If, perchance, you are reading this within an hour or so of it being posted then I shall be at or near the airport – picking up Best Mate.
The Weather and Best Mate
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Tag Archives: Italy
Doll’s Hair!
Today, I learnt a new Italian phrase. This phrase is one that we would replace with ‘It’s not a game’ or ‘We’re not playing’ – often followed by ‘you know?’ to indicate that we are doing/have done something serious and that we did a good job because we take it all seriously.
In Italy, it is ‘We’re not brushing the doll’s hair’.
I just love it.
The trouble with Paris, France; A new recipe; a great pasta dish
Yesterday, my so-called boss, was delighted to tell me that I was on the ‘exclusive’ list to go to some important show and be one of the people on our stand. He asked if I would like to go, all smiles and glee at the thought that he was doing me a favour.
His face dropped big time when I said that absolutely, I did not want to go!
There are a number of reasons. 1. I do not like industry shows – even as a visitor but, worse, as a person on a stand. You stand (which is the first thing that is not good) for very, very long hours; you have to smile and treat incompetent visitors like they are kings, 2. You have rare opportunities for breaks, which means cigarettes, for me, 3. You get to see nothing else except the show, the hotel room and, maybe, some hotel restaurant and, in addition to these, to make it worse, it is in France!
Now, some of you will like France. For me, the best thing about France is that the motorways are good and allow you to cross it fast when driving from the UK to Italy. Oh, yes, and the food (particularly the cheeses) and the wine – which are, actually the only two reasons I would go to France.
Worse still, this to be Paris. I realise that, for most of you reading this, you will think that Paris is a wonderful city. For me, it is full of French people and not really that wonderful. It has the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre and some other bits and bobs. Hardly a reason for visiting it more than once.
It’s also further north and has weather more similar to the UK than Italy.
So, if I really have to go to this bloody thing, the only saving grace is the food and the wine (as you would expect, Gail).
To try and look on the bright side, I think they probably have the best cheeses in the world.
I said that, of course, if I am obliged to go, I would go but that I really, really didn’t want to go, if I had my way, and what is the point in me going? I don’t understand the subject, I am not interested in the finished products (except to use them) and I will be thoroughly bored out of my mind. I won’t even get to see any of Paris! Not that I really like it anyway.
I will probably have to go anyway. Damn!
Last night FfI cooked dinner. It was a light dinner but really lovely. It was steamed asparagus tips, with a fried egg/two on top (the egg should have a runny yolk but have crispy, brown edges to the whites) covered with a good sprinkling of Parmesan cheese. Washed down with a half-decent bottle of wine, of course, and with some nice crusty bread to eat with it.
I shall definitely be doing it myself sometime.
Tonight, with any luck, it will be pasta with broccoli – now, one of my favourite ways of having pasta and something I’ve never seen in the UK. At first I thought it was a very strange combination but the taste, well, it is to die for!
I feel hungry already……..
Still not holding my breath; Time Out Pizzeria; Having a wife!
Apparently, after an ‘interesting’ conversation she had with her friend, as we’re walking to the pizzeria, I won’t be holding my breath until Saturday or Sunday! Hmm.
This morning, coming to work, the temperature sensor was recoding 16.5 degrees. The sun is shining and, for the first time this year, I did not wear a jumper to work! Yay! Although, obviously, I was wearing a coat.
Still, if only this would hold for the weekend and, even better, if Best Mate still comes, next week! Blue skies, no wind, and, again, last night, we were able to sit outside for our meal without jackets. Oh yes, this makes it all worthwhile.
So, back to last night. The plan was that FfI was going to make dinner at home. She bought all the stuff. She also bought a clothes drying rack; a standing lamp; a basket to hold washing and cleaning stuff; a mirror for the bathroom. She also cleaned the kitchen and the bathroom. It’s like having a wife!
The problem is that the clothes drying rack is for hanging outside on the balcony. She likes her clothes to dry outside. Given the pollution in this city and the film of dirt that is on the car every morning, I prefer to dry everything inside. Ah well, there are worse things.
The lamp, however, is really great. It is now standing in the kitchen. The Art Deco lamp that was in the kitchen is now shedding light in the hall (which was the only place without light or windows and was, therefore, very dark). It’s good. It cost €5 but looks like it should be worth about €100!
The mirror (a cheap one from one of the Chinese shops that is full of tat) is serviceable and now I can shave without having to squat down!
Instead of her making dinner, she suggested that we go for a pizza. We walk up to Via Eustachi which is a very elegant street in Milan. It is also full of restaurants and bars. We select a pizzeria that she says is part of a small chain and, supposedly, very good. It’s called Time Out, or something like that. The chain is run by Chinese, apparently. The pizzas were good, the house red wine was fizzy and cold and perfectly acceptable and the conversation flowed. The evening was warm and very pleasant. And all for €13 per head! Very good value and one I can see myself going to much more often.
It was marred only by the phone conversation she had with her friend on the way there and a subsequent one when we got there.
She had told me, before, that she had texted her friend, twice, asking what was going on and could she still come tomorrow (now today, obviously) to stay. Her friend was not responding. I knew what this meant and told her.
A few minutes after we started walking to the restaurant her friend rang her (she had just sent another text) and there followed a rather heated argument. It was embarrassing and unnecessary, in my view. After all, I knew from the day before yesterday that this ‘move’ wasn’t going to happen.
Anyway, the upshot is that her friend didn’t have room because some other friends are down from the mountains. FfI wasn’t happy. I wasn’t exactly ecstatic but had to offer that she could stay – what else could I do? So, now it will be until Saturday or Sunday or, perhaps, even Monday). An offer to go to the Friend with the Second Home on the Lake for the weekend was rejected. I understand but, still, a break would be nice (for me, really).
Here I am in my new flat and unable, really to stretch out and enjoy it; continue putting stuff away and sorting things out, etc. Hmmph! And, even with V, I need my personal ‘downtime’ or space.
I really hope that Best Mate can make it after all as that IS something to look forward to and the weather is predicted to be pretty good – plenty of sunshine and warmish weather. And I want to explore the area with her, above all others.
Not holding my breath – and for good reason; Living with someone; a new restaurant
Remember? I’m still not holding my breath. Last night FfI mentioned that the friend, to whom she was going to move, may not be able to put her up until the weekend. I read between the lines and know what that means. Certainly, she will be there tonight. Tomorrow?
However, it changed again this morning, probably because she insists on getting up after I have taken the dogs for a walk and I don’t think she normally got up anywhere near that time in the past. At that time it’s only just getting light. She gets up for coffee with me. We have conversation. Now, I’m not really a morning person; I don’t like having conversation. I prefer to be quiet and not to do much (except drink coffee and have some cigarettes).
I really don’t mind having her stay. Except that, whereas she’s lovely, she may be considered harder work than someone, say, like Best Mate. With Best Mate I can, certainly, be totally myself and completely relaxed. With FfI, it’s not really the same at all.
But she’s trying to be sweet and I am trying to be accommodating. It’s difficult, this living with someone else, especially if you’re in a three-room flat!
Anyway, as a sort of payment for using my flat over these two (or three or four) days, she took me out last night. Please bear in mind, it’s always ladies first, ladies have a seat, ladies are treated, well, like ladies. But I have no problem when they pay for things. For me they are equal in all things but should be treated with the courtesy of being a lady. This does not mean they shouldn’t pay their way – after all, some of them I know earn so much more than I do.
She had asked me where and, since I’ve never been there but passed it the other night whilst taking the dogs out, I suggested Aladino. She had mentioned it several times in the past as a great restaurant and that we should go and now, as it’s a two minute walk from my house, it seemed the perfect time.
Aladino (not pronounced the English way – I.e. like Aladin with an ‘o’ on the end and the stress on the ‘la’ – but rather as in Allah + Dino (deenoh) with the stress on the ‘di’) is a Lebanese (and, as I look at the website, Syrian) restaurant.
As FfI had been there before, many times, and, I was on the telephone to another friend, she went and ordered for both of us. Which was fine by me!
What we had decries description. To start with was cold ‘mesa’ (may not be spelt correctly) which was about 25 small dishes with ‘stuff’. Different sauces, vegetables done in different sauces, etc. Served with warm pitta bread.
Each dish allowed four small but adequate portions of whatever the ‘stuff’ was. This you put on pitta bread and eat. Most of it was very tasty but very different tastes for most of them which meant you felt as if you were getting a whole meal. And, to be honest, I had to check at one point, what was coming next, so as not to over-do it at the start.
Next came three different hot ‘mesa’. Again, very nice and, thankfully not so much as I was already a little full from the cold dishes.
Then came the kebabs – lamb and beef. Served with salad and rice. By now there was far too much to eat! Still, to follow, was the sweet – two types but not over-sweet and one of which was a little like blancmange (which was always one of favourite deserts). Then there was tea and, for me, a limoncello.
Very, very nice meal although not cheap at €40 per head! However, as an alternative to Chinese or Indian, very welcome.
I clean and wait
I should be working. Both ‘real’ work and the ‘other’ work (which, in reality, is just as real and, if I actually got my ass into gear, would pay for a new laptop).
I sit here, in the office, with my coat on. It is not so cold – except in this office.
FfI arrived last night; late. She should have arrived at about 11 and instead it was about 11.45. It did make me clean the house and put some boxes in the car to take back to V; or, rather, to take back to the old place to allow me to pack some more stuff to take away and try to find a place for it in a flat with no storage.
FfI bought me an ashtray and some chocolate-covered wafers from her trip to the strange land. The ashtray is nice and also very useful, since the split means I don’t have so many of them each. The chocolate-covered wafers are, apparently, fantastic. We shall see.
It was to be for one night. Now it will be two but she ‘should be gone after that’. Another friend’s ex-husband is leaving to go back to the country house and so there will be room. I am not holding my breath
I finished the cleaning; flattened some boxes; went round to V’s place (that was our place and now is an alien place even if the furniture is still ‘our’ furniture). I collected a duvet (it being so cold at night) for FfI, some mugs (I realised I only had two) and some pans (I had none). These things, in the main, having been forgotten by me in the rush to advise each of the packers in different rooms
V and I had a glass of wine. He lent me some incense – it being essential to mask the smell of the dogs, especially in this damp or wet weather.
I went home and sat at the kitchen table in the silence of the night although, if you listened hard enough, you could detect the hum of the traffic and the clang and grinding of the trams; I opened a bottle of wine and poured myself a glass and read the book that I had been lent about 9 months ago and should have finished about 8 months ago.
I wouldn’t do that at the previous home. I expect, when I get the TV functioning, I will do less of that. But, for now, it’s such a pleasure to be able to read in the dim light of one lamp (since all the light fittings have been taken – as they do here) and a glass of wine in one hand.
Dino, of course, wants to play. I am mindful that throwing things for him too much could cause problems for the people below me – first, the thud of the toy hitting the floor and then the clippety-clipping of the toenails as he scampers to retrieve said toy and then, occasionally, the crash as he slides into something like a door or bookcase.
When I stop the playing, he comes and, almost, takes my arm off, such is the force by which he ‘nudges’ me. It makes it difficult to drink the wine – I have to sip it in between the ‘nudges’.
FfI arrives and, having just travelled for hours, is not so sleepy. I pour her wine in the other glass I got out some time before, ready, for just this moment. She wants to hear about the flat but also wants to tell me about the trip; the things that were done; the shade of brown she has become; the men she has met or re-met; the old friends that she saw.
I only half listen. Had she not been coming I would have been like a log in my bed by half past ten.
As it is, we chat for a bit. I try to concentrate on what she is saying, I do, I really do.
I help her make up the ‘bed’ in the lounge.
I crash into my bed – I can’t even be bothered to turn off the computer. It will be five hours and I will be up again. I would normally say ‘roll on the weekend’ but, again, I will have so much to do I know I will not have the lie-in that I so want.
On the plus side, when Best Mate comes next week, now that she is sleeping like a normal person, I should be able to catch up with my sleep – if that is ever really possible!
The Ties That Bind – Restrictive or Welcome?
Since moving to the Perfect Flat, when taking Rufus and Dino out late at night, for their last walk, I walk to the area that I always used which has two dog areas, fenced, where they can be let off the lead
In doing so, I walk up the Perfect Street and every time I pass the Indian restaurant, the Rajput. This is the one that was closest to our old flat and is, more or less, the same distance from the Perfect Flat.
The meal is quite nice, if a little less spicy than it would be in the UK. Normally, of course, I would not have walked past it at all, were it not for the move. And, in passing it late in the evening, I had such a hankering for going there.
Now, there are three people that either know that place or would be very happy going there for a meal. One is a friend who used to live with us but is now living in London and has just had a baby; the other is our friend who spends most of her time in Rome; and then there is V.
So, my craving became an obsession within two evenings and I knew I just HAD to go. So I texted V and suggested it. He was all for it and, Friday night, we went. It was a strange thing. He seemed a bit ‘off’ at the beginning but we had a nice meal and a nice evening, talking about crap and this and that. Nothing heavy, of course. We finished the meal with Sambuca (I really must stop drinking that poison) and I said that I had a bottle at home. He said he’d rather not come over. We walked out of the restaurant and walked down the road. He didn’t turn off as expected and then said he had changed his mind about the Sambuca!
He was very complimentary about the flat, even if it did seem a real mess (to me, anyway). The strange thing was that I didn’t have the urge to have him stay. I mean, this was my place and not his nor shared and so, when he left it seemed so right and natural. Not really what I expected (from myself).
I promised to go round the next day, later, to bring back some stuff that I had but he wanted; to help with the cleaning of the old place, to take some of my stuff away.
After I had taken the dogs out a couple of times, unpacked and tried to place things, etc. it got quite late. By the time I got there he had, more or less, done everything. And, I have to say he had, as he always had in the past, made a good job of it. It looked lovely in spite of missing some furniture.
We chatted, drank some wine and then I left. I realised, whilst I was there, that I had not taken pans and said that I quite fancied having pasta on Sunday so would come back on Sunday to collect some.
Sunday and, because I had to try and get most things unpacked as FfI was returning to Milan and, for various reasons, was going to stay at mine, I didn’t go round as early as I had hoped.
In the meantime, I got a text from V asking that, if I wanted, he would cook some pasta for dinner. I agreed. It sounded nice.
So, later, in the early evening, I went round (again taking some more bits that were, really, V’s). He had made an experimental pasta dish and then chicken with roasted potatoes. We drank the bottle of Barolo that he had been saving. We listened to Maria Callas. All in all a very nice evening, except that both of us (me for all the unpacking and he for all the cleaning and moving stuff around) were so shattered that it was not a late evening.
He promised me a proper meal when he was paid. He asked (again) about my birthday as Best Mate will be here and he thinks that she hates him (which she does not). He seems to have forgotten that we already had a conversation about this. He seems reluctant to meet with Best Mate and I. I do understand and I am sure I would feel the same. Indeed, for different reasons, I would be very reluctant to go out to a place where his work colleagues were.
When I left it did not seem so strange, leaving the place we shared for over four years although, as I was getting in the lift, him leaning against the door post, there seemed a little sadness in his face, which made me feel sad, for a moment, for him and for us. But, maybe I was just imagining it.?
Anyway, there are no words that can really describe this whole thing. We have had, since I moved out, more conversation between us than we did in the last four months! And, to be honest, I enjoy his company; he’s a nice guy; funny, witty, always something to say. It was, at the same time, slightly strange and not strange at all, sitting at the table (our table?), eating the food he had prepared (food I had bought?), drinking the wine, talking and laughing – again, nothing heavy.
He’s much thinner of course. He looks more like his father now – slightly hollowed cheeks and almost with an anorexic look – it makes him look older, somehow, but no less attractive, of course.
I expect the heavy conversations are yet to come but, for now, it’s really nice. The ties are still strong but, maybe a little thinner than before – or maybe we’re using different rope now? More importantly, will it change once he has moved?
On holiday in a different city.
The street is long and straight. I pass the local café, the sun is shining and it’s quite warm. I pass the small supermarket – the same as the one I used to use a lot, but tiny. I pass a Tuscan restaurant that must be new. I stop to look at the menu. Maybe I’ll try it some time. As usual, Tuscan restaurants are more expensive than most Italian restaurants.
A store owner/manager is in the doorway of his shop, having a cigarette and comments on how pretty the dogs are. He talks to a woman that he obviously knows, about how nice they are. Of course, it is the first time they have seen them. I walk on, past the dry cleaners, the card shop (which, as usual, sells children’s toys and tat).
I look at everything with a different view. This is like a small community. It seems that many people know each other. It seems like a small town.
I am, in fact, in the street that is parallel to the street on which I used to live. I know this street (or, rather, I thought I knew this street). It is the Perfect Street. Except, I never used to stroll down here on a daily basis. And now it is different. It is The Perfect Street – but it is completely different from how it was. I am on a street that is one street away from where I lived (one block for my American readers) and, yet, it feels as if I am in a completely different city. It is all new; the people are new; no one has seen the dogs before; the shops are small and the whole thing has this “village” feel. How could I not know this before?
But, not only am I in a different city, I am also on holiday.
n the past, you would go on holiday to a small cottage or caravan. Everything would be as it was in your house, except smaller. The fridge was smaller: the cooker had two or three rings and was tiny: even the sink was cute. Of course, you couldn’t live there for long and it was always great to get back home with the “full-sized” stuff.
Well, it’s not quite like that but, compared to the last place, it is kinda small – cute, one might say – and so, with it feeling like a different city when I step out of the door and the feeling of being in some sort of holiday cottage, it does feel a bit like actually being on holiday somewhere.
My only concern is – once the holiday feeling has worn off in a few weeks, will I still like living here?
The flat is like a tardis; A strange thing about moving into a new place (in Italy).
Of course, it’s not all over yet. I mean, it’s not like the ‘moving out’ is the final thing and today is the first day of the rest of my life (although it is, of course).
No, in the end, there were many things that I forgot, left behind, etc. Was this a subconscious decision on my part to ensure I had to keep going back? Or was this, as I suspect, just plain laziness/running out of time?
So, I took the modem/router but, with my new, not-working, Alice system, I don’t need it (the Telecom guy said that, in fact, I can’t use it! I think he’s lying). So, tonight, after a I go and pick up some shoes and other stuff, I shall be returning the modem and setting it up for V in the half-empty flat that, even as I was leaving it, felt too large for a family of four, let alone two. Or, maybe, I have become (a little) Italian?
Or, maybe, my new flat is just like a tardis? After all, empty, it seemed tiny. Before, with her stuff in it it seemed quite big. Now, with my stuff in it seems even bigger. How on earth can that be?
And there’s a strange thing about Italians and flats for rent. I have mentioned this before but it is quite common for people, on leaving a rented flat, to take the kitchen they have installed. In this case the kitchen is not all that great but, at least, it’s there. Together with (not brilliant but not bad) fridge; good, but small washing machine and adequate cooker – and sink and drainer (which most of you, outside Italy, would take for granted anyway). Certainly all the light fittings are taken – even the bulbs. This means that, until I find all my lamps (major hunt going on tonight) and then buy some light fittings (and get someone to fit them), I am walking around with one lamp and my mobile phone. The mobile phone being used instead of a torch to find the socket into which I may plug my lamp!
I did think that there were not that many light fittings available anyway. In fact, I could not remember any. However, I now find there is at least one in all rooms except the bedroom where there is none. However, none of the ‘fittings’ have anything except wire – I mean no actual light/bulb/fitting – just bare wire. This means that I need light fittings AND someone to fit them, me never being happy with messing about with electricity, especially if on my own. V always did this stuff.
And, therefore, I may take the wall lights from the lounge that we fitted and one or two other ceiling lights. V had offered. I had thought about asking him to come and fit them but I think that may be a bit much and would, but maybe only in my mind, mean he has a ‘hold’ on the place – just because he was ‘involved’ in setting it up. Crazy? Maybe, but I do want this to be my place.
So, at least for the next few days, I shall be returning to ‘collect’ some things and to ‘return’ some things that the removal men packed because I couldn’t watch them all the time.
As you see, it is not ‘over’. However, maybe things will change when he’s moved out? Or, maybe, they will be the same or similar?
Moving; Dino steals packing tape; other things
Well, it’s now Thursday as I wished. And, to be honest, I’m glad that yesterday is over even if everything is not perfectly sorted.
However, I do not have internet access right now. It is a post all on its own, so I will save it until later.
Yesterday was the whole range of emotions. I woke at four. Dozed until 5.45. Got to bed just after midnight. I am quite tired, as I’m sure you can imagine.
I went round to the flat the night before and had absolute panic as it was SO SMALL! So much so that I could not imagine how everything would fit in. This is part of the reason I was awake at four. I was going through different scenarios – would I have to get them to take some of it away; would I be able to sleep on the bed or would that be impossible – the place being stacked floor to ceiling with boxes.
The removal company arrived. I was, by this time going completely insane with worry, panic and about every other emotion you could imagine.
Dino, I found when I was packing some days earlier, really liked the sound of the packing tape being pulled out. You know, it makes that kind of screech (for want of a word that isn’t in my head) and it must be a particular pitch that he liked or, at least, found fascinating. First, as I was stretching the tape out to put over a box, he would be there, right in my face. A couple of times, if I put it on the floor or chair or something low enough for him to reach, I would turn round and find that it was suddenly gone and would then be trying to find Dino to retrieve it.
The removal men did quite a bit of packing, including putting protective packaging around pieces of furniture. Obviously, they were not, immediately, aware of Dino’s fascination. Until, after a very short while, Dino found that they were much more fun as they kept putting down a roll of tape within his reach, usually, on the floor. And so it became a game for him of trying to get hold of a roll of tape.
The men found this very funny and endearing. I spent nearly all my time, when not explaining something to the men, checking to see where Dino was and retrieving the roll of tape from him to give back to them.
And once, I actually saw him doing it – he was watching the man who was pulling out the tape; like any good thief, as the man put the tape down, he edges round a little so that he wasn’t going for the tape directly, then he almost crept forward, until he was there by the roll; snatching it quickly he then high-tailed it as fast as he could out of the room and to his bed! I watched him do this and couldn’t help but laugh. He’s not really a stupid dog, after all!
I did ask the removal men, several times, if they wanted me to shut him away but they seemed quite in love with him. They thought the stealing of the rolls of tape was quite funny too. Dino had many strokes and compliments during the morning. I left them (the dogs) in the old flat whilst moving into the new one as it was/is much smaller and I wouldn’t be able to shut them away anywhere. One of the men seemed quite disappointed that he wasn’t with me! Anyway, they do not seemed stressed at all.
By the afternoon I felt quite a lot better. Not only did all the stuff fit in (and I was able to sleep in my bed) but I now know it will be fantastic when everything is sorted. And, although there are lots of boxes, not as many as I thought. In fact, as they were finishing, I couldn’t believe it was all the stuff and asked them! To which they replied that it was! They also liked the new flat. Later A&F came round (last night) (I needed A to help with the internet connection) and they both said it was lovely but I think F really liked it as she said it was exactly the sort of place that she liked.
One problem, or, rather, potential problem, is that, the only door that actually closes shut is the one to the bathroom! Lets’ see how that goes but I may have to do something very fast to keep the boys separate whilst I am not in the house! I’ll let you know.