Happy Christmas

I guess the title says it all. Sorry for the lack of updates - it's not even as if I have a life to be getting on with!

See you in the new year.

Love

Shiralee

Watching the weather

Last Saturday I went up to London to watch the Lord Mayor's Parade and fireworks. OK, in reality, it was a cheap trip up to London to meet up with my friend D, do a bundle of window shopping (no-one has any money), chat, drink tea and coffee, walk for hours - and my feet are still aching - and generally reconnect with life. I really enjoyed it and I managed to not get wet or too windblown. I did, however, completely miss the Lord Mayor's Parade and not be too disappointed when the fireworks were cancelled.

All in all, a good day.

Italian

Last weekend I went to a trade fair in London. My twin aims were to seek out any job opportunities and pick up any freebies.

Well, there were no job opportunities as such, most of the TEFL stalls were either trying to sell language courses or training courses, and the freebies were nonexistent, but I guess that's the credit crunch for you.

I did attend several (free) excellent seminars and was reinspired to start learning Italian again. On top of that, I entered a prize draw in which I won an audio course of beginners Italian and a t-shirt. Yes, my friends, I won a prize - this from the woman who made numerous attempts at the tombola and only ever drew a blank.

So, I'll be launching a new assault on the Italian language - you have been warned.

Hair

I've just had my hair cut - here's the new style...





sorry if they are a little fuzzy - taken with the self timer so no control over the focusing!

Two months eh?

Hello again

Do you realise that it has been two months since I last wrote? So sorry...

So, what have I been up to? Well, I've bought a house (I might have mentioned this before), I've been renovating said house (and that's still a work in process), I've finished work (and am looking for more) and I've signed on for state benefit (though I doubt I'll get anything - that's what happens when you spend your life working and paying into the state).

As far as the house is concerned, I have started another blog but it'll be by invite only so if you wanbt to see more, email or comment and I'll send you a password.

On the work front - the summer was great except the final two weeks which were probably the most stressful I've ever experienced; teenagers and me are not the smoothest of mixtures.

Apart from that... well, I'm still living with my parents (thank goodness for family) so I'm warm, well-fed and, most importantly, well-loved. I'm going to try to start writing more regulary so expect more wittering!

House

Sorry for the silence. I've been extremely busy. Just bought a house. Will write more later!

I am the god of...

G went home yesterday and with his departure came the return of the sunshine. He is now renamed 'G The God of Rain'. His visit was delightful and only Monday was slightly spoiled by some argy-bargy from my ex-boss over the final payment on my contract.

Good company, good food and good wine - what more could you want?

On Consideration...

Those of you who read my blog regularly may remember a post I published on 10th April entitled 'My Maria Problem' in which I detailed the problems I was having with my then boss. All of the information contained in that post was factual except the final paragraph (before the tagline) which contained my opinion of my ex-boss. She, via her partner, has found this blog and has been reading it diligently.

After a tussle about the final payment on my contract, she told me that a clause in the contract I signed (written in Italian) stated that I could not write about her, the organisation or the students. Now, it doesn't surprise me that there is a clause about not behaving in any way that might bring the organisation into disrepute (although no such thing was mentioned when I signed the contract) but I'm pretty sure that there is nothing in the contract regarding me writing about about my students, and, even if there was, nothing I have written could in any way be used to identify them individually.

On the point about not writing anything about my ex-boss - I'm pretty sure that's not covered in the contract. However, I am aware that, despite my not naming any names (not only of my ex-boss but also not of the organisation I worked for), it would be easy for someone here in Vigevano, especially one of my students, to identify either. It is out of respect for my students that I have decided to take that post down.

Moving out...

I have now finished. The final class has been taught, the register has been completed and the whiteboard has been wiped clean for the last time.

Today I have invited all my adult students to come to my place for farewell drinks and nibbles. After taking advice from Ch about timing, I told everyone that the 'event' was from 4pm to 7pm. This was so the attendees would have had enough time to digest their Sunday dinner but wouldn't run over into their evening meal - as I'm sure you know Italians have fairly fixed ideas about when to eat and what to eat at those times. So, taking this into account, what, do you think, has been the response? Well, most of them have said they'll arrive between 6:30 and 7pm! I give up. Some of my English-speaking friends and acquaintances are arriving during the afternoon and G is in the middle of his visit so I'm not worried, I'll have company.

Talking of G, I had warned him that there is very little to do here in Vigevano but I don't think he realised just how little there is. On top of that, the damned weather has had the cheek to misbehave - it has rained twice since he arrived. Luckily, it is still warm and sunny between the showers so, in between siestas, we've been out for walks and coffee, and spent a hell of a lot of time talking about everything under the sun.

One of the advantages of having G here is that he motivates me to actually get on and do things. With his prodding, I finally booked my ticket back to the UK last night. I leave on Wednesday 24th June and I won't be back except for holidays. Being the world traveller he is, G will be on his way back from another trip abroad so we'll meet up at the airport, go to his for the night (get your minds out of the gutter) and, with a bit of luck, my dad will pick me up the next day.

On a final note, highlighting the idiocy and incompetence of the Italian system (although I'm sure they have an explanation for it), I have just received the gas bill for January and February - yep that's right, January and February. More shocking is the size of the bill... 281 euros. I'm still breathless when I think about it.

Much as I love this country, it really is only good for holidays.

Coming to the end

So, I am, more or less, in my last week of teaching in Italy. It is very weird. Last night none of my 5:30 class turned up, so I had no chance to say goodbye to them. However, my 6:15 class did turn up and, being a horrible teacher, I made them work like dogs (like dogs, I tell you!) which, I think, came as a bit of a surprise. Maybe they were expecting fun and games, a farewell gift of sweets and a certificate of achievement. No such luck. I don't do fun and games with children (adults are a different matter), I don't believe in buying sweets for children and the woman who 'organises' the courses hasn't actually spoken to me for about six weeks (no loss there) so nothing doing on the certificates. Upside is that I haven't had to do reports. Like parents all over the world, Italians like pieces of paper to say how well their darlings have done - well, I guess that's not my problem now.

I have one final kids' class today. And I have to say this is my favourite kids' class. They work well as a group, they like and help each other, and they're always willing to try new things. This is the group I sacrificed my 'no singing in public' rule for.

To be honest, I won't miss teaching the kids. I think it's something that should be done by those who genuinely enjoy it. It is challenging and exhausting but it can be very rewarding. I have also come to the conclusion that the teacher should be able to speak the students' language even if they don't use it in class. The coursebook I've been using recommends discussions and instructions in the students' language and some of the activities are impossible for me to do because I don't speak Italian - you try explaining how to play 'Go Fish' to a six year old who doesn't speak English, getting them to understand Hangman was difficult enough and they play that at school.

In contrast, I will miss my adult students. It always amazes me just how much work people are willing to put in to master a new skill especially as I just don't seem to be able to make that effort. My beginners have gone from 'My name is...' to 'At work I have a colleague I don't like. I can say "I don't get on with her"?' - ok the word order is a little shaky at the end but I can't do the same in Italian, and I've been living here!

Changing the subject completely, the weather here has been gorgeous. It is hot and sunny during the day and warm at night. However, and inevitably, there are downsides to this. The first is the humidity. This part of Italy is a major rice growing area which means the surrounding fields are paddy fields. That means lots of standing water, hence humidity. Which brings me to the second problem. With standing water you get mosquitoes. Generally I don't have a problem with mosquitoes. They bite me, my body reacts appropriately and within an hour all that's left is a red spot but I like to sleep with my windows open (to get whatever cool breezes there are) so I have to have the plug-in repellents otherwise their buzzing would just irritate me all night.

The other thing that irritates me, and this is the third downside, is the inability of Italian men to wear deodorant. They may think the combined smells of sweat, last night's garlicky meal and their aftershave make a winning combination but they are wrong. I spend a fair amount of time holding my hand in front of my nose because I always smell nice (at least to me).

On a final point, I currently look like I've gone five rounds with Frank Bruno (an under-rated British boxer for those of you not British). The right side of my face is slightly swollen and my right eye is completely bloodshot. The reason for this? Hayfever. I think an evil imp has lodged in my right sinus and is tormenting me. This is the cycle of events (and tough luck if I've already told you this) my right eye starts itching and watering. My right nostril starts itching. A sneeze builds up and cannot be averted. I sneeze, not just once but three times. I have to blow my nose to reduce the irritation. My nose starts bleeding - not heavily, just within the mucus membranes. The blood dries. As it dries, it starts irritating my sinus causing my eye to start watering, etc. etc. etc. Feel sorry for me, pleeeease.

Spring is in the air...

Well, spring has finally sprung here in Italy. The locals are down to shirtsleeves or t-shirts, unveiling limbs which, unlike the British, are not lily-white from being hidden all winter but brown from those weekend trips to the seaside or mountains which all Italians seem to take as a birthright.

There is fluff in the air, some kind of pollen which, where there are many of these trees, makes you think it's snowing. Unfortunately this gives me hayfever which, combined with my cold, means I'm constantly sneezing and blowing my nose. This sets off a vicious cycle whereby my nose is irritated so I sneeze. This means I have to blow my nose which, in turn, starts bleeding (not severely, just inside). As the blood starts to dry, it irritates the lining of my nose which makes me want to sneeze - and here we go again. I even had a weird dream about it last night - the least said about that the better. The fluff is very pretty to look at but not so pretty to interact with.

Another unfortunate side-effect of spring seems to be an epidemic of horn-blowing. Normally Italian drivers don't use their horns (in the same way they don't use their indicators) but since the warmer weather has arrived, all I seem to be hearing is car horns. Now the thing about hitting the horn is that it may relieve the tension for the driver but it sure does wind up the innocent passers-by. Even the normally sanguine Italian pedestrian has been known to cast a filthy look at an inconsiderate driver. That's pretty serious here in Italy.

I went to Abbiategrasso on Friday. It's the next town along, only ten minutes by train, but the difference is remarkable. I don't know if it's because it's a smaller town or because it's the other side of the Ticino river (the theory put forward by my students) but the attitude is completely different. For one thing, it has a library! I'm sure there is one in Vigevano but I wouldn't like to try and find it (and even if I did I wouldn't like to try and use it). More importantly, there is a town centre, with shops, that sell things you want to buy (rather than expensive clothes and handbags). People sit around and talk to their friends and there are parks. OK, they aren't parks by British standards (but I've come to the conclusion we're spoilt) but they are more than dogwalking areas which is what I seem to have around me in Vigevano. The parks in Abbiategrasso have benches where you can sit and talk - benches in the shade so you don't get fried - and bins to put your rubbish in, and swings etc. for children to play on. I like Abbiategrasso however, I am honest enough to admit I don't know how long the 'like' would last if I lived there.

Anyway, enough of this rambling. I've got stuff to do (don't know what stuff, but stuff)

Ciao belli

Che cazzo

This country just gets more peculiar by the day.

Now that the good weather seems to have arrived, I've taken to going out without a jumper or coat. The temperature has been good but the looks I've been getting are incredible. As I look around me today, I can't see a single Italian who doesn't have a jumper or coat on (and it's 16 degrees out there).

Now that they no longer have to carry an umbrella whilst cycling, the latest trend is to walk your dog by bike. I have to say that Italian dogs are not the best disciplined animals in the world which makes the whole cycling and dog-walking very precarious. Not that that has stopped anyone.

Yesterday I had to pay my electricity bill. I turned up at the post office at 11:30. I thought this would be a good time because all those collecting their pensions would have been and gone, working people would be at work and non-working parents would be preparing to collect their offspring. Boy, was I wrong. The queue was actually out of the door and into the road. It took me 45 minutes to actually get to the cashier (and one minute to pay) by which time the number of cashiers had reduced from three to one and the queue was even longer. I honesty don't know why the Italians put up with it - it's not as if there are that many post offices and the cashiers weren't pushing themselves to get things finished (and they kept disappearing into the back for oddly suspicious ten minute spells).

Today I went to get money out the cash machine only to find my card has stopped working. It's less than six months old! I did managed to get money over the counter but they charged me for it! This even though it was their card that stopped working and my being entitled to make one counter withdrawal for free a month. I have to go to my own branch to sort this out. I'm going to ask for the charge to be refunded but, well, this is Italy where nothing makes sense and contracts are worth less than the paper they are written on.

Finally, in this litany of WTF?!?!? I'm using an internet cafe in Piazza Duomo. It's part of a bookshop. You go in the entrance and the sign says: Spazio Internet 2 so you go up to the second floor only to find out that you have to go back down to the ground floor to buy the (rechargeable) internet card, then return to the second floor where you have to present your ID document, have your details taken and sign a piece of paper giving them the right to your first born before they will let you use their machines. When you've gone through this tedious process you are directed to machines which are nicely lined up, side-by-side in the window (so no privacy there), set back about two foot from the edge of the bench, in front of which are the stools. Now here's the genius. The stools are fixed height (level with the bottom of the bench) and with a forward slant so you can't sit on them with your legs under the bench (thus putting you another foot away from the screen and with your head about eighteen inches above the to of the screen - ergonomic? I think not) and for this privilege you have to listen to music from the 80's and 90's interspersed with bleeping from a faulty machine. Such joy.

And on that note, I shall sign off.

Feeling cold, cold, cold...

Sorry I haven't been around for a while, and thank you for your patience. I've been dealing with inconsistencies at this end and haven't felt like blogging. I will do a long update soon - when I get over this cold.

Walking on sunshine...

This morning I dragged myself out of bed at 6:30am, looked out of the window at the grey sky and wished I didn't have to get up, shower, dress and take the train into Milan. However, this is what I get paid to do, so I did.

After my latte machiatto and brioche, I went to the office where I was due to teach only to find out that my student was stuck in a traffic jam (caused by a road traffic accident) and wouldn't be able to come to the lesson.

So, after checking the student wouldn't be arriving any time soon and that there was no substitute student, I took myself back to the train station and back home, arriving just as my lesson was supposed to finish.

So, I have an extra couple of hours at home today, the sun is shining, I'm listening to BBC podcasts and ticking off another day on the calendar - life is pretty good.

What I'd say...

Hello there again, sorry for the pause but things have been 'interesting' here.

Decisions have been made (although everything is subject to change should the right opportunity arise), plans have been formulated and people have been informed.

This week I fly back to the UK for my brother's wedding - it had better be good, I'm giving up three days wages for it so I expect rings delivered by owls, prancing ponies and dancing men (and that's before dinner).

On the subject of work, things are going well, except I still don't understand how the Italian mind works. I've never been good at getting hints, I much prefer to have things spelled out for me - but here in Italy there is no such thing as straightforward. Even the simplest of situations has to go through some contortions in order to fit with the Italian psyche. I just wish they'd recognise that I don't mind being told the truth, even if it is slightly unpalatable, rather than being left to try and work it out myself (which will never happen).

Anyway, live moves on and so, soon, will I.

Style council

And talking of fashion and Italy being a formal country, how come there was a middle-aged woman with a ginger mullet on the train yesterday morning?

Fashion (turn to the left...)

As you may know, I teach a lot of conversation classes here in Vigevano. Now don't get me wrong, I really like my adult students, they are kind, friendly and well-meaning but, and it is a big but, most of them have never really been anywhere but Vigevano. I don't mean that they've never left the town - a fair number of them work in Milan and several travel abroad on business - however, they have a somewhat limited outlook on life. This is mainly because they live in the town they grew up in, surrounded by family and friends, most of whom they know from school.

As a teacher of conversation classes, it would be all too easy for me to sit back and let them discuss the same subjects again and again (what's wrong with Vigevano, travel, food, reading, films etc. etc.) but I prefer to push my students a little. Try to get them to think out of the box, as it were.

To do this, I ask provocative questions and put forward contrary opinions (some of which I hold, others I don't). And on a regular basis I run up against a brick wall. All too often, the response is blank looks and a retreat into 'this is the Italian way'.

Such a response happened last week. The chosen subject was fashion and clothing. I lead the discussion into women wearing trousers. Everyone agreed this was alright, indeed one student said that no-one she knows wears skirts any more. I then established that, historically, trousers were men's clothes. Nods all round. So, I said, how would people react if a man decided to wear a skirt into work?

Complete and total blank incomprehension.

One student reiterated that none of her friends liked skirts but that if one of them wanted to wear one, SHE could. I repeated my premise - what if a man wore a skirt into work? Nothing. It actually took one of the other students to explain this in Italian before the first one caught on. The combination of man and skirt just did not compute.

The overall conclusion was that Italy is a formal country and no-one would dress like this. Admittedly, I can't imagine anyone wanting to wear a skirt but I can at least image it happening. I do remember, many years ago, (before I became a teacher) a rather interesting case of sexual discrimination in one of the London Borough Councils which had sent a man home because he wore a dress to work. At the time I had a long discussion with one of the secretaries at work about the rights and wrongs of this case. She claimed it was unnatural for him to wear a dress, all the time wear trousers herself.

Oh and Scottish kilts don't count, apparently. It seems that even though they are a piece of material wrapped around the waist, that doesn't make them a skirt.

Holey moley

Here's an update on the hole post I wrote on 21st February (I think - just go and find it yourselves, I can't be bothered with any of that linking stuff, I'm not able to stay online long enough to get it to work).

Anyhow, earlier this week, my peace and quiet was broken by various clanging and scraping noises from the street below. On leaning out of my window (something I do a lot now that the weather has improved) I saw a couple of workmen, with a small truck, putting up temporary signs along the road. Now even though the signs were images and not words, I couldn't work out what they were there for but, this is Italy and who knows what's going on. A couple of hours later, I heard a pneumatic drill being used, and when I later went out to get some bread, I saw the workmen digging a trench in someone's yard. I didn't think anymore of it but I did notice the signs hadn't been removed even after the work seemed to have stopped.

Then this morning, the sun was shining so I opened my windows, only to be aurally assaulted by an opposite neighbour playing the radio at full blast whilst singing along. Her voice wasn't that bad but the music did leave something to be desired. However, in the process of pulling my head back in through the window, I glanced down and saw... more workmen.

To be precise, three workmen, all wearing the fluorescent orange work jackets (and matching trousers, in one case) which marks out the municipal worker here. Of the three, one was leaning on the back of his truck, prior to driving it away, another was smoking a cigarette whilst reorganising the various shovels and brooms leaning against my front wall and the third was on his knees mending the road.

Yes, you did read that correctly. He was on his knees, patiently fitting the square blocks that make up the road surface outside my home. He was using a small hammer to loosen the soil and tap the blocks into place and he was very picky about which block went in which space. It was a pleasure to watch a craftsman at work. The whole process took about three hours, leaving a smooth and seamless repair to the road.

When I went out later, I passed a couple who live further up the road. Now I don't speak much Italian but I could tell from the way they looked at the huge tarmac patch outside their home and then stared down the road to the repair outside my home that they were wondering when it would be their turn. They did not look best pleased but the signs are still up so there's hope for them yet.

In the meantime, I get great pleasure from looking at the beautiful work done outside.

Travelling light...

This has been a busy week. The weather has been up and down, one minute raining, the next brilliant sunshine. I've been going into Milan to work in the morning, which is something I really enjoy - not the journey but the teaching.

Talking of the journey, we had a tragic incident on Friday. I didn't know the details until the next day but here is my experience. I had to be in a lesson in Milan at 12:30, to do this I had to catch the 10:50 train (and spend 50 minutes hanging around). I trundle up at 10:40 to discover the train had been cancelled. However, what was unusual was that instead of dispering, the passengers were still milling around (I won't go into analogies of termite nest, how cliched). Being somewhat resigned to the bad train service, I went to a local cafe, had a coffee and called my company contact to get her to warn my student. When I finished my coffee, I went back across to the station because a huge coach had pulled up in front. It seemed that TrenItalia had, for once, been efficient and organised a substitute service. This surprised (and pleased me) as normally a cancelled train leads to the Shrug "What can be done..." response.

This coach was already full when I got there and people who had boarded were being ordered off by a local policewoman. However, once it had gone two more appeared, and this is where being big, bolshy and British paid off. I 'persuaded' the locals that it was important that I got on this coach (being about a foot taller with a big, heavy handbag did help). Once ensconced it was a matter of sitting and waiting. About an hour later, we arrived at the next train station where we got off the coach and onto the train.

While travelling from my station to the next, we crossed a bridge on which a train was stopped. Next to it were a couple of fire engines, an ambulance or two and several police cars. These had blocked one side of the two lane bridge which explained why it had taken us an hour to go by road, a journey which takes about ten minutes by rail.

I managed to get into my lesson only twenty minutes late (which suited the student who was extremely busy). The journey back was incident-free which left me wondering what it had all been about.

On Saturday morning, I was sitting in my local cafe having breakfast (as I can't get porridge here, I've developed the habit of having a latte macchiato and a brioche in a cafe every morning) when my eye was caught by the front page of the local newspaper. My Italian isn't good enough for me to read the paper but, having bought my own copy and with the aid of a dictionary, I found out that an elderly man had thrown himself under the train, just before the bridge at about 8:30 that morning.

I don't know what prompted his decision but it did put my annoyance into perspective.

They're cycling in the rain...

My, oh my, oh my. The weather has turned bad again and I'm back to watching my favourite extreme sport. This sport would, if officially recognised, have Italy as the undisputed world and Olympic champion in perpetuity. I am, of course, referring to umbrella cycling.

For the uninitiated, this consists of riding a sit-up-and-beg bicycle in the rain while holding up a large umbrella. The umbrella serves two functions, it keeps the rain off the cyclist and it makes it impossible for said cyclist to apply the brakes - this doesn't actually matter because the cyclist takes no account of surrounding traffic, safe in the knowledge that the umbrella will protect them from collision with any of the large metal boxes that also whizz around the roads here.

There are two main practitioners of this sport, the middle-aged man who wears a bulky water resistant jacket and the elderly woman who wears a fur coat. Both garments restrict the movement of the cyclist thus adding to the danger element.

There are minor variations including hanging plastic bags from the handlebars and talking on the telephone (I kid you not) but I am an admirer of the classic form, long may it continue.

The miss-you nights...

I haven't had to teach the last three Friday evenings so I've been making the most of my 'freedom' by going into Milan, meeting some friends and having aperitivo. Aperitivo is the delightful custom whereby you go into a bar, drink cocktails and eat the free food provided - I may have mentioned this before. Of course, the type of free food varies from bar to bar but it's always cheap and filling (and, this being Italy, of good quality). For me the important thing is the meeting of friends (and potential friends) along with the inconsequential chat about nothing important. Apart from these times I do not speak to anyone in this country who is a native English speaker - in fact the only people I speak to are my students, my company contacts and my friend Ch, none of whom are native speakers (although Ch is as near as dammit).

These meetings must now come to an end as from this coming Friday I will be teaching again in the evening. I will miss the inconsequential chatter. I will miss the aperitivo. I will miss the mojitos made with a generous measure of rum.

(No) Changes

You know, I have absolutely nothing to write about. I've started work in Milan (two days a week - and I won't bore you with the details of the incompetencies of the company I'm working for, I just don't understand how they cannot know the law as it applies to the work they are doing). The teaching has been fine, if a little 'suck it and see' as regards to lesson content.

The sun has started shining regularly here which, I have to admit, is a bit of a relief. The city (Vigevano) still shuts at 12:30 for lunch which is annoying as it means I have to go out in the morning to do stuff rather than spend the time at home and go out at lunchtime (very British, I know).

Otherwise, things are unchanged (except, of course, my congrats to P who's just had a lovely baby boy).

There's a party going on around here...

This week is Carnivale here in Vigevano (it's next week in Milano) and this seems to be an excuse to dress up and throw confetti around. Now, the dressing up is done mainly by the children (although I did see one dubious young man with a long dress and grey wig on) but the confetti - I don't know. I do know that when I went out for a walk on Sunday evening the city looked like there'd been one huge wedding and I'm told that the water guns were out in force - I only saw some teenagers covered in silly string and shaving foam.

I think Carnivale has some sort of religious link, maybe the last celebration before lent? (and it's where the British Notting Hill Carnival comes from). However, there are a large number of Muslims in Vigevano and, like me, they don't celebrate Christian festivals so while there have been princesses and bumble-bees on the streets, there have also been a large number of bemused adults wondering what the world is coming to.

And this all goes to prove that Italians will use any excuse for a party!

A Hole New Way Of Doing Things

Another amazing story from Italy...

After the snow cleared (and that took a couple of weeks because it was so cold here and it would keep on snowing) my road was left with several large holes. Now, being British, I just accepted these and walked around them. I didn't expect anything to happen.

However, between going out to do my shopping this morning (at 10a:30am) and hovering on my doorstep waiting for a student (at 2:30pm) those holes had been filled - I kid you not! No weeks of warning signs surrounding the holes, no days of workmen looking at the holes, no hours of noise and smell while some work is being done - no, quickly, silently and efficiently, those holes were filled.

Sometimes Italy can teach Britain a thing or two.

To be or not to be?

Isn't is interesting how, when I finally put my foot down about work, work suddenly appears. It may be co-incidence but who know?

Banking for pleasure

Just for a change I have a positive story from Italy.

A few weeks ago I opened a bank account here in Vigevano and today I went to get my bancomat card. Of course, this being an Italian card from an Italian bank all the instructions were in Italian. When I use my UK cards, the machine gives me the option of changing the language but, logically, that doesn't happen for an Italian card from an Italian bank in Italy.

However, I went into the bank, spoke (this being a new definition of the verb 'to speak' which includes mime, Italish and hope) to a lovely woman who came with me to the machine and took me through the process - giving me time to write down the important words - so that I could check my balance and withdraw some money.

In fact, it was as pleasant an experience as I've ever had in a bank.

Infinitely flexible or stupidly varied - you choose.

Are there no limits to the stupidity of this country?

How can a country have electrical sockets in three different sizes? Do they not understand the idea of standardisation? Why is it seen preferable to have to buy half a dozen adaptors rather than change the bloody sockets?

Today I went to a bar which offers free wi-fi. It was quiet in there, in fact I was the only customer - this is very unusual in an Italian bar around midday but the reason will probably become clear.

My first problem was being able to plug my computer into the mains (it's so old that it can't run on battery). My standard adaptor (three pin British to two pin Italian) didn't work as the pins were too big. The adaptor they lent me (two pin Italian to three pin Italian) didn't work as the pins were too widely spaced. The second adaptor (two pin Italian to three pin Italian) did work - as long as you were prepared to give it an almighty shove to get it into the socket.

The second problem was connecting to the wi-fi. In theory, you make the link, put in the password and, hey presto!, you're connected. Not so much in this case. According to the woman in charge the password was nine numbers. This was instantly rejected by the network as being the wrong configuration for the password. I tried adding some spaces, still the wrong configuration. I tried typing in some of the other things written on the piece of paper she had given me. Ohhhh, it looks like it's connecting, but NOOOOO, my laptop is connected to the network but yet it is not connected to the network.

I gave up.

I would have liked to sit in the cafe drinking tea and surfing the net, updating my stuff and generally chilling out. Much as I appreciate the internet cafe, I prefer using my own laptop.

I won't be going back.

Going online, all the time

I don't really have anything to tell you. I'm working part-time, hanging out in the internet cafe (cheaper than using the key I bought) and whiling my time away. Still waiting for the other contract to come into being - I miss working - and thinking seriously about the future.

On the plus side, I now have online access to a training course to learn Italian so I'm going to try that out at home (I'm a little too shy to try it out in the internet cafe).

Money, money, money...

So here's what it's all about...

If I sign a project contract I can work as much as I want. The limit is if I remain here more than 183 days I become resident in Italy for tax purposes and must start paying into the social security system.

If I sign an occazionale contract I can work for 30 actual days, earning up to 5,000 euros per occazionale contract. If either of these limits are breached, it's the employer's responsibility (although I will pay more tax).

I can sign both types of contract at the same time. In fact I can sign more than one occazionale at the same time but if I sign too many (four/five), the tax authorities would probably decide that I am a professional and insist I operate under a Partita IVR.

I have to complete a tax return at the end of the year (Jan/Feb next year). The trick to surviving here seems to avoiding attraction of the tax office and the social security system. I can't say I'm comfortable with this but it is the Italian way!

Taxing taxes

I have finally managed to arrange an appointment with a tax consultant so that I can get some clarity on my situation. This is on Monday morning and I have a training session on Monday afternoon where I'll be expected to sign a contract (in Italian, of course) for a few hours work over the next few weeks.

I'll let you know what the tax consultant says...

Quick Update - again

Wish I had something interesting to tell you about but really nothing has been happening.

I'm still trying to sort out my legal/financial position. It does strike me as strange that you can't actually get accurate information from anyone because no-one actually knows anything. It seems that the application of the tax laws depends entirely on your personal circumstances and that it's up to you to 'get the best deal'. I'm waiting for advice from two different tax 'experts' - normally, I would only take advice from one person but that doesn't seem to be a good idea here. The trick for me will be comparing the information from one person with that from the other and making the best decision for me. To say it's stressful is to underestimate the stress I'm feeling.

On top of that I can't get my internet connection to work properly at home so I'm saving that for work only and using an internet cafe for all the fun stuff - and it's a damn sight faster, even if I'm surrounded by people for whom personal hygiene is an unknown concept.

It's been snowing here again (but not as bad as in Britain it would seem) although the sun is making a huge effort to shine here.

The teaching is fine, I love my adult students and even like the kids.

I think that's about it!

Something for the weekend?

I tried to get my hair cut the other day. I went into a hairdressers and said “vorrei (I want)” and mimed cutting my hair. The response “No capisco (I don't understand)”.

WHAT!?!?!

Doctor, Doctor, tell me the news...

On a more positive note, I have managed to see a doctor. Initially, it was an odd situation as he has two surgeries a day. In the morning, it's turn up and wait and in the evening, it's phone for an appointment.

I went along in the morning, found the waiting room and my good did it stink! The place was heaving (it serves two doctors) and the smell was so bad I had to leave, also the queuing system is informal – you just have to know who you came in after. However, I knew I couldn't phone for an appointment and, although Cz had offered to do it (and come with me), I wanted to do this on my own so I went back about an hour later and, luckily, there were only two people in the room. The doctor was very nice although he took my blood pressure both sitting down and standing up (me that is).

I have to go back in a week – let's hope I'm as lucky with the queue a second time.

Not driving but...

And here's another thing. You know I've been having driving practice? Well I made it clear at the beginning that I didn't need to learn how to drive, I even showed them my full UK driving licence. What I wanted was a chance to aclimatised to driving on the other side of the road and driving on the motorway here.

And I made this very clear to them at the beginning, before my first practice, after my second practice and after my third practice. So when I turned up on Wednesday morning I thought everything was clear. But, because of the way Italy has been mucking me about recently, I thought I'd double check and, guess what, no we weren't going on the motorway today because “The school isn't authorised to go on the motorway”. Now I know that learner drivers can't drive on motorways and that cars with learner signs shouldn't be on the motorway – it might even be forbidden - BUT, I am a qualified driver and the signs on the car are magnetic and could have been taken off when we swap drivers. So I got the “Shrug, what can be done, Shrug” again. And I said “Thank you for wasting my time” and left.

Working down a coal mine...

Another thing that is frustrating me is trying to sort out the best/most economical way to be employed here. The main problem is that the tax and national insurance burden on employers is so heavy that schools will do anything to avoid issuing a contract of employment. There are four main ways to be employed:
on a regular contract as an employee – next to impossible to obtain because as well as paying your salary, the employer has to make substantial contributions to the social security system (INPS) on your behalf, provide sickness and holiday pay, and pay two extra (half-)month bonuses (one in the summer and one at Christmas);
on a project contract – for a fixed length of time or fixed number of hours at a fixed salary over a longer period but not exceeding 183 days a year (eg a long term temporary contract). If you do work for more than 183 days (and it's not clear whether it's actual working days or days living in Italy) then you automatically become resident for tax purposes in Italy. The employer deducts 20% of the gross as pre-payment of tax and you have to make a tax return at the end of the year (if you earn less than 30,000 euros a year) or every quarter (if you earn more) which in turn means employing an accountant. Provided you don't earn more than 5,000 euros you don't have to pay INPS but once over that amount you have to be registered. Employers like these contracts because they can write almost anything they want to into such a contract – so employee beware!;
on an occasional contract – for a fixed number of hours or one specific project only but not for regular ongoing work (ie. short-term temporary work). These contracts can only be used three times a year and for total payment not exceeding 5,000 euros. Again 20% is deducted as tax.
as an independent contractor – for this to happen you have to open a Partita IVA which is the equivalent of registering for VAT. Sounds good but here's the rub. In your first year you not only have to pay 30% of your gross income as tax but also 28% of your net income as INPS. You can deduct expenses against tax (not that there are many of these as a teacher) but effectively it means in your first year you hand over 50% of your income to the government – and, unless you are in your twenties, you will never see any benefit from your payment into the social security system (in fact most Italians believe that they will not receive a state pension worth more than peanuts even though they have paid into the system all their lives).
The other way is to use your British national insurance number and sign a declaration that you will declare all your income in the UK and pay tax on them there. This is not illegal but neither is it in the spirit of the law and again it is limited to 183 days a year.
A complication in all this is that the Italian tax year runs from January to December whereas the British tax year runs from April to March.

And if you think I'm being unduly negative, read the comments from Mr Jam. He knows what he's talking about.

Why do fools...

I am rapidly falling out of love with Italy.

When I first moved back here I was excited about building a life. After all, I reasoned, although I don't speak much Italian, I have lived in several countries and Italy was, by far, my favourite. In addition, I have friends here and, with my qualifications and experience, it wouldn't be difficult to find work. These things remain true. I have found work relatively easily, I do have friends here (and I've made more) but, and it's a big but, I am becoming increasingly frustrated at the Italian attitude to business.

To be more specific, I'm sick of being on the receiving end of the 'shrug, what can been done? Shrug'. An example of this is my trying to get an internet connection. You may have heard of internet keys. In essence these are SIM cards which you plug into a USB port on your computer and use to connect to the internet (much as you would make a mobile phone call). I bought one of these. The package, with AliceMobile, was 20 euros for 100 hours of internet access every thirty days. After 100 hours, you can top up at 2 euros an hour. Of course, what they didn't tell me (although I'm sure it's written somewhere in the small print – that they knew I couldn't read) was that every connection incurred a minimum deduction of fifteen minutes and, of course, where I live the connection is so piss poor that it isn't unusual for the connection to be lost after one or two minutes. The upshot of this is that although I have only been connected to the internet for 66 hours over the last eighteen days, I have have 100 hours deducted because of the incessant disconnection by the server.

Of course when I complained I got the 'Shrug, what can be done? Shrug' response. I ended up signing up for a different plan, one that doesn't measure the time online but allows you to download up to 1Gb every thirty days. Of course, I had to pay for this plan to be 'activated' and I won't actually be able to use it until tomorrow (this is being written offline). What they couldn't explain was whether the automatic opening of the AliceMobile website (which has to happen otherwise I can't access the internet) is part of that download. I don't know quite what constitutes 'download' , how much of it would be used by the automatic opening of the AliceMobile website or if it's only when you use a download program (although I doubt it). The downside for me is that I've downloaded more than 1Gb over the past 18 days, generally when trying to download podcasts which failed, so I've no idea how many days each month I'll be able to use it.

And the post office – my god, the post office. I wanted to post a letter, actually an invoice for payment so I went along to the post office. There were so many people there that the queue snaked back and forth three times in a post office not much bigger than my parents front room. So many people that no-one else could actually get in the door (and I don't think anyone could get out either).

There are other things that annoy me, mainly to do with the people I'm working for, trying to maintain a professional demeanor and getting others to respect boundaries. I'm working on those but I cannot guarantee that I'll win, and, if not, I won't remain in Italy.

Take a jump to the left....

Ahh, that's better. Several (more than several) hours of sleep, a shower and a walk and I feel soooo much better.

Why? I hear you asking, Why were you so tired? Too tired, in fact, to tell us about it?

Well, my lovelies, on Friday night I did one of my all time favourite things (no, not that! unfortunately). On Friday night I went to see The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

Now I am a bit of a fan, not a fanatic - I don't dress up or wear make-up, but I do know the words to the songs and how to do the timewarp and most of the shoutbacks to the dialogue. So, as I said, I'm a bit of a fan.

A couple of weeks ago, I went into Milan to have coffee with Ch and during the walk after we came across the cinema showing the film. It turned out that Ch was a Rocky virgin so we booked immediately. I had to change one of my classes but, as I haven't done that before, I didn't feel particularly guilty about it. I warned her it might be a bit weird, what with it having men dressed in stocking and suspenders and being a musical, but she was game. We were told the film started at 10pm and to be there at 9:30pm.

Of course, it had to be snowing when I arrived in Milan but luckily it stopped during the fifteen minute walk to the cinema. Unfortunately the freezing temperatures in no way induced the cinema to open it's doors early so I had to hang around for a good twenty minutes in the cold wondering if this was a good idea. There were other people around, and it was a mixed crowd but no-one seemed particularly dressed up, unlike showings I've been to elsewhere - but then, this is the middle of winter in Italy! Ch arrived at 9:30pm and the doors opened BUT only selected people were being allowed in (god only knows why), still Ch reminded them we had booked and we were in!

The cinema itself is a long thin room with hardly any rake (slope towards the screen) and we were a far way back - this turned out to be good. We got a drink, found our seats, bought our participation bags (rice, confetti, surgical masks, newspaper, latex glove, rattle and playing card) and had a good look around us. Suddenly there were lots of people dressed as characters from the film and I felt a warm glow of antici.........pation.

10pm came and went, there was terrible singing via the PA system, the screen showed stills from the film so I was able to name the characters for Ch as well as teach her the timewarp (sitting down) and warn her I would be singing throughout. Finally, at about 10:30 someone goes on stage and starts some sort of compere thing, pulling Rocky virgins on-stage to have fun with and at them. This went on a little too long for me, not only because it was in Italian (naturally) but because I don't like that sort of thing anyway. Finally it finished and I thought we were going to get down to the film, but Oh no, instead we had the 20th Century Fox intro and music (about six times) before going into some shortened songs sung by animal characters (possibly from Madagasca?).

Finally, at about 11pm the film started. And it was good. The people who were dressed up made sure everyone participated (spraying water over everyone during the rain scene, shouting out the shoutbacks, etc.) and getting everyone up to do the timewarp.

Now here's what was new to me. They had live 'actors' who acted out the scenes along with the film in front of the film. I've heard of this but I hadn't ever seen it before - and I have to say I don't really approve. They were dedicated and some of them were good but I felt it detracted from the film itself. I guess it's the same argument about films made from books, if you read the book first generally the film isn't as good but if you read the book after seeing the film, you generally prefer the film.

Then, just as things were swinging along nicely, they had an interval! So people could smoke supposedly. I have to say, it completely ruined the atmosphere. When the film started again (just ten minutes later) the energy had disappeared. The 'actors' and participation-ists worked just as hard but the heart had gone out of the audience.

The film actually finished at 12:45 and people were more than happy to be leaving especially as most public transport shuts down at 11:30pm. I had expected the film to end at about 11:30 and both Ch and I were worried about getting back to hers which is the other side of the city. Luckily the circular bus was still running and that combined with a twenty minute walk got us in at 1:45. I was up again at 7am and home by 9:30am to teach at 10:30am.

So that's why I was so tired. Now I know what's it like there, I might be tempted to go again but only if I know I don't have to get up the next morning!

BTW Ch said she enjoyed it, and she remembered the tag-line "Give yourself over to absolute pleasure"

Sleepyhead...

I am so tired. I had a late night last night but I'm too tired to tell you about it.

More tomorrow.

And on your left...

...and another thing, since when does anyone use indicators when doing a three-point turn?!?! It just doesn't make sense. I mean, it's not like you're turning left then right then left again. You're actually going back and forth across the bloody road - anyone who can't see what's happening should be shot (mind you that doesn't stop Italian drivers from trying to drive past while you're mid-three-point-turning).

Who's going to drive you home...

I had my first driving practice today, not a lesson as such as I already know how to drive, but practice in driving on the WRONG side of the road (I don't care what anyone says, just because the majority of the world drives on the right, doesn't make it correct!). It was good, I am a good driver and this was about getting used to things being backwards eg going anti-clockwise around roundabouts, remembering the slow lane is the one on the right, etc. etc.

However, I have discovered why Italians are such terrible drivers. All the things we're taught in the UK to keep us safe (whether we follow them or not) such as not crossing your hands on the steering wheel, using the handbrake when the car is stopped at traffic lights and not turning your wheels while you're waiting to cross a line of traffic - these are actively encouraged here!

My instructor was amazed when I did the hand to hand shuffle when turning a corner (yes, I know most of you don't bother but, as I said, I'm a good driver) and told me to cross my hands. When I tried to put on the handbrake while waiting at a particularly complicated set of traffic lights, he told me not too and that, in Italy, the handbrake is only used when you stop on a hill. This means you can be sitting at a set of traffic lights (as I was) for five minutes with your foot on the brake and clutch, hoping to god nothing slips. And while I was waiting to turn left (across the stream of traffic) he actually turned my steering wheel so that if anyone had hit me from behind, we'd have been shunted into the oncoming traffic. It's madness I tell you.

Still I'm going back for a couple more, then I'll want a special 'driving on the motorway' lesson. After that, I think I'll be set. Watch out Italy, here I come.

The list diminishes...

The day after I moved into the house I started a to-do list (and a to-buy list but that's a different matter). I have been slowly but steadily working down that list and I've almost done everything on it. It is a wonderful feeling to cross things off.

So here's a quick run through of what I've been up to. I've opened a bank account, bought a washing machine (and already started working it to death - I will get my money's worth!), put in new kitchen lights (finding the particular bulbs has been a pain the in the proverbial which is probably why they weren't replaced before), got onto the internet (I'm using a key and I'm not 100% convinced that it's a good thing, I may yet get broadband), put my jewellery out on display so that I can start wearing it again and put my Chinese calendar up. All fairly small things but each contributes to a feeling of satifaction. There is one more thing...



I have been sooo brave! I've actually booked a practice driving session with a local driving school. Now I can legally drive here using my British licence but they do drive on the wrong side of the road (when they aren't driving down the middle) and everything (except the pedals, I hope) is on the other side in the car. I'm starting with one lesson and we'll see how that goes but I suspect I'll need more than one, not because I'm a bad driver - I AM NOT - but to build my confidence.

Spinning madly...

I am very happy at the moment.

I have started teaching again (always an enjoyable experience for me), I have managed to print off several of my photos and I've hung them on the walls - now all I need to do is get frames and actually arrange them! - and my washing machine arrived today.

Oh the joy of having my own washing machine. I had a week's worth of washing from before Christmas and then another week's worth since I've been back, in fact, I was down to my last pair of knickers. Cz allowed me to use her machine as I haven't been able to find a laundrette here. I'm sure there is one and I'm sure I've walked past it but in all my roaming last week I could not find it again. However, that is all in the past. Not only did I do two loads at Cz's but I've done another five loads here today (I told you it had piled up).

The house is finally coming together as I buy bits and pieces for it but, to be honest, apart from the washing machine, there's nothing I would regret leaving at short notice.

The reason I say this is that I'm getting mixed messages from the company I work for in Milan. They want me to work but they keep giving me incomplete and contradictory information about the contract (or lack of one) that I'll be employed under. I will have to go and see a tax accountant to get some impartial advice. If this goes on much longer, I could end up saying 'forget it' to them and going to another company who'll employ me on a casual (but legal) basis.

All good fun really.

Here we go again...

Hello my lovelies and a very Happy New Year to you all. I know we're well into January but better late than never I say.

My news:

Well, I've moved back to Italy. I'm now living in a small city called Vigevano which is about 30km south of Milan. I have a house of my own (rented not owned) but with loads of space. So much so that I use the ground floor as the teaching space and live on the first floor. This means I no longer have to trudge around Vigevano going from house to house and teaching in people's homes, now they come to me. Yea me! More time to myself, all my resources in one place and a teaching space I can customise to mine and my students' needs.

I will also be working in Milan although that doesn't seem likely to start until the end of January. If it was like the pre-Christmas contract, it will be fun and highly satisfying.

Health-wise, I've had a warning from the doctor about my high blood pressure and I'm on medication for it. The drug is working but it knocked me sideways at the beginning. I have to lose weight which means eating less and moving around more (neither of which are my favourites). However, I don't want to be on medication for the rest of my life so I get I'll have to get things going.

In view of that, the 90 minute walk I did this morning should have helped. It was only supposed to be a short walk (from the shopping centre home) but, somehow, I managed to turn the wrong way when I left the shopping centre and walked for twenty minutes (but into the most beautiful countryside) before realising I was going the wrong way. So, a twenty minute walk back to the shopping centre - I told you I went in the wrong direction - and then the short walk home (which actually took 50 minutes, mainly because I had to walk on the roads as the pavements are still covered in snow).

I was helped in this by the shopping trolley I bought. Yes, I have joined the ranks of the old ladies with the pull-along shopping trolleys. Mine is big and orange, and today I filled it to capacity with stuff for the house (kitchen stuff mainly). What fun!

I've opened a bank account, got connected up to the internet using one of those mobile keys (it's a bit dodgy but it's better than nothing), started making inquiries for a doctor who speaks English and had my first dinner guest. Ch came for dinner on Saturday and we had risotto followed by the most gorgeous salmon steak (I knew it was fresh as I'd seen it cut off the fish) both accompanied by a bottle of wine and lots of life-changing conversation.

Right that's about enough to keep you all going for a while.