Tag Archives: Italians

Racing to Italy

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Before I was 14, we lived in rural Herefordshire. I went to a ‘posh’ school and, so, had ‘posh’ friends. Among those friends were farmers’ sons and the like. One of the things that was a favourite pastime was going to the point-to-points. These are like horse racing but over fields rather than at a race track. There are no stands and no real facilities (obviously, basic toilets and stuff – but in tents rather than fixed toilet blocks).

I used to love it. Even it it was illegal (which I’m sure it must have been), as kids we would go to the bookies and make bets on each race.

It was fun. It made the race fun – obviously, you wanted your horse to win. It taught us about money, weighing up odds, the form, etc., etc.

It was a game and, like all betting games, although you wanted to win, it was the thrill of the race that was the thing.

Most of life is like this. Certainly, recently, it seems as if the whole world is like this. Will they win? Will they lose? How much money can they make from a single bet?

So, the ‘markets’ (which are, in reality no different from us kids betting on horses) want to win. So far, they have forced Greece towards an implosion. And, now, after weeks of pressure on Italy (from the markets in the main) they appear to have got what they wanted. Mr B has said he will step down.

I, for one, don’t believe it is the end of him. He’s a bit of a shyster and I’m sure he’s biding his time before he says something like ‘See where that got you all? Now you need me back’.

And the markets have reacted in quite a predictable way. Since there is (I would think) a LOT of money which has been bet on Italy being the next country that needs a bail out (since you can bet on anything now), unsurprisingly, the markets have reacted negatively to the news that Mr B will resign. One could ask ‘What do you want?’ – but, of course, what they want is to make more money. Didn’t someone say that money was the root of all evil. Of course, if I won a few million, I would be different ;-)

To be honest, with or without him, this was almost invariably going to happen but they have given him a bit of a boost given that before he announced his resignation, the bond yields were below 7% and now they are above 7%. See where it got us?

Everyone may think of him as a bit of a buffoon but there is no one who can easily take his place (either left or right) and, in truth, the markets like strong government, not weak. The politicians here have successfully ensured Italy’s slide to a bail out, in my opinion.

But, overall, it may not be a bad thing. Maybe this time, things will change? Maybe this betting on failure will be stopped, for one? Maybe Europe, as a whole, will default? Maybe we’ll get something better than the current system?

Oh, well, one can always hope.

It’s just effin’ mental!

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I do and don’t love teaching English.

One of the ‘dos’ is that I get to meet people who might be interesting and learn a lot about them through the lessons. So, I have a designer of accessories that is learning English so that he can move out of Italy; a woman with a difficult family background looking for her Prince Charming; someone who needs to pass an English exam or else he will lose his degree and, a new student from last night.

He used to be a singer in a rock band (maybe heavy metal) so, through the words of songs both his pronunciation and his spelling is not that bad. He is really elementary in some ways and not anywhere near that in others.

He doesn’t sing any more.

Now he is a mentalist. What? Did he mean he was crazy or what? Has he used the wrong word? But, no. He explains that whereas an illusionist does trickery with the hands, a mentalist does the same with the mind.

He also has a girlfriend in Finland. Say again?

Yes, this summer he spent 10 days in Finland. According to him, this is where he learnt his English and, it seems, where he picked up this girlfriend.

Why does he want to learn English? Because, as a mentalist, he wants to attend international conferences and the like and, of course, the language for such conferences is English.

Now, he is also a colleague at work. But I had absolutely no idea about these other things and wouldn’t still if it weren’t that he wants to learn English. How crazy is that?

It’s raining very hard and so, it’s raining …. … ….?

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There are two things that foreigners who are learning English seem to know first.

One is (are) swear words (although Italians do have a few problems pronouncing ‘sheet’ and ‘can’t’ – which invariably come out of their mouths as swear words) and the other is ‘It’s raining cats and dogs’.

And I hate it for it sounds so twee; so perfectly 1950s.

However, it has, indeed, been raining. A lot. You may have heard about the couple of disasters in Italy over the last week or so. First there were some towns in Cinque Terra – a rather spectacular area on the west coast of Italy – just up from F’s summer house and to which he has promised, repeatedly, to take me. And then, over the weekend, much of the centre of Genova got badly flooded and some people died.

Yesterday it was forecast that the river Po, that runs through the centre of Turin, was going to burst its banks.

At the moment, if you say anything about the rain (although we have some respite today), the reply is, invariably, Well, at least we’re not in Genova’.

But in case you imagine it can’t have been that bad, here is a little video. I am a bit surprised by the people who, at the beginning, are walking around and, towards the end a guy who seems to be standing in the middle of the street! However, right at the end it looks like the person in yellow is trying to push the cars back – but eventually they realise they have to run.

On the slightly bright side (so to speak) the sun is shining here. Let’s also hope it’s doing the same in Genova and Cinque Terra!

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.

3 days in Piedmont/Lombardia – the things we ate

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When we arrived at ViaVai, there was some cake in the room. Home-made, chocolate cake. Very nice. It was part of the deal as this was via Groupon.

Later that evening there was an aperitivo. There was red wine and two types of tart (all home-made and very, very nice). As usual with these things, people kind of stood around not saying much. Francesca, the owner of the B&B came in and chatted to everyone. Some people had tried to book the fish restaurant in the lower town that Francesca had recommended – but it was fully booked. We knew that already because we, too, had tried to book it.

She tried to use her ‘influence’ to get it for this one couple (as they were leaving in the morning) but ultimately failed.

She had, previously, suggested restaurants to us. We chose the ones we wanted and tried to book that afternoon. As I said, the fish restaurant was fully booked (so we booked it for the next night – Sunday) and, instead booked the Cascina Rosengana, in a little place called Cocconato.. I really like the name ‘Cocconato’ – I don’t know why.

Unfortunately, it was a 20 minute drive from the B&B. Fortunately, the food and service were, as expected, fantastic. All the produce is grown by them or by local farmers and everything is hand-made.

To start, we had some salami. One was normal, cured salami and the other was boiled. I don’t think I have ever had boiled salami before. It was wonderful. Then there was some cheese with some sort of jam, and then, something else (I’m sorry, my memory is fading a bit). Anyway, it was all delicious.

We had chosen red wine (which, although F doesn’t really drink very much, he insisted on) – Barbera. They offered a choice of two – ordinary and superior. F decided we should have superior. It was lovely. He drank his with water in it, which is what he often does, especially with red.

Then we had a choice of primi. One was gnocci and the other was ravioli. We chose one of each to share. First they brought the ravioli. This was very small ravioli, home-made, with meat and simply done in butter and sage. The taste was amazing. The sage was so strong. We finished a dish that, to be honest, seemed a portion for two. The gnocci was next with a ragù sauce. I have to be honest, gnocci is not my favourite thing. This was quite nice and, again, a portion that was, surely, too big for one person. We didn’t finish this.

Next we had a choice of brasata done in Barolo (red wine) and vegetables or chicken. F decided he wouldn’t have anything except vegetables. I had the brasata. It was fabulous. I made F try the gravy as it was really strong – also, unfortunately, full of garlic. The vegetables (carrots and potatoes) would have very easily served 4 people. They had brought extra because F wasn’t having the main course. Needless to say, we didn’t finish the veg (although I did finish all the meat :-) ).

For the sweet they brought us a small portion of each type. There were 4 different sweets. I’m afraid I am unable to remember what they were but they had a chocolate mousey thing that was really lovely.

We had coffee (from a moka).

We bought some stuff in the shop (some of the wine, some bottled beer and I bought some mostardo because I love that). The bill for the meal was between €50-60 which was what we would pay for one person for a similar meal in Milan!

I recommend this place. And the service was wonderful, the girl being really nice and giving exceptional service.

Breakfast at Vaivia was very nice. Do-your-own toast, a cake, jams and real butter. The coffee was like a nespresso thing. The only drawback is that, for me, it was not really enough. Normally I have the equivalent of 2 large cappuccinos in the morning. Still, very nice all the same.

Therefore, we didn’t have lunch, just a couple of small pastries in Turin. Neither of us was hungry.

Later that evening we went to the fish restaurant in the lower part of Caslaborgone.

It was called Circolo del mare. The only thing to tell you it was a restaurant was its symbol on the door. Other than that, it looked like someone’s house.

We walked in. It was two largish rooms, the walls painted in a rag-rolled way, nets and similar fishy type things hanging on the wall. At first it seemed like we were the only people there. We were given a table in the other room – and as we went round we saw that Francesca, her husband and their three daughters were the other customers for the night! F saw that they had Lighea wine on the shelves so, obviously, we had to have that. For antipasto I had anchovies. They were a bit too salty for me but quite nice. I can’t remember what F had – it was seafood salad or something.

Next we had spaghetti con vongole (clams). We had one portion between the two of us which was a good thing as the portion that came fed the two of us very adequately! This was delicious. One of my favourite seafood dishes with pasta.

For the main course, I had rombo (turbot) with capers, olives and tomatoes and F had branzino (sea bass) with, more or less, the same. We shared half and half. It was lovely. For desert, we had chocolate cake and then a digestivo. In all, the meal came to about €50. We also had to join their ‘club’ – but that was for free (I think).

The service was great but they closed up the moment we left (Francesca and her family had left about half way through our meal), which was about 10.30 p.m.

The next day we had the breakfast and then packed and set off for Milan but avoiding the motorway, we ended up in Vigevano for lunch. Although we wouldn’t normally have had lunch, a) it was a lovely day and we could eat outside, b) we could eat in the main square which was truly beautiful and c) if we didn’t eat at lunchtime then we would be starving later – and I had a lesson and stuff.

There were two or three café/restaurant type places in the square but only one of them was really busy. We picked that one, obviously. As it would be mostly locals, it MUST be the right choice.

And it was. We stopped at Il Re di Napoli (the King of Naples and the website I’ve directed to you shows part of the square as well!).

I don’t really like sausages much but, for some reason, I really fancied their Naples Sausages – so that’s what I had. F had seafood salad. The bread (because F asked) was made by them from the same dough that they used for pizza and it was great.

We had some white wine too. The sausages came with what seemed boiled cabbage. But it was really, really nice. We didn’t have sweet but I did have a coffee. The total came to just over €30. We also sat outside under the umbrellas and it was a nice way to spend our anniversary.

And, so, there you are – our feasting over our weekend. All very scrummy.

3 days in Piedmont/Lombardia – the things we did

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We went on Saturday. We were late in the end, of course. We arrived at the Viavai Bed and Breakfast. We were shown to our rooms. The lady, Francesca was so sweet and the place was an absolute delight. I would definitely go there again. It’s about half an hour from Turin in the old part (read hill-top town) of Casalborgone.

For the afternoon, we went for a drive around the area, finishing at the Abbazia di Santa Maria di Vezzolano, which was rather a pleasant surprise.

I particularly like the frescoes and the frieze at the entrance (which, I hope, is pictured below – but not my picture). It’s worth a visit and will probably take you about an hour to walk round, at the most. But it is lovely.

We had a coffee at the coffee shop in the car park. It was just like one of those places in the UK at a castle or something – run by volunteers with home-made cakes and things. Except, here, was local wine. The guy serving looked like he was two steps away from his grave but he was very nice. One of the things I like about F is that he drinks cappuccino at any time of the day.

We sat outside on the wooden terrace. We had jackets but it was quite warm in the sun. We went back to the B&B and got ready to go out. Before we went, we had a little walk around lower CasalBorgone and upper Casalborgone. The upper part being the original medieval town and the lower part a later addition, as is normal here. But what a nice place. The lower part had the shops and the restaurants. Quite pretty. Not somewhere I’d stop if passing through but worth a look if you’re staying there. The upper town was medieval and, apart from houses, had nothing in the way of shops or restaurants – but pretty nonetheless. Then we got in the car to drive to the restaurant. The food part comes in another post.

The next day, F had thought it would be nice to go to the Chocolate Festival at a place called None, pronounced nonay and not nun.

F had looked at the site and said it had stalls along the streets.

We arrived and found it was true – there were stalls along the streets – selling all manner of items, as any normal market! The chocolate event was in one (not so big) marquee. And mostly it was full of shops from Turin and nearby towns selling, unsurprisingly, chocolate! We got to taste some and bought some things including, in my case, a couple of bottles of chocolate liqueur.

But we were a bit disappointed. I expected some exhibitions and some history of chocolate or something, rather than just stalls selling the stuff – however nice to eat they were.

Ah well, onwards and upwards. I had already said that I really wanted to go to Turin as I had only been there once (when I went to look at a flat for V when he went there for the Olympics) and, although it filled me with bitter-sweet memories (for his stay in Turin is what really started the end of V and I), I wanted to erase those and also see something of the city which, apart from a big square in the middle, I couldn’t really remember.

Driving in along the wide boulevards, it seemed more like Paris than northern Italy. It really looked quite an elegant place – and I wasn’t to be disappointed.

F had been there before (as part of work) so we parked right in the centre. We went, first, to a shop that he knows because the guys that run it are customers of his company. In fact, he was, until this year, responsible for the sales to them (they used to ask for him). We had a bit of a chat. They were very nice.

Then F wanted to go to the Museum of Cinema which is in the Mole Antonelliana – some tall tower thing that, apparently, is one of the main symbols of Turin. Sometimes I feel that I have learnt nothing whilst here, in Italy.

The queue for the trip to the tower and the museum was over 1-hour-wait long. But I noticed that there was another entrance which said Museum and there was nobody. I suggested that we ask the guy controlling how many people went through at a time. F didn’t seem to want to do it but I knew how much he wanted to go into the museum and so I went and asked.

Yes, we could go to the museum only and yes, we could use the other entrance and yes, there was no queue. Result!

I cannot adequately describe how wonderful this museum is. I would, in fact, recommend it to anyone coming to the northern part of Italy as a really good place to go – particularly if it is raining (which it wasn’t). Stunning, magical, interesting, exciting, informative and very, very interactive are some of the words that might help to describe the experience.

It lacks only one thing – a clear way of going round it so as not to miss anything. Lots of buttons to press to see how things work, lots of film clips (mostly dubbed into Italian) but truly wonderful. We spent a few hours there but I could go back and spend all day there. For an Italian Museum, it was truly the best I’ve seen.

I could spend longer in Turin and, I’ve no doubt, we shall go again. Quite a beautiful city. The feel is different from Milan. Surprisingly (well, surprisingly for me as I always think of it as the Detroit of Italy) it was elegant, chic and beautiful. More so than Milan although another city that does not fit your stereotypical thought of an Italy city. Florence this ain’t. But, in it’s own terms, possibly more interesting. Maybe even more than Milan (and that’s saying something as I love Milan).

We went back to Vaivia and went for our meal (see, probably, next post).

Sunday dawned bright and clear (as Saturday had been). We left the B&B and decided to drive back slowly, avoiding the motorway. Our first destination was Casale Monferrato. We had no idea what it would be like but it meant that the navigator would avoid the motorway.

We stopped in Casale Monferrato. It was OK but nothing much. I’m sure there were things we might have missed but the day was nice and we sat outside for a coffee.

Our next destination was Vigevano in Lombardia. A colleague at work had told me it was nice – but that’s not why we went. We only went because it was on the way home.

We parked and walked towards the main square. We saw the facade of the church at the end of the sqaure. It looked nice but when we turned the corner it was like ….WOW!

It reminded me of St Marks’s Square in Venice …….. but more beautiful. On three sides were the most beautifully painted (I suppose) buildings, with arches underneath. The roof of the buildings dotted with chimeny pots, made of brick, of all shapes and sizes that made it seem as if it had come directly from some fantasy book town. We walked around the town a bit and through the castle grounds and through the arch under the tower, down the steps and back to the square. Stunning. Designed by Da Vinci, it is amazing. We went for lunch in the square – eating outside as it was still warm enough. It was all lovely. Considering this is only half an hour or so from Milan, it was as if we were in a different world.

And then home.

It was, all in all, a truly lovely weekend and lovely anniversary day yesterday.

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 ………..

Cornish pasties or sausages?

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It was like Cornish pasties. Or sausage rolls. They’d been overcooked. They had too much fat. You know? The ones with that fatty pastry – the sort you get from Greggs. The smell is at once disgusting and appetising – but, maybe not at half past eleven at night. Not when you didn’t cook them. Not when the smell fills your bedroom like someone had been cooking them in that room. Not when it wakes you up.

But let’s go back a bit.

F is in Germany. I took him to the airport on Monday morning. I don’t mind doing that but it does mean getting up a little earlier. Therefore, Monday, I was tired. I also had clients in at work.

After my lesson, I spoke to F by phone. Then I took the dogs out for their walk. It was 9.30. By 10, I was in bed. Since I had been so tired all day and evening, I thought sleep would come immediately. But the bastard ran away and wouldn’t come back.

Added to which, my hips hurt like hell. They normally hurt if I have been wearing particularly tight jeans. Now that I am the size of a small elephant, all my jeans are that little bit tighter.

So, what with the pain and the not wanting to sleep, I couldn’t. And my teeth hurt a bit because I have been clenching and grinding them again.

Eventually, I got up and took some nurofen. Eventually, I guess, I fell asleep.

The smell filled the bedroom. As it is, again, quite warm, all windows are open. The smell was coming from one of the other flats – also with it’s windows open. The smell seemed to get stronger. I got up. The smell was throughout the flat. I hated it. It won’t let me sleep but what can I do?

I walk around spraying airfreshner in every room. This almost masks the smell but not quite. I look out of my window – as if I can tell where the smell was coming from (which was a stupid idea); as if, having worked out where the smell was coming from, I could do anything about it (I wouldn’t).

I like living in a flat. I miss having a garden but am grateful for not having a garden and having to spend every weekend keeping it from becoming an unruly jungle. All things have good and bad points.

I hate that I am too close to people. I hate when I don’t like their cooking.

I don’t like this cooking.

I go back to bed, smelling the smell and hating it. I guess I must have dropped off to sleep again.

At 5.40 in the morning I could not smell it.

But, maybe, I was used to it?

I become more Italian; I am using all aces.

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He comes back today. Well, tonight, really. For 3 days and 2 nights. Of course, it has to be enough. Then it will be the following Saturday night before I see him.

The last I saw him was last Friday night. Well, that’s not entirely true. He flew to London early last Saturday morning. I got up with him and the dogs and I went down to Carrara.

On Tuesday night he came back from London and the flight was due to land about 11 p.m. The next morning he was flying to Spain (where he is now). I knew I would not see him for a whole 7 days since he was getting in so late and would need to do stuff before leaving in the morning. I really wanted to see him so I suggested I might come to the airport anyway.

And he almost asked me to bring the dogs. So I did. We went to the airport to meet him. I couldn’t wait inside the airport now that Rufus can’t control his bladder so well. Not only is it (slightly) embarrassing, it’s a problem to clean it up. The little sacks don’t pick up piss. For that you need mops and things and I can’t really carry those around with me, now, can I?

So I brought the dogs anyway. We drove to the airport. I found a place to park. You are supposed to pay for this (it was meter parking). It was 10.30 at night. I became very Italian. I didn’t pay. We waited outside the exit and he arrived about 11.30.

Both dogs were so excited to see him. He fussed them for a bit and then we walked to the car. I didn’t have a ticket for having not paid, reinforcing my idea of being Italian in this instance (and ensuring I am more likely to do it again, of course). Then I drove him to his home. He had suggested that we sleep over at his. I said that I would the dogs at home. He said that it would be better if I didn’t come as he had to do washing and repack and, anyway, wouldn’t get to sleep quickly. So I went to my home.

Tonight I shall go and pick him up from the airport. He has to work on Saturday morning. I have doubts that he will want to come to my home so I won’t take the dogs tonight. It gives him added incentive to come to mine. Is that wrong?

Yes, it’s wrong but don’t we all use what we can? If he doesn’t come then that’s OK. I can’t say I blame him. But, still, I want him to come to mine. Even if, as a result of the last few days, I will, almost certainly, be asleep within seconds and won’t want to be waking up at 7 or 8 when he will need to get up.

To be honest, it doesn’t really matter. Tomorrow afternoon I will see him. Tomorrow night and Sunday I will see him. It’s the best that can be done so it will have to do.

Love it or leave it

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I’m not sure what the film/Documentary will really be like but I do want to see it.

Italy – a place stacked full of contradictions.

It’s true – either love it and shut the fuck up or leave it and don’t be looking back.

Some of my students are learning English for the sole purpose of ‘getting out’. London’s (and New York’s) streets are, in their eyes, paved with gold. It’s almost as if they think these places are some sort of heaven.

To be honest, I have been having a bit of a beef with J, an American friend who is currently living in Bologna. She has issues with the promises made to her which have turned out to be a bit empty.

“It wouldn’t happen in the States”, she says.

“Nor in the UK”, I add. “Siamo in Italia”.

A thinks that my “Siamo in Italia” is some sort of judgement on Italy. Well, in one way he’s right. In another way (and the way it is intended) it’s not. My “Siamo in Italia” is a way of saying “shut the fuck up”.

There are many things ‘wrong’ with this country. However, in its defence, there are many things wrong with every country. Just different things, maybe. And some of the same things. It’s like when software programmers say ‘features’ instead of ‘bugs’. It’s life.

If the things wrong with this country were not these things then it wouldn’t be the country it was. With such beauty next to such ugliness; such ignorance next to such flair.

It’s a country of paradoxes. It is what it is. Moreover, it is a different ‘is’ for different people.

It’s a land of dreams and beauty and a land of ugliness and hopelessness – of contrasts and uniformity – but it’s up to you to make it what you want. The rules, after all, are made to be bent.

And, whilst talking with A, last night, I realised that now I’ve fulfilled my ambition to live here, I don’t need to do it any more. A bit like running a company (although that wasn’t really something I went looking for, in the first place).

Anyway, here’s the trailer for the documentary/film. Enjoy: