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!

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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...

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 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.

Lenny Live

Lenny Kravitz live in Pistoia was a must-do event. I've been listening to Lenny since I was about 15, and the thought of seeing him live in the open air surrounded by ancient buildings at the end of a hot summer's day in Italy was too good to miss!
I don't know the ratio of women to men in the crowd (high, to few) but there were many of us who appreciated Lenny's very obvious musical abilities alongside his other obvious qualities! It was a heck of a performance, about 2 1/2 hours and frying hot, but worth it all - even the dash from the plane where I had just landed after my cousin's wedding, and the 1/2 hour search for parking.
Even without lovely Lenny, I suspect that Pistoia would be worth a visit - and ancient town with a beautiful town centre, I have put it on the list of places to return too - although maybe it would have a totally different atmosphere without the African market, selling knock-off cds and Che Guevara t-shirts to drinking and smoking passers-by. It was full of young people and had a great atmosphere - really lively - although that might have been just the festival effect.
Back at the concert, Fly Away, I'll be Waiting, and Are You Gonna Go My Way rang out and reverberated around the Piazza Duomo - and later in the cars as we made our way back to Florence.
Fabulous.

Saving tourists with the SatNav

Finally, after months of getting perpetually lost around the streets of Florence, and needing to 'use the force' to figure out where to go, I have succumbed and purchased a SatNav.
It's already proved useful, and not just for me!
I went to dinner tonight in a new place, near the Porta Romana, and the voice coached me right to the place in which I could dump the car - mere paces from the door of the trattoria. But it was after dinner that it really came into its own.
As I was heading back home in the Panda, I saw an Indian family, in a people mover with Swiss plates. Even from within my car, I could see the stress as they attempted a 5 point turn in a narrow street. Someone got out and approached the window, pleading for directions to the Best Western.
I didn't even know there was a Best Western in Florence, but, a few touches on the screen later, we were off in a small procession, ending up at the hotel (near cascine, hidden away). The family were so happy the man came out and took my hand in both of his to say thank you. He told me that they had been driving around for 2 hours at that point and would never have found it without my help. (He was right - they didnt even have a map!)
From there I made my way home - knowing the way, but anyway following the signals. My only concern is that I will now lose the ability to exist without it - especially as teh satellite reception is rubbish here in Florence. But its pretty addictive stuff- and especially useful when it points out the location of the AutoVelox (speed cameras.

Friday Morning at the Hairdressers

I'm on holiday today, and decided to head to the hairdressers before making the journey to Marche.
It seems that Friday morning might be the time when people go to the hairdressers in Florence. It being a work day, I expected that the place would be quiet. In fact, as I went in, it felt more like a hair factory than anything else! The place was packed, and full of women being pampered, preened and perfected before the weekend.
After the horror of the last time, I decided not to return to Ciro, but instead googled hairdressers in Florence and picked one at random that seemed to have been around for a long time and had good reviews.
The experience is still nothing like Hong Kong, although the prices were pretty much the same. It feels much more like a production line!
I sat on the sofa and waited for the nameless woman who came and washed my hair. No consultations here. And once the drips had been wiped away from the ends of my hair another nameless woman arrived and asked me what I wanted to do with my mop.
Explaining a little that I was thinking to have it cut shorter, she agreed, and, before I had time to blink, whipped out a razor and slashed off about 6 inches.
No going back from here then!
But when it was all done it looked a million times better, and it was a happy customer who headed for the cash desk at reception.
The bill, when it arrived, was highly specific. It turns out that I paid extra for the cut, the wash, the shampoo, the conditioner, the hairdrying etc etc. At the end the prices were high but not over Hong Kong levels, but it took a lot of strength not to feel ripped off for the fact that I had to pay 20 Euros for the blow dry after the wash and cut. An all-inclusive price - even if it was the same - would have seemed less shocking!
I asked the name of the stylist - Tiziana - who had scraped me into shape. She told me that I needed to do ??????? the next time I came. Which made me realise that I still need to do an intensive study of hairdresser terminology in my adopted language - no idea what she was on about! But I guess I will see when I go back again.

Euro Effect Part 2

I wrote last week about the effect of Euro 08 on the traffic.
This week I was later at work and discovered the Euro effect part 2 - if you leave it too late to go home, you run the risk of being mobbed by speeding scooter drivers racing back in time for the game.
But this week Italy won, so maybe it was worth the hazardous journey back.
I'm sitting in my lounge writing this, and hearing the crowds downstairs cheering as Germany have just knocked out Portugal. Either I have unknown German neighbours, or this is a good thing for Italy!

The Euro Effect

Tonight as I was leaving the office, my colleague Paola said to me, 'Hey, tonight on the way home you will experience the Euro Effect.'
Immediately thought that it was some kind of inflation, a road tax? an increase in the price of fuel?
In fact, Paola was referring to the strange phenomenon of finding the road home from Sesto empty at 745 at night. It is the same effect that caused there to be no queue in the supermarket at 715 when I entered.
The Euro effect in question is that of the Euro 2008 championships. Half of Florence had left their offices early in order to get home in time to eat, open the wine to breathe and watch the game.
After I parked the car (in the blue line parking outside my door - unheard of! more people away for watching the footy! - I could see the strange green glow in the street - the TVs of every house in town tuned into RaiUno for the start of the game.
Imagine my horror at the final result - 3-0 to Holland. Not only is this a tragedy for the nation of football lovers, and my colleagues who are as poassionate about the game as they are about anything, but also for me.
The Euro effect meant that I was able to shop, drive home and park outside the house all in under 45 minutes. I was hoping to wallow in the emptiness for more than just the 2 remaining group games!
To Italia, in bocca al lupo for the remaining games!

Politically scorretto

In Napoli this ad was everywhere - this one, and its sister ad - where the headless girl is holding her chest with her hands. For the non-Italian speakers, the caption reads 'Vesuvius and Etna.... Have never been so close.'
Apparantly the ad has been very successful for the company, although they are also profiting from the TV courage. The commentators, I understand, are not concerned about the political incorrectness of the ad per se, but more that car-bound Napolitans may have accidents as a result of staring too much at the assets on display.

Strawberries mean summer

Finally it seems as though summer is here in Florence. The weather is still a mess for this time of year, it's chilly at night and raining a lot. But my visit to the Sant'Ambrodgio market this morning confirmed that, despite the inclement conditions, the seasons are changing.
As I rounded the corner to the market, the first thing I smelt were the strawberries. Piled high in their plastic punnets, almost every stall sported a collection of berries, from the farmed variety to the 'contadina' sort (I guess organic, or grown in people's gardens or farms.)
The summertime impression of the strawberries was backed up by glistening piles of cherries, apricots and rock melons.
A visit to the market should never be preceded by breakfast - you eat your way around the stalls, chatting with the stallholders.
'Try these, they are fabulous!' exclaimed the wizened 70-something year old popping s strawberry into my hand, and another into her mouth.... 'Or, if you prefer, a cherry?' with another sample.
I bought both.
Making my way down the outside of the building I snacked on porchetta (a roast stuffed pork) trying to avoid the beady eyes of the head of the pig with a large lemon in his mouth, fetchingly perched next to the server. At the back of the stall, a loaf of bread with a sign proclaiming 'Cooked in a wood oven' that was at least a metre long and half a meter wide. 'The olives are delicious too' I was told. They were. I bought some.
And prosciutto, here try a bit. And cheese... And salami...
My bag bulging, there was just enough space to squeeze in some Sardinian tomatoes - about the strangest tomato variety I have ever seen, a dark emerald green, with mottled tinges of burgundy, that I was told are sweet and delicious in salad.
Having had appetizers en route, I was nonetheless determined that this would not spoil my lunch, and made my way over to Il Pizzaiolo on Via dei Macci, next to the market.

Davide, a Napolitan friend from work, told me during the summer that this was the best pizza to be had in town. The margherita pizza I ordered with buffalo mozzarella was piping hot, and fabulous, although, like many pizzas here, it is pretty runny. Those who come expecting to eat pizza by the slice with fingers could find it messy going!

Automatic wine tasting

After a long night at Slowly, the day started in an appropriate way - not fast! It was throwing it down with rain, so as Terence picked his way through the puddles to the Uffizi, I chose the more domestic option of cleaning the apartment! After lunch at Yellow, a pizza joint downtown in Florence that is as American as they come butstill pretty appealing - its been there since the 70's and is something of an institution, we were encouraged by the sunshine and headed out to Greve-in-Chianti.
Once we had found a place to dump the car, we made our way through the village to the destination of today's tour - the Automatic Wine Tasting shop.
Le Cantine developed and patented a way to do automatic wine tasting that has now been adopted in other parts of the world (a google search mentioned Australia for a start). You get a stored value card, and a couple of glasses then make your way around the machines, selecting the samples by the glass that you want to try. We didn't have long, so in the photos we are trying the break-the-bank reserve samples at 4 euros a pop. Yum.

Terence in Tuscany: the wonders of technology

Through Facebook I have been in touch with many people that I have not seen or heard from for years and years, it has become a fairly common thing to log on and see an email from someone from my past who has added me as a friend - always a nice surprise.
But it was still pretty mind-blowing to see Terence, a guy that I was at school with in Hong Kong way back when, when we met at the taxi rank at Florence station. In Milan for work for 2 weeks, Terence took a few extra days to tour Italy, and started with a stint in Florence.

Despite the slightly soggy weather, we had a great trip around the city - starting with a panino at ino, then making our way up to Piazzale Michaelangelo, and San Miniato, then down again to the Palazzo Pitti and Eduardo's wine bar for a refreshment. The rain started to trickle down, so we went into the Palazzo Pitti museum. The rooms are staggering, OTT opulence, and at first you try to take everything in, later giving up and whisking through to the highlights.

After Palazzo Pitti, a quick stop on the Ponte Vecchio for the obligatory photo shoot, then to the Mercato by the golden pig - another Kodak moment.

We popped into Grom for a gelato near the Duomo, then off to Boccadama to meet Chiara, Kostantino and Goia for dinner. When the waiter brought over the vin santo 'on the house' Chiara said it was a bad sign in terms of the size of the bill - and she was right!
The night finished in Slowly, with mojitos and music - much like many nights in Hong Kong years ago!

The panda is in back in perfect shape

Finally the Panda is back to its former glory, with huge thanks to Leonardo who took her away while I was away, fixed her up, washed her inside and out, and returned her to my office car park so she was there when I got back from Indy. And I haven't paid a centisimo. However much the insurance was, it was worth it!

Indianapolis - its a long, long way from home

Indy is far from Florence. I had to look it up on the map, but its in the middle bit of the states, not so so far from Chicago (about 3 hours in a car).
To get to Indy from Florence there are a few routes to take, but no easy solution. Our plane from Italy to Paris was a little late, and as we got off, we had to take a U-turn through customs and then wait on a bus to get over to the next door terminal. Then again through hand luggage control and finally to the gate.
Where the plane had just closed its doors, without there being an announcement of any kind, despite the fact that we arrived with Air France, and were flying on with Air France to our next destination.
Despite the frustration at having missed our plane, we were lucky. It seems that there are a number of flights between Paris and Detroit (who knew it was so popular?!) so we were put on the next plane, and managed to negotiate lounge passes on the back of Maurizio's (expired) elite card for the 3 hour wait.
We worked throughout the flight, and, on arrival in Detroit, were all exhausted. You have to identify your luggage (collect it, and then rescan it) and we also went over to the NorthWest desk, as instructed in Paris, to ask whether our boarding passes were OK, or whether we needed a printed ticket as well.
I approached the desk, already thinking that the bloke sitting in the Northwest uniform behind it, looked less than authoratative. 'Are these alright, these boarding passes?' I asked him.
'Hmmmmm', he said, peering at them through squinted eyes. 'Well no, there seems to be a problem' he added. 'They are in French - where did you get them from?'
'Errrr, Paris...' I said.
'Oh. No, its OK - there is English on them too!' he added.
Not so tired though that we could not appreciate the parade of Monopoly games in the various shops in the airport - with Micheganmania sporting Michiganopoly, next door to the chocolate shop with its own version Chocolateopoly, then Dogopoly, Catopoly - and no, I am not making this up! Needless to say, we resisted the temptation to buy anything.
Hours passed in Detroit, and further plane problems (late crew, a mechanical fault)before we finally headed off to Indy. It certainly seems a long long way from Italy so far!