A fairy tale ending....?

As we drove past Milan’s impressive Medieval-style cemetery a few days ago, Sophie (being obsessed with all things Princess) shouted out “Look mummy, that’s the castle where the princess lives with the dragon!”. “Oh yes, so it is” was my reply. To which she responded “but then the prince comes and kills the dragon and the princess says thank you prince!”. Obviously, this old gem is nothing to be alarmed about, but since it’s 2014, girl-power has been around for a while, and so I thought it was worth offering an alternative ending to this slightly tired version. “OR”, I suggest, “the princess could just kill the dragon HERSELF and then she wouldn’t need the prince. What do you think?”. Sophie considers this for a minute, and concludes “OR…… she could just call the prince.” OK, I see that, at the tender age of three and a half, those classic clichéd fairytale endings are already deep ingrained, and as we go through the various stages of Cinderella and Prince Charming, Beauty and the Beast, Barbie and Ken….there will probably be little I can do to suggest that these little ladies are just as interesting and capable without their male companions ….. This got me thinking about something (perhaps quite controversial) which has been playing on my mind a lot lately, as we go back to work and school and re-haul the family budget for the nth time this year. I went to an all-girls grammar school which was what you might call “high flying” (yes, I know – I’m not a perfect representation of its usual turnout!), and where the mantra that was drummed into us on a daily basis was “you can be who you want to be, do what you want to you…”. The school motto was “wisdom giveth life”, but it might as well have been “girl power!” given the sheer amount of conviction that we were the future, the world was ours, and nobody could take that away from us. Now, I admit that many of my school peers have gone on to be doctors, lawyers and so on, and obviously these professions bring with them a certain prestige and – not to be underestimated – economic security. BUT, what bothers me is the extent to which the lifestyle, finances and social standing of every woman I know - here in Milan at least - is influenced by their husbands / boyfriends / significant others. I have a real-life example (because this blog is serious so scientific proof is obviously required!). Take the girls that work in my office. We are all around the same age, from similar backgrounds, with very similar educations and do the same job in the same place for roughly the same salary. This, however, is where the similarities end and the ENORMOUS lifestyle gaps open up. D’s husband is a company CEO. They live in a penthouse in Monza, have a cleaner and a nanny, take several holidays per year and own a second home on the Tuscan coast. K’s boyfriend is a manager in the fashion industry. They own a detached house with a big garden outside the city and spend a fortune on clothes and eating out with friends. They also spend lots of weekends away at spas or similar and so are permanently tanned and relaxed. V’s boyfriend does a fairly ordinary office job in a small-ish company. They have a two year-old and manage to make ends meet by making lots of sacrifices. The family holiday is an option only in the case that they both get their full annual bonuses, otherwise they stay at home. Finally there’s G. Her husband lost his job a few months ago and is having trouble finding something permanent to replace it. They also have a child, and G is worried that they are soon going to have trouble paying the rent and fees for their son’s nursery. It would appear that they have less than nothing left at the end of the month. So there we have it – 4 girlfriends who started the race lined up together but who appear to get ahead or fall behind as a result of the earning power of their other halves. I used to think of my friends who put “someone with money” high up on their list of requirements for a potential partner as shallow and gold-digging. Now I’m starting to think that they were definitely onto something, and that alongside “wisdom giveth life”, perhaps my girls’ grammar school should also have taught us that “husband giveth money and husband taketh away”. Or maybe I should start teaching Sophie that it’s fine to call the Prince to slay the dragon, but make sure you do a credit check on him first……

Back to my (our) roots

They say that as you get older, you tend to search more and more for your roots and go back to what you know. Whilst it's true that, as a mum to a three year-old, my dancing-on-tables-in-dodgy-nightclub days appear to be all but over (never say never!), at 34 I don't yet consider myself totally past it. I do nonetheless find myself increasingly drawn to all things English, little reminders of my childhood, and I feel an increasing need to keep in touch and stay up to date with current affairs in the UK. Much more so than ever before in the 10 years that I have lived full-time in Italy. Perhaps it's because I'm aware that my child is growing up in a country which is very different from my country of origin, and as such her only (invisible) link with British culture and history is, well, me. Before Sophie was born, I was quite happy to immerse myself 100% in Italian life, watch the local news, eat classic Mediterranean dishes, and speak only Italian at all times. It felt like some sort of personal achievement - a lifelong goal to make my way in the world in a language and culture which I had learned from scratch and about which I knew nothing prior to my 16th birthday. Now that I have Sophie and have been here long enough for the place to no longer feel even slightly "foreign", it's like I am trying to go back on myself and regain some of that lost ground. Back in the day, being able to hold my own at the butchers or make a phone call to the gas company gave me a sense of satisfaction - a sort of "aren't I clever" reaction, which has now been replaced by the desire to ensure that Sophie knows the names of the things on our shopping list in both languages, and doesn’t forget that while things might be done a certain way in Italy, they are done a different way in the UK. I have become almost fanatical about her bilingualism, to the point where, despite having been born here and going to an Italian nursery every day, her English is now way ahead of her Italian (#smugmummy)… This summer didn’t involve the classic family holiday to foreign climes, as Luca had to keep the restaurant open and I needed to make up time at the office. As a result, Sophie spent most of August with her English grandparents, some time in the UK and some time at the beach here in Italy for the few days that we did all manage to get away together. She ate Cornish pasties on a chilly town quay surrounded by seagulls, had gelato at midnight in a balmy piazza, watched The Sound of Music approximately 10 times while the rain beat at the windows, and played happily on the beach, chatting incessantly with the other Italian children at the Mini Club. That’s the thing about having two cultures and two languages to call your own – it’s easy to fall into the classic “no man’s land” expat syndrome, where your home country feels increasingly “foreign” and your adoptive country will always see you to some extent as an outsider. What I truly hope for Sophie is that, having both Italian and English blood, being completely bilingual, and living as much of both cultures as possible, she will grow up safe in the knowledge that her roots are firmly planted in both places and that she can choose between pasties or pasta, fish and chips or gelato, rock pools or swaying palms – and none of it will feel even slightly “foreign”...

Life, Lavoro, Luca..... and Sophie

Is two and a half years too long? Can a person really FORGET they have a blog, stumble across it by mistake whilst searching the web, and spend an entire afternoon devouring accounts of their previous life history? The answer is yes, because this is what I have just done. Wow, I was whiney back then! So, what to say? Since I last updated this blog, Sophie has grown into a wonderful, funny, talkative (mamma mia she can ramble on!) three and a half year-old who is 100% bi-lingual and not afraid to show it! Luca has taken on a new business (a Baita close to Lake Como), which I, in turn am likely to ramble on about in future posts (so that's where Sophie gets it!), and we have moved house again. Maybe twice. I really can't remember.... I am still in the same job (slightly embarassing) but can't complain as I really enjoy the working atmosphere and have made some friends-for-life in what, to the outside world, can seem a fairly dog-eats-dog industry. As I write this from the office during the usual August slow-down, my parents are back at my apartment taking care of Sophie before we jet off tomorrow to spend 8 days at their house in England. Cornwall to be exact, which just happens to be one of my favourite places in the world, so it's All Good. We will miss Luca (the restaurant has to stay open all month) but will certainly enjoy a change of scenery. The view from my city outskirts office block during one of the worst summers on record is starting to look a little tired and I'm keen for Sophie to get some nice Atlantic air into her lungs! Despite having completely left my own blog in tatters, I have recently become a bit of a fan of a couple of UK-based mummy blogs (the sarcastic kind, not the "we like doing arts and crafts and baking" kind...), which might just provide me with inspiration to get back in the saddle. So, if there is anybody out there at all, maybe tune in again - and you might just find that I am enjoying life a lot more than in previous episodes. I may even manage to be whine-free, who knows??

Back in action

...so, I stumbled on my own poor, neglected blog whilst looking for something else and since by some miracle I even remembered my password... Well, here I am!

What to say? Where to start?

Maybe with the fact that Sophie will be a year old on the 18th of February and life is no longer even vaguely similar to what it was the last time I contributed to this blog! Nothing and nobody can really prepare you for the joy, fear, happiness and horror that is being a parent and you can't imagine the way in which your entire outlook on life changes overmight when a new little person comes into your life.
She is stupendous. Beautiful and intelligent and funny and curious and naughty and extremely hard work and all the other cliches. I am also typically exhausted (back at work almost full time - eek!) but I have to say it's Luca who has made the biggest change. He's completely obsessed. They say there's nothing like the relationship between a daddy and daughter and mamma mia are they spot on!

So here we are - back in the city and enjoying the challenges that life throws at us. I can't remember the last time I was even anywhere near my bed after 6:30am, the house is a complete mess and we both fall asleep on the sofa by 10 o'clock every night but I honestly wouldn't have it any other way. If I can manage it, I might even add "updating blog" to my looong list of post-work activities and not disappear into the milano smog like the last time!

Update!

The other blog is newly updated, but just in case you are feeling extra lazy and can't be bothered to go over, the big news is that we're expecting a girl! Very excited, very busy and very fat is the best description I can give of myself at the moment!
A presto!!

Shameless advertising

Having spent the best part of 5 years holidaying in Sardinia in their own little apartment, my mum and dad have decided to invest in something closer to me (now that they have a grandchild on the way!) and so are selling the place. If anyone is interested or knows anyone who might be, message me and I'll put you in touch! It's a private sale so there would be no agency fees - just the cost of the notary and the legal part of the process...

I'm having link trouble, so copy and paste the address below into your browser to have a look!!

http://www.rightmove.co.uk/overseas-property/property-27803008.html?premiumA=true

Time for an update….. and some big news…

Well, here we are again folks – fading tan, 3 extra kilos and even less desire to return to work than money in the bank! Yep, it’s the “grande rientro”, otherwise known as “back to work after the holidays”….. and, mamma mia, it’s tough!
The holiday went without a hitch – we spent 20 days on the following schedule almost without exception: Beach – lunch – nap – beach – dinner – bed. Bliss!!! Sardinia was as beautiful as I remembered from when I lived there many moons ago (well, almost four years ago now!) and the sheer unadulterated laziness of doing absolutely nothing day after day was…. well, I think much deserved! And to be honest I’m exaggerating the horror of the rientro – for sure it was great to do nothing but eat, sleep, read and relax, but I have to say my brain did start to feel a bit mushy towards the end of the holiday. Maybe it’s better to be back in the overly-cerebral world of purchasing, if only not to forget how to work one’s PC and what a pivot chart is….
The best part of coming home though is the rather ginormous lifestyle change that awaits when we welcome our first child into the world, sometime around March 1st if all goes to plan! Yep, I’m joining the ever-expanding “mummy club”, not to mention the ever-expanding waistline club and ever-expanding bra size club!! It really is amazing how, with a foetus the size of a pack of cigarettes (not the best comparison I realize but the only dimension that comes to mind…), it is so easy to suddenly find 4 kilos of weight that weren’t there before! And by before I mean just last week….. uffa …
Obviously we’re super happy. Luca is like an 8 year old the night before Christmas, knowing that his parents got him a train set! And, since it was all hush hush until recently (I’m in my 15th week), if anyone’s interested in following, I already started a super secret pregnancy blog over at http://emmina-diary.blogspot.com/
Apologies if I repeat myself or make no sense over the next few months, but “pregnancy brain” seems to have well and truly got me – the gynecologist in Sardinia asked for my home address and I couldn’t remember it! Did I mention I have a new blog? http://emmina-diary.blogspot.com/
;-)

Man's best amico?

Well, finally it’s here – that blessed month when the motorway is free from tailbacks, the boss is on the beach with his phone switched off, and you can find a parking space almost anywhere without getting into a fight in the middle of the street with a stranger…. Lovely, lovely August!!! It’s a shame I’m still stuck in the office with reporting and a presentation to finish before the big finale tomorrow, but then it’s no more work until SEPTEMBER! Woooooooo!! Ok, pulling myself together now….
On a much heavier note, there are still problems in our neighbourhood, and not just between us and the ignoramus couple downstairs, but it would appear, between just about everyone. Sunday morning at 8:30 we were woken up by constant, incessant barking from the neighbours’ dogs, who spend their days side by side in adjacent gardens, with just a wire fence to separate them and so, every now and then they decide to drive each other – and the entire neighbourhood – insane by barking, growling and generally throwing themselves at the fence. On Sunday morning, the larger, more aggressive of the two managed to jump the fence and as we raced onto the back balcony to see what was going on (the sound of animals fighting and injuring each other is unmistakable), we were greeted with the sight of the attacking dog’s owner attempting – and initially failing – to split them up. After what seemed like minutes, but was probably only seconds, the neighbor managed to drag his dog away, leaving the poor little other one bleeding, limping and terrified. We were immediately all on the scene (although the injured dog’s owner was not home) and, following a frantic call to the emergency vet, the dog was bundled into the neighbour’s car (still bleeding and shaking, poverino….) and taken to the veterinary pronto soccorso in Pavia. We later heard that he had a broken leg and some scratches, but other than that he was OK, and is now recuperating in his owner’s garage. This is the thing. Here in Italy the general opinion (and I heard this more than once that same morning) is that you can have a dog as long as you have a garden, regardless of how much time or energy you dedicate to it. They just don’t get it! Aside from the attack (which could have happened anyway), it breaks my heart that this little dog spends all day everyday by himself in the garden, is fed in the evening and put straight into the garage until the next morning. His owner is a lorry driver and so spends long periods of time away, during which time another neighbor carries out the daily garden-garage-garden ritual, but it’s not enough for an animal which has 1. The need for human / canine company, followed by 2. The need for space and exercise. Even when his owner is home, he never takes the dog anywhere and won’t keep him in the house. I just don’t understand this collective ignorance with regards to pet ownership. Where I come from everyone knows that leaving a dog for hours on end by itself is a form of cruelty; here even the most “enlightened” members of the community seem to stick to the old adage “as long as you have a garden to leave it in…..”. This issue really distresses me. Italians think that the English are “too soft” on their animals and treat them too much like human beings. So what?? Isn’t it better to do more than is necessary to improve the quality of life of a living creature than to do less than is necessary just to ensure that that creature has a basic quality of life? And don’t get me started on the abandonment issues here. Yes, I’m very excited to be leaving for my summer holiday in Sardinia next week, but I am also very aware that this area of Italy has a huge problem with abandoned pets, as – believe it or not – people actually take their animals with them from the mainland and purposefully leave them behind, knowing that they will be unable to find their way home! One hundred thousand dogs are abandoned in Italy every year, the majority during the hot summer months, when their owners have the chance to dump them far from home (or even on the motorway), in order not to have to take care of them for the rest of the year. I love August, I do, but I wish it could be a happy, carefree month for everyone – also for pets. If only the rest of the country – my neighbours included – saw it this way….

Chillin in the green vale

I’m working on another blog, which I am sure will prove to be more interesting than this one, but it’s not ready yet, and I’m not even giving any clues, so you’ll just have to wait!! Curious??? HA!
On Saturday we decided to take a break from our quasi-cryogenic air conditioned states, actually enjoy the hot weather, and – who knows – maybe even engage in social activities with friends and loved ones? It seemed like a good idea at the time, and well, that’s precisely what it turned out to be….
Luca’s brother’s mother in law (got that??!) owns a plot in a holiday village on Lake Garda called Villaggio Valverde, which is run by a cooperative and takes the form of a campsite, but where instead of tents there are little wooden houses, each with a little garden, and instead of foreign tourists there are local families who have purchased their plots and then pay a monthly rental fee all year round in order to use the pool, tennis courts, bar and other facilities. It was a first for me, as I’m more a “I’ll wait for you here on the sun lounger while you ask the cocktail waiter to bring me a drink” kind of girl, but it was fun to do something different and very cool indeed to spend the afternoon in the (albeit PACKED) pool, teaching the girls to swim without armbands.
The villaggio itself was well-kept, with clean toilets and showers (communal darrrrling eeewwwww!!) and a cute woodland area at the back with pathways and picnic tables – ideal for escaping from the hot midday sun! The evening was spent lazing in the garden with the whole family; the men doing their “Me – man – me – make – fire” barbecue thing, and the girls putting together the potato salad, gossiping and generally chilling out. It wouldn’t be my thing for any more than a day or two (tons of kids, acquagym en masse, communal showers, ballroom dancing in the evening…) but it was definitely nice to chill out with the fam and spend an entire day in a bikini and sarong, even at dinner… At one point, while we were in the super-crowded pool, with noisy children dive-bombing on all sides, disco music blaring out, and the “pensioners’ exercise corner” just a few feet away, I caught Luca’s eye and we both burst out laughing. Not our thing, but definitely a good experience and the perfect way to thaw out our air conditioned bodies and minds!

Hot

It’s Monday morning, back to school (or that’s how it feels) and I spent the entire weekend at home, lying on the sofa under the air conditioning whilst the outside world enjoyed 35 degree heat. Not sure that “enjoyed” is necessarily the best word for it – it was so humid that the 2 minutes I spent outside to move my car made it absolutely unbearable – although I’m sure that those thousands of people who hit the beach this weekend had a much nicer time of it than I did, all things considered. It’s not that I’m lazy or incapable of “making the most of things” (as my mum would say), but this weekend brought with it a rather unpleasant situation whereby constant nausea prevented me from behaving like a normal person, and if it wasn’t for Luca sticking by me and sacrificing his weekend for the sake of the common good…..well, I don’t know what I would have done. So, unfortunately I am unable to regale you with tales of exciting trips, new discoveries, run-ins with the local peasant community, or any of the half-readable stuff I normally like to write about. Instead we watched two films – ‘Wolfman’, which was scary but entertaining enough and another with Denzel Washington (don’t remember the title), which was set in a post-apocalyptic future and involved him trying to get the last surviving bible to a safe location. Very forgettable but we always appreciate Denzel, no? And that was my weekend. Two mediocre movies and a 200 euro electricity bill (that’s my estimate based on the 24/7 air con – and we didn’t even care!)… If anything more interesting happens in the near future, I’ll be sure to document it….

Dearest blog....

I have neglected you like never before.... But don't worry because from now on I will be updating you on a regular basis - and that's a promise!
So, what's new? We had a bust up. A big one. With Luca's family. So much so that we are not talking to his mum and dad at the moment..... It's a long story but let's just say that they did something very un-parent-like with regards to Luca's / our financial future and I don't think that I personally can ever forgive them. I hope that Luca can and that they sort it out - in his own words "it's not nice to feel abbandoned by your family at 30 years old!"... We'll see how it goes but it doesn't look good. Ah the joys of family politics!!
At the other end of the scale, my mum and dad came to visit 2 weekends ago and we had a fantastic time. I took them to Milan for a very milanese aperitivo with my girlfriends; they were shocked at the 8 euros per drink and didn't trust any of the buffet food! Bless...
Saturday we had a very nice lunch up in the hills in a little no-frills restaurant that we sometimes go to. You know, the kind of place where the people are rude but they make their own salami so you look past it.. All in all it was a fab weekend and we packed them off to Sardinia on Monday morning with lots of great memories. They'll be passing through again on their way home at the end of July, having driven down from England (yikes!) so we'll get to spend a bit more time together before the summer. That's the problem with being far from home and having little free time - the last time I went back to England was last Christmas and the last time before that was the Christmas before! Wow...
We're also off to Sardinia in August and I CAN'T FREAKING WAIT! 3 weeks of doing absolutely nothing sounds pretty nice, thanks very much. Having lived there for 3 years I have to say I'm not a big fan of the island in August, when it turns into a hotter, sandier, saltier version of Milan with traffic on the coast road to rival the tangenziale est on a bad day... But, working for an Italian company means taking holiday at the same time as everyone else, so that's what we'll do! We're also very lucky that Luca (despite working in a restaurant) gets August off too, so we're making the most of it!!
That's all folks! More soon.....

Bella della zia!

It’s holiday time, work is slow and I’m on a roll! You could say I’m on a blog roll….Hahaha…

Last Saturday was our little niece, Carolina’s 5th birthday, and so, being the generous zii that we are, we went and bought the biggest gift we could find (it would appear that the physical size of the package is of vital importance when buying presents for small children – we’ve slowly caught onto this over the past few years). Given the family bar/caffè/restaurant business, it seemed entirely appropriate to give her the latest in hospitality technology for the under 6s: the Bialetti mini-kitchen, complete with old-style espresso caffettiere and mini-vileda magic mop! It was a huge success, with Carolina and her younger sister, Maddalena taking it in turns to serve fake coffee to the whole family, taking care to fake-stir the fake sugar and fake-mop up the fake spills. Oh to have the imagination of a five year-old!
The other big success gift-wise was the princess dress you can see in the picture above (I couldn’t resist sharing)– personally delivered by Zia (Auntie) Concetta, who had made the trip from the wilds of inland Sicily, specifically for the occasion. I had never met this aunt before (Luca’s mum’s sister), and despite attempts to warn me, I wasn’t quite prepared… Imagine if you can the typical Zia Concetta – fat and jolly, who arrives in Milan unannounced on a one-way ticket, bringing with her two suitcases filled with home cooking, Sicilian cakes, oil, wine, ham, cheese and all those other items that people from the south are convinced don’t exist north of Rome. Booming voice, the tendency to hug the breath out of you and sloppy kisses on pinched cheeks… she had it all! When we asked her how long she was planning on staying, the response was a long, over-exaggerated shrug and that very Italian expression that literally means “no idea” – “boh!”. This, accompanied by copious eye-rolling by Luca’s dad and a combination of amusement and exasperation by his mum. Luca’s managing the restaurant on Easter Sunday so I will be taking myself off to the family lunch without him. No doubt I will come away with plenty of stories, a couple of extra kilos on the hips and enough leftovers to get us to ferragosto….

HAPPY EASTER EVERYONE!!!!!

Like drawing blood....

Since the expat blogosphere could obviously do with a few more long, drawn out tales of bureaucracy, frustration and system failure (note the teeny-tiny hint of irony..), I thought I would add my 10 pence worth. Don’t worry – this blog isn’t going to turn into one of those moan-moan-winge-winge Italy-bashing forums… Hell, who am I kidding? It totally is….Anzi, it ALREADY is!! Just kidding – it won’t. Promise.
Anyway, following on from my little visit to the lovely non-judgmental doctor (irony’s my thing today), I took myself off to the San Matteo hospital in Pavia this morning to get my blood work done, arriving at 8:40. I’d already warned my boss that I may be a few minutes late for work (snigger snigger), but even though I was mentally prepared for long lines, lots of paper shuffling and some potential high blood pressure moments, I didn’t realize that the lines would be quite so long, the paper shuffled quite so much, the blood pressure…..well, through the (public health system and therefore probably asbestos-filled) roof.
Here is what followed - in notebook format in order that you don’t fall asleep whilst reading:
8:40 – arrive and go to “Ticket Desk”, wait in line for 10 minutes before being told that this is the old ticket desk and they are no longer paid for here (despite the sign above the window) –“no, Signora you have to go to the other end of the hall and take a number”. In case you don’t know, the “ticket” is the “standard” payment you have to make prior to any kind of specialist visit, blood work etc. Prices seem to vary according to what you are there for, whether or not there’s an “R” in the month, and the usual exceptions to the rule.
8:45 – locate correct ticket desk and take a number. I’m number 74, and they are currently serving number 45. Ho hum…
9:15 – make it to the (I have to say, friendly and efficient) lady behind the window, only to be told “Sorry signora, you have to do a prelievo (blood test), and for those you pay the ticket afterwards. Go straight up to the 3rd floor and take a number”. Booooooooo
9:17 – arrive at 3rd floor to find another sportello (window), staffed by 2 very slow people, another numbering system. Take a number. 90. Currently serving…… 63. Sit, wait, snooze.
9:55 – make it to window to register for my prelievo. They take my details, make me sign a few forms, huff and puff a bit, and have me take a seat in the “waiting area”. So I waited to wait to wait, effectively.
10:05 - They call me in and do the scary needle bit with no fuss ( I will emphasize again that the staff were friendly and efficient despite my very low expectations!) and then they remind me to go back downstairs and pay the freakin’ ticket.
10:10 – Get back to the ticket line and it has HUNDREDS of people in it. OK, maybe not hundreds, but enough to make my already spinning head go that little bit faster. Ah, but there’s an automated machine over in the corner with just a small line (Italians hate technology) – I’ll go over there! It even has a credit / debit card sign on it, YAY! I – somewhat victoriously – join the end of the queue and just 15 minutes later it’s my turn. This is good news as I’m now feeling seriously queasy, having left my emergency banana in the car (who was to know that they would make me wait AFTER the appointment???). As I go to get my bankcard from my wallet, the old guy behind me – obviously an expert – points out that “Signora, non funziona il bancomat”. What? How do you mean you can’t use cards?? It’s written on the machine that you can! “Eh sì, but it just doesn’t work. There were 5 of us trying earlier and we all ended up going to the cash-point down the street”. Ever the optimist (haha) I try anyway and the machine almost eats my card, so I give up and head to the little number machine. I hate that bloody number machine! I take number 202; they’re serving 151. I’m already two hours late for work. I no longer care…. Sit, wait, snooze again (feeling green this time and dreaming about the cappuccino and brioches in the bar across the road).
10:45 - I get to the window, pay my 75 euros - which hurt more than the needle – and get out of there. I am obviously exhausted and vulnerable as a charity person with a stall outside the front door of the hospital stops me and I give him 10 euros just to stop talking. I’m lying actually – it was a charity close to my heart, they seemed legitimate, and there was no line so I got to go straight to the desk. That was worth 10 euros if nothing else….
I arrive at work (35 kilometers away) at lunchtime, and glance at the papers they gave me in the hospital for the ‘ritiro’ (collection of results). Tuesdays and Thursdays from 12:00 to 16:00. Marvellous….

Judgement Day...

I am insulted. And indignant. And slightly annoyed. I am not, however, surprised. When you live in a place like Italy – or rather when you live in the greater Milan area – you get used to being judged for your appearance, pushed out of the queue at the fish counter, harassed from a distance of precisely half a meter by the car behind you and forced to dodge the “doggy doo doo” that decorates every urban pavement. After a while you (almost) get used to it, put it down to experience, and get over it because, at the end of the day it’s not personal. People are what they are, they behave like that with everyone and you just can’t take it to heart.
Being humiliated by your own GP when you go to them for advice is another matter, and this is what happened to me last week. I needed to see the doctor anyway, and since I had to request a referral to get some blood tests done (which had been suggested by my Gynecologist), I thought I’d kill two birds with one stone. You see, here in Italy the system is as badly organized as they say it is. Going a little off-topic now, but I went to my Gyno to have a random annual check-up and we discussed the fact that I’m starting to maybe-possibly-sort of-think-about-starting-a-family-at-some-point-in-the-not-too-distant-future (before anyone starts getting excited!), so she ‘prescribed’ some standard blood tests, reminding me that I would, however, need the referral from my GP in order to actually get them done. A 120 euro an hour specialist is evidently not enough to physically refer you to the lab, so I paid my bill, left and, a few days later took myself off to see my new (and therefore never previously visited) GP. It was all going so well – the 12 people waiting to see her when I got there had dwindled to just a couple within an hour (the last time I visited a no-appointment doctor in Italy it took 3 and a half hours to be seen – this is how many of them operate). I took my turn, discussed the current problem and then pulled out the note from the Gyno listing the blood tests she wanted me to do. “And why do you wish to have these tests?” she asked, taking no prisoners, bearing down on me over her glasses like some kind of scary school teacher. “Because I just turned thirty and we were thinking we might look into having a family at some point soon, and I thought it best to make sure…..” “How long have you been married?” she positively snapped, cutting me off in no uncertain terms. “Ummm…..errrrrr…..I’m not married…. I….. ummmmmm…. live with my partner”. The woman gave me such a look it still haunts me a week later. She literally looked me up and down for 30 seconds, before pulling herself together enough to tell me that my Gynecologist has no idea what she’s doing, these tests are not the right ones, why do I even go to her, etc. etc. No querying my family history, my medical background – nothing. Great first meeting between medical professional and new patient. NOT. Ask me personal questions so that you’re capable of managing my health, Dottoressa; keep your personal marital status issues to yourself! I repeat, I am insulted, indignant, but not particularly surprised. Just another day in paradise!

Nonna

Last night at around 8:30 I was busy organizing the house and clearing up following somebody’s great idea to paint the spare bedroom when my phone rang and, glancing at the display I realized to my horror that it was that time on a Sunday and there was no escape – the weekly call from Luca’s grandma in Sicily, except that I was home alone and she speaks only Sicilian dialect, making no concession for the fact that I don’t. It’s sweet that she called, knowing that Luca was at work and thinking that I have nothing to do while I await his return(!) but she speaks no Italian whatsoever and so what followed would for sure make a great anecdote in one of those cutesy “Under the Tuscan Sun / Driving over Lemons / Another freakin’ novel about the expat bella vita”-type books. In reality I immediately broke out in a cold sweat, knowing in advance just how much effort the next few minutes would require. She talked about the weather, the fact that her family have all “abandoned her” to live in the north, her work as the village seamstress, how she’s convinced she’ll be dead before Luca and I bother to pay her a visit, how I never call her and do I have both her landline and her mobile…..? How did I get all of this in pure Sicilian? Good question! Let’s just say that the 1 in 4 words I managed to pick up were enough to understand the subject, and for the rest I just kept up the “uh huh… sì…. mmmm… ho capito”, hoping that I was understanding enough not to respond “wow, che bello” when she told me someone died. Luca found it all very amusing when I recounted the story to him later on that evening, admitting that she had called him first and asked after me, and he had suggested she give me a call. That smirk was soon wiped clean when I told him that I had promised we would make a trip down to see her before the end of the summer, and to make sure that the aunts, uncles, cousins etc. would all be ready to welcome us… I don’t think he'll be giving out my phone number any more!

Happy new year, happy birthday, happy valentines…

Well, I am no longer a 29 year-old blogger. I am now a 30 year-old blogger. To be honest I don’t really consider myself a blogger at all, considering that I now update roughly every 10 years and take no notice whatsoever of the interesting cultural issues/ news worthy items / current affairs that real bloggers dedicate time to. We were talking the other day in the office about how you can understand a lot about a person from the way the use Facebook. I’m a big psycho-analyst of myself and others, and Facebook is my daily bread. If you think about it, you can group your friends into very distinct categories, and notice how their FB personality betrays who they really are – even though they may not know it.
Firstly, there are the people whose status updates are always something thought-provoking like “love is like gas – light, indestructible and always right in front of you, even if you can’t see it…”. YUCK! I tend to skim over these ones - it’s Facebook, guys - not the latest Coelho bestseller… Plus you can always SMELL gas and you can’t smell love so HA!!
Then there are those who constantly make comments about the latest big news items, politics, culture – all trying to out-do the next person for just how much intellect they can cram between a post and a poke….
Next come the needy updaters. “Sarah needs a hug” 13:01; “Sarah really needs a hug” 13:15; “Sarah really needs a hug right now or she might just cry” 13:21 etc. etc. Will someone please call up Sarah and ask her if she wants to get a coffee???? I haven’t spoken to her in 15 years and I live in Milan, so that’s me off the hook…
Then there are the self-promotion Facebookers. There are subtle ones and not so subtle ones – and I’m not sure which bother me the most. The subtle ones go something like this “Elizabeth is very tired from a long week of business meetings in New York, Paris and Rome”. Ah, poor poor Elizabeth – that must be terrible for you, dear. You have our deepest sympathies. Now go have a quick nap – you deserve it! This type of Facebook update – no matter how subtle - can really hit a nerve if you’re a bored housewife / new mum covered in baby sick / unemployed / have no life. The not-so-subtle ones (of which there are very many) are more like: “Katy is trying to decide whether to wear Gucci or Prada to the Business Woman of the Year Awards tonight. Gucci is more comfortable but Prada will look better when I go up to collect my award from the Duchess of Kent”. Now this is really annoying. More than anything because we all know that Katy is NOT trying to decide what to wear, but just couldn’t think of any other way to get the message across and so added that bit in at the beginning for good measure – desperate to overcome her insecurity by convincing other people that she’s worthy, even though she probably doesn’t really believe it about herself. We all know at least one person like this. I know about ten. Am I just unlucky or do I hang out with the wrong people?!
As for my FB personality… “Emma is wondering what to have for lunch today – a sandwich or a salad?”… “Emma is wondering whether it might rain later”….. “Emma is tired”…… Very boring, very predictable and the best way to avoid being psycho-analyzed by fellow facebookers!

Like – Dislike – Comment - Block

Justice??

Yesterday we got back from a lovely four-day visit to the UK where we spent Christmas (minus 1 suitcase, thanks very much British Airways) in the old-fashioned way: too much food, too much alcohol and far too much monopoly… It was great to be ‘home’ (although home is very much here) but after four days Luca was starting to tear his hair out just a little so we were pleased to head back. There’s nothing quite like sleeping in your own bed, cooking in your own kitchen and staying in the shower for as long as you like without somebody complaining about the water bill!! Ah, you’ve gotta love ‘em…
Anyway, this post is not about the fun and festivities of the past few days. It is about a far less pleasant experience which started the night before we left and will be ongoing for a while….
It was 18:30 in the evening and the snow had just turned to rain. The roads were icy and so, since I have winter tyres on my car and Luca doesn’t, we decided that I would take him to work and pick him up. As we were leaving the apartment, it started to rain quite heavily so Luca ran towards my car to get the umbrella and bring it back to me. His car was parked on the road just 10 metres or so away. All of a sudden we heard a screech of tyres, followed by a loud crash and as I picked up the pace to reach the road I heard the roar of an engine followed by Luca’s voice yelling “Ferma! Ferma! Stop! Stop!”. The next thing I saw was BMW X3 sliding from one side of the road to the other in an attempt to regain control, before speeding off and out of sight as Luca chased after him, running up the street screaming the registration number to me. Shaking like a leaf I managed (somehow) to get it in my phone, sending it in a panic to a confused K, before realizing the extent of the damage to Luca’s car. Basically the crazed lunatic in the BMW had taken the corner at high speed on the icy road and smashed straight into the side of Luca’s parked car, pushing it against the wall and into a lamppost. We immediately called the police and were told that they couldn’t do anything unless someone was injured (fortunately no one was, but had Luca been going towards his car rather than mine I dread to think…) and that we would just have to contact the insurers. The next morning as we left for England, Luca’s brother got in touch and they told us to come in and file a report as soon as we returned. We did, and they managed to trace the details of the car’s owner, which we then took to the police and they called the guy into the station. I was left waiting while the scarier than scary maresciallo took him and Luca into a room. I didn’t want us to have any immediate contact with the guy – after all who knows what someone who’s capable of leaving the scene of an accident like he did is also capable of doing… It turns out that the guy denied having caused the damage, having already filed a report with his insurers saying that the same night he had FOUND his own car parked with damage to it, so now we have to go to court. We have witnesses so the guy is in BIG TROUBLE and there’s no doubt that we’ll win but, being in Italy, it’s likely to take a long time and be a great expense. Tonight we have to go back to the police station with the other witness to make the official statements. And so the bella vita in the bel paese continues….

Plug!

If you haven't done your christmas shopping yet, or you still can't decide on gifts for your nearest and dearest, then look no further than:

www.accessorize-italia.com

The site and the ebay store are both still in the early stages, but you can still find some bargain products - without having to sharpen your elbows for the annual Christmas crush on the High Street! We sell genuine Made in Italy products, delivered direct to your door...

If you want to go straight to the store, visit:

http://stores.shop.ebay.it/Accessorize-Italia

Happy shopping!!!

Foggy and smoggy and dull... Oh my!

Milan is not the place to be in November - it's official. Cold, damp, foggy, grey and generally depressing, the city appears to have gone into hibernation. Its inhabitants are permanently wrapped up in black coats, black scarves, black boots (they like black here), and everyone has some sort of sore throat / swollen glands / croaky voice issue... And think that when I tell people in the UK that I live in Italy, their first reaction is almost always "how wonderful to live in such a sunny climate!" Noooooooo invece...
On a more positive note, the next few weeks will be packed with days off (many thanks to Saint Ambrose for the long weekend!), family dinners, christmas parties, and on the 23rd December, the annual repatriation to the motherland! The black cloud covering the silver lining, however, comes in the shape of threatened strikes by British Airways staff, starting on December 21st. They should be aware that I will personally hunt down and seriously injured anybody who gets in the way of my christmas trip home... BA, you have been warned!!!
I've started a new project a work which involves contacting hotels across the world to negotiate tariffs on behalf of a client, and I have to say it has (once again) opened my eyes a little bit. I now have a little chart in my head as to the relative friendliness and efficiency of each nation / city. Top of the leader board is Amsterdam, followed close behind by Dublin, and then Helsinki. Nice, friendly, relaxed people to deal with. Where does Italy come? Where do you think?!! HA! Back to the old favourite of Italians having NO IDEA of client care (one place even refused to put me through to the corporate booking office because they pope was due to arrive the following week, and they were all busy praying - or something like that...) and answering calls with a "What the hell do you want from me??" tone of voice...
So, I've complained about the weather, I've complained about Italians... What else?
Ah, I'm planning an Open House christmas party, which is a new concept to most Italians I know (provoking the fear that they'll all turn up at 14:00 and stay til 20:00), but I have no idea whatsoever as to what to cook / prepare. Anyone have any ideas of good party/finger food, preferably with a UK / US theme to it?

Aggiornamento

Mamma mia, what a lazy non-blogger I've been of late! Is there anybody still out there? It's been a crazy month... Luca got promoted at the restaurant and now works approximately 23.5 hours per day, and I have rediscovered the joys of going for aperitivo with colleagues, watching my favourite TV programmes on SKY in English, and - shock horror - playing sport!! A colleague and I have taken to booking a Friday night squash court at a sports centre close to the office, and with the exception of the first week where I managed to paralyse myself from the waist down - it's going pretty well.
Feeling brave and sporty (although actually rather stupid), I signed myself up for a volleyball match last night, which I (mistakenly) thought would be some post-office fun with my nearest and dearest colleagues. It turned out to be the longest and most embarrassing 2 hours of my life. All of the 'fun' colleagues seemed to be unavailable, so the remaining not-so-fun ones rallied the troops, and we ended up with 10 people, 4 of which play in the volleyball league, 4 of which play in other sports leagues, 1 who was just very good..... and me. Have you seen that episode of friends where they play football and Rachel is so freaking awful that they keep sending her really long, and in the end she's filing her nails at the back of the field?? That was me. At one point I actually caught my boss and one our other team-mates in a head-to-head, discussing tactics for when the ball came my way:"If it arrives on her left, you go for it; if it arrives on her right, you block her and I'll take it". OH! WE'RE ON THE SAME TEAM!! Seriously, that was how much I suck at volleyball. To be fair, I never played before, but more fool me for signing myself up with all those semi-professional types...
The colleague with whom I play squash is trying to convince me to go to salsa lessons instead.... Hmmmm. I danced a lot when I was younger, and I've done a bit of salsa, but I'm not convinced. I like the stress-relieving aggression of Friday night squash, and short of kicking my dance partner in the shins every so often, I don't think I could replicate it at salsa...

What else??
Oh mamma mia I was forgetting a very important piece of information (changing the subject completely). If you live in or near Milan, please be aware that the absolute best Sunday brunch place in the city, possibly the country, and maybe the entire world... is Cioccolati Italiani, in Via De Amicis 25. Seriously, excellent food, fantastic service and the best chocolate cake I've ever tasted. They do great 'serious' dishes involving pasta, eggs, salad - the usual brunch mail courses, but the best thing about the place is its chocolate-based buffet! Cakes, brioches, pastries, fruit (tons of the stuff) with a choice of white, milk or dark melted chocolate to pour over it.... It takes a day and a half to recover but is well worth the visit, believe me! Just don't tell too many people - I'd like to find a free table the next time I go, thanks ;-)

And that's all for now. I think I've rambled on for long enough. Will get back to drooling over Morgan on X-Factor and preparing some food for my poor worker boyfriend for when he gets home (I'm so brava)...

A presto folks!!