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.
‘They suffered immigration…..now they live in reservations’
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Tag Archives: Italy
Lemon Meringue Pie; Dino
Dino
I couldn’t wait until Monday. The last time I had made a Lemon Meringue Pie, a week or so ago, I took a piece in for S to try. She had been badgering me for the recipe ever since and, eventually, I obliged.
Who would you have as Prime Minister – Wallace or Buzz Lightyear?
Well, Wallace’s real name is Vetroni.
I was struck the other day, whilst waiting in some traffic and looking at the election posters (one of them above, nicked from Italy is Falling), which are everywhere, that the man looks so much like Wallace (as in Wallace and Gromit) with that inane grin, that every time I see the poster now, all I can think of is Wallace’s voice saying ‘Cheese, Gromit?’.
I mentioned it to some friends over the weekend and they thought it was very funny.
Meanwhile, Berlusconi is now promising that he, and he alone, can save Italy from the marauding hoards of ‘foreigners’ looking to strip Italy of it’s major assets – namely, the proposed take-over of Alitalia by KLM-Air France. Nothing too concrete though. After all, we wouldn’t want a real and definite proposal that anyone would have to stick to, would we?
So, I read this morning, the unions have walked out of joint talks saying that they would prefer to wait until after the elections. I guess they’ll be voting for B(uzz) then?
It looks like the Italians have a choice between Wallace and Buzz Lightyear. Not much of a choice, really.
Perfume. The Story of a Politician?
I came here to find passion. Well, that wasn’t the only reason, but it was one of the many. And, certainly, the Italians have passion off to a fine art. Sometimes it can be confused (by me and others) as anger or over-excitement.
A quick overview – Gay, immigrant, drunk, nail-biting, Tibetan Taxi Driver
I must apologise for my lack of posts this month. There have been many times that I’ve started to write something, been distracted or ran out of gas halfway through and they just never get finished.
I have wanted to say things about the events in Tibet; gay people; drink/driving; immigrants; and many other things but they just haven’t made it to the blog.
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!
The hidden side of me
I’m just an ordinary, simple kind of bloke. I like food, beer and wine, the sun, relaxing, reading, watching a good film, having good times and conversations with friends, etc.
I don’t like football, ignorant and bigoted people, bad food, driving, smelly people, etc.
I don’t have hidden depths. Scratch the surface and there’s just more surface, nothing else.
I just don’t geddit
This was going to be a long, rambling post but I decided to cut it short.
Jack would be appalled.
Having had a dreadful time that evening already and being much later than normal, I pay for the supermarket items I have bought with a card. The total cost is €40.02. I hand over my debit card.
‘Have you got the 2 cents?’
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.