Tag Archives: Speaking Italian

The difference between the idea and the reality

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No. of times out and about today – 1
No. of passes made at me – 1
No. of times ‘checked out’ by some guy – 1 (on the train on the way back)

We meet.  If we meet in a city or area that I don’t know, he will ask me what I would like to do but will have some suggestions.  There had better be food in a nice restaurant on offer (I mean, we should go dutch, of course) as well as, maybe, a visit to some things he has picked out as being noteworthy (a museum, a gallery, even a park!).

OK, so if not at a mealtime, then, a suggestion to stop at a café, maybe grab a beer (or, in the case of Dennis, a coffee) and then do something, even go for a walk.

We talk.  He is interesting, interested in me and we have a lot in common or, at least, he makes me think we have a lot in common.  He indicates (I’m not sure how) that he finds me very attractive but doesn’t push it, both of us exploring the boundaries.  The time passes quickly.

He might suggest dinner at his place but there will be candles, good wine, the food will be expertly cooked but made to look as if it was easy, without effort.  He is accomplished at all things; he puts me at ease immediately.

I want to be wooed; I want to be wined and dined; I want to be seen to be loved; I want it to be romantic or, if we are to be friends then interesting; have something in common; chat easily and freely.

If we are to be more than friends, then, maybe, later, if we both feel the same it may lead to something more……

Then, of course, there are the other sort of dates.  Not ones I know but am aware of.  For those, let’s not waste any time.  He will, of course, be considerably younger than me and have a great body.  That is an absolute must otherwise what’s the point.  But the other type of date will be obvious before we’ve even met.  We will ‘know’ something about what the other wants/is looking for.  Here I still want to be wooed but in a different way; here it’s all about looks and superficiality and that’s fine.

Then, there is, what I can only politely describe as the mix up.  This is where it’s not clear to one side or the other and so, as a result, it makes it awkward and difficult.

Making it more difficult, of course, would be the fact that neither of you were able to speak the other’s language and then there’s that feeling that one of you is out of their depth a little (or a lot) and just wishing to go home.

I meant to take a notebook yesterday but forgot.  The train was not crowded.  About halfway through, Fred phoned.  Could I meet him at the station stop before the one planned (i.e. not in the centre (more or less) of the city?  I knew what this meant and so texted FfI to call me during the day.  Just in case.

I came out of the station and Dennis texted.  We had a text conversation as he was going back to Milan after a weekend away.  We texted about next week and a pizza and so on.  I walked to the car that was waiting – some sporty black little BMW number.  The problem is that cars really don’t impress me that much (although I can say all the right words to make the owner feel good – but a car is just a car, after all – it gets you from A to B in greater or lesser comfort).

I get in.  True, when FfI and I had looked at his profile (with new pictures) the previous night, I did think, wow, I’ve made a mistake here – he looks so much older than the original photos suggested and, as I may have mentioned before, it’s a younger person that I really want.  I know I’ve been spoiled by V but I want someone equally as good.  Now, he looks a little better – in the flesh.  He has no style but, hey, not everyone can be perfect.  I notice his elbows (he’s wearing a T-shirt) – they are the elbows of someone who is 60, not 44 (as he is supposed to be) – but then he looks older than me anyway.

I see we’re not driving to the city but to his town, just outside.  I’m disappointed.  I wanted to go back to the city.  It would have been nice to have the offer so this was not as it should be.

Several times he puts his hand on my leg.  For sure there is no electricity, no spark.  I want to get the next train back but, I made my bed and I should lie in it – actually what I’m thinking is that I need to make it clearer in future and that, anyway, being only my second ‘date’ I should use this as practice both for the date thing and for the Italian as he speaks no English.

We make conversation.  The drive is uneventful (apart from the touching).

We arrive at his flat.  It’s not that nice – OK but not so good.  The style of furniture looks as if it is rented even though he says it isn’t.  There are no books and a lot can be derived from the books on show.  It is a faceless flat; no character; not a home.

He offers me coffee.  We sit in the kitchen to have the coffee.  He gets up and take the cups away and then makes the pass.  I tell him no, that I am looking for friendship and, maybe, that special someone.

He does back off but I am ready for anything to ensure that nothing happens.

We talk.  I keep making the conversation, asking questions, making observations.  I didn’t think my Italian (although dreadful, especially in the conjugation of verbs and the grammar in general) was this good.  Well, I suppose, needs must.

We move back to the lounge.  We talk some more.  Or, rather, I ask more questions, make more observations.

He offers lunch – what we would call stew – with pollenta.  It’s OK.  I say it’s lovely, of course.  We talk about English, the English, the Italians, politics, hobbies, what he does in his spare time, etc.

He is boring.  I mean to say, his life is boring.  I don’t want to be partying all the time and like to put my feet up at home but…..

Again, I think how spoiled I have been spending 20 years with V.  We wanted the same things, both the stay-at-home bit AND the going out and having fun – although latterly, not clubbing for me.

I’m not looking for a V replacement, I know that much, but I want someone that is equally as fun; that will stretch me as much as I would stretch him. Fred is not this nor even close.  I dread to think I would end up with someone like this.

We have another coffee.  We had wine with the meal but he doesn’t know wine.  Nor do I but I want someone who, at least, tries to impress me, just a bit.  There is no effort being made here.  He just thought I would buy a train ticket and come all this way for sex.  He is much mistaken.  As I pointed out above, for this kind of date he would have to look 10 years younger than me (in his case 20 years younger).

I can see that we’re going to be sitting in the house forever.  I suggest we take a walk, by the canal.  He agrees but it’s soon obvious that he never does this.  I suppose that’s the beauty of having dogs – as you have to walk them you find the nicest places to do so.

The town we are in are having their end-of-summer festival.  It is the usual crap with the usual crap stalls and the usual crap local dancers, singers, etc.  I feign interest because that’s what you do.  He’s lived here all his life and never been!  Enough said.

We walk by the canal but he obviously doesn’t know a good route nor are we actually going anywhere.

We turn back and end up back at his house.  The conversation falters now, me exhausted by the lack of interest or interests that this guy has.

He takes me back to the train station – I will catch a much earlier train.  I am grateful to be going and still disappointed that I’m not seeing the beautiful city that is 10 minutes away by train but, at least, I will be back in Milan at a reasonable time.

I think of Dennis and, suddenly, Dennis seems so much nicer – he’s interesting and, more important, interested in me as a person, as a lover, as a friend and as a would-be partner.  I know he’s not right but he’s a million times better than what I have just experienced.

I arrive home and go online on the new site I’ve found.  This is the other type of site for, in the main, even if the people say otherwise, is for the other type of date.  I only put pictures up on Saturday.  I have decided that, after 20 years, I need the practice.  It’s been busy (people viewing my profile, etc. – I am wanted, apparently) but, through this I’ve ‘met’ Gordon. Gordon is about 10 years younger than I am with a great body and is quite beautiful.  We had arranged that we should ‘meet’ later this week.  We shall see; no rush.

Gordon has sent me messages and we spend the next couple of hours chatting.  He is sweet and is wooing me, not for a long-term relationship even if that is on his profile, but for short term satisfaction.  He knows this and I know this.  There is some flirting and that will, with any luck lead to sex and that is fine because we are working within the rules.

I send an email to Norman, who is sweet and is wooing me for either friendship or long-term.  He is going on holiday for this week.  I like him a lot although he is not so beautiful but, then, for a long-term relationship, that is not crucial – we have already both agreed that, when we meet there will either be the electricity between us (mutual) or we shall just be friends.  Either way we will be happy with that.

I go to sleep and dream of Gordon.

I’ve been thinking that I don’t really like Telecom Italia very much

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The engineer phones me (about a day late). As my Italian is abysmal, he does try some English. We, more or less, make each other understood.

He thinks it may be necessary to come to the house. To be honest, they should have phoned me yesterday. However, he is very pleasant and tries to be helpful. Apparently they will make an appointment.

I wonder how, in the main, the engineers can be so nice and the call centre people can be so bloody crap. I guess, if they were engineers and had to actually see the people they deal with they would be nicer.

And so, once again, I am without ADSL and, so, no email or internet connection at home.

It all started Sunday night and although it had been working fine about half an hour earlier, when the break came, it was just too late. And I keep forgetting that Telecom Italia are not Infostrada and it will not ‘fix itself’ within an hour.

The next morning the same problem and I thought that if I don’t phone them now it will just continue not to work.

>I phone. It is just after 6 a.m. I have problems conversing in English at that time in the morning, even with the dogs, so Italian was, well, shall we say ‘interesting’. However, I made myself understood and the guy on the line said some stuff of which I probably caught about half. Basically, my understanding was that it was going to be fixed within four hours.

I put the phone down after I thanked him.

Then I reprocessed what he had said and had this horrible feeling that they were going to send an ‘tecnico’ round to the house within four hours! And, forgetting what day it was and that I HAD to be in work today, I toyed with the idea of not going in at all.

And then I remembered there was a reason why I had to wear a suit. We had a visitor and it was important that I was there, even if my presence was, in fact, not strictly necessary since I would sit and do nothing – except, maybe, make pleasantries with this guy, talking about his flight over; the hotel; the weather; and considering that he was someone that I didn’t much like, it all seemed so bloody pointless and not really important after all.

So, I phoned TI again. Again, Italian; again, difficult but possible. Certainly, as it was about 20 minutes later, it was a bit better. I explained that I wasn’t sure if I had understood what the guy had said to me and were they going to send this ‘tecnico’ round to my house because I had to go to work? She assured me that they weren’t. So, that’s OK then.

The annoying thing was that I had written a post and had emailed it to myself at work – it being better to re-read it before posting and do it during the day when I am, probably (hopefully) more cognisant. And, now I couldn’t. Damn.

Ah well, I thought, I could put it onto my USB key and take it to work that way. I recently got a new one as a gift (my old one being small and only working intermittently). But I couldn’t find it. Where the hell is it, I thought? Ah, I remember taking it to work.

I had no time to check at work, really, just a quick scout round my (very) messy desk. Not there. Later I even did a quick search of my desk drawers. It must be at home, somewhere.

I get home. I am excitedly expecting the internet to be obtainable. I am, of course, sadly misguided, this being Italy and the company being Telecom Italia and all. I phone again.

The automatic message says (I think) that the problem will be fixed on or before Wednesday! I’m not sure and I don’t want to believe it anyway. I wait. I get to an operator. She tells me it will be fixed tomorrow but at the very latest by Wednesday. I am incredulous. I want to be able to say that the four-hour promise was obviously pie-in-the-sky and, since they had my mobile number (I had given it to them in call 2, someone could have phoned me and add that it is totally ridiculous that, having come back to them as their customer (albeit without a choice in this) that they had, once again proved that I had been right to move to Infostrada and that, at the earliest opportunity I would return to Infostrada. I wanted to – but my Italian language skills restrict this to :- two more days? (said with the appropriate incredulous tone).

She is sorry (but doesn’t mean it, you can tell) but it is something to do with the central something or other and it is more complicated. And I know, in my heart, that, even when they say they have fixed it, it will not work in my home and they will have to come round and look and then, probably, do something at home or, after five minutes checking, something somewhere else.

I search for my USB memory stick. I remember the box it was in (I have not used it yet). It was quite large and silver in colour. It is nowhere to be found. I am frustrated.

A calls and I agree to go for a quick pasta dish at his house (F is not there because the call was unusual – it being Monday but without F he is looking for company and I am, after all, very obliging and there is only ironing that I must do but, damn it, I can’t pass up food just for that).

After the engineer phones (me knowing that I probably won’t have Internet access much before the weekend, if I am lucky) I check my desk for the umpteenth time for the USB stick. I find a small, not large, box that is more white than silver, under some papers. It is the key! I feel a little happier about the situation.

I still, very much, hate Telecom Italia.

A Warning – a poke in the eye with a large iron bar – about a week too late!!!!

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We have metal windows at work. Recently we have had a man in, fixing the windows. Not that there was anything really wrong with them but, according to sources, for security reasons, they had to be modified. This involved drilling and, generally making a lot of noise.

When the Window Fixer was doing our office I had to leave. The noise of the drill and the fact that the windows were open, leading to things being blown about and because, whilst fixing two of the windows, I could not sit at my desk, meant that I found things to do outside the office.

This was last week (Wednesday or Thursday, I can’t really remember).

Today our illustrious Purchasing Manager came into the office with our Health and Safety Manager. They wanted to check that the work done was OK.

Did the windows work? – Well, yes (but they did before?)

Did the Window Fixer remove the windows to do the job? – Well, I wasn’t here for most of it but I didn’t see him remove them.

Finally, the warning was given, in Italian because our H&S Manager speaks English worse than I speak Italian which, as regular readers will know, is terrible, our Purchasing Manager translated that:

I should be careful not to allow small particles of dust from the drilling of the window to get in my eye as he (our H&S Manager) did!

Hmm. I look incredulously at him, suppressing the belly laugh of scorn that should have greeted this statement.

‘But’, I pointed out, ‘the job was done last week so I guess I don’t have to worry about it now!’

Honest to God, this man seems to get more useless by the passing day.

“There are no revelations. Everything you learn, you know already”

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I sit here, with the post below, not posted; with the rain outside – knowing it’s raining because of the whoosh of the cars as they drive through the driving rain; with, as I just told Best Mate, the heater that I didn’t buy last year or the year before that, or, even, the first year that I felt the cold after they had switched the building central heating off, blowing no hot air to keep me from blowing on my fingers to try and stem the feeling that my fingers were gradually shrivelling up – when they had gone cold and shiny and slippery, in the way that they do with the cold – when they won’t work properly.

And, the reason for the post below not being posted, as this one won’t be, when I am finished, is down to wonderful Telecom Italia. I have been back with them less than a week and it already feels like I have never been away. It’s the rain, I suppose.

The difference between this time and the last time I had problems with Telecom Italia (which was just before I moved to Infostrada/Wind/whatever) was that the whole conversation was in Italian. Well, I say Italian. His bit was in Italian and my bit was in a version of Italian that, using a phrase used by one of my ex-students who is now a colleague could only be described as Kill Italian Volume 105.

Still, I made myself understood. He made himself understood to me. Everything was going swimmingly until the end when I asked how long it could possibly take to fix.

“Two days”

“TWO DAYS!” I could barely keep the shock that this information had on me out of my voice. In fact so barely was it concealed that, the reality was, it wasn’t.

He made a noise which I can only describe as a cross between a laugh and a snort. The laugh because I’m sure that’s what it was but the snort because there was a certain amount of the arrogant contempt for which all Telecom Italian employees must have special training in order that they are able to master it to perfection.

I thanked him but I have no idea what for.

Perhaps it is the rain after all. I have noticed that, in general, if anything goes wrong it is when it is raining here. The radio will go silent for minutes at a time; the electricity can be a little intermittent; the telephone lines don’t work properly.

Still, on the plus side, whilst Best Mate was listening to her iPod thing (which is not an iPod at all – just something similar), I finished the book that Peter had lent me at the Mantova festival last September! Yes, it has taken me 7 months to finish a single book. Even I am disgusted with myself. Anyway, the one line that really stood out for me was the line in the post title. I just loved it.

And the book? Kalooki Nights by Howard Jacobson – page 446 in the version Peter lent me. So there you have it.

This will be posted, exactly as it is, when I have internet access.

I understand a joke!

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Two men are in the desert.

One says to the other ‘I am very thirsty’

The other replies ‘eighty-eight’.

I am, of course, immensely excited. I cannot believe that I got it. It is, as you may have guessed, what they call ‘lost in translation’ since it’s down to a play on words.

My Italian improves but, oh, so slowly. Obviously it would help if I practised or studied it!

Every morning I listen to the radio on the way to work. I choose to listen to a music station, not unlike how I remember Radio One was before I switched to Radio Four. I would listen to the Italian version of Radio Four (if I even knew what it was) except that I don’t really understand Italian well enough.

So, here I am listening to Radio 105 (actually not on 105 but on 99.1 or something – don’t ask, we’re in Italy) and, every morning at about 10 to 8 they have a jokes section. People phone up and leave a recorded message telling their joke. They play about 5 jokes. I listen and try to understand. Sometimes I understand two or three sentences but never enough to get the punchline.

Mondays are when they play the kids jokes. I’ve been waiting for so long now to understand a Monday morning joke (on the basis that, if it’s kids, they will tell simpler jokes and speak in simpler Italian)

And, this morning I got this one.

OK. You may not think it is funny, however, you have to translate it into Italian to get it – which means it is even better that I understood!

‘I am very thirsty’ more or less translates into Italian as ‘Ho tanta sete’. Because the ‘h’ is not pronounced in Italian, it sounds similar (particularly to my ears) to ottantasette which is 87. Unsurprisingly, then, ottantotto was the response, meaning 88.

See, it just doesn’t work in English – but I got it! Finally!

It may not be the best joke in the world but it’s the first one I have fully understood and I didn’t even think about it in English!!!! I would like to thank the kid who allowed a stranger in a very strange land to have a first and start the week off so well.

Alcohol helps my Italian (apparently)

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Last night we went to a great house party held by a colleague of V’s.  I did have a little too much red wine but didn’t realise that until I woke up this morning.  Luckily, I don’t, generally, suffer from hangovers so I just felt a little sick.  However, the party was FUN!  And I spoke more Italian than normal and even had some sort of debate with some guy, who’s standing in the upcoming elections here, from some new communist party.  Well, I say debate – he didn’t speak English and, now that I know I was quite tipsy, God knows what I actually said to him.

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Re-seal to keep your tea bags fresh

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As those of you who read my blog from time to time will know, I’m a bit of a fan (other words could be fanatic or, if you want to be really mean, nerd) of Tetley tea bags – and I don’t even get free supplies from them!

And, thanks to J (again), I have a huge (well 160) pack of said tea bags. Actually it’s really a pack of 80 but with 100% EXTRA FREE which makes it a pack of 160 in my book.

I’ve been using these for years. I don’t know how many, but it was when we lived in Woonton so at least 6 or so.

And they have come in the same blue pack from, well, as long as I can remember. In fact, I cannot remember life without these tea bags or the blue pack that they come in. Mind you, I am now approaching the age where I forget most things that are, let’s face it, completely unimportant.

One of the “features” of the pack is that the top, once opened, folds back and there is a strip of tape (for want of a better word – well, I do want a better word but I have noticed that, these days, I seem to be losing any skill that I previously had with the English language – the great shame being that my skill with the Italian language is not increasing at anywhere near the same rate as the decrease in skill for English – whoops, I probably shouldn’t have said that in case I want to teach English again) on which the words in title are printed. It’s sticky tape and on this latest pack it is clear tape (apart from the words printed). Oh yes, it also says “LIFT HERE” on the other part of the tape and has an arrow pointing to the edge of the tape which, I guess, they need now that the tape is transparent.

What a wonderful invention it is. You can open your pack of bags as many times as you like, take out a tea bag (or, if you don’t have any boiling water, sniff the contents in the hope of getting the same high) and then re-seal it.

Only one slight problem. The sticky part of this sticky tape works only for so long. If you’re really lucky, twice. But normally not even once. Thereby making the whole thing a waste of time, money and, in particular, effort on my part, to stick the opening down.

So, message to Tetley – either put some real sticky stuff on the tape or just don’t bother. What I find really annoying is that, in spite of the fact that I know it does not ‘stick’ anymore, I still attempt to stick it down every time until there are only about 5 tea bags left, at which point, there really is no point in trying to keep the tea bags fresh.

Having said all that, the rate at which I am going through them I shall have finished them all before the freshness inside notices that there is chance to hot-foot it out of there.

On a different note, it has been a beautiful day today. Quite warm and reminding one of Spring. But don’t be fooled, I’m sure that next week or the week after there will be a cold snap with frost and snow. At least we are out of the 10 days of rain which is something.

People are nice and good things happen.

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It is true that, mostly, people are nice. And when people are nice, it lifts you and gives you warm and good feelings inside.

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(Not new) problems with Telecom companies!

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I know I’m not the first and I know I’m not the last, but it doesn’t help really. The story goes thus:

About 4 weeks ago or more, Alice (the ADSL arm of Telecom Italia) rang me up and I spoke to a very nice lady, in English, of course, who informed me that I could upgrade my ADSL from 4 MB to 20 MB for no extra money and I would have to do nothing. ‘What, nothing?’ No, not even change my modem! I would notice no difference except, if my modem could handle it, a faster speed. OK, I said (I know, my first stupid mistake).

Then, about 2 weeks ago, Wind (otherwise known as Infostrada) said that they were doing this special deal whereby a call to the UK would cost 20 cents. What, per minute?, I asked. No, for the whole call! AND they would give me a cheaper ADSL line (only 4 MB – but my modem can only handle that and it’s quick enough). But, I said, last time I tried to change, I was told that I would be without ADSL for 1 week. No, the nice man, who spoke English very well, said, you will only be without ADSL for a maximum of 1 hour. But what about the password, etc. I said. Don’t worry, he said, we will email you the password and connection settings. Wow, I said, OK then, sign me up! (My second stupid mistake).

So, last night, after going to a Gospel concert (which was really crap – I don’t think white people have the correct voices for Gospel and V agrees) and a beer and so forth, we returned home to find – no ADSL!

A message on the screen says that the new set up is available via my Alice mail account. Except it has been over two years since I accessed that account – and I only have it because they made me have one when I first set up ADSL. So I have absolutely no idea how to get the information to access ADSL. I may be without internet access for the whole weekend or, God forbid, longer. It’s like being in a desert without water. What will I do? How will I manage to live? And is this problem because of the upgrade I signed up for or the change to Infostrada? How the hell do I know?

Oh, and now nobody in the Technical area speaks English – surprise, surprise. I must speak Italian, apparently. Yet, of course, when they try to sell me something they always speak English. How very convenient. So I ask a colleague here to help as he is our network man. At which point he tells me that he is with Infostrada – well, sort of. He has been without ADSL and telephone line since 7th May!!!!

He will help me this afternoon. I do hope we can sort it. If we do, then I will cancel everything else and NEVER, EVER CHANGE AGAIN!

On the bright side, I’m already thinking that, instead of being stuck in front of the computer I may read some books, write some letters, go for walks, prepare some food, clean the house and many, many other things. Actually it will be more like being on holiday!

In the meantime, I found this somewhere on the internet the other day and thought it was useful to remember this. (I’m sorry, I don’t know where from or who posted it).

“Well there is a difference [talking about Bush and the leaders of the Iraq resistance, I think, but could apply to many, many situations]. The one is like a pirate, the other an emperor. From St Augustine’s City of God, said the pirate “Because I do it with one small ship, I am called a terrorist. You do it with a whole fleet and are called an emperor.”

It’s a thought, isn’t it?

Update: Now, as I’m able to put the picture up and add this update, you can tell that I’m back online with ADSL – Hurrah! However, it still annoys me that Alice can happily sell me stuff in English but can’t support me unless I have someone who speaks Italian with me. Bah!