The Panettone / Pane scandal

Tonight on the news (RAI1) the story of the price of bread.
Apparantly in Bologna its more expensive to buy bread than Panettone. (Panettone - either pane-t-one, big bread, or pan del tone, bread of luxury, - is a tall bread / fruit cake eaten at Christmas that hails from Milan - and is good with almost everything from Mascarpone, to jam, to a glass of sweet wine or liquer)
One lady on the report said that she feels like she is buying a jewel every time she goes into a bakers.
I guess that's a positive vote for the baker!
Also on the news tonight, an article on how to make the Euro stretch further this Christmas. Sliced tongue (boiled in salted water then sliced) and Tripe of all kinds were recommended.
From the straining buttons on the jacket of the anchorman, I would guess he has been tucking in more to Panettone than to sliced tongue.

There's Florentines on the streets of Florence tonight

I guess they are all shopping, but the ratio of locals to tourists is definitely different from normal and its lovely to see!
It wasn't quite so lovely this morning when it took me an hour to drive to the city (all 3 kilometres) but tonight as I did my last minute (actually, my only!) shopping, it was super.
Amongst those that I saw, some people deserve a special mention.
To the Granny in the full-length fur I saw riding a moped and later in the town - i LOVE your bright red tights. I'm not sure I would ever be brave enough to wear them, (the poem says "When I am old, I shall wear purple", but there is no mention of red!) but good on you for the courage!
To the Sexy Santa in the fur trimmed mini dress standing outside the Disney Store - I SAW you sneaking a puff on your friend's cigarette in the doorway! I guess Santas of any variety are not supposed to smoke - especially if they work for Disney! - but it made me laugh!
To the man in the market who conspiratorily whispered to me the assurance that I was getting local prices, and not tourist ones, I'm not sure if it is true, but I thank him for it anyway!
Tonight the city belongs to the locals. Unfortunately so do the streets and the traffic is horrendous. I am going to stay here tonight and head off in the morning to Marche early. And before that I am going to get a few small things at the Florentine supporters shop - and I'm going on foot!

Fine Family Dining in Bad Lippspringe

Sunday morning in Germany, and my uncle and his wife came over with my cousin, and my Grandad, and we all went out for lunch.
Lucy had booked lunch at the Fischerhutte, a lovely restaurant nearby to Bad Lippspringe where we sat in a conservatory and tucked into such delights as venison and dumplings.
Finally we also managed to have some of the German cake I had been promised before the trip.
My blackforest gateaux was absolutely worth the wait!
It was cold and wintery outside so, after a quick stop-off to pack my things, we went to Paderborn for a look at the town (very pretty) and the Christmas Market.



The Paderborn market was small, but nicely done and seemed to have more handicrafts and interesting items than perhaps the one in Dortmund, which was huge but in some alleys full of tat.
I managed to do a bit of shopping in Paderborn too, buying an incense lady from ex-East Germany. These are carved figures with lots of detail - mine likes travelling and has a coat with e a fur-trimmed collar and a map - into which you put incense. Once the incense is lit, the puffs of smoke come out of the mouth of the figure which is formed in a surprised 'O'. Its kitch but nice.
Following Paderborn, I began the journey back to Italy. It was the end of a great and varied weekend in Germany. I am still not a fan of the food or the wine, but I will be back for the rest!

Cinderella SHALL go to the ball

The ball at the army base was something that Luce and Bruce had had on the calendar for ages - well-organised army folk that they are! But Luce managed to negotiate me not only a ticket, but also a place at their table for the dinner on Saturday night.
Set in the army officers mess on the base (from the outside, the base is a very spooky spot - an ex-Hitler Youth training facility) the people that live in the mess had really gone to town with the decorations, and there were lights, and tasteful garlands galore. When we walked in there was a fire burning in the grate and people were huddling around the Christmas tree drinking mugs of mulled wine - a very warm welcome in all senses!
Once we sat down to dinner, we quickly stood up again, as a part of the carols game, invented by a bloke on our table where the tables all had to sing one line each and then sit down according to the directions hidden under our placemats. It was hilarious - a great way to start off.
Crackers pulled, it was soon time for dinner. And the Chef and his team had rustled up an amazing spread (he was new to the base, so was proving his superior abilities over the former chef apparantly!), with pork, beef, venison, boar, you name it, it was there. He looked exhausted, but happy as everyone complimented the new team - they had even organised a small zen garden by the buffet where the food was kept.
We turned down the dancing as Luce was tired and wanted to go home. But the great thing is, once everyone in out group had finally managed to say goodbye to the bloke in charge - a pass-by is compulsory before the night is out apparantly - the minibus outside took us all the way back to the house.
It wasn't quite a pumpkin chariot drawn by horses, but at 1 in the morning, was possibly even more welcome.
(photos to follow - i have some connection issues)

Dortmund and Gluhwine

Saturday morning bright and early Mum and I got on the train to Dortmund for a look at the Christmas Market and in an attempt to buy me a dress for the ball that evening. (There was a Lost in the Mail moment with the other one that was due to arrive.)
I don't know what the temperature was (COLD) but once we were on the train, we soon forgot the chill - the speed was unbelievable.
The scenery is unremarkable, very flat and not helped by the cold of the winter sky. But Dortmund was busy when we got there, and after a little wandering around, we found the Christmas market.
The tree in Dortmund is said to be one of the biggest of the christmas markets in Germany, and it was enormous! There was a range of food available to warm up with, but Mum and I could not resist the Chinese noodles, washed down with a mug of Gluhwine (make that a cappucino for Mum). Once you have drained the dregs of your cup, you have to get handy with the tissues, because included in the 3 Euro fee for gluhwine with a shot of rum in it, is the cup. At least, the other people we saw at the drinks stand were drying their mugs and slipping them in their bags, so we guessed it was OK to follow suit!
There is a wide variety of things at the Christmas market. From the ubiquitous Chinese-made toys and other rubbish, to beautiful handicrafts - hand spun glass angels, carved wooden items, wreaths and door decorations for the festivities are all there to be had.
But number one priority was a dress for the ball. Heading into a big department store, we eventually found the sale department, and came across a lovely frock on the cut price racks. Perfect.
To celebrate our successful purchase, we had another wander around the market, and stopped for a carved ham sandwich, the hams were boiling and roasting at the back of the stall, and at the front you got a small roll with 4 tonnes of warm ham, some german mustard and kraut if that floats your boat (yes for mum, oh no for me!) Absolutely delicious and just what the doctor ordered on such a cold day.
As we left Dortmund it did seem a pity to be leaving so soon. The crowds were definitely increasing in number as the day went on, and there was quite a party atmosphere by the time we left. Perhaps this was due the choir's rousing - if unsmiling- rendition of 'Feliz Navidad'. Well done girls, you were great! But next time, try to smile too!

You can have anything... as long as its Schnitzel

In Germany this weekend we went to a restaurant on Friday night after the journey from hell. (Made a lot more bearable by my travel mate, caterer-come-stand-up comedian Jason, who had competed in the Florence Marathon thanks to Sharon Stone! Send me the pics Jason, and I'll write more!)
The Shilo Ranch is famous in Bad Lippspringe and the environs, they offer many things - as long as its Schnitzel! Mine came with cheese (a bit like a lublianska but cheese on the outside) and came with wine - when I asked what kind of wine it was, the waitress told me I could taste it very well... She was right! But I don't think Oz Clarke or Hugh Johnston or other wine writers would be tasting it very well in a hurry - not more than once anyway!

Comment of the day

Today the comment of the day goes to my Grandad, who lives in the South East of England, on the coast near Brighton.
When we were chatting on Skype tonight (he's VERY techy my Grandad!) I sent him the link to the pictures I took of the Leaning Tower of Pisa.
He said "Crikey! Look at that! It's really leaning!"
(Much like my own reaction when I saw it.)
Then he followed up with a classic Grandad quote.
"Just imagine if it was here. With the winds we have...!"

That's Amore

Luca at work asked me at lunchtime why a Hong Kong brit would choose to move to Italy. Apparantly a mayor was in the paper today recommending that everyone in his town jump ship as there are no jobs, too much tax, strikes etc etc....
All of that is true, although I was lucky enough to find a job, the strikes are a pain, and the tax more so.
But I think one of the best things about being in a place that is not your home by birth is the unexpected moments that happen during the day.
Take this morning as an example. I was running late, so I missed the early train. Which meant I had more time to spare before I went to the station.
I decided to grab a cappucino on Viale dei Mille, which is on the way.
The bar was busy, and I made my way to the bar and ordered. The barrista made me a cappucino, and when I looked, he had done that trick with the pouring of the milk that results in a heart shape on the top of the foam.
As the people around me started to laugh, he put it slowly down on the counter in front of me, and said, 'That's Amore!'
Me and the fellow patrons all laughed out loud.
Who would not want to live in a place where a day can start like this?

Presnitz, Gubana and other unknown things

In Hong Kong we are accustomed to being able to get specialities from around the world in the supermarkets and delicatessens. Here in Italy, food, like so many other things, is much more regionalised or localised. This is great for fruit and veg, as everything has that just-out-of-the-ground-or-off-the-tree taste, but it sometimes seems a shame for things like wine - in Tuscany I can get some great Chianti, but no refosco (from up North) for example.
This becomes even more noticeable when it comes to the regional goodies. In Trieste, one of my favourite treats is Presnitz, but it is almost impossible (as far as I can see) to find in Tuscany.
The history of Presnitz goes like this according to Friuli DOC:-
"At the beginning of the 19th century there occured an important event, which involved the whole city of Trieste. In order to receive “Sissi” the Empress of the Austrian - Hungarian Empire on the occasion of her visit to Miramare castle, the city organized an elaborate festival.
Contests and competitions were organised for arts and crafts, gastronomy, pastries and confectionery. In an elegant cake shop in the city centre, there appeared for the first time a cake made especially for the occassion, written above it was, “if you travel the world, you will return here.” It had been given the name the “Preis Prinzessin” ( Princess Prize) . The people of Trieste affectionately changed this to “Presnitz” in no time at all. In this manner Trieste blessed a cake destined to become a part of tradition and special occassions.
The ingredients are: Fruit, walnuts, hazelnuts, almonds, raisins, pine kernels, liqueur , rolled in a thin crust pastry."
Like a cross between a Christmas cake and a cornish pasty - its delicious! So this weekend on my trip up North, I bought a small one which we shared in the office yesterday with a cup of green tea at about 4, and now have requests to bring some back the next time I go Trieste-way.
This weekend, I am planning to bring back something else form my trip to Germany - Leibkuchen perhaps. Even without regional specialities, the new Monday afternoon tea in the office ritual might stick.

Beautiful Trieste

This weekend I was back in beautiful Trieste.
Not that we need an excuse to go back, but this weekend was the Alumni Dinner for the school. It was a chance for us all to get together and have a glass of wine or two!
Trieste is lovely at any time of year, but Christmas in the city is wonderful. Piazza Unita' was full of trees, all decorated, and the Christmas music was playing - it's very festive.
When I arrived (45 minutes late, thanks to the trains!) Massi met me, and, as we were walking to get some lunch, we saw fighter jets fly past to leave a trail of Tricolore-coloured smoke over the Adriatic.
Lunch was in Buffet Rudy, boiled meats and sausages, with horseradish (grated, not the creamy stuff like in the UK) and mustard. We were unsure what to order, but as soon as the guy mentioned Patate in Tecia (like yummy mashed potatoes) we both decided that plus something - basically anything!
Once we found Ale, and the B&B - Affitacamere Ghega, near the station, cheap and basic - we dumped our bags then headed out to the old faithful Bar Walter for some prosecco. Just for old time's sake!
The dinner at Birreria Forst was fun, and we had a bit of a dance later on around the beer pumps before heading back to Nanut, and onto Mandracchio - the usual circuit.
The night in the B&B was short, but seemed long, Vlasta found the blankets at 9am, so we were warm for only about a half an hour before the man came to tell us he needed the rooms. We left in a hurry, and were not surprised that there was not a mad stampede of people waiting to come in. But hey, the location was FABULOUS and the price pretty great too - at 25 euros a night! And perhaps if we had come home at a reasonable time, we would have found the covers earlier! The B&Bs are great value, not luxurious, but there is a bed and a shower, although often communal, so everything you need really. The buildings are often really fancy, as the B&Bs usually are derived from converted family hand-me-down apartments of monstrous proportions that have been converted. This palazzo was stunning, especially the lift which was a work of art, boasting even a seat to rest on as you went up and down. Fabulous!
Sunday started like all good Sundays should, with a leisurely coffee and a chat whilst reading the papers and catching up on the night before. Vlasta went off to the airport and on to Brussels, but over lunch in another Buffet, people from the night before slowly straggled in.
Trains from Trieste were cancelled - yet ANOTHER strike - unbelieveable! - so after a quick coffee with Giulia, Ale gave me, Ciccio and Chris a lift to Portogruaro station in his new motor so we could catch the train.
As soon as I changed trains at Mestre, and got into the First Class cabin on the way to Florence, I closed my eyes for a much-needed nap. Next thing I knew we were at Santa Maria Novella.
All too soon, back at the Residence, and then the alarm was going off - time for work again.
But another great thing about seeing each other is that we have planned the next party - 2 weeks time in Udine!

Grinding to a halt

The strike thing is still something that I find hard to come to terms with. The short amount of time I spent in the UK, was the era of the destruction of the unions by Maggie Thatcher, and in Hong Kong people just don't strike. Its just not something that people do!
I have written about strikes before, but yesterday's was remarkable for 2 reasons.
Firstly it was coordinated for maximum impact. Meaning buses, trains, planes, everything stopped at the same time for 8 hours.
Secondly was the comparative lack of coverage. I had to search for mention of the strike on the BBC this morning - a big difference from when there is striking in France or in Germany, and it seems to get bigger coverage. Perhaps it is more a thing people just get on with here.
As for me, I work far from where I live at the moment. So huge thanks to the boss for agreeing to a cab to get me home.

Germany calling

My big sister is in Germany - up in the almost North, near Holland (according to my map). She and her hubby moved there in September, and we have been talking for ages about me going to see them. In about 10 days time, it turns out, my Mum will be there too, and my Grandad and uncle and his family. So its time for the family pre-Christmas get-together in the land of sausages, sauerkraut and beer.
Longer term readers will know that I am not a big fan of German food. (Except for Black Forest Gateaux - and who doesn't love that?) But the heaviness of it and the boiled-sausage, pickles and sauerkraut thing (ok, its another pickle, but deserves its own special mention!) just doesn't do it for me.
I am, however, a complete sucker for all things Christmassy. Not the religious stuff, but show me a red and gold bauble, some fairy lights and a wooden snowflake and I am a happy girl. So the news that the German Christmas market was in town from Heidelberg was more than enough to make me head downtown after work today.
In true winter mode - perhaps choreographed to add to the Christmas sensation, it was freezing, and I decided that some warm grub might just be the thing as I looked around the market.
I stopped first of all at the carousel. On closer inspection there were no plumed horses (nor fire engines, nor space ships), but instead, a few bar tables and stools. It had been converted into a bar, so I went in for a Vin Brulee (mulled wine) to warm up.
Feeling much cosier, I had a quick stroll around the market, and bought some bread. But in light of the prices and the fact that in 10 days I will be experiencing the real German Christmas retail experience, I didn't indulge. Although there were a pair of gold sprayed sparkly reindeer antlers with my name on them...
It was, by now, freezing again, so I checked out the food stall. And opted for the "wurstel alla griglia - con pane." Sounds posh, I know, but its a hot dog, pure and simple.
Still, it was warm and filling, and thankfully, the nice stallholder agreed to hold off the kraut!

Fit for duty

It turns out that in Italy if you are a 'videoterminalista' (not a deadly disease as it sounds, just a person who works in front of a pc for more than 20 hours a week) you need to be certified as fit for your job.
I had an eye test last week, passed with almost flying colours I am pleased to say, and today had to see the in-house quack for a check on my heart, my weight, my posture, and many other details.
The food at work can be pretty good, and is certainly plentiful enough that often I only need to snack in the evenings - and in the afternoons when my clementine addiction (resurrected with a vengeance from last year) kicks in and I pass the late afternoons with a green tea and the omnipresent scent of citrus fruits around my desk.
The law says that every 5 years I need to go through the eye and medical test ritual. I am hoping that the excesses of the lunchtime provisions don't kick in too much on the scales in that time.

Pea-Souper

Today the fog has descended on Florence and the place is reminiscent of Hong Kong during Chinese New Year.
I don't know what the humidity rating was today (very high!) but on the TV they said yesterday was 76%. Today the water droplets hanged in the air, any movement felt like rain, but it was just suspended water - a very very thick mist.
If you are not working, weather like this means that you snuggle under a duvet to watch a DVD somewhere, but when you are at work you suddenly feel inspired to do many jobs.
For me, it was time to put in a claim in the electronic system for petrol money frmo my trip to Marche 2 weeks ago. But I was not reigstered on the system.
The other thing I did was check the system to see how many coffees and lunches I had consumed (you pay electronically with your electronic badge and the funds are deducted directly at the end of the month - like a sports club in Hong Kong.) It was a good job I did check as the system, due to a glitch, has me down for 2 lunches and 10 coffees my first day in the office. It's true that I am hooked on coffee, but 10?? I have sent off an email asking for a control in the system....
If the weather tonight is anything to go by, tomorrow the fog shows no sign of lifting. It needs to rain, or we need a strong wind. Today's control would have saved me at least a few Euros. If the weather stays like this for the rest of the week, and I am able to recoup yet more funds, my planned trip to Trieste on Friday or Saturday could be self-funding!

Does Little Britain translate?

Little Britain is on telly as I write.
Almost everything here is dubbed into Italian.
Little Britain has subtitles, but I can't help but think it must be baffling any non-Anglophiles who are watching it.
I, meanwhile, am enjoying it immensely.

Sex in the City (of Pisa + change)

After hours of photo taking at the Piazza del Duomo I needed a sugar hit. So I went to one of the tens of old-fashioned Pasticcerias that I had seen on the way to the Tower in Pisa.
Sitting down and tucking into a yummy cake, with a coffee and some water, I was flanked on one side by the Christmas tree - small but beautiful, it reminded me that I need to get my Winter hols sorted - and on the other by the Pisa equivalent of the Sex and the City gals.
OK, there were only 3 of them (maybe the 4th had a hot date) but the fact that they were at least 70 did not detract from the image of them being just like Samantha, Carrie, Miranda and Charlotte.
In hot pink (blonde hair), orange (ginger) and emerald green (black as night) the gals had mobiles on the table, were very particular about their pineapple juice (only if its freshly squeezed) and proceeded to discuss love lives, top restuarants and the habits of their friend Maria (WAY too saucy to talk about here, for want of my PG rating!)
All in all they were utterly fabulous, and I hope they didn't notice that in the whole time they were there I didn't even turn the page over in my book!

The Leaning Tower of Pisa really leans!

I decided to go to Pisa today.
For a while I have wanted to see the Leaning Tower, and today seemed as good a day as any.
Pisa is only an hour away on the train, and as it is a UNESCO site, (and I harbour a secret - although not any more perhaps! - to visit as many as I can before I pop my clogs) it seemed too good to miss.
I always worry about things with a description in their name. It reminds me of Mai Po Marshes in Hong Kong, the bird reserve, sadly menaced by bird flu and threatened by the Kowloon Canton Railway expansion. I went when I was younger and left with an enormous sense of disillusionment. The Green Spotted something was brown. The purple streaked whatever - brown. The Turquoise and Ruby blah blah - well, you get the picture.
But the Leaning Tower - it really leans!

From my first glimpse at lunchtime to my last at sunset, the Tower is beautiful. Somehow I expected it to be taller (does that make me a complete philistine?) the stone grabs the light, and, for camera enthusiasts like me, it is a delight.
I took about 100 photos (new camera disease) so there is a small selection here.

For the real enthusiast (Mum and Dad? And maybe Lucy?) the rest are on my Picassa site here )
If only there were slightly fewer people to get in the way....

For the record, as I was on my own, I did not take the cheesy but almost obligatory holding-up-the-Leaning-Tower shot. Nor did I actually climb the thing. As a) I figure its leaning enough anyway, and it seems a shame to contribute and b) having climbed many monuments in the past, you get up there after close to 300 steps, look down, and think, in Italian terms - "E', Allora?" (And so?....) So all 100 something pics (I had time to kill!) are from ground level!

The loneliness of the (almost) long-distance runner

Today was the Florence Marathon. The 42 kilometres involved means that runners complete a figure of 8 through the city - from Piazzale Michaelangelo at the start, round the Cascine park, a few times along the Lungarno (both sides of the river) before ending up at the Piazza Santa Croce for the big finish.
The half-way point of the marathon is here at Campo di Marte - near to the residence - and the Florentine football stadium. So after a much needed cappucino over the road (thanks to the church bells at 8 and my neighbour upstairs who donned her stilettos at around 7.05am I didn't get my planned lie-in) I went out to see the race pass by.
I missed the Kenyans - too fast for me - for everyone I think! - but I was in time to see the leading lady of the marathon run past.
Better still she was a red-headed Italian with the marathon number F1 (I guess female 1, but it might have been a speed reference!)
I later saw her cross the line at Santa Croce.
But not much later it has to be said - she ran the entire 42 kilometres in just over 2 and a half hours - wow! I saw her on the news before I left the house, she said her father had died, so she thinks of him the whole way through every race, and the time just passes by with the kilometres. Truly amazing.

I couldn't help but feel sorry for the guy from Cardiff that I met near Campo di Marte station. From Cardiff, he had come here especially for the race, aiming for a time of 2 hours 30, he had dropped out at the 13 kilometre mark, unable to carry on. It's a problem with the marathon here that the first 3 kilometres are downhill, so sometimes people get the pace wrong at the beginning. (Thanks to Lucia's hubby, Mario, taking part in his first marathon today, for the explanation). The Cardiff guy told me that he came especially for the race - I felt terrible for him - he looked like he was going to cry....

It took me a while to realise that the balloon guys were marking the time - the yellow balloons had number on them - so the first one I saw was marking the 3 hours bunch. I wonder how short the straw has to be before you are nominated as the balloon carrier?
Also not having the best day was this Florentine lady, coming back from Esselunga with her shopping and most inconvenienced that, although the lights for pedestrians were green, shw could not cross Viale Dei Mille (Avenue of the 1000s) as there were runners in her way!

25 hours of Florentine Culture

This weekend, I wasn't sure whether or not I was going to be here in Florence. As it turns out, I am still here. So with no plans and 2 1/2 long days stretching ahead of me, I had to figure out what to do.
On Fridays I don't eat lunch in Sesto. As we finish early there is no real food, only chemical sandwiches, the selection of which at the moment leaves me cold. The tuna mayo one is not my thing, although its way closer to my taste than the cold wurstel... (frankfurter or hot dog sausage)
So when I finally left the office, I went into the city to ino - still the best paninis in town that I have found. For 6 Euros, I had a panino with home-baked bread, hand-sliced ham, the freshest pecorino and tomatoes, with a layer of olive paste. If you eat in, perched on one of the high stools at the bar, you are given a free glass of wine to sip as you watch the world go by. When I went to pay, I was also given a morsel of the most wicked chocolate tart thing - like a cross between a truffle and a chocolate shortbread, I ate my sample with the provided toothpick - but it was so rich I didn't need any more than a mouthful!
Although it was dark by the time I left, and it felt like late evening, it was, in reality only 630. So I decided that I should do something before coming back to the residence.
Walking past the Palazzo Strozzi, I saw the signs for Contro Moda - an exhibition of designer clothes from the permanent exhibition at the LA museum. So decided to go in for a look.
The woman at the ticket desk was the person that sold it to me. Thinking 10 euros was a bit much to go in, she said to me, "But, you are not a tourist, you live in Florence, right?" Even my hesitation, (I still have not got used to the fact that I actually live here) did not dissuade her. "Because as a resident, it's only 8 euros 50" she added.
Well, a bargain then! I handed over the cash, dumped my coat in the cloakroom and went upstairs.
Some of the pieces were beautiful - the Pucci dress from the 70s, the Dior from 1959 and a white evening dress from the 50s with hand stiched minisule pleats, that draped like a grecian goddess. But there did seem to be a heck of a lot of Yohji Yamamoto. I think he's clever, although its not really my taste, but the thing is that in HK the clothes are quite common.
When I left I couldn't help feeling a bit like I had paid my money to get a view of what I could have seen in a shop in HK.
But another discovery from Friday night was the Caffe' Giacosa which was opening a new branch inside the inner courtyard of the Strozzi Palace. When I know some people, it would be a lovely place to go for a drink.
Tonight, another cultural outing, this time to see the ballet Giselle at the Teatro Verdi. Put on by the Tuscan Orchestra, with dancers from Russia, it was spectacular - especially the second act when they are in the graveyard. The male lead could certainly jump!
And the guy sitting next to me, in the black velvet morning coat, with purple silk lining and a purple silk scarf, honestly looked like he should be standing on one of the plinths in Contro Moda.

Terribly sad

Today on the way back to Florence, purely by chance, I stopped for a coffee at the service station near Arezzo where the football fan was killed last week.
It was a terribly sad and very moving sight to see the scarves of the football supporters tied around the post near where Gabriele Sandri was killed, and the crowd of people standing nearby. There were a few police cars around, but it was business as usual at the service station. It seemed surreal to think that only last week at the same spot there was a fatal shooting. Surreal, and terribly sad.

A momentous post

This is my 300th post on the blog. Some people have been reading from the beginning - my Mum and Dad for instance - but also others who didn't have as much pressure to do so! So thanks and I hope that it is still interesting enough for you to read the next 300. Even though I am no longer in Trieste so the name is a bit of a misnomer...
It is also a momentous post for another reason. It's the first one from my apartment in Sarnano. I am finally online at my own home - and with the wireless modem can write this from anywhere in the place I choose - although with the snow coming down outside, I am choosing the spot on the leather sofa as near to the fire as possible!
I had a long but ok journey yesterday, the A1 around Florence was, as always, horrific, but the rest of the journey went fine - in spite of the accurate predictions of my colleagues who said, hmmm there will be snow in Colfiorito. There was - and the rest of the way from then on to Sarnano. I had a lot more road safety than normal though, the car I have borrowed from work has winter tyres, and as it is an Audi A4 station wagon, its like driving a winter-adapted monster truck. Fantastic!
And thrifty. It turns out that in the frequent taking turns of the strikers, yesterday was the go of the Autostrade Toll Collectors, so as I pulled up to the window to hand over my cash and get a receipt, I saw the sign telling me to go on ahead, there was a strike so there was no need to pay. i don't know whether those in the automatic payment line got the same gratis journey, but it worked out well for me!
This morning there was snow nestling on the hedge outside and the mountains looked like they had been dusted with icing sugar. But as I took this as a sign that it was too cold be out of bed, I snuggled back under the duvet. When I got up, the Kodak moment had more or less passed, but I did take a jaunt out in the car towards Gualdo to take some snaps.
Now with the fire burning brightly, I am trying to muster up the energy to get changed and go out for dinner with Chris and Irene in Amandola. Leaving the fire will be a wrench, but the other good thing about the beast of a car parked outside is that the heating works a treat!

Graffiti typos

There is graffiti everywhere in Italy. If you can look on it as a modern art form rather than a scurge of the cities and towns, so much the better - as its omnipresent.
My sense of direction is not so hot. I have been lost in places that I have been to a thousand times, and now I have learnt that also the graffiti can make a good landmark, as long as the boys with the paint to cover it up have not been on patrol.
I like, for example, the graffiti on the front of the trains - a modern art preclamation as they chug into the station at Campo di Marte in the mornings to carry me to the office at Castello.
Yet one of my favourite spots of graffiti right now is in Castello station itself.
It's not beautiful, certainly not the work of an artisan, but the proclamation of the (sic) "Worriors of Sesto - The Best" has me smiling every morning on the way to work.
I can only imagine what they are worried about!

Expanding the Florentine Mind

I have decided that I ought to learn a little about my adopted hometown, so I have bought a couple of books to inform me about the history of Florence.
History, for a Hong Konger, is a strange subject. I am more used to history being a case of something I remember from 5 years ago, when there were once market stalls and old Chinese shop houses where there are now des-res apartments and a mall. But here in Florence the sheer quantity of history is awe-inspiring. My friend Ale, a history buff, gave me the down low when he was here for a weekend, but I figure I need to commit the details to more than short-term memory alone.
Winter has bitten hard here this week, and the cold snap (here's hoping it is only a snap) I am reliably informed by the colonel on the Meteo, is coming to us straight from Siberia. Thanks Siberia!
But the glacial temperatures tonight reminded me of a passage from one of my new books, David Leavitt's "Florence, A delicate case". He says...
"To the contemporary visitor, Florence can seem alternately officious and vulgar, in some quarters brusquely unwelcoming and in others pandering to the lowest tourist impulse. ... Many of the streets are so narrow that a normal-sized car will force you up against a wall, like a terrified cat. Everywhere you turn, there are doors so immense, that smaller, human-sized doors have had to be cut into them; there are even doors the wood of which has been carved to make them resemble stone. ... A feeling of exclusion, of pointedly not being invited to some wonderful party obscurely glimpsed, or perhaps just guessed at, has always been part of the tourist's experience of Florence - and not just exclusion from 'the real Florence' of the Florentines... Do not confuse Florence with a welcoming city; it repulses the new arrival with a hard jab in the side, a frigid stare. The weather is often terrible, since Florence occupies the conca, or basin, that spreads out between two important sets of hills - the Mugello to the north and Chianti to the south. In summer the air groes sultry, ... Winter is no better, with a wind that bears in its icy arms all manner of exotic and undocumented species of flu."
Mr Leavitt is right - the wind does have icy arms, at least right now, and he is also right that, in this city, there is a sense of a job half-done. A desire to understand and delve into the Florence of the Florentines exists for almost all who visit, and certainly, if my experience is anything to go by, for those who live here.
I wonder what it feels like once those immense doors open? When the invitation to the exclusive party arrives on the door mat?
I hope to find out!

A pleasure worth waiting for....

Shopping in Italy is a mixed emotional affair. Some of the prices are enough to make me cry, especially when I see how beautiful the things are! The size charts are another point of note - much more in line with those in Hong Kong than with others in Europe - the charts strongly favour small-framed people - a UK 10 is an American 8, a European 38 and an Italian 42. In psychological terms its a kicker.
The other key thing I have noticed about shopping in Italy is that the trousers only come in one length - Olive Oyl! When I walk around in the cities, towns and villages in Italy, I am relatively tall, so it's strange, when I go into shops, for me to try on trousers only to find that there is a good 8 - 10 centimetres of additional material trailing on the floor.
The majority of shops do provide an alteration service, for which the going rate seems to be 6 Euros. It's worth it though, otherwise, (unlike in Hong Kong when there was always Grace, my helper, and a star with a needle and thread to turn up and alter almost-there clothing), the new things I buy are condemned to an unfulfilled life on the floor of my wardrobe, waiting for me to a) get round to taking them somewhere and b) finding somewhere to take them!
I suspect the length of the trousers on the rack is probably a scam to make that extra 6 Euros - but this is not the main problem.
What happens is that you are denied of the immediacy of the pleasure of shopping. I am not able to enter a store, try on the things I like, decide what to buy and, having handed over my credit card, leave with a printed recycled paper bag, full of the pleasing rustle of tissue paper, containing never-before worn clothes, with that musty but lovely new clothes smell. Instead, I go in, browse, try, buy and - having signed away significant sums of money - I leave with nothing - completely empty handed! I am not sure whether the net result of this is that I will spend more or less - more perhaps in search of the things that actually fit meaning I can leave a store with something to show for it, or by buying additional things when I go back to collect my purchases, or less, as I certainly don't find paying for something to leave with nothing as much fun as being able to stagger home with new purchases and wear my new togs at the next occasion, be it work, or, better, play.
The good thing is though that after a number of days, determined in a tense negotiation between you and the saleslady, you can return to the stores where you previously parted with your cash, clutching the receipts and receive the new things.
I am going tonight to get my new, tailored to length, trousers.
I hope its a pleasure worth waiting for!

Back to Marche

After 6 days in Florence, I am already planning to go back to my house this weekend.
I need to pick up a load of winter clothes, and also the thought of a Friday night at home by the fire seems very appealing after my day today!
Wally asked me today why I felt the need to go back, having only been here such a short time.
Maybe the pictures can explain more than I can with words...

Short trip, long journey

This morning I arrived at Campo di Marte station to realise I had just missed the 0749 train to work. So I lingered about, waiting for the 0814.
Then I saw 3 letters that I may well come to dread - SOP.
No idea what they actually stand for, but the meaning was clear. The 814 wasn't coming.
With all the confidence of a quasi local, I figured if I could get to Santa Maria Novella - the main station in Florence - that there must be another train from there to Castello, where the office is.
Indeed there was - but not until 0847 - heading for Pistoia.
Luckily, it was a super-swanky high-speed number - with 2 levels - the first time I have been upstairs on a train since I was in France coming back from skiing on crutches with damaged tendons and ligaments in my knee. This time it was a whole lot easier to climb the stairs - even with the high-heeled boots I was wearing to contend with! In the end I got to work at 0907 - only about 1 hour and 37 minutes after I had left the residence.
I am saving up for a car.....

Making friends in Florence

Hong Kong, for such a bustling place, always feels like a village. There is scarcely a time that you go out when you don't bump into someone you know. Especially if you are not wearing make up and need to wash your hair!
It turns out, on the evidence of this weekend, that Florence is similar!
I was wandering around the city on Friday night after a coffee with my friends Irena and Mo, up from Lago di Bracciano for a few days, when I bumped into Alessia and Laura from work, who invited me for a drink with them. We made our way through the freezing night to San Ambrodgio and the not-very-Italian James Pub - with large ads for Tennents on the wall! I tried to explain a bit about life in Hong Kong, slipping into English when my Italian failed me. I have promised to bore them with pics on Monday at the office.
On Saturday, after bumping into Annibale from work, I met Lucia, also from work, and Alessia who was with her, coming from the hairdressers. We went together with Lucia's husband for lunch in an amazing little place - the Birreria Centrale - where I can recommend the Pici - a fat spaghetti from nearer to Sienna - which they served with Cinghiale (wild boar) - yum! A glass of red wine to wash it down with and I would have been asleep! In the restaurant was also Veronica from work - another chance encounter.
Alessia had a dinner, so we went after lunch with her friend Daniella to another place for the best of Florence list - the VIP supermarket near to the Duomo, Pegna, in business since 1860 and selling a mind-boggling array of food products and ingredients - from Italy and also, unusually for Italy, imported. In addition to the vast selection of yumminess that you can see if you go to the website, there is also a wide range of - err - washing detergent. I guess you never know when you might need it!
So 2 key learning points from the weekend - find an excuse to go to Pegna every now again - maybe after my first pay packet! - to treat myself to something absolutely unessential - like imported French jam - and NEVER go into the city without at least mascara on - I am bound to see someone I know!

And I thought it was only the English that sat on the floor in cities!

Tonight I was out near San Ambrodgio - a lovely area on Saturday mornings with the sun shining and the fruit stalls groaning with the freshest produce around. At night though, it can be a little shady to say the least.
So I was a little surprised, just around the corner from the market, in a fairly icky alley, to see 3 Italian girls sitting on the pavement.
I have always thought this was a very English thing. I never fail to be astonished at the way that my countrymen just lie like lizards on the pavement, benches etc of many cities around the world when they see the first rays of sunshine. But given that it was kind of dark, and very cold, I reasoned that the reason for the pause must be something else. Perhaps a sit-in protest at something.
As I walked on though, I turned back and saw that all 3 girls had shiny new-ish looking MacBooks. Clearly there was an internet connection going begging.
Currently, in the residence, I have wireless internet. But who knows, if and when I find an apartment of my own, maybe I too will have to resort to sitting on the pavement with my laptop to write this blog.
Let's hope not!

Shopping for Emergency Purple

Tonight the Purple and Gold flags are flying outside and the streets are once again full of parked mopeds.
This only means one thing - Florentina are playing at home.
I was late at work tonight - there are only 2 trains to come to Campo di Marte - one at 1829 the other at 1929. The latter gets in at 2005, more or less - just as the crowds were thronging into the stadium.
Italian football is something to behold - and I have only done so from outside the stadium but now that I am officially living in Florence, I will plan a trip to see a game.
The purple is omnipresent in Florence, especially here with the stadium in the 'hood. But around game time, the purple banners are hoisted high, and I feel quite left out not to be toting something in the team colours myself.
Of course, if I really felt like it there is a vast amount of purple on sale. Everything from t-shirts that proclaim "100% Viola" (100% purple - but they're white, go figure!), to enormous purple and gold flags, to scarves that delineate the area of the stadium you frequent - the Fiesole Corner seems a popular choice.
All that shopping would presumably create significant hunger, hence the huddle of fast food stalls that intersperse the souvenir stalls. On sale, other than the usual beer and hamburger / hot dog sportsfan fayre, are local specialities - porchetta, and, perhaps more unusually for the non-Florentine - lampredotto panini - sandwiches with the boiled sliced lining of a cow's stomach. Not something that would normally set my tastebuds going, but actually, it smelt pretty good when I was on my way home. Not irresistable though - I had a far more palateable leek and tomato mixture for my tea.
Not a real Florentine as yet!

Asian creatures alive and well in Florence

In this room at the residence it is not just me from Asia. I am sharing my room with a few over-friendly Asian mosquitos. The tiger mozzies are back with a vengeance.
I am finding it very cold in the mornings, and at night when I come home from the station.
And what I can't understand is, if it is too cold for me, why are my fellow quasi-Asians finding it warm enough to a) still be alive and b) still be zealous enough to bite me!

A (nice?) surprise

So I am back at work after the longest vacation I have ever had - 6 weeks was wonderful - felt in some ways like a lifetime and in others like it zipped by. Literally gardening leave!
Yesterday though, it was back to paid employment - and my bank manager would say about time too!
No-one knew that I was coming back to the company, but it was kind of nice to see people looking surprised - and I hope happy! - to see me! It was a lovely welcome back, and I hope that I can see the same smiles having been back at work for a while! I might otherwise have felt alone here, but the welcome at work has been so warm, that I don't yet feel lonely at all. I know it is only day 2 - but here's hoping!
Like anything, it takes a while to get settled, especially as I need to start everything again - another new start in life. The last time I upped sticks and moved to start a-new it was from Hong Kong to Trieste to do my MBA - without a doubt the best year of my life to-date! Let's hope that this change works out as well!
I have grand plans now I am starting my life again in Florence. I obviously want to make a good impression at work, but also need to find an apartment (there is a lovely loft place online - which might have my name on it!), buy a car, join a gym, make friends - the list goes on and on!
One of the other things that I would love to do is a sommelier course. I was discussing this with Rosario at work today. He tells me that here in Tuscany the course is heavily subsidised by the regional government and the Tuscan wine companies - so is only Euros 250 as opposed to almost 5 times that unsubsidised. He is keen to join too - so who knows - company dinners in future could be full of wine bores!
Other initiatives include starting a choral goup with Lucia, a visit to the Milian crowd in a couple of weeks, and potentially a Christmas party at my house in early December. Ale's party is in December, and my parents are likely Europe-bound at some stage. My sister is also now in Germany, so I am checking out flights as well - there should be enough fodder for the blog at any rate!

Road rage

Italy, for the uninitiated, is a long, thin country with 2 big islands off the south west coasts. Most people travel by car so a long weekend means the roads are not just full, but overflowing.
Now that I have had some experience of Italian autostrada traffic, my heart sinks like a stone when I see a tailback on the motorway.
Sunday night sinking like a stone does not even cover it. I needed to start work today - back in Big Pharma at Sesto Fiorentino! - so set off in good time to get to the residence, drop off my bags, then take the car back to the car hire place before the 4pm deadline.
The journey from Marche to Florence usually takes about 3.5 hours. So when I saw the sign that said that I was 137 minutes from the next exit (mine) that was only 20 kilometres away, having already been stuck in traffic for 2 hours, I was less than happy.
This feeling only got worse as I saw my motorway-bound mates careering down the hard shoulder with hazard lights flashing looking less than in need of pulling over or emergency assistance. The emergency assistance was, more likely, required for me as my blood pressure rose more with each car that raced past. I hoped that the police would be waiting to nab them all, but, in fact, not. I was seriously tempted by the old adage - if you can't beat them, join them - but my English sense of fair play meant that I queued with the rest of the people not brave enough to chuck on the hazards and make a run for it!
The only silver lining to this cloud of over 4 hours is that I had 2 bags full of stuff from my fridge in Marche with me - as I was moving for work I had cleaned out my fridge - so somewhere near the Incisa turning, i had a cheese and tomato sandwich and some fizzy water.
But when a 3.5 hour journey instead takes almost 8 hours - it takes more than a sandwich to make me smile. The glass of Rosso Piceno Superiore I had on arrival at the Residence went a lot further in this regard!

Downstairs for a shower

This morning I went downstairs for a shower. Hardly headline news you might think, but having waited a year for a set of stairs, and after yesterday having the skeleton of stairs in situ, it felt pretty good to be padding down the stairs in my slippers to have a shower.
The guys came yesterday to install the frame of the stairs and made more mess than would seem humanely possible for 2 individuals (I am not counting the third guy who just stood there in the doorway, planning the weekend's social calendar). But having spent 4 hours or so cleaning up, it is now looking squeeky clean again downstairs, and the stairs are getting a good polish from my slippers as I gingerly make my way up and down them.
I had planned to go to Macerata today and pick up someof the documents that I need, but there is a fog so thick it is impossible to see the trees at the end of the road, so I am choosing instead to update this blog, and then to go back and light another fire... When the weather gets better I want to take my new camera for a test drive to the mountains, but for now it is the indoor settings that are getting more of a dry run.

Lessons in Firestarting

Today the wood came for the fire. In a masterpiece of driving Andrea, my neighbour, backed his enormous tractor straight into the garage and me and him and his Dad spent the enext 2 hours unloading the wood and restacking it in the corner of the garage where it lives waiting to be burnt. I had bought the minimum order of 20 quintales - not entirely sure what that measurement relates to in a language that anyone else would understand, but the fact that it took 3 of us working non-stop for 2 hours to unload and stack it should give an idea of the amount of wood I now have.
The 2 hours passed quite quickly though. Used to office work or being on the computer, there is something rather wonderful about working with my hands when I am here inSarnano, whether that is happily muddling around in the garden or stacking wood in the garage. It surely makes a change.
I am onlysorry that I do not understand more dialect - Andrea's Dad had a sparkle in his eye and from what I understood was telling me no end of salatious gossip about people I don't know - but I was missing the crucial words. He laughed a lot though!
Andrea also gave me a lesson in wood. I am burning mainly Acacia and Oak, and another pale wood that I don't know the word for in English. But he warned me of the perils of lighting chestnut, which apparantly spews streams of hot rocks all over the place in little explosions - they told me a metre of spitting embers was very possible and that you should only burn chestnut if you want speckled curtains! (I don't!)

Holding my breath...

Allegedly many things will happen this week.
A man popped around yesterday with an electronic tape measure to take the dimensions of the stairs. He says they will be fitted tomorrow..... I can't believe its really true, but lets see...
The documents I need from the tribunale in Macerata are all supposed to be ready to collect on Friday - 3 days processing which is a bureaucratic record!
I hope that the wood I ordered for the fire will arrive - its pretty chilly without it!
But at the same time the weather is supposed to warm up a bit, so maybe by the time it arrives I won't need it!
And someone is coming to talk to me about doing the garden, that they volunteered for!
All very strange, and I am still a little doubtful that so much progress can be made in a week. If the internet is really connected on Tuesday then I might just have to sit down from the shock of it all!
On the culinary front it is also an interesting week. On Sunday I bought a fresh truffle from the market here in Sarnano - I am planning to call around my friends for some recipes later on. And this Sunday I have been invited to a restaurant outside of Communanza which is run by two English guys for a roast dinner.
There is also another culinary experience planned. If the stairs are really installed I plan to invite people round, roast some chestnuts on the fire and hold a stair party! Watch this space!

Snowy Sarnano

I have been looking all week for excuses to escape unpacking the bags at my house. These have been many and varied, from lunch by the lake, to horseriding. The weather has been gorgeous and I have been able to get out and about in the fresh mountain air.

All week though, people have been telling me that the weather would change, so I was not exactly suirprised when, at lunchtime today the rain turned to hail and then to snow. Now recovering from horseriding and keeping the fire going as the snow and hail are coming down are on the list.

Slowly slowly I am working my way through the bags too, and doing other useful things to get organised - the internet should be available at my house from the 30th of October, so the revenue of the internet point in Sarnano will go through the floor! I will also have a home telephone apparantly... The stairs which are currently a year late will be in place by the end of next week according to the mysetery carpenter who rang me the other day. I'll believe it when I see it and not before!! The lawn is cut, and I have planted flowers. There is more wood for the fire on the way. Its amazing how fast the days seem to fly by, with so little things done frommy to do list. Goodness only knows what I am going to do when I get back to work!

On today's list, my biggest challenge is to beg and plead with the proprietors of Sticky Fingers, our local pub, to show the Rugby World Cup Final at 9pm, instead of having the Inter football game on all three of their tellies.... And to find a way to keep warm with the temperatures continuing to plummet. I did have a help on this last point, when Fabrizio, who delivered my new washing machine yesterday, gave me a few hot roasted chestnuts as I walked past him on the street. If the temperatures did not give it away the chestnuts are a sure sign that the winter is here.

Together again in Trieste

After a great vacation in Hong Kong, time for yet another get-together - this time back in Trieste for Barcolana, the yacht race.
Trieste seemed quiet when we arrived on Saturday afternoon from Udine, but by the evening the town was packed solid with those who were to take part in the race, and those who were just there to join the party. Not even the arrival of the Bora which whipped through Piazza Unita bringing freezing cold winds could spoil the party - although it did mean that we had to shelter in Mandracchio until the early hours of Sunday morning!
With huge thanks to Dodi who put us all up at her house, we woke on Sunday morning and got as far as the garden to drink coffee and watch the boats. Trieste is a beautiful city at any time, but for Barcolana, when the sun is shining and all of the bay is filled with yachts - this year 1400 registered for the race - it is more special than ever. Even more so when it gives us another excuse to get together!
The journey back to Marche was pretty horrendous - partly because I was so tired and partly as the traffic near the Padova roadworks meant that I was stuck in solid traffic for 2 hours more or less, but it was still worth it.
The next few weeks are destined to be fairly dull - I need to organise the house - but one of the main jobs on the list is to try to get an internet line, so that, with any luck, I can stop having to come to the internet cafe!

Juxtaposition Again

The smaller domed building is our legislative council HQ - like the parliament - and one of the oldest buildings now still standing - as it was built in 1912 as the Supreme Court, by the architect who also worked on the V&A museum in London, and on a part of the facade of Buckingham Palace.

Slightly to the left, and the water, is the famous Mandarin Oriental, which has just been overhauled, and the truly sky-scraping International Finance Centre - home to banks, offices, luxury shops, restaurants and bars, and the very swanky Four Seasons hotel.


The contrast continues with the pint-sized ex-Bank of China HQ - now home to David Tang's China Club - nestling next to the HSBC Headquarters - my first experience of Sir Norman Foster's design capabilities and which caused quite a stir when it opened in the 80s.


Inside the bank, another relationship of close proximity that caught my eye. Presumably for National Day (October 1st), the bank had hung China and Hong Kong flags side by side across the entrance way. This serves to highlight the planned similarities between the 2 emblems, the colours, the stars, as well as the marked difference. Not the bauhinia, but the size of the HK flag, which must, by law, be smaller that the one of the Mainland.

Florence in Hong Kong

This image of the Fleur-de-Lys on the gates of the HK Scout Association premises reminded me straight away of the Residence Il Giglio in Florence, with coffee at Villani and the roar of the purple and gold-clad crowd when Fiorentina are playing at home.....

Contrasts in Central Hong Kong

The image that people see of Hong Kong internationally is that of the high rises in the heart of the city centre. Many friends to whom I have shown my pics of Hong Kong in the past are surprised by the amount of greenery on the island, and certainly by the beaches and hills.












To me the side by side relationship between old and new, man-made and constructed is one of the things that makes Hong Kong special. Even in the heart of the city you can find old buildings, not many - but they are there, and the majestic Banyan Trees with their weeping roots that passers-by touch for luck, meaning that sometimes they have the look of split ends before a good trim!


The lady in the picture is one of the fairly recent stained glass windows inside of St John's Cathedral in Central. An old cathedral, in a truly modern city needs to be a bit different. In addition to having the stained glass Hakka woman you see in the picture, the cathedral is also being used by the people of Hong Kong for various functions. In addition to the normal weddings etc, there was recently a U2 cover band concert.









Only in Hong Kong!

Wanchai sights

Wanchai is Hong Kong Island's red light district, but also full of every other kind of drinking and dancing establishment you can think of.

In the day it is great for the market, and the restaurants and tea places work 24/7. The tea place in the pic here was a favourite on the Chris Patten circuit when he was Governor, and the faded South China Morning Post pictures of him still adorn the walls.

The wider variety in Wanchai's nighttime appeal however is hinted at by the sign boards. Club Show Biz has been a long time institution that was famously dubbed Club Show-Your-Bits when I was at school here, on the account of the fact that one night when the US Navy were in town, the Military Police went in for a check on the crew and left the curtain open. Meaning those of us in the street over the road were able to have a clear view of the bits on show inside!

Talking of Hong Kong institutions, I was surprised to see that the famous Ricky and Pinky tattoo parlour is now called Ricky Tattoo.... If anyone knows what happened to Pinky, please let me know!

Winter is here

In Hong Kong winter starts after Mid Autumn Lantern Festival.

The festival was last week and there are a few unmistakeable signs that the season has changed.

Certainly the weather is not one of them.. As I am typing this, the sun is shining and the sky would be blue except for the haze. Yesterday it was 32 degrees.

But the air conditioning system on the MTR (our underground trains) is off.

And yesterday, the most obvious sign of all.

The first roasted chestnut and sweet potato seller of the year.

Conservation at last

Hong Kong is great at building new buildings - mega structures in glass and steel, with awe-inspiring views and spectacular light displays as soon as the sun sets.

This often means however that the traditional architecture is trashed.

Before I left for Italy, I was horrified to see the familiar relocation notices stapled onto the side of my favourite old Chinese building in Wanchai. Opposite the Southern Playground rubbish dump (ugh) this pawn shop and collection of random small shops had nothing special about it before, other than that it was old, and I always thought it had wonderful potential. My poor Mum had to listen to the 15 minute version of what they could do with the building other than knock it down - with a restaurant being my favourite choice.

I was absoultely thrilled to see yesterday that someone has in fact taken the time to restore this building. No longer nestled in next to the bird shop, so missing the tweeting and squawking that has been its soundtrack for years, it is somehow even more endearing as it is juxtaposed next to a steel and glass skyscraper.

Whoever listened to the pleas and saved it - thank you.

Pics of Hong Kong

When you feel at home in a place you tend to look at it and not see it. This is one of the reasons that I have always loved taking pictures, looking out for something interesting to shoot keeps your perspective fresh, and you continue to seethings that otherwise you would miss out on.
Here are some of the results of me having a proper look at Wanchai yesterday...
This sign in the market made me smile. The meat may be fresh, but somehow didn't look very appetising!

These shoes are a familiar sight to any long-term Hong Konger. They used to be easy to find, in China Products, in the days before everything became a China product making the store superfluous. I have never seen this particular brand name before though!



















The barbecued meat stalls are ever popular, and although I am not a huge fan (unless it is in the middle of Dim Sum - Char Sui Bao - BBQ pork buns - are divine!) the colours, smells and queues at these shops are always a sight to see.














The ubiquitous Chinese medicine shop in Wanchai - also getting less and less in number. This one has a bone setter, or Chinese herbalist, running a clinic at the back, past the dried antlers and sea horses, the seaweed and pulses, and the sharks fins in the window. What I really need to capture though is the smell - and I can't do that here, even in words! It's a particular earthy, herby, flowery, musky combination - that I don't think any Parisian perfumer would chose to bottle!















In the middle of the market we spotted the scaffolding going up on this building the old fashioned way - bamboo and raffia string. The men that do this work are amazing - climbing like acrobats without safety harnesses, swinging through the bamboo and hauling up the next piece for their mate to tie on above. Cirque de Soleil is nothing compared to these guys!














The freshness of the things in the market always impresses me, the veg are wonderfully bright green, and the poultry so fresh it is still alive in many cases! These birds hanging up looked comical though, like some kind of avian judging panel! If you peer between the dried salted fish, the stall holder is using the old catty weighing scales. And as for the 'one only' sign on the 1000 year old eggs - what surprises me is that anyone would want even one of these - certainly the number of people buying two would be limited enough that I would have thought the sign unnecessary! (For the uninitiated, these eggs are not 1000 years old, but certainly many days. The fresh eggs are taken, packed in mud, then eaten once the yolk has set to the consistency of a jelly bean. Not my thing!)

























































In this old shop house in Wanchai, the proprietor lives upstairs (you can see the tip of the bamboo ladder in the top left of the picture) - it like the house equivalent of a bunk bed - shop downstairs, living up. Hanging up are Dim Sum baskets, ready for a myriad of uses from steaming breakfast buns in Hong Kong, to holding chocolates at Christmas for Hong Kongers in Italy! The one I bought (for a bred basket) needs to be sanded down as the bamboo is fraying, but the lady running the shop dismissed my concerns instantly, telling me that even if I ate the bits fraying off the side, there was no problem.














The fact that this man's hand is blurred as he chops the sugar cane does nothing to indicate the speed at which the knife was flying. I loved the stacks of eggs behind him too!














At the exit of the market, and currently covered by bamboo scaffolding, is the stall where people buy incense and offerings to burn at temples. The head of the lion above the stall is a new feature, and seemed a fitting marker for the beginning of the market.