During the recent US presidential campaign, Berlusconi, the leader of this land, became famous (or infamous) sadly for the wrong reasons. Commenting on Barack Obama he stated just how much he liked his tan. Italians, and non-Italians alike, cringed all over Italy.
But this time, Berlusconi, its really too much.
There have been a number of violent attacks against women in Italy recently, and a response was needed. Explaining last week his proposal to add soldiers (presumably Carabiniere) to the streets, Silvio Berlusconi expressed that there would always be a risk of women being raped in Italy. "You can't consider deploying a force that would be sufficient to prevent the risk," the ANSA and Apcom news agencies quoted him as saying.
"We would have to have so many soldiers because our women are so beautiful."
He went on to lament that there are only 100,000 people in law enforcement, but millions of beautiful women in this country.
His comments have been picked up and reported from New Zealand to Turkey, from Sao Paolo to the UK.
All my friends are as outraged as I. Even the ones that voted for him in the first place!
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Good Game - or just a scarf?
I had left my car at work over the holidays, so yesterday morning set off on foot to the station which is about 5 minutes from home.
Walking past the fire station, a guy walking out of the entrance smiled at me and said - "great match" as we passed each other.
Puzzled, I walked on.
At the corner of the road, someone else walking by said "great match", smiling.
It was then that I realised that the purple scarf that I was rugged up in was the same hue as Fiorentina - the football team that is followed like a religion here in town. I had no idea of the result, but presumably the locals were winners!
Walking past the fire station, a guy walking out of the entrance smiled at me and said - "great match" as we passed each other.
Puzzled, I walked on.
At the corner of the road, someone else walking by said "great match", smiling.
It was then that I realised that the purple scarf that I was rugged up in was the same hue as Fiorentina - the football team that is followed like a religion here in town. I had no idea of the result, but presumably the locals were winners!
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Almost first impressions about Florence
Returning to Florence today after a break of nearly 3 weeks, i had a kind of first-sight experience. Compared with Asia, there are a number of things that struck today almost like a first impression, even after a brief absence.
In no particular order:-
* The quiet. I know that Florence is considered busy on a Sunday for many of my friends, but, this afternoon walking into town, it was really so still. There was an old man and a cat on Borgo Pinti, and the throng of the Christmas shoppers has notably passed, even in the centre. (I should note that the one place is was not quiet was Intimissimi where the Euro3 knickers led to a heated discussion between the Russian oligarch wives, and between a man and 2 middle-aged female queue-jumpers)
* The football cheers. Perhaps the reason why it was so quiet on a Sunday! Walking down the empty streets, I could, nonetheless, hear the roar of delight from the stadium and the houses where people were watching the box. Not being a fan of the game will not stop me from going to see a live match this year.
* The graffiti. It is out of control, covering reams of space with a combined history of 1000s of years. It somehow wouldn't be so awful if it was artistic, or a form of political protest for something so strong that the only way to express it is to scrawl it on a wall. But amongst the new scribbles I saw today were racial slurs, small moans, love notes (outside a school) and the equivalent of I WAS 'ERE branded on a beautiful wooden door.
* The light, Being an amateur photographer, you notice things like the light. But Italy really does have the bluest of skies, not the pale ice blue of England, or the grey blue of Asia (sometimes brown-blue, sadly, depending on the pollution. Italy's skies are a saturated traditional sky blue, with golden flecks. And the sun, even in the winter, casts a golden sheen over everything, Sunglasses are mandatory!
* The variable service culture. In Asia the service tends to be extremely good quality throughout, but professional as opposed to warm. Here in Florence, there are places where you can have a natter with a shop owner for ages, whilst they recommend you things - even in other shops! Then in the next shop you can find someone who thinks that they have done you an enormous favour just coming into the place, and certainly needn't be any help at all.
* The disproportionate level of contentment you feel when you find out that the local supermarket is open this Sunday! Supermarkets still tend to be shut on Sundays here in Florence, they open in rotation, and I thought I was seeing things when I passed a bloke in my neighbourhood with a few Esselunga purchases.
* The beauty. Florence is certainly far from a perfect place (where is perfect?) but strolling around the city this afternoon seeing the Duomo with its facade lit by the sinking sun may never cease to take my breath away.
In no particular order:-
* The quiet. I know that Florence is considered busy on a Sunday for many of my friends, but, this afternoon walking into town, it was really so still. There was an old man and a cat on Borgo Pinti, and the throng of the Christmas shoppers has notably passed, even in the centre. (I should note that the one place is was not quiet was Intimissimi where the Euro3 knickers led to a heated discussion between the Russian oligarch wives, and between a man and 2 middle-aged female queue-jumpers)
* The football cheers. Perhaps the reason why it was so quiet on a Sunday! Walking down the empty streets, I could, nonetheless, hear the roar of delight from the stadium and the houses where people were watching the box. Not being a fan of the game will not stop me from going to see a live match this year.
* The graffiti. It is out of control, covering reams of space with a combined history of 1000s of years. It somehow wouldn't be so awful if it was artistic, or a form of political protest for something so strong that the only way to express it is to scrawl it on a wall. But amongst the new scribbles I saw today were racial slurs, small moans, love notes (outside a school) and the equivalent of I WAS 'ERE branded on a beautiful wooden door.
* The light, Being an amateur photographer, you notice things like the light. But Italy really does have the bluest of skies, not the pale ice blue of England, or the grey blue of Asia (sometimes brown-blue, sadly, depending on the pollution. Italy's skies are a saturated traditional sky blue, with golden flecks. And the sun, even in the winter, casts a golden sheen over everything, Sunglasses are mandatory!
* The variable service culture. In Asia the service tends to be extremely good quality throughout, but professional as opposed to warm. Here in Florence, there are places where you can have a natter with a shop owner for ages, whilst they recommend you things - even in other shops! Then in the next shop you can find someone who thinks that they have done you an enormous favour just coming into the place, and certainly needn't be any help at all.
* The disproportionate level of contentment you feel when you find out that the local supermarket is open this Sunday! Supermarkets still tend to be shut on Sundays here in Florence, they open in rotation, and I thought I was seeing things when I passed a bloke in my neighbourhood with a few Esselunga purchases.
* The beauty. Florence is certainly far from a perfect place (where is perfect?) but strolling around the city this afternoon seeing the Duomo with its facade lit by the sinking sun may never cease to take my breath away.
Friday, January 02, 2009
New year New start
2009 is upon us, and I have made a tonne of resolutions.
There are those that I will not share, and those that I will not keep. But up amongst those that I will share and (I hope) keep is the desire to keep writing the blog.
So here goes. Thanks to all of you that have tole me that you have missed it. And to those of you who continue to read and comment despite the poor updating performance!
Whatever this year may hold, here is hoping that it is a good one for all.
Buon anno,
There are those that I will not share, and those that I will not keep. But up amongst those that I will share and (I hope) keep is the desire to keep writing the blog.
So here goes. Thanks to all of you that have tole me that you have missed it. And to those of you who continue to read and comment despite the poor updating performance!
Whatever this year may hold, here is hoping that it is a good one for all.
Buon anno,
Saturday, November 22, 2008
The Whenever
A few months ago, in a bid to stay in touch with the outside world - I don't get to see a lot of news, and that that I do see is focussed on Italy - I subscribed to the UK produced international magazine called The Week. It is supposed to be the best of UK and International news, all in one paper, and includes such favourites as 'It must be true, I read it in the tabloids' with the top tatt from the gutter press.
I figured that a weekly indulgence of news would let me have something to tuck into whilst drinking a cappuccino on a saturday morning, before heading for the market.
So the first edition arrived, and it was great. Then the second, ditto. Then nothing. The following week, nothing. Then I was away travelling for a few days with work. When I came back there were 5 copies waiting for me, one of which I have had the time to read. Then a gap of a few weeks then one day one copy arrived, then the next day another.
As time has gone on, I always like receiving the mag, but the timing is no more reliable. I can't help but thinking that here in Italy at least, the name, The Week, is a little optimistic!
I figured that a weekly indulgence of news would let me have something to tuck into whilst drinking a cappuccino on a saturday morning, before heading for the market.
So the first edition arrived, and it was great. Then the second, ditto. Then nothing. The following week, nothing. Then I was away travelling for a few days with work. When I came back there were 5 copies waiting for me, one of which I have had the time to read. Then a gap of a few weeks then one day one copy arrived, then the next day another.
As time has gone on, I always like receiving the mag, but the timing is no more reliable. I can't help but thinking that here in Italy at least, the name, The Week, is a little optimistic!
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Michaelangelo's David gets the Blues
An unusual event a work today. After many weeks of lobbying, we have arranged to have Michaelangelo's David lit up in blue to create awareness for Diabetes. The 14th is the International Day of Diabetes, and the International Diabetes Foundation has a programme where it 'Brings Light to Diabetes' - various monuments worldwide will be lit up blue to bring awareness to the condition.
As a rule, I don't write about work here - I have more than enough of writing about work at work! But this is something rather special, and a bit unusual, so warranted a mention.
One of my colleagues helped in taking some pics, there is one attached below.
Friday and Saturday the doors to the Accademia, David's home base, will be open to Florentines to witness this rather extraordinary thing. And maybe they should light him blue more often - in the snaps I have seen, he looks really spectacular.
Something fishy
Nadia, my young and highly glamorous Russian cleaner left me a cheery note tonight when I came home from work. All in Italian (her English is as good as my Russian!)
Cara Jo, (it read)
If you would like a supply of Beluga caviar, kindly let me know.
Bye!
Nadia
PS There is washing in the machine to hang on the line
It's a classic, and I have promised my sister that I will hang onto it...
Cara Jo, (it read)
If you would like a supply of Beluga caviar, kindly let me know.
Bye!
Nadia
PS There is washing in the machine to hang on the line
It's a classic, and I have promised my sister that I will hang onto it...
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Paying for sobriety
There is a new addition to the bars in Florence. Alcohol meters are popping up beside the fake flower displays and nibbles tables.
They are strange looking things (photo to follow), all flashing lights and whirling bits - a lot like a kind of one-armed bandit game.
You can pay your Euro then breathe in through a straw to test whether or not you are over the limit to drive. But despite their whirly-twirly, light-flashing attractiveness I have yet to see anyone cough up the euro for the test. And sadly too many people who still drive when anything from tipsy to plastered. Perhaps they are spending the euro on another drink.
They are strange looking things (photo to follow), all flashing lights and whirling bits - a lot like a kind of one-armed bandit game.
You can pay your Euro then breathe in through a straw to test whether or not you are over the limit to drive. But despite their whirly-twirly, light-flashing attractiveness I have yet to see anyone cough up the euro for the test. And sadly too many people who still drive when anything from tipsy to plastered. Perhaps they are spending the euro on another drink.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
At the doctors
I have come back from holiday sick - the head cold that I brought home as a souvenir has left me feeling just dreadful. My colleagues are, to a one, fans of medicine, me, less so, but finally I couldn't bear it any more and made a trip to the doctor recommended to me.
I have health insurance through the Company, but, having not been sick so far, have never registered to avail myself of the rights of the state - for which I pay a fortune in taxes each month, so getting to see a quack was complicated.
Anyway, being almost in the business, its not what you know but who. I rang a doctor on his mobile, explained that I was a colleague of a friend of his, and he agreed to see me. But at the public clinic in Campi Bisenzio.
Campi Bisenzio doesn't have a good name. And nor is it a place that one would rush to in a hurry. A rabbit warren of streets all having the anonymity of industrial estate blandness, I had just a few days before done a comprehensive tour in search of my luggage (yet again I had made it back to Florence, and my luggage had not). So I was dreading having to return, especially to go to the doctor.
Finally I found the place (under the bridge to the autostrada, turn left at the enormous garage, you can't miss it! were the instructions) and found the doctor waiting for me inside.
Into the small room he was using as a surgery, and in front of me seemed to be a museum exhibit. I realised swiftly that the equipment with no silver paint on the handles, circa 1950s were actually the tools he was going to use to examine me.
What's wrong? he asked.
My ear is all blocked, and I have a sore throat I said.
Right, he said, lighting a candle.
I thought this was an odd beginning. But having recently come back from Asia thought it might be some kind of spa style luxury that was being rolled out for my relaxation. Imagine the horror when the doctor put the oldest looking mirror I have ever seen into the flame then popped it in my mouth, ostensibly to have a look at my tonsils.
Aggggghhhhh, I grumbled loudly, 'icks 'ot!
Cosa? he asked me in Italian
Caldo, fha caldo! I said.
Yes, he explained, this is because otherwise the breath fogs up the mirror. I am pretty sure that in Hong Kong with the shiy-handled devices that there are in use there, this does not happen.
Anyway, aside from the hot mirror incident he seemed very good at his job. Ah yes, he said in the end, You have fnagbah ab flfjvb (unknown Italian word) and a little fksndfksdfb (ditto.) Note to self: learn common Italian illness words....
Ahhhh, I replied.
He seems to think it is not life threatening, and prescribed a whole selection of products to keep a whole selection of Companies in business for a while.
If its not better in 12 days he told me to go back and see him again.
We'll see....
I have health insurance through the Company, but, having not been sick so far, have never registered to avail myself of the rights of the state - for which I pay a fortune in taxes each month, so getting to see a quack was complicated.
Anyway, being almost in the business, its not what you know but who. I rang a doctor on his mobile, explained that I was a colleague of a friend of his, and he agreed to see me. But at the public clinic in Campi Bisenzio.
Campi Bisenzio doesn't have a good name. And nor is it a place that one would rush to in a hurry. A rabbit warren of streets all having the anonymity of industrial estate blandness, I had just a few days before done a comprehensive tour in search of my luggage (yet again I had made it back to Florence, and my luggage had not). So I was dreading having to return, especially to go to the doctor.
Finally I found the place (under the bridge to the autostrada, turn left at the enormous garage, you can't miss it! were the instructions) and found the doctor waiting for me inside.
Into the small room he was using as a surgery, and in front of me seemed to be a museum exhibit. I realised swiftly that the equipment with no silver paint on the handles, circa 1950s were actually the tools he was going to use to examine me.
What's wrong? he asked.
My ear is all blocked, and I have a sore throat I said.
Right, he said, lighting a candle.
I thought this was an odd beginning. But having recently come back from Asia thought it might be some kind of spa style luxury that was being rolled out for my relaxation. Imagine the horror when the doctor put the oldest looking mirror I have ever seen into the flame then popped it in my mouth, ostensibly to have a look at my tonsils.
Aggggghhhhh, I grumbled loudly, 'icks 'ot!
Cosa? he asked me in Italian
Caldo, fha caldo! I said.
Yes, he explained, this is because otherwise the breath fogs up the mirror. I am pretty sure that in Hong Kong with the shiy-handled devices that there are in use there, this does not happen.
Anyway, aside from the hot mirror incident he seemed very good at his job. Ah yes, he said in the end, You have fnagbah ab flfjvb (unknown Italian word) and a little fksndfksdfb (ditto.) Note to self: learn common Italian illness words....
Ahhhh, I replied.
He seems to think it is not life threatening, and prescribed a whole selection of products to keep a whole selection of Companies in business for a while.
If its not better in 12 days he told me to go back and see him again.
We'll see....
Sunday, August 03, 2008
The usefulness of a Swiss Army Knife
Mestre, Friday evening on my way up to Trieste was predictably a nightmare. Stuck in traffic for more than an hour, completely immobile, with the petrol running out and the air con off to save on fuel, the temperature was happily touching 40 + degrees and I was starting to get desperate.
I tried to call Vlasta, already on the beach in Sistiana at the BBQ, only to realise that my phone was running out of battery too.
I limped through the traffic to the service station, and managed to fill up. First problem solved.
Then into the Autogrill, heaving with folk (the radio said there were 14 million Italians on the road this first holiday weekend) and, having battled my way through the bus load of Croatians buying baguettes and limoncello, I managed to get a phone charger that plugged into the cigarette lighter in the car.
Back outside into the heat, and I was clawing at the hermetically sealed plastic packaging, but failing to make any kind of inroad.
There was only one thing for it. I searched the car park, which resembled a Brussels convention, packed with cars from every nation, for a Swiss car. Finding a large Merc that fit the bill, I approached the family and asked them if they had a Swiss Army Knife.
And believe it or not, they did! Between us we sliced open the packaging (a combination of the large blade, and the hidden scissors) and soon I was zipping along merrily, charging the phone and thankful that the stereotypes were accurate.
The only disappointment was that I didn't manage to find a use for the thing-that-removes-stones-from-horses-hooves!
I tried to call Vlasta, already on the beach in Sistiana at the BBQ, only to realise that my phone was running out of battery too.
I limped through the traffic to the service station, and managed to fill up. First problem solved.
Then into the Autogrill, heaving with folk (the radio said there were 14 million Italians on the road this first holiday weekend) and, having battled my way through the bus load of Croatians buying baguettes and limoncello, I managed to get a phone charger that plugged into the cigarette lighter in the car.
Back outside into the heat, and I was clawing at the hermetically sealed plastic packaging, but failing to make any kind of inroad.
There was only one thing for it. I searched the car park, which resembled a Brussels convention, packed with cars from every nation, for a Swiss car. Finding a large Merc that fit the bill, I approached the family and asked them if they had a Swiss Army Knife.
And believe it or not, they did! Between us we sliced open the packaging (a combination of the large blade, and the hidden scissors) and soon I was zipping along merrily, charging the phone and thankful that the stereotypes were accurate.
The only disappointment was that I didn't manage to find a use for the thing-that-removes-stones-from-horses-hooves!
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Scarlett, or a shade of pink?
Today at lunchtime we were chatting about movies, classic and recent. At a certain point someone mentioned Via Col Vento (Gone with the Wind) and its leading character.
Waiting for the mention of Scarlett, I missed a little the thread of the conversation.
"Wait" I asked "What are you talking about?"
Gone with the Wind (Via Col Vento) was the reply.
"But what about Scarlett?" I asked.
Everyone started laughing.
No, no, her name is Rosella they told me, little Rose.
Unbelievable, Dubbing films is one thing, and I can even understand Principe Carlos for Prince Charles, but Rosella living at Tara ranch is something else.
The word 'rosa' also means pink, so it could just be that Via Col Vento is a tamer version of the flaming scarlet in the original flick. Either way it seems sacrilegious to me.
Waiting for the mention of Scarlett, I missed a little the thread of the conversation.
"Wait" I asked "What are you talking about?"
Gone with the Wind (Via Col Vento) was the reply.
"But what about Scarlett?" I asked.
Everyone started laughing.
No, no, her name is Rosella they told me, little Rose.
Unbelievable, Dubbing films is one thing, and I can even understand Principe Carlos for Prince Charles, but Rosella living at Tara ranch is something else.
The word 'rosa' also means pink, so it could just be that Via Col Vento is a tamer version of the flaming scarlet in the original flick. Either way it seems sacrilegious to me.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Lunch back at the residence
A Sunday without any plans, and it was a nice surprise when the phone squealed with a message. Marco and Cris, two of the guys that are here at the Company this year, doing internships with us were inviting me for lunch at the residence where I used to live. Marco was the chief cook and bottle-washer and Cris and I tucked into the grub, and the wine, with a vengeance. The meal was almost Chinese, with pork rice and vegetables, and it was a blast from the past sitting looking at the kitchen-drobe and the carpark outside.
Following lunch (yum! well done Marco!) we went for a wander around the city, passing on the way this rather sad-looking just married couple wandering through the streets alone, and arriving at Piazza della Signoria. Whereupon the bride, in the style of one in newly wedded bliss, tucked her large blue hat under her arm and lit up a cigarette - looking more like someone in the local in their jeans that someone who has just got married in such auspicious surroundings.
The day ended with the arrival of Cris' friend from Paris and a few aperitivi / sundowners at Moyo near Santa Croce, where, amongst the various free nibbles on offer, I can recommend the chicken!
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Fabulous Figs
The balcony doors are open this evening and the gardens below are in full bloom beyond. This morning I went to the market and picked up my usual armfuls of fruit and veg, before meeting Cristiano, from this year's edition of the MBA course, for lunch. By the time I got home, in the late afternoon, the figs - ripe this morning, were now on the point in which I had to eat them, or chuck them away in the morning.
So eat them I did, for tea with some San Danielle ham and a glass or two of wine.
It is the first time this year I have eaten figs and chose some of the small green ones that are local and others that are black and tear-dropped shaped and come from Puglia. The black ones are slightly sweeter, but, either way, they are both divine with the ham and wine.
So eat them I did, for tea with some San Danielle ham and a glass or two of wine.
It is the first time this year I have eaten figs and chose some of the small green ones that are local and others that are black and tear-dropped shaped and come from Puglia. The black ones are slightly sweeter, but, either way, they are both divine with the ham and wine.
Dedicated to a 'sconosciuta'
When I unexpectedly bumped into Federico, the guy who promised to write me a note in a bottle left outside the Palazzo Strozzi, it made me realise just how small the city is! He recognised me and asked if I ever had received the note - a song that he had adapted to include my name - I hadn't.
He went on to tell me that he is an artist and the fact that I never did get the note he wrote has a certain poetic characteristic. (The fact that he said it was, in all likelihood taken by the bin men kills the poetry somewhat!) but he did keep a copy of the song, and is planning to use it in his next exhibition, framed and entitled 'Dedica a una sconasciuta' - Dedicated to an unknown girl.
If I bump into him again, I might ask him where the exhibition is - its the first time - at least that I know of - that someone has done something like that for me - and I'm curious to see the message in a bottle.
He went on to tell me that he is an artist and the fact that I never did get the note he wrote has a certain poetic characteristic. (The fact that he said it was, in all likelihood taken by the bin men kills the poetry somewhat!) but he did keep a copy of the song, and is planning to use it in his next exhibition, framed and entitled 'Dedica a una sconasciuta' - Dedicated to an unknown girl.
If I bump into him again, I might ask him where the exhibition is - its the first time - at least that I know of - that someone has done something like that for me - and I'm curious to see the message in a bottle.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Gardening in the time of MMS
Big thanks to my gardener David, who not only looks after the garden in Sarnano, but this week sent me a picture of how the place looked in my absence! The roses are in full bloom and thanks to the wonders of TIM mobile, I was able to log on and see a picture of them in all their glory. Now I just need to get back and enjoy them in person, but in the meantime, thanks to David, I can at least enjoy them from here.
My terrace in Florence is barren - I did buy some jasmine a while ago, but with the traveling I have been doing of late, and the hot spell in June, they only lasted a week or two. Perhaps a few cacti are the answer, or what I do at the moment - simply enjoy the greenery in the gardens down below.
My terrace in Florence is barren - I did buy some jasmine a while ago, but with the traveling I have been doing of late, and the hot spell in June, they only lasted a week or two. Perhaps a few cacti are the answer, or what I do at the moment - simply enjoy the greenery in the gardens down below.
Garden Party
Sitting on my sofa writing this, I suddenly had a flash back to Hong Kong.
My terrace doors are open, and from outside I can hear the birds singing and the music blaring from a radion that is playing downstairs in the garden. When I look down I can see the Phillipina helper from downstairs with her friends under the sun shelter. It suddenly reminded me of sitting on my parent's balcony at Mansfield Road on a Sunday afternoon and looking down onto the country park below. I can feel homesickness coming on - it could be time for a trip home...
My terrace doors are open, and from outside I can hear the birds singing and the music blaring from a radion that is playing downstairs in the garden. When I look down I can see the Phillipina helper from downstairs with her friends under the sun shelter. It suddenly reminded me of sitting on my parent's balcony at Mansfield Road on a Sunday afternoon and looking down onto the country park below. I can feel homesickness coming on - it could be time for a trip home...
Overcoming writers block
It's been way too long since my last post. I have been working a lot, and travelling a fair bit too, but I miss the blog - and thanks to those who have written to say they miss it too! I am going to put on some post-dated comments now, and will make a renewed effort from here on in.
It's been a fantastic weekend, with a little bit of Trieste here in Tuscany. We organised a reunion weekend, and, although we were down on the numbers in comparison to last year, it was wonderful to catch up with the people who made it for a weekend in Florence and Mugello.
Last night, at the restaurant Da Giorgione (it says its in Vicchio, much to the confusion of us and the SatNav - its not!) when the waiter asked us where we were from because he was having trouble placing the accents, we explained, Slovenia, Trieste, Udine, Pordenone, the US and Hong Kong - poor bloke - he stood no chance of guessing that lot!
Unsurprisingly for this area, we ate antipasti (crostini) and some steak, albeit the latter with a twinge of guilt as the Agriturismo Francini where we were staying had 400 lovely looking Chianina cattle grazing outside our bedroom windows!
Yesterday afternoon was spent at the pool messing about in the sunshine and playing with the footballs that were laying nearby. It was the perfect end to a day that had started with prosecco and truffle rolls for breakfast!
Chris did a wonderful job with the almost mini-bus that we had hired, driving around like a pro whilst Ale DJ's and interpreted the SatNav and the rest of us drank cold beers and ate rubbish food - like on any good road trip!
This morning started slowly with coffees and brioche on the lawn outside the agriturismo, followed by a stop at the market garden shop down the road, and a tour of a cheese factory, shuffling around the factory in blue plastic shoe covering - just like old times during the MBA! Eventually we dropped the bus back at the car hire place, then had a bite to eat at Boccadama in Santa Croce - heaving with tourists in the restaurant and nearby - making it much less tranquil than normal.
Ale and Massi left at 1740 on the train back to Udine, and I grabbed a cab home, already thinking about how we can get together again in the near future. Weekends like this one make me realise how much I miss everyone when they are not here - but the bright side is that its a good incentive to get together again soon.
And will also give me something to write about on the blog in future!
Monday, July 14, 2008
Monday night movies
Tonight an unexpected treat. I noticed that Sex and the City was on in English at the Odeon original sound cinema in Florence, so with Marco, Emilia and Cris, currently doing internships at work, we set off at the early hour of 1800 to head downtown in order to be there in time for the 1930 showing.
I had checked the time twice on the internet, but, knowing now how these things work, had also tried to call the place. No success.
Predictably, when we arrived the 1930 showing was now at 2100 - so we had some time to kill. We ajourned for a touristy drink on the terrace at La Rinascente, overlooking the Piazza della Republica, then scoffed down some mugello pasta at the Birreria Centrale before making our way back.
The movie was very enjoyable, daft, but what a treat to watchingon the big screen in English! The guys especially enjoyed it as, in the interval, they realised that the cinema was full of young, single american women!
The cinema closes soon for its summer holidays (unbeliveable but true!) but I might try to squeeze in another movie in original language before then.
I had checked the time twice on the internet, but, knowing now how these things work, had also tried to call the place. No success.
Predictably, when we arrived the 1930 showing was now at 2100 - so we had some time to kill. We ajourned for a touristy drink on the terrace at La Rinascente, overlooking the Piazza della Republica, then scoffed down some mugello pasta at the Birreria Centrale before making our way back.
The movie was very enjoyable, daft, but what a treat to watchingon the big screen in English! The guys especially enjoyed it as, in the interval, they realised that the cinema was full of young, single american women!
The cinema closes soon for its summer holidays (unbeliveable but true!) but I might try to squeeze in another movie in original language before then.
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