Tag Archives: UK

We may both be in Europe but it doesn’t mean we’re the same.

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Of course, I have long known it. More, I have blogged about it quite often. Usually, it makes me laugh although often that laugh is kept inside of me.

I have talked about it with FfC who now has a child.

It’s the illnesses that Italians get.

A often talks about his liver and how it is suffering. Or should that be how HE is suffering?. Yet, if this article on Italians and their ills is correct, it is impossible for you to ‘feel’ that your liver is bad. Indeed, until I came here, I had never heard of such a thing. I still find it very amusing, more so now that I know it cannot feel unwell.

I always thought the closest thing to ‘colpo d’aria’ was a stiff neck. I was always amazed by how much the Italians took it so seriously. Now, from the article, I understand that it can include illness to your head, ears, eyes, etc and so cannot be just a stiff neck. Again, until I was here, I had never heard of such a thing. Now that I look it up I find a translation that says it is a ‘blast of air’. I can’t even imagine the UK people too worried about a blast of air. After all, one of the things you can guarantee about the UK is the wind!

Let’s not get too pious though. The English (and Scottish and Welsh) DO have illnesses. We used to have a cold, a sore throat, a cough, (all three would be ‘flu), a headache, a stomach (or tummy) ache, etc. Nowadays this has become ‘flu, a migraine, stomach cramps. Of course, originally, a migraine was worse than a headache but since no one else can actually feel what you feel, how can they know that what you have is not a migraine but just a regular, plain, headache? As you can see, this is all invention anyway (although if some of my friends saw this they would argue that I didn’t have a clue, I am sure).

However, I loved this bit, which is so very true:

British mums hold their kids’ jackets so they will not get hot and sweaty while they run around and play. In contrast, the parks here in Italy are filled with pint-sized, quilted Michelin men, zipped up to their noses to stop the air getting in and hitting them.

In fact, the wearing of a scarf round the neck (precisely to stop the blast of air) is, I think, now, a fashion item here. Certainly, you will see people with a scarf round their neck even if they are inside a building or even outside, even if they are not wearing a coat!

Yea, Italians do make me laugh sometimes.

Do the work and wait ……… wait ……… for the money

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I read this, from the Independant (which I got from Twitter or Facebook or something – I’m sorry, I forget now).

Interns, from what I can understand can expect no payment for any work they do. It is supposed to be treated as ‘work experience’. The problem here is that it rarely leads to a full-time job. Instead, Interns go from one ‘unpaid job’ to another.

It will surely become a problem given the current crisis. With no hope of securing a full-time job – why bother?

Which then leads to unhappiness. Which, in turn leads to restlessness. And then, when there are enough unhappy, restless young people, something is bound to happen, isn’t it?

However, the really damning bit (for me) comes towards the end of the piece, namely:

But it seems that even people hired by the magazine cannot count on being paid. The Independent spoke to one person who was recruited this summer by Flash Art magazine without pay on a two-month trial basis. After a successful trial he continued working but was told there was no money to pay him a month later.

“Of course it’s immoral,” he said. “If they haven’t got the money to pay the staff they need, then they shouldn’t be in operation. But it’s hardly the only company doing this sort of thing.”

The Flash Art controversy followed the magazine’s recent call for new interns for eight to 10-month periods – even though using someone as an intern for more than six months is illegal in Italy.

I have known of other people who haven’t been paid – either for a very long time or at all. Worse still, if you’re on some sort of term contract. I cross my fingers that I didn’t have too much problem getting my money when I was teaching (although there was one, how should I say, ‘near miss’).

Part of the reason it’s like this is the Italian way of thinking. Mummy and Daddy can always take care of you, it seems. And, because Italians have the highest savings rate in Europe (maybe the world?), it is (I guess) assumed you have plenty of savings to tide you over.

I’m sure I would have a much stronger opinion about it if it had ever happened to me but it is wrong, isn’t it? I mean, in a civilised country within the European Union, how can this possibly be right?

It’s a sign of a wider problem. That of not really giving a shit about anyone else [that’s not either family or important to you].

And things that I do, as a Brit, sometimes get misconstrued by Italians. I remember somebody who got a ‘job’ through someone else. They thought it would be a really nice idea to take their new boss to lunch – if the guy were in the area. But the friend who had done the recommendation became something akin to a Tasmanian Devil and the vitriol and hatred that spat from a (normally) very nice, pleasant, Italian woman was more than a little shocking. For her it was this person ‘going behind her back’.

She now lives in the UK. I wonder how she gets on over there – where, to be honest, this kind of situation is not something to be bothered about.

We don’t all have some ulterior motive other than ‘to be nice and respectful’. Here that does not always seem to be the case. Not giving a shit about people seems to be the norm – and it does annoy me a bit.

Once upon a time, according to the Daily Mail ………..

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I don’t know about the UK TV but it was all over everywhere, here, last night.

The aquittal of murder of Knox and Sollecito. I could talk about how it was the right decision, given the atrocious evidence or the wrong decision, given that Amanda admitted being there and then changed her mind.

But I won’t since it is being written about ad infinitum.

And, in any case, I only get to know about the evidence that the papers wish to tell me about. And, so, I can’t really make a judgement on that.

I will say, though, that Rudi did a runner, whereas Knox and Sollecito did not. Rudi makes more sense than the other two. Especially Knox for, if I had done it, I would have been on a plane to the States before the body had even been found.

And, perhaps there was a really good reason why the mobile phones that were discarded had no DNA. And, anyway, what Italian leaves their mobile phones at home when they go away or, even, out to the supermarket?

No, it’s all very strange and impossible for me to say if the verdict was right or not but that is not the point of this post.

The Daily Mail Online, of course, wanted (as they all did, I’m sure) to be first with the reactions and quotations after the verdict. So, as with obituaries, they must have written it in advance and, since they didn’t know the verdict in advance, one has to write two versions – 1 for guilty and 1 for aquittal.

Fair enough. At the end of it, you have to do this and just fill in the odd blank at the time.

The Daily Mail said, in their online version that when Amanda realised what the judge had said she “sank into her chair sobbing uncontrollably”.

Apparently they quoted the prosecutors as saying that ‘justice had been done’ (as an actual quote).

Both Knox and Sollecito said they would appeal.

Confused? Well, yes, that’s understandable.

There’s a picture on the page explaining how Knox’s parents were ‘distraught after the verdict was read out in court’.

Apparently, according to the Daily Mail, ‘both [Knox and Sollecito] will be put on suicide watch’ and that this was ‘normal practice’.

Of course, the whole thing was a terrible mistake. The headline read: Guilty: Amanda Knox looks stunned as appeal against murder conviction is rejected.

Whoops! Someone may get fired over this. You had, even without any thinking, a 50/50 chance of getting it right but it seems the wrong one was put up.

OK, so everyone can make a mistake and the idea that most of the article wouldn’t have been written before the verdict is laughable – of course they wrote two and I don’t have a problem with that.

However, what I DO have a problem with is the direct quotations littering the article. Some even inside inverted commas – which means they are supposed to be the actual words said. This was, quite obviously, not true. It was impossible. The prosecutors were NOT happy and DID NOT say that ‘justice had been done’.

And this, I have a problem with. Not that I ever thought the Daily Mail told the truth but, to have quoted someone without them ever saying the words leads me to wonder if any of the quotations they use are factual and have actually been said. Or if any of their stories are other than complete fairytales.

In fact, perhaps it is better to preface each Daily Mail story with:

Once upon a time, according to the Daily Mail ………..

Sending something by email – you might as well whisper in the wind.

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Blogging in Italy is different. Or, rather, Italians blogging in Italy have to be more careful.

If the government have their way, they will have to be even more careful in future.

The government, here, having been trying, for some time now, to curb what they see as the excesses of the blogging world. Particularly when it comes to criticising or revealing embarrassing details about our beloved leader, Buzz Lightyear (Berlusconi).

Ideally, of course, he would like anything said about him to have passed through someone who can edit it properly. And, whilst with most of the media, this can be done easily (as he either owns the company or, as the Prime Minister, is responsible for it), the blogging world is a bit different.

I think (and I’m sure I’ll be corrected if I’m wrong), LA7 (a TV station) is also quite independent. I remember watching a debate on TV which was heavily critical of Buzz and he was obviously watching too because he phoned in to have a bit of a rant.

The trouble with bloggers is that they can say something and he doesn’t get the chance to phone in to say they are wrong. Instead, in a bill going through parliament, he wants to make it obligatory that the person who is defamed or whatever, gets the right to reply. If not, then the blogger is fined.

The Guardian’s take on it is here.

However, the really shocking thing is hidden away in the last paragraph and, to me, shows why Italy always seems to be a little bit behind the rest of the world when it comes to embracing the new world of technology fully.

Legally, “email has no validity”.

Let’s just put that again:

“email has no validity”

WHAT?

I remember when I first came here (and I’m talking 6 years ago – not 100), I was amused by the fact that, when someone sent an email, they would follow that up with a telephone call to ‘check that the person had received it’. How quaint and old-fashioned, I thought.

Mail, of the old kind, is fine. In fact, everything is done via mail. And, of course, if email has no validity, it has to be this way. But the fact that it is inadmissible in a court of law scares me quite a lot.

After all the ‘E’ of email stands for electronic. If mail is acceptable then an electronic version of it should be the same. Shouldn’t it? Yes, it damned well should!

However, since my email address is a .co.uk address and in the UK that IS admissible and Italy is in the EU and so is the UK, I wonder how that would be viewed?

Maybe I’ll find out one day.

Not now though. I’m still in a state of shock.

Fancy a day out this Bank Holiday?

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Well, for you lot in the UK, with the coming Bank Holiday, just in case you had nothing planned you might like to try this.

Perfect for those of you who are students and can’t afford a full gap year or for those of you, like me, who missed out on having a gap year anyway (being so old, it wasn’t really trendy then).

AND, it’s in South Wales! What more could you want?

Superstitions

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Superstitions are strange things, really, aren’t they?

Take the one of spilled salt. I think (but I’m not really well up on these things), in the UK, if you spill some salt, you’re supposed to pick up some of the spilled salt with your right hand and throw it over your left shoulder. Or the other way round. They have a similar thing here, in Italy.

Then there’s the black cat. In the UK, if a black cat crosses your path, it’s considered lucky. Here, it’s unlucky. Does anyone know why (either is though)?

And then there’s the new car. I’m not sure it’s an Italian thing. It might just be a superstition within my company.

Anyway, to avoid having an accident in your new car, don’t worry about your driving. Instead you should bring in cakes and drink to share with your colleagues. This, apparently, will ensure that you don’t have accidents.

Who knew? I always thought it was careful driving and a bit of luck (that there aren’t any crazy drivers on the road – which is quite difficult to ensure here) that meant you didn’t have an accident. Stupid me.

On the subject of food – British food is the most popular ……. apparently.

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Yesterday it was the Daily (Hate) Mail. Today the Guardian. You can see the British rubbing their hands with glee it being justification and proof that the Italians don’t really have any better taste than us!

I must admit to being slightly shocked to see frozen pizzas in the supermarket, when I first came here. I mean, why? I’ve never bought one here, to be honest and yet, in the UK, we used to have at least one in the freezer all the time. Here, it just seems so stupid.

So, conducting my very own poll* because I find it so hard to believe this story, I find that S, my colleague, does have a frozen pizza in her freezer and, yes, it’s a Ristorante pizza. Her daughter, C, likes them, apparently. She uses them when she doesn’t have time to prepare something fresh.

When I’m in one of our local supermarkets though, I notice that it’s usually the foreigners who buy the frozen pizzas. I mean, certainly when you live in Milan, with a pizzeria and wood-fired pizza oven on every corner, why on earth would be buy an inferior frozen pizza?

S says that the crust is strange and it’s not a real pizza at all. The topping is, apparently, very rich – much richer than you get in Italy, I guess.

But, I still don’t really understand. I can’t even imagine having a frozen pizza when I can, within half an hour, have a freshly cooked pizza from one of the wood-fired ovens.

Still, when you look at the figures quoted it’s noticeable that these pizzas account for 20% of the Italian market. Nowhere does it actually say the number of pizzas sold nor the overall value of this market share. I suspect it is nothing like the value of the equivalent percentage share in the UK.

However, it does make me want to try one – just to see what they are like.

On the subject of pizzas, our chef at work, asked how my Hawaiian pizza was. I said it was beautiful. She said I would have to come up with some more ideas. S, my colleague has also said she might have the Hawaiian one to try :-D

* A poll taken of 1 person :-)

Doing an Hawaiian in Milan

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Sometimes I have a hankering for British food. And by British, I don’t mean just British but British-style Indian, Chinese or, dare I whisper it here, Italian.

For a couple of weeks now, I have had a yearning for an Hawaiian pizza. I know one place where I can (or could) get them – but I’d never find it. I only know the rough area of Milan.

Here, at work, our canteen, on a Friday, cooks fish. But for those who don’t like fish, you can order, the day before, something else. The something else includes meat or pizza. It’s not a pizza done in a wood oven but it’s quite passable. Now they have a list of the often-asked-for pizzas. There is even one named after me which, in most Pizzerias, is called a Bismark (that is boiled ham with a fried egg in the centre).

So, yesterday I asked if they had the ingredients for an Hawaiian pizza. They said they did. So I ordered one for today.

Of course, when I sat down, I got many “Is that pineapple?” questions in a kind uggh, how could you manner. As I expected. But it was delicious. The pineapple, being fresh, was sweet and juicy. Mmmmmm.

However, I noticed that there were a few differences that made it taste different from one in the UK. Obviously, the fresh pineapple. This is much sweeter than the tinned pineapple we usually use in the UK. Secondly, the boiled ham is very nice here but they do it in a thin layer, covering the whole of the pizza rather than cubes. Then there is the fact that there is no grated cheddar cheese on top. So, it’s different. In some ways, much, much nicer.

And fresh.

It’s OK though, it all adds to my ‘strangeness’ as far as my colleagues are concerned. And that never hurts.

Two birds …………… one Sunday

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It’s trashy really.

Just so you understand. I was going to post the one thing and then I remembered the other. And then I thought of ‘killing two birds with one stone’. Even as I thought it I thought how trashy and tasteless it was. Ah well, one can’t be perfect all the time, even if I am bloody close.

So, there I am, Sunday, walking to the car to get it ready for our departure. The sun is hot, especially on my shirt which, in turn touches my T-shirt which, in turn touches my skin which is burnt and, therefore, slightly sore. It comes of going to the beach and staying in the sun for about 3 hours without sun-cream (because F had forgotten to bring any and I’ve never bought any for about 35 years and I find it slightly daunting given that there is factor this and factor that and oil and cream and so much choice that I really don’t know what I want (or need) and, anyway, it’s all in Italian).

So we both got burnt a bit – even if the sun was behind cloud some of the time. So we bought sun-cream that evening – but it was already too late.

So, as I say, I’m walking to the car and on the high wall above the car I see a bird I’ve never seen before (that is, I’ve seen pictures in books, so I knew what it was, I’ve just never seen one in real life, so to speak), half hopping, half flying along the top of the wall, its beak full of something, moving away from me but not so fast as if the nest is very nearby but not wanting me to know where it is.

I’m still a country boy at heart, I guess. I still get pleasure from seeing wild birds and animals. So I introduce you to the Hoopoe:

Hoopoe

That evening we are eating at Liù and in walked some ‘famous’ people. I say famous meaning that F told me they were famous TV stars. Famous meaning they had been on Isola di Famosa which is a lot like I’m a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here – i.e. full of ‘D’-list celebrities who need all the fame they can get to boost a new or failed career. I half-recognised the one. Then he said that the other woman was Victoria. Now Victoria I do know. She’s a London-born TV presenter. She speaks (so I am told) perfect Italian. I thought she had a Mancunian accent but perhaps I am mistaken.

She’s quite funny. I quite like her. And, F then told me that she lives round the corner from me. Who knew? I’m sure, given another few encounters, we would become firm friends ;-)

And so, here she is:

Very or Victor Victoria