Tag Archives: Milan

Being a foreigner; another first!

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It’s probably about 10.30 p.m.

Maybe 11.

It’s Friday night and I’m taking the dogs out for their final time that night. It’s a bit later than normal as tomorrow is Saturday and a lie in. If I take them too early, they will want to be out early the next morning and, I’m sorry, but I can’t do that at the weekend. Well, I could and, obviously, have but I prefer not to if I can help it.

We had been to Liù for a pizza earlier. It was a bit strange in that, when we were sitting there waiting for the pizzas to come, I had this sudden moment when I felt that I was in a foreign land. Of course, I AM in a foreign land but as I’ve been here quite a long time now, I don’t tend to notice. It is my “normal” and it’s not new. So, although most of the time I hear Italian all around me, it doesn’t seem strange nor does it feel like I live somewhere foreign. And yet, just for about 20 minutes, I felt as if I were not in my own country.

It’s not that it was a bad thing. It just “was”. And, in some way, I marvel in it. If I had been told when I was young that I would up sticks so late in life and go and live in Italy, I’m not sure that I would have believed it. Retire, maybe, but just to come and live and work here, probably not.

Anyway, I digress. So, there I am, going out with the dogs for their last walk.

We come out of the building and turn right, as always. They know which way to go. Dino does his first pee on the nearest car, as always. Piero usually waits to the first junction.

As we approach the junction, a car pulls up and half-blocks the entrance to the road on the right. I don’t think anything of it. I mean people sometimes park there like that.

These people don’t get out though and the engine is still running.

We cross the junction to continue our way down the “perfect street” and I glance inside the car as the courtesy light is on.

And I see something that I’ve never, ever seen before. I mean to say, I’ve seen it on films and TV but never in real life!

A line of what I can only assume is cocaine is on some sort of hand-held flat surface (maybe the back of a phone or a mirror), the passenger is holding the said flat surface whilst the driver snorts the white powder.

There, in the street (well, the car) in full sight of anyone (that would be me) walking past!

Obviously, as I’ve never taken any drug apart from stuff for illness, tobacco and alcohol, I get sort-of excited about this. I mean, this is for real!

I guess that most people will have seen this since it seems that the snorting of cocaine is fairly common from what I have read or seen on TV or in films.

However, for me it was a rather strange first.

The case of the mysterious open window.

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It’s raining.

Again.

It feels like it’s been raining since before Christmas. That’s not true, of course. It just feels like it.

So, at about 7.10 this morning I get in my car. I dump my bag and brolly on the seat beside me and start the car. I need to get out of this space so I look over to the mirror on the passenger side and notice that the passenger door is all wet.

There is no glass in the window! My first thought is that some bar steward has smashed the window.

Of course, it’s 7.10. I struggle to think in any logical way at this hour. My mind takes time to work everything out. There’s something odd.

Still, I’m annoyed that someone has smashed the window. Why? There’s nothing in here to take!

Then, I see that there’s no broken glass.

The window isn’t smashed. In fact, I wind up the window using the switch on my side.

“Strange?” I think. Why the hell was the window down? I drive and, to be honest, I’m a bit flustered. And a bit relieved. How long has the window been down? Is there something wrong with the car? How come nobody noticed? How come the alarm didn’t go off?

I keep thinking about the window and how it must have come down on it’s own, after I was parked.

I’ve heard of the “electrics” playing up on cars in the past and I’m dreading the thought that I shall have to go back to the garage. I know these things are never easy to fix and, sometimes, never get fixed.

Bugger!

The heating is on because, after all the rain overnight that got in the car, the inside has to dry out.

Double bugger!

I am about half an hour away from home when it suddenly hits me.

The window didn’t come down by itself. As it was raining last night, in order to get into the car parking space, I wound the window down so I could see through the mirror properly and then, as it was a tight space, didn’t use the mirror but turned slightly to see out of the back window.

Obviously, after parking, I completely forgot to wind the window back up! Doh!

Still, I was lucky someone else didn’t try to get into the car or try to take anything out! I am grateful that I live in a “nice” part of town.

But, at least the mystery is solved.

I go to buy some shoes …… again …. and again ……. and again!

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Seems simple, doesn’t it?

I need some new shoes. For work.

I had worked out (and it’s only taken me about 3 years to do this) that my “cheap and nasty” shoes that I get for work really are worth peanuts. Although I never normally spend over 30€, they are really crap. Not only do they let water in if it rains hard, they are like wearing just a pair of socks when it is very cold.

Since most of the day, I am sitting at my computer and since the MD considers anything above about 10°C too warm (and, therefore, most people in the office are really cold during the winter), my feet get exceptionally cold. And, when my feet are cold, it makes for a pretty miserable day where my only thoughts are on how to keep warm.

The other day, because I knew it was going to rain A LOT, I wore my new walking boots to work and I noticed that my feet didn’t get cold and, as a result, the rest of me felt pretty much OK. The day after, I wore my normal shoes and I really could feel the difference. I could feel the cold from the pavement seep through the shoes.

So, the solution was to spend a bit more money. I decided that normal shoes might also let the cold seep through and decided that what I needed was shoes that were designed for real walking (or treking, if you like) as these would be made with the idea of keeping the feet warm.

The only shop that I know sells walking boots (and where I recently bought my boots from) is Decathlon. Unfortunately, the only Decathlon I know that is not outside Milan, is over the other side of town. I had quite a lot to do on Saturday. The plan was that, after breakfast I would go to the supermarket, then to Decathlon, then to get some cologne for work, then do some editing, brush the dogs and, if time was left over, watch a film.

It started so well, if a bit late. Breakfast was about 10.30 and then I went to the supermarket as planned. I got the stuff I wanted and, these days, to avoid more interaction with people than is necessary, I use the self-checkout tills. It generally means that I don’t have to talk to anyone at all in the supermarket, which I much prefer.

I paid by credit card and then took my shopping and the receipt to the service desk (about 1 step away) and signed the credit card receipt for them. I went home and packed everything away.

Although I didn’t really want to leave the house again, the weather was OK and I really wanted the shoes. The question in my mind was – should I go up the road and get the cologne first or the shoes? I chose the shoes first. After all, the shoes required a metro journey (which I also dislike). So, off I went.

I arrived at Decathlon and, since I had been there for boots a few weeks before, I knew exactly where to find the shoes I wanted. I do like that – walking into a shop and just being able to go to the place you want without having to search the shop. In spite of the fact that it is sale time, there weren’t too many people in the shop, thank goodness.

I go to the walking shoe/boot area. There’s nothing exactly as I want but there are some that are near enough OK. I select these brown shoes. Well, actually they are a little like small boots – but that’s OK. They are for work.

I need size 43 or 44. Since these are walking shoes, they tend to be oversized so I try a 43 first. It fits perfectly and will be big enough even with thicker socks.

I go back to the “43 rack” and find the other one. In fact, there are only two pairs of these shoes in 43. It’s obviously the most popular size! I try on the other shoe and that also fits perfectly. I walk up and down a bit to make sure there’s no obvious problems. There aren’t, so I go to pay.

At the payment area, I have to queue a bit but it’s OK. I wait for about 5 minutes and then go to the cash desk that’s become available.

The guy checks the shoes. Inside is a little label. He checks each shoe.

“They’re different sizes,” he says. “One is 42 and the other is 43″. He hands them back to me and I thank him although, really, I am a a bit annoyed that they had a 42 on the 43 shelf.

I go back downstairs. This will only take a moment.

I check the other shoes on the 43 shelf. In fact, what I thought were another pair were, in fact, two right-foot shoes. and, in spite of them being on the 43 shelf, they are size 42. So, there is one right-foot shoe in size 43 (in my hand) and two right-foot shoes, size 42, 42 on the shelf and one left-foot shoe, size 42, in my hand. That’s it!

Bugger! I check the size 42 shelf below. Yep, they are all 42. The shelf is jam packed with pairs of shoes at size 42.

I check the shelf above – the size 44 shelf is jam packed with pairs of size 44. There is no left-foot 43 to be found!

Double bugger!

I think for a moment. Well, the size 42 actually fits and the size 44 will be too big. I decide to try a pair of 42s. I get a pair that are fixed together by a thin piece of plastic wire. After all, these should be the same size!

Still, I double-check the small label inside :-)

Yes, both 42. I try them on. They are fine. I take them up to the tills.

There is a short queue. There are only two tills open but it should be fine. Sure enough, one till becomes free almost immediately.

Unfortunately, the guy in front of me has two baskets full to the brim with stuff. He is buying things for his kids for skiing. He is going to take a (long) time at the till. I look at the other till. The couple are only buying about 4 things. Three of them are scanned by the assistant but there seems to be a problem with the fourth item. I don’t know this for sure but it seems as though the price the guy thought the product was is different from that which came up when it was scanned.

There’s a discussion and the assistant rings someone else. I am patient but I really do want to get out of here now. I’ve done with shopping.

The guy goes off (downstairs, I guess) to either get the right product or whatever and as the assistant starts putting their shopping on “suspend” so he can serve me, they open a third till.

I go there.

The assistant checks the size – but I know they are the same size and so I get my wallet out and open it up to get my credit card out.

As the guy rings up the shoes on the till, I see that my credit card is not there. I check to see if it is loose (rather than in it’s allotted slot) but, even as I do so, I already know where it is. Or, rather, where it was. It was in the payment machine at the self-checkout in the supermarket.

Fuck!

I tell the assistant that I left the credit card in the supermarket. I explain that we can try my debit card but I’m sure it won’t work. It doesn’t. I’ve maxed out my account, as I knew. I have more than enough cash but I don’t really want to use cash. He asks if I want to hold the shoes while I go and get my credit card.

I say “no” for two reasons. One is that the supermarket is the other side of town (which I explain to him). The other, of course, is that, maybe, horror of horrors, the credit card may not be at the supermarket any more!

However, I’ve got to try.

I go back towards home and straight to the supermarket, dreading the thought that it may not be there and having to stop the card, go to the police station and do a statement, fax that to the credit card company and then wait for a new one, etc., etc.

Plus, of course, here, in Italy, I’ve heard all sorts of tales about things like: even if you stop the card, until the statement is faxed, it isn’t really stopped – and you’re still liable! Plus, people don’t check the signatures here (take the supermarket which allowed me to sign without even seeing my card!!!!). Occasionally, like in Decathlon, you are asked for ID – but that isn’t guaranteed. So, more often than not, you can get away with using someone else’s credit card.

My friend, A, for example, regularly signs the slips with Mickey Mouse or something – and nobody checks!

I go to the service desk and ask about my card.

“What bank is it? What does it look like?” I am asked. Luckily, the company card is from the same bank so I show them that and say that it’s something like it.

They have a STACK of cards left behind! She searches through. She asks my name. I give it in the way it is on the card (surname first). She asks for ID.

RESULT! I have my card back. I toy with trekking back to Decathlon but decide not to as I really need to do the other things and the editing is important and I’m not sure how long that will take.

I go and get the cologne though, which is something.

My friend, FfI, texts me. Can we do coffee in the morning? I am almost certain that I can’t really as F and I shall go for breakfast in the morning and, probably, that won’t be early.

I suggest (as I MUST get these shoes for work) that she could come with me to Decathlon tomorrow. She say OK, maybe, and to call her tomorrow. At least this way I will definitely go and get some and not put it off (and then suffer all week with cold feet).

The next day dawns and we sleep through that (dawn, that is). In fact, we don’t get up until after ten. I take the dogs out while F cleans (again). I come back with the dogs and he hasn’t finished cleaning. In fact, I am pressed into doing some stuff. We go for breakfast about 11.30. After breakfast he goes across to the supermarket and, as I go home, I text FfI and suggest she comes to Decathlon with me. She arrives at my flat about 15 minutes later. We walk towards the metro stop. She keeps going on about taking the bus rather than the metro. She says she hates the metro. She says she always goes by bus and she prefers to “see” where she is going.

She also needs coffee as she hasn’t had breakfast.

I say OK to both, even though I point out that the metro is quicker. In fact, the real reason she wants to go by bus is that, going by bus she can get away without having a valid ticket. Going by metro this is not possible. She doesn’t say this directly but I’m not stupid. It’ll save her 2.60€!

As we approach the bus stops, she finds that the cafè she was hoping to go to is closed. We go to Sissi – a well-known bar here, in Milan.

She grabs something to eat and we order two coffees. She has something else to eat. I let her pay for my coffee (after all, she is making this trip to Decathlon veeeeeeery long).

We get on the bus and, after some time, arrive at Decathlon.

We go and find the shoes. I double-check the sizes and, just in case, try them on again (size 42).

I go and pay.

We go back to the bus stop. It really is a beautiful day although a little cool. The sky is a wonderful blue and so clear and, in the sun, it almost feels warm!

We get back near my house and she wants another coffee. We go up to a bar near my house. I hang the bag with the shoes on the back of the chair. We have coffee and smoke a few cigarettes and chat.

We leave to go home. Just a few steps from the cafè, I realise I don’t have my shoes. They are on the back of the chair. I go back and get them wondering if, in fact, these shoes are not really meant to be mine after all!

As I sit here, writing this, I have on the shoes. My feet are definitely much warmer so it was worth all the effort. The shoes aren’t as warm as the boots but, still, with thick socks too, I’m absolutely certain that my feet will be much warmer than last year! I bloody hope so after all the trouble I’ve had to go to to get them!

And, moving on …….

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Well, we talked.

Of course, it hasn’t really changed anything but maybe there’s some more understanding.

We went to look at the flat he really likes and I’m sure that it’s the one. I had a really good feeling about it when I walked in and could see “our stuff” in each of the rooms. Now I wait for him to make the offer and discuss the costs with the agent.

In the meantime, we are going to see another one tomorrow. It’s another that he really likes but, in this case, the position is not so good. We’ll see.

And, although everything is “sorted” – well, as much as it will ever be, I still have this slightly queasy feeling in my stomach regarding actually moving in together. And this is very strange for me and I don’t really like it (the feeling, that is).

The feeling is neither logical, sensible nor what I want.

Maybe this is as a result of doing this half-living together for so long. You know what I mean? Like – “why change something that works?”

Anyway, the next couple of weeks will see movement, I’m sure.

The race is on.

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There suddenly, since Christmas, seems to be a bit of a rush on.

As we don’t really talk, I have no idea why this is so. However, sites are checked daily and visits have been made.

OK, you may ask, why don’t you ask? Well, that’s simply not how it works. If he wants to, he’ll tell me. Maybe there is no rush and it’s just me thinking that there is but, right now he seems more determined.

I’m not in a rush which surprises even me. I would rather wait until I am certain the right one has been found. And I want certain things. A comment was made last night (to a friend and then relayed to me) that, as it’s only for 4 years, the right place is not so important. And yet, for me, it really IS important. He agrees that, if the right place is found, we shall know immediately.

And, so, the search goes on. I am now looking daily. And I absolutely KNOW that we shall find somewhere that suits both of us – that has the required size, the required age and the required situation. I just KNOW.

In the meantime, I am supportive without making a firm commitment.

We saw one place, just before Christmas and, although the flat itself was almost perfect (it lacked the required number of balconies for the dogs), the position was not “all that”. Not a terrible position, just not quite right. But it has aircon.

“It would only be switched off at night,” he says. He says that because he is Italian. When he is away, it would, most certainly, be left on all night. Imagine, in the middle of summer, sleeping without sweating, waking up without feeling like you’ve just been sleeping in an oven and showering without needing another shower within 5 minutes!

Suddenly, the place seems even more attractive. :-)

However, I am convinced we shall find the perfect flat in the perfect street/area – just as I did before.

Of course, the “rush” we seem to be in is not necessarily conducive to my belief that the perfect place is out there and we just have to find it. But I keep remembering V and his love for our flat – and how much I hated it. I don’t want to be in that position ever again. So, I guess, I’m being just a tad stubborn.

Maybe, as my friend A described to me last night, just a little bit Roman – smiling and saying yes, of course, on the one hand whilst saying no when it really matters on the other. Hmmm.

So, the race is on. I have to find the perfect place before he gets fed up and insists we go for something I’m not 100% sure about.

I have to be focused.

Slowly does it.

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Well, that’s that, then.

Just over 2 weeks of holiday and this is the first day back to “normal”. And it’s a struggle.

Still, that was the best Christmas/New Year period ever. We had many good times and great fun with lots of nice friends.

For F’s birthday evening, he took me and An and her husband to Al Garghet, a wonderful restaurant, just outside Milan. The place was lit up by Christmas lights everywhere outside and was very pretty, the food was excellent and the service was perfect. OK so it isn’t cheap but it’s OK. The only way to get there is by car (meaning someone can’t drink) or by taxi. But totally worth it.

Earlier, I had given F his present which is shown below:

Cufflinks of dogs' paws

They are, of course, imprints of the dogs’ paws, reduced in size to become cufflinks, in silver. Dino’s is on the left and Piero’s on the right.

Now, what the hell am I going to do for next year?

But now we are back at work. And I’m gearing myself up to really start work tomorrow, since today, I just can’t do it! So, slowly does it.

So, here it is ……. almost.

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It’s 4.27 a.m.

I woke about 2 hours ago and got up. I had eaten too late last night. And now I’ve been up two hours and thinking I really should go back to bed.

For tomorrow is a looooong day. Or, rather, a looooong day and night.

And tomorrow (today) will be very, very busy since we have the usual New Year’s Eve get together at my flat.

Strangely, with V, we never really had these regular New Year’s Eve dos. Yet here I am, some years later with a “regular” New Year’s Eve thing going on!

Anyway, menus have been planned and some things are wip. Other things are to be made tomorrow. Hence, tomorrow will be very, very busy. And when not preparing there’ll be cleaning (because F will insist on it, bless him, even if my cleaner has already been in). Which means that it is very, very unlikely that I shall post anything tomorrow.

Which is why I’m posting now ……. just to wish my readers a very happy 2014!

I hope it will be a good year for you all!

It will be a very Merry Christmas – the preparations.

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I’m sitting in the kitchen cleaning.

Yes, sitting and cleaning.

That’s because I’m cleaning the dogs’ toys! WTF! Even I find it hard to believe that, as part of the preparations for Christmas, when everything has to be cleaned, when every corner must have no trace of dirt, I am cleaning dogs’ toys. These are the rubber and plastic toys that could not be put in the washing machine. It’s my contribution.

F had already “done” the kitchen whilst I was away.

He has decorated the tree (which looks a million times better than in the photo), put all the other decorations up, cleaned the wardrobe tops and mirrors and I’ve watched Scrooged to “get me in the mood” – which really wasn’t necessary but I just really wanted to watch it.

I’ve bought his main present and a few others. The rest will be bought on Christmas Eve afternoon. For me that’s the newish “tradition” that I really love to do.

That was a couple of days ago. Yesterday was my hunt for filo pastry, visiting A (who has broken his ankle and is now stuck at home) and searching for filo pastry. I love Italy and its wonderful food but, sometimes, you just wish they were a little more open about it. I got some eventually, thanks to A phoning round. It’s to make some leek and mushroom parcels for Christmas lunch for F. On the other hand, I will be having a duck thing. Both of them look good recipes.

To be honest, I was glad to be out yesterday. My cleaner was round and I left F cleaning the bathroom (using the steam cleaner) and my cleaner to it! Ammonia filled the air. Last night the dogs went for their Christmas clean.

So, today is the last minute things. Pasta from the pasta shop (F has become firm friends with the guys whose shop it is), to the market to get fresh fruit and veg (and a little bit of fish for this evening, if I can persuade F), picking up the meat (wild duck for me and then a nice piece of pork, with skin for crackling for Boxing Day, when we have friends over) and, probably, going to the supermarket for last minute things.

Then F can relax a bit whilst I go out and do the last minute shopping and wrap the presents for him.

Perfect!

And, then, tomorrow, a full Italian/English Christmas lunch/dinner. Opening presents (most are for the dogs!). And just hanging out.

I’m really looking forward to it.

I hope you all have a great Christmas in spite of the terrible weather that seems to be everywhere in the Northern Hemisphere. Including Milan where it is raining and will continue to do so for the next couple of days.

Giving a whistle

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As I mentioned, nearly everything is good, wonderful or fantastic!

The last half of the year has been rather good, in most ways.

I saw Best Mate for her 40th birthday; we went to a lovely wedding in London and slipped in a few hours of sightseeing too (well more of visiting the Isabella Blow – Fashion Galore exhibition at Somerset House and a tiny bit of shopping); we went to see a lovely flat (although I don’t think it’s quite right for us and nor did F); Christmas is coming and I got a new car.

I did all my Christmas cards (will post tomorrow), got most Christmas presents (except the main one for F which I’m getting during the weekend before Christmas plus, maybe, a few other small things), F’s birthday is sorted (depending on the Christmas post) and F will be cleaning the house whilst I’m away.

Yeah, OK, the going away thing is not so good. I will be away fours days (more or less), including the whole of this weekend. :-(

It’s for work, not pleasure and the timing is, well, not brilliant – other than, when I come back, the house will be clean. Apart from, maybe, the kitchen. F wants to do that when I’m there, otherwise, nothing will be thrown out and he’s a bit of a “thrower-outer” whereas I’m a bit of a hoarder, even with foodstuffs.

The menu is almost set both for Christmas Day and Boxing Day (when we shall have guests, as last year) and, at the rate New Year is going and the self-inviting that people seem to do, we may have a house full and be doing a buffet dinner rather than a sit down dinner! But that’s OK. It’s nice that people want to join us for New Year. The important thing is that we’re with the dogs (because of the fireworks).

For Boxing Day we shall have Roast Pork, some Christmas pudding made by Best Mate, some nice English cheese and a very nice bottle of port that I bought when I was over for Best Mate’s birthday! Plus, because we’re in Italy, lasagne, brodo with pasta, salumi (for which I have a mostarda made with tomotoes), panettone and a ton of wine. Mmmmmm.

We went to see a film on Sunday night (in Italian so I didn’t get a lot of the dialogue – and it was very dialogue-heavy – Venus in Furs). On the way back, as we strolled across Corso Buenos Aries, F remarked how he “didn’t feel Christmassy”. I pointed out that he said the same thing about the same time last year. He explained it was because Milan was so miserable. I said that the lights on CBA looked really lovely. He said that it wasn’t like London. I pointed out that, for me, there were the lights of Hereford or Hay-on-Wye and so, the lights here, in Milan, ARE wonderful although I agreed that London’s were better.

Anyway, I never feel really Christmassy until I’ve finished work for the holidays. Before that, it’s always such a rush to do everything in time – both at work and home.

Anyway, I AM looking forward to Christmas, being at home, with F and the dogs and feeling “safe” as I always do at home.

Got some nice Christmas films to watch as well :-)

So, things are, generally, pretty good!

And, anyway, should anything be bad, you can always do as the song says and give a little whistle.

It seems it’s back on!

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We have been in a bit of a lull, as I may have mentioned before now.

There was a point (I think about April or so of this year) when there was, what I believed was, serious talk about us moving in together.

There are, of course, fundamental differences in opinion upon what is “the perfect flat”. In addition, there are fundamental differences on where is the “perfect area to live”.

To recap, these are “somewhere light and airy” (him) and “somewhere with character” (me). “Somewhere modern” (him) and “somewhere from the 20s or 30s” (me). “An area of Milan that’s cheaper” (him) and “the area I have always lived in Milan” (me). “New furniture” (him) and “don’t mind as long as all my ‘period pieces’ come with me” (me).

See how close we are? ;-)

As I may have mentioned previously, I was an ardent looker for flats that didn’t come through an agency (less money to pay up front). Until, that was, I gave the numbers of a couple of places that I had found and rung, to F for him to follow up and make appointments. When he didn’t do that, I stopped looking.

Recently, in the last few weeks, he has started looking again.

And, this week he came up with one through an agency which he went to see yesterday. It’s a small distance away and, more or less, in the same area. It has good transport links. The important thing (and the thing that means that he has listened to me) is that, as he pointed out, it is in a beautiful, 1920s building. And he explained that it really wasn’t so far from where we live now.

He loves it since it fulfils his requirements of being very light and airy plus it is not a bad price for the size.

Unfortunately, I have to see it in the light (the electricity has been turned off, obviously). To do that, I have to wait until the weekend after next since we are away this weekend.

But he loves it and thinks it would be perfect. He is worried that in a week it will be taken.

My opinion is that he may be right. My secret opinion is that, if he is right, then it will still be there in just over a week, in spite of what he thinks to the contrary. My secret, secret opinion is that, actually, if it is right, I will know as soon as step into the place when all other considerations will fall by the wayside. He doesn’t know of my secret opinions.

Unfortunately, I still have my concerns over this “living together” as I know I have mentioned in a previous post. But there’s no concrete objections or thoughts – just concerns. I’m sure we can work them out but, given that we don’t really discuss important things, the working out of them may take some time. So my concerns remain.

Hmmm.