Tag Archives: Italy

The End of the World is in less than 7 days!!!!

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It’s how it feels. The traffic is terrible; the urgency of everything is at its height (work, home, etc.); we are out every night this week as so many of our friends leave for extended breaks with their families; the shops are full to bursting (see below); people start to lose their ‘nice’ gene.

And it happens every year. But why? I realise that, if you don’t get presents before Christmas then it makes less sense but it’s not a disaster. And if the client does get the parts on the day before Christmas, what on earth is he going to do with them? And, if you don’t get bread and milk today then the supermarket WILL be open tomorrow, with new supplies.

There’s this thing about Christmas that is a proper milestone in nearly everyone’s mind.

And, considering this is supposed to be the season of goodwill, where the hell is it?

Apart from the story below, I think the best thing to do is to chill-out. Take it easy. Don’t worry. Even if you don’t get the presents/parts/bread, it’s not the end of the world. Honestly.

Anyway, my experience of trying to get that ‘last minute’ something:

I know what I want. I know exactly what it should look like. But finding it is so difficult. A present for some friends. Candlesticks – but it’s got to be glass, got to be square pillars and not round, preferably smoked or some sort of opaque glass.

And, we’re in Milan, the design centre of Europe? But can I find what I want? No. It seems so simple. We traipse up Corso Buenos Aires and into all the probable shops. V has to go on his work’s Christmas outing (I am joining him later) and so I go to the centre of town to try La Rinascente (like Selfridges or Debenhams as it used to be). I get off the metro and walk up the steps to the outside and it is cold. The crowds are tightly packed. Everyone seems to be going to the same place. I join the slow-moving queue to get inside. I enter and then the crowds are more tightly packed. There is no way to side-step the snail-paced human traffic jam.

We shuffle along and, if I am honest, this is exactly why I don’t like Christmas. If I had any other choice (I guess I DO have another choice but …) I would have turned round and joined the shuffling queue out of there.

At the escalator, going up was more difficult. So I went down – as this was one of the places to look. Downstairs is busy but tolerable. I see some very nice examples, not really what I wanted but suitable, except for the price. I would even pay up to €100 but €300 to €3000 are just completely out of range.

I join the queue to catch the escalator up and up and up. They have ‘bouncers’ at the end of each escalator. But it’s not to check that people aren’t stealing things, it’s to keep the flow going. Why do people reach the top of the escalator and think that it’s OK to stop and look about them? So we move on, as fast but no faster, than the escalators themselves.

I reach the floor I want. Ah, here are candlesticks. And reasonable prices. But not glass and not what I want. I look lost. Some very nice assistant asks if I need help? I explain what I want. She guides me, through, over and round the people pointing out a type of candlestick here, another type there. Eventually I say I will look at them and decide and thank her for being so helpful.

There is a glass one, with a brown glass stem. Not really. Some silver type ones from India but totally wrong. And then I see some small, silver, candlesticks that are ideal only they have been out too long and need serious cleaning. But I have seen silver like this before and it doesn’t always clean so well.

I find another assistant (I should have gone back to find the nice one). This one says that it only needs cleaning. I ask if they will clean it. She says they only have cleaner for glass but she will try. She tries. It doesn’t work, making me more nervous. Will you give me my money back if it doesn’t clean up? I ask. As usual here, in Italy, the answer is no. They only give you a replacement article(s) or, if you’re really lucky, a credit note.

I decide against it. I walk up to San Babila and walk along a street I know that may have something. A shop window looks promising and inside I find what is, almost, perfect. How much are these, I ask. €80 is her response, it’s plexiglass. Not exactly what I wanted but pretty close. Do you have two, I add. No, only that one.

I give up at this point. It’s just not to be and I have a trifle to prepare. I go home, thankful that I don’t have a sackload of presents to buy as I couldn’t stand it for much longer. I’m not really a Christmas Shopper!!

Driving at stupid times

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It’s nearly midnight and I start the drive back to the Lakes. I had offered to go back just as we arrived in Milan and would have been back before 10, I reckoned, but was informed that although it would be difficult, it would be alright and that ‘one’ would manage.

Then, as I was finishing up my drink and closing my computer I hear an ‘Oh, no!’ wail from across the hallway. It seems that the tickets for the flight to Rome and to that very important meeting, the next day (but only just) were in the bag left behind. So, instead of going to bed to sleep for 6 hours (which is the very minimum I need to function like a human being of any sort), I get my shoes and coat on and head out the door. To return a few minutes later to collect the bag with the car documents which are essential here as it’s illegal to drive without all the documents, both for the car and for yourself.

In the car, I forget to take off my jacket first so I know it will get too hot, but I cannot be bothered to stop.

I start to drive and it’s foggy. In fact, it’s very foggy. I’m driving out of Milan, on the motorway, and I’m thinking that, at this speed, it will take me all night. Luckily, the fog stops not too far from Milan and the roads are clear so it makes for an easy journey. Me, of course, grumbling about the fact that I could have done this several hours earlier and be in bed by now.

Then, just off the motorway, I get flagged down by the police. Thank God that I went back for the bag containing the documents. After about 10 minutes they hand everything back to me and I continue.

I arrive back at the house to find the door bolted from inside. This means I have a choice. I can go sleep in the car until about 6 a.m. or I can raise them now. ‘Them’ being the relations that live in the same building (it’s owned by one family).

It’s about 1.20 a.m. I’m thinking of a warm bed against the (very soon to be) cold car. And, of course of the fact that it’s getting colder and that there may be more fog by morning.

So, I rang the bell. They were very understanding but I just wish, so much, that I had gone when I first thought of it and then I would not have had to wake them up at all. V owes them (and me) a present for this!

The drive back was uneventful. The fog stretched further from Milan but did not seem quite so thick. I made it home just before 3. That meant 3 hours sleep. However, so far, today, I haven’t felt so bad. I know that I only have to hang on for a couple more hours (well 4 to be precise) and then I can be in bed.

And the special prize this morning – the flight was cancelled. I presume they caught another as I have had no word from V, so I guess the meeting with all the important people, went ahead.

Christmas Cards; White Lights; St Ambrose

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We have started to receive Christmas cards, which is really nice. First, as always, we had one from R who is now living in New Zealand. But also from M & B who are on their way to Vancouver for Christmas and New Year and also one from B and L and about whom I feel very guilty since they don’t have computers and I should really write to them more often.

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A body without a mind; Mexico’s National Dish is not Chilli Con Carne

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Last night, for some strange reason, I did not sleep well. It seemed (although it is probably not true) that I woke up every half an hour or so and so, this morning, feel like …. well ….crap!

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A weekend away – 2; What do they want with Vanda?; The season of the wardrobe change

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And the weather was truly fantastic. On Sunday from about 11.30 a.m. for about 3 hours or so, we sat outside a café, in the sun, without coats, watching the lake and the people, Rufus lying at our feet (having had several long walks already that day).

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Jalapeno Pigs; Typical British Cuisine (Not); Puppies or Magnum

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The entry on this blog for 4th November has GOT to be the funniest I have read. In particular the conversation with the drunken customer about the pizzas (or, more correctly, pizze) and, more specifically, this bit:

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What’s your job? Italian job status v English job titles

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When I was teaching English I had some problems with work and jobs in particular. And, by that, I mean the translation of the meaning. As with other things the exact translation doesn’t always work. But, when I asked people ‘What’s your job?’ (a standard question with beginners), the reply, in Italian, was, invariably, Impiegato or Impiegata (depending on whether the reply was from a man or a woman) and this means employee or clerk.

Now, I couldn’t (and still can’t to some extent) quite get my head round this. Most people, when you ask what they do, reply with one of those answers. This is generally so, even when I’m listing to the radio and someone phones in. Well, I think, finally, I’ve got it! Whereas in the UK and the USA, job titles are really important (and change often), here, the status of your employment is the key.

So, if you have full-time employment, with a contract, you are, of course an Employee (Impiegato/a). And this is the most important thing. What you actually do is less important. And, when people ask me what I do and I reply that I am a Project Manager, this causes some consternation because a) it is in English and b) it doesn’t tell you my employment status. It doesn’t say whether I am a consultant, temporary or full-time, with contract.

And I have learnt, recently that there are two other stages to go to reach the ‘top’. First there is Quadro (Manager). This gives one all the rights of the Impiegato plus a little extra. One example, here, is the right not to clock in (see this post and this one).

There must be others, apart from the salary, but I am learning, slowly. The next level is Dirigente (Executive). Again, this gives more benefits (someone mentioned health cover for the whole family but I’m not sure that would apply where I work) but also you lose the rights (not to be sacked easily) that the Impiegato and Quadro have.

I guess it’s much like the UK – except for this fact that the job title is not so important.

I really could do much better English lessons now that I’ve been living and working here for longer!