – and, as a bonus, the contract will start from 1st May so whatever I get, in terms of time in the flat, in April, will be free!

I was very, very happy.

As we were close to Peck and, as I have never been, FfI took me in. It is wonderful. Similar, for those of you who have been, to Harrod’s Food Hall. The displays of food were amazing. And, for future reference – they have Stilton. Immediately, I thought of Stilton and a good glass of Port. The Stilton looked wonderful. I’m sure that heaven, should I get there, is one big food hall, just like Peck!

In celebration we called in at Princi which is really a chain of bakeries – that do apero as well – the food, freshly baked on the premises is great and the cost of the apero, including a plate of food was only €5. For those of you coming to Milan it is one of the best places to go.

Then we made our way back to Isola as our friend-with-the-shop would be closing up and we could go for a drink. We had a lovely time and several drinks.

I still can’t quite believe it and have to keep saying to myself “I’m going to live on the perfect street” just to make it true!

How friends are helping me decide; V & I make an appointment to see each other.

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Last night, one of my friends picked me up and we went to Blender Bar. On the way we passed the perfect-flat-on-the-perfect-street. I described that flat and also the flat-with-the-terrace. My friend lives closer to my current flat and so it will come as no surprise that he prefers the perfect-flat-on-the-perfect-street, since it means we can still go for a drink from time to time as he is on his way back from work..

This afternoon, whilst it is still light, I go with FfI to see the flat-with-the-terrace before, supposedly, going to see the owner of the perfect-flat-on-the-perfect-street. Unsurprisingly, she (my friend from Isola) would prefer me to take the flat-with-the-terrace. Especially since said terrace will allow for bbqs and sunbathing – she likes to be tanned in the summer. After all, it looks much better with white clothes, doesn’t it?.

So, now, the choice is much easier, isn’t it? Or perhaps not.

So my friend, last night, was saying that as the flat-with-the-terrace didn’t have a kitchen, it would be too expensive to fit one. My Isola-friend says, of course, it will not be expensive and it will be quite easy to do. She said, this morning, after informing me of the appointment to see the flat-with-the-terrace that, after viewing, we should just cancel the appointment with the owner of the perfect-flat-on-the-perfect-street!

Still, it is nice to feel wanted, particularly right now.

Meanwhile, V & I have ‘made an appointment’ for Sunday to discuss the dividing of the ‘stuff’. We have to make the appointment because we have, more or less since the end of December, been leading entirely separate lives – sometimes, not even seeing each other for days at a time! It’s a strange period indeed.

The flat-on-the-perfect-street seems to be the perfect-flat-on-the-perfect-street!

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I found three other possibles for a place to live, on the internet. One was an agency (sort of) as I phoned it myself.

FfI came round just after 6. She phoned the other two. One was an agency but would take no commission and the other was an agency. Also we phoned the flat-in-the-building-we-both-like but there was no answer as it must be an office or something.

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The problem with bloody foreigners is that they want more than one room to live in!

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The problem with bloody foreigners is that they want more than one room to live in!

“He’s going to live there on his own?”

The old man was incredulous. You could see him thinking how strange these foreigners are.

“Yes”, FfI replied. “He needs a studio”.

Obviously, this exchange was in Italian. I could do this but it would take me much longer and things do get lost in translation (especially when I try Italian).

He seemed unsure. We walked in to the flat. Built around 1920 or 1930, it had not really been updated much since then. The ‘cucina abitale’ (living kitchen) did have a table in it. At a squeeze you could fit four people round it, as long as the oven wasn’t still on, otherwise the person sitting with their back to it would be in hospital with 2nd degree burns.

The hallway was pokey. The bathroom had a half-bath with an (old) shower fitment over it. There was no room for a full size bath in any event.

“Why don’t Italians like baths?” FfI asked to me.

Room 1 was a bedroom. 2 single beds and a mismatch of furniture (wardrobes, chest of drawers). Some of the furniture was newish. But none of it was bought at the same time or bought from the same store. Room 2 was another bedroom with one single bed and a wall unit that would not look out of place on a bonfire. In fact, that is where it should be.

All the furniture would be staying. He was adamant. The girl living there obviously was not trying to sell the place. The washed clothes were drying on a rack in the hallway.

The girl explained that she didn’t live there on her own. In fact, as FfI put it (she is American but has, obviously, lived here too long) – they are in three – a literal translation of the Italian “sono in tre” – properly translated as “there are three of us”.

That’s how they could afford the rent. Which went up €100 Euro when my friend asked how much the rent was – at least compared to the internet price.

We didn’t ask about the dogs. And neither of us bothered to question the other about it. This was, excepting for the furniture, only marginally more salubrious than the “crack den” down on the Navigli.

As FfI put it later, you wouldn’t want to go home to that. I could only whole heartedly agree

We discussed the fact that, only as a student could one live in one bedroom. Later, over lunch and coffee, we discussed the fact that, given the cramped conditions in which Italians live, it is no surprise that they spend most of their spare time out, walking, eating, meeting friends, etc. And, why they never really seem to do dinner parties – at least, not like we do.

Sweating (and acting) like a pig; spring, maybe?; Friday the 13th

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I’m sorry. I’m sure I do not have perfect habits (in fact, I know I have not) but, certain things I do not do in public and, certainly, not in an office I share with my colleagues.

I do not, even if I am hot and sweating, lift my arms up to smell underneath my armpits. I don’t do it once, let alone several times whilst my colleagues, even if they are at their computers and not looking at me directly, cannot help but see me out of the corner of their eyes. Nor would I exclaim at the same time that I was sweating with a slightly disgusted tone to my voice.

Having said that, the weather, today, is rather superb. There is not a cloud in the sky and it is quite warm in the sun although there is a breeze (you probably wouldn’t even notice the breeze in the UK) and the wind is cold. However, it is supposed to continue like this for a few days yet, so that is rather fantastic.

On another subject, for you lot in the UK and the USA, I guess, today is that dreaded day FRIDAY THE THIRTEENTH. Here, it has no real meaning and so, although it crosses my mind, fleetingly, it really isn’t something to worry about. Instead, here, the bad day is the 17th. Also, a black cat crossing the road in front of you is unlucky. Now, S, should any of the bad Italian things happen to her, checks with me to see if it is bad in the UK. If not (like the black cat thing) then she chooses to believe the English version. I must admit that I lied, once, to her when she broke a mirror, saying that, in the UK, it did not mean bad luck. It made her happy anyway. It seems some superstitions are the same after all.

The Florist makes Pizza and other slightly crazy things

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We’re deciding where to go for a pizza. We will be driving.

He said, ‘I know a great pizza place in a flower shop’.

I say, incredulously, ‘in a flower shop?’

‘Well,’ he responds, ‘it’s a very big flower shop’.

‘So, more like a garden centre?’ I ask.

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