I was struck today, whilst having lunch, about the difficulty, when moving to a foreign country, of knowing the correct/polite manners.
Table and other manners; class differences
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Tag Archives: Differences
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.
As my first post of the New Year, I should, perhaps, be wishing all my readers a very Happy New Year.
And, for those of you in the UK, suffering the very low temperatures, I should say that, although our temperatures are around freezing, we have had snow. And snow like I never saw in the UK.
The rules of engagement
So, are they engaged, or not? I really don’t know. F was sporting a very nice diamond engagement ring – but on the third finger of her right hand!
We just couldn’t quite get a straight answer, particularly from A. They implied that, once an actual date had been set for the wedding the ring would be moved to the left hand. This was just a sort of half-commitment.
Don’t stop the food coming – an Italian wedding
It was our first Italian wedding. Our second wedding this year. They were very different.
‘They suffered immigration…..now they live in reservations’
For you lot in the UK (or anywhere else outside Italy) you may have noticed in your news that Italy is going to the polls this weekend.
Gianna Nannini
Gianna Nannini or, as I thought for ages, Gian Annanini (although why some woman would have a blokes name, God only knows), was truly fantastic. Her name is pronounced Janananini as there is no gap when you say it.
This is helped, no doubt, by the fact that the last concert (and first here, in Italy) that I went to was…wait for it…Robbie Williams!
Dancing in the street; “The best espresso this side of Milan”
More on our trip to the UK.
I have mentioned this before but it was particularly noticeable as I haven’t been back to the UK for a while.
People here, in Milan (and maybe the whole of Italy), walk just like they drive. There is no forward planning and manoeuvres are made at the last minute and only if absolutely necessary. Except that, the difference between people and cars is that, if you bump into another car with your vehicle there will be a lot of time spent sorting out the insurance; shouting and screaming at each other with a lot of gesturing; many years of paying extra for your insurance.
Bumping into people does not cause any of those things. So, as a result, people manoeuvre a lot less when walking and there is a lot of bumping. And, more importantly for the people from the UK – no apologising!
Whilst in the Scottish city, we had spent a couple of hours walking round the shops and dancing in the street – by that, I mean the little two-step dance whilst trying to avoid other people.
I asked V if he had noticed that, in all the time we had been walking, not once had anyone so much as brushed past us. He replied that he hadn’t but that now I had mentioned it, it was true. It was so pleasant. I must admit that, having been here for almost 4 years now, I no longer apologise when bumped into or even when I bump into someone else. It has taken all this time and a great deal of personal resolve to stop saying ‘sorry’. There is a way of walking here that means head up, stare straight ahead, ignore the fact that the person is approaching you without any intention of moving slightly out of your way and, if they are much bigger than you, only move slightly to one side at the very last possible moment. If there is any physical contact, whatever you do, DO NOT say ‘sorry’ – after all, it’s their fault for being in your way.
But it was so nice to stroll around without having bruises at the end!
I did drink a lot of tea whilst there and it was very, very nice. But I did miss the Italian coffee. So, whilst out, we saw a Café Nero and decided to go in and have the ‘real Italian coffee’ that they purported to sell.
Of course, here, a café latte is not taken so often and, certainly, is not as big as the Café Nero ‘regular’ let alone ‘large’. However, we were in the UK so a large café latte seemed in order.
Maybe it’s the water; or the coffee; or the milk – whatever it was, it did not make it particularly nice. And I very much doubt (although I didn’t try it, so I can’t be sure) that their espresso is not the best this side of Milan. After all, we have quite an area of Italy between Milan and the French border and, I can assure you, coffee in any part of Italy is superb.
I do remember that, when we still had the flat in Hay and returned to help out at the festival 3 years ago, we brought our moka back with us along with a supply of coffee so that we could make our morning fix.
Where have all the assistants gone?
More from our trip to Scotland and the differences between UK and Italian life/culture, etc.
We landed at the airport and had arranged for a taxi to take us to the city at which we were staying. There were quite a few of us. We knew about half the people and knew of, by reputation, most of the rest.
We arrived at the city and a group of us (about 6 or so) decided that we would go into town. V & I really wanted a Kentucky Fried Chicken fillet burger. I know it’s crap (junk) food but when you just can’t get something the old adage ‘absence makes the heart (or in this case, stomach) grow fonder’ was definitely in full swing.
Luckily, an Italian with us, F, was also very keen on this type of junk food and was also up for it. A couple of the others had never tasted it so had no idea. A couple of people returned to the hotel. We asked several people where the nearest (actually, only) KFC was. We had various answers, mostly quite vague. V saw Greggs and decided to have a sausage roll – as did F and one or two others.
I thought, whilst they were buying, I would find out definitively, where the KFC was. What I needed was a shop with helpful assistants. Aha, I thought; Marks and Spencer. So I walked in. The shop was spacious with plenty of room between the racks of clothes, something we rarely see here, in Italy. Something else that I hadn’t bargained for and had completely forgotten about was that, after wandering around for about 10 minutes, I still couldn’t find an assistant!
Here, in Italy, after about 1 minute an assistant would be there; offering their help. Here, in one of the most renowned stores in the UK, assistants were less than ghosts.
I gave up and went to a shoe repairers where some very pleasant local lassies gave me very precise and spot-on directions.
Later we talked about this within our group. It was consensual that, in the UK, we had driven this type of service out of existence. And, the more I thought about this the more I knew it to be true. In the UK, I used to get very annoyed if I was bothered by assistants. Sure, I wanted them to be there but only when I wanted them! Until then I wished to be left alone until I had selected what I wanted. I agree that I think the UK drove this away and I think that the UK is the worse for it.
Here, in Italy, good service – and having an assistant pay attention to you almost as soon as you walk through the door is very good service – is essential and very much expected. Here, and certainly in Milan, assistants are everywhere and I’ve got used to it now. I know how to react and use their assistance rather than discourage them from trying.
By the way, the burger was divine. I know that to you, my lovely reader, this is nothing special but to us the taste was a wonder on our tongues. I wouldn’t swap Italy for the UK but, sometimes, these things are missed.
Hearing from old friends; Sunday Lunch; the Sales in Milan
It was nice to hear that M & B had had a nice time visiting A in Canada. Here, we have fireworks making all the noise and there, they have pots and pans being banged and car horns blaring. Seems like it’s only the UK that celebrates New Year more quietly (although I am aware that, these days, there are more fireworks than there used to be).
Friends are starting to arrive back from their celebrations in the South (or Paris, for some). So this weekend was doing some catching up with some friends. Saturday, V was working so we only went out in the evening but, yesterday, we did Sunday Lunch for some friends and eat the Christmas Pudding that V had been given, as Christmas Day we had gone out for lunch.
The Sunday Lunch started at just after 2 p.m. and finished (with a short shopping break) at about 11.30 p.m. This is the way Sunday Lunch should be. Long, leisurely affairs; much food (Roast Beef, Yorkshire Pudding, Horseraddish Sauce, etc.; Christmas Pudding and Brandy Sauce; Cheese) and some very good wine. And, although we drank quite a lot, because it was spread over so many hours, it didn’t cause us to suffer at all.
V wanted me to get a shirt (like one of the ones I gave as a present to V for Christmas) – but now it’s the Sales (they started on Saturday). I knew the shop (TerraNova) was in Via Torino but V informed me that they also had a shop on Corso Buenos Aires. So, I braved the rain (for it was truly miserable) to walk up there. When I got there, having dodged the many umbrellas, carried by short people but unaware, it seemed, that their umbrellas can only be described as lethal weapons and the general Italian way of not seeming to see you (i.e. they just keep on walking quite unconcerned that bumping into you or not moving out of the way is NOT acceptable to English people), I found that this shop only sold half the stuff of the other one. And although I was only out of the house about 20 minutes in total I really had had enough, so texted that I was sorry but I just couldn’t do it.
I am not a fan of shopping at the best of times but, in miserable weather, crowds of people and sales – it’s just pure torture for me.
According to S (with whom I work and is a bit of a bargain hunter – worse than V), the time to hit the Sales here, in Milan is the first weekend and then the last few days (in about a month’s time). The first few days allow you to get the best stuff and then it’s all rubbish until the last few days when the best bargains (i.e. the most discount is applied) are to be found.
So, if you were thinking of coming over for the Sales, I suggest you wait, now, until the end of January/beginning of February.
Dreaming in a Dreamworld; Last few days.
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!