Killing time

Hello friends, relatives and countrymen.

I'm currently killing time, hence the title of this post. My timetable suggested I was teaching in the exciting (I'm being sarcastic) locale of Cortemaggiore, which is near Piacenza. To get here, I had to get a train at 6.30 this morning. When I arrived, the receptionist looked surprised and said my class was at 2. Upon further checking; my timetable was wrong, I'm stuck in a town with nothing, and I have 3 hours to kill. Tmesis is when you split one word up and insert another word in the middle of it. Being stuck here is fan-bloody-tastic, I have to tell you. I'm going to read my book and practice Italian, so it's not all bad, however, like a red-necked McCain supporter or a pint of Guinness, I'm bitter. I could and should really, still be asleep.

Mmmmmmm.........Guinness.

What else can I tell you about my Italian adventures.....

Yesterday I was on a bus to my last lesson of the day. It was already running late as there were diversions-a-kimbo all over town, and then we went round a roundabout. I say "went round", which is strictly true, however, it took a while. It was a bendy bus, and the driver misjudged the angle he needed to take, so drove into a bollard. We then reversed a tiny bit, then advanced a tiny bit for a good (bad?) 20 minutes. If you've seen Austin Powers when he gets stuck in the corridor on his wee cart, you'll get the picture. Lots of passing motorists beeped their horns, then got out of their cars and positively thronged about the bus, each adding their thoughts, which I imagine went along the lines of: "Well, you've made an arse of that, haven't you? I suggest you get out of my way so I can go and do whatever vitally important task normally requires driving along pavements and my generally being reckless." Meanwhile my fellow passengers had developed a comraderie reminiscent of that seen during the blitz. I expected people to crack out flasks of tea and biscuits, accompanied by a stirring rendition of 'We Shall Not Be Moved'. Instead everyone just sweated. I phoned my school to let them know I'd be late, which was misinterpreted, and they thought I was hurt. I wasn't, you'll be indifferent to hear. It turns out my lesson was cancelled anyway, so the whole episode was an exercise in futility. But at least it gave me something to waffle about here. Everyone's a winner.

Tattoo news: Following a previous post regarding tattoo's (I said I wanted to get the lighthouse, which is a landmark in Genoa), my mum (Hello mum, I'm on t'internet) wrote to me to say that lighthouses are phallic symbols. I think people think I'm a phallus often enough as it is, so I've decided not to be branded with one. Instead I'm going to get the outline of Italy with the tricolore in the middle. It's hard to explain, but I seem to remember the Italia '90 logo was similar. I've drawn it, so will put a picture up. I'm not going to have Sicilly as the football though. Don't know when I'll get it, as I'm skint just now, but I really fancy getting it done soonish.

Last Sunday, while Hibs were being thwarted by Hearts, I went to see Genoa play. They're the people's club in Genoa, and everyone apart from Simone (he supports Sampdoria) had said I should go and see them. I went with one of my students, and we were in the lower section of the Gradinata Nord. This is where all the atmosphere is generated from. It was really excellent. They never stopped singing for the whole match, and there were more flags than you could shake a flag pole at. Through these, and the smoke, I caught glimpses of the match, which Genoa won 1-0. It were braw. I was slightly concerned when Andrea, my student, said that if Genoa scored, I should be ready to run to the front of the stand. As everyone, myself included, was standing on their seats, this seemed like an ideal way to, at best, break a leg. In the end, when Genoa did score, there was just a lot of jostling, and thankfully no injuries. It added an extra element of dangerous excitement to proceedings, which frankly, was quite a thrill. I bought my ticket for the side stand, known as the Gabbia, but in this section they just leave a door open through to the Gradinata. In a charming reflection of Italy and the Italian spirit as a whole, there is no crowd control, and so people just do what they want. I can't resist walking through open doorways, so I did. It was well worth the 25€ admission charge.

I tried to take apicture on my feeble Italian phone, but it wasn't great. I'll take a better camera next Wednesday for the game against Cagliari.

Untile next time party people, au revoir

Ho male :(

Hello

'Ho male' means 'I have illness'. This, I regret to tell you, is the case. My head feels like it's been sat on by a fat person, I have an unpleasant cough and I feel all light headed. Normally the latter takes a bit of cash to achieve, so I don't mind that, but I could live without the other two. I felt it coming on yesterday, so I thought I'd be clever last night and sleep with my window open. For some reason, the road beside my flat was uncommonly busy last night, and then when I woke up today, there was a large mosquito satedly-dozing on the wall. Apparently it had quite a big meal. I now have to clean my wall.

Anyways, enough of my grumbling. The weather here's been pretty good, generally. It was a bit overcast yesterday, but it's nice and sweat-inducingly hot and sunny today, which is nice, in a fashion.

I thought, in the spirit of sharing insights into Italian life, I'd regale you with the latest strange thing I've seen.

Katarina has a TV, so I've seen a bit of what Italian's loosely term as 'entertainment'. Although watching Columbo and Walker, Texas Ranger in Italian is highly amusing, there are three shows that caught my eye:

1) Guinness World Records. This involves regular people showing their amazing talents. One guy broke the record (but sadly no bones) jumping off a platform holding a bungee rope, then letting go when he hit the ground. I'm not sure why, and I'd imagine all you'd need is good medical insurance and a mathemitician to tell you how much rope you need. Usain Bolt, eat your heart out, that guy clearly is at the peak of his field. Roy Castle must be turning in his grave, but I'm sure he'd recognise the next 'record breakers' 'unique' 'talent'. It was a small Hispanic boy, who had a very hairy face. Serisouly, he looked like teen wolf. He was interviewed by a host, and although it was clearly a case of "everybody, look at the freak", she kept a straight face. I felt quite sorry for the guy. I didn't understand the interview, but I really hope he was asked: "So, when did you discover your talent for having a hairy face?" That would have been priceless.

2) Cantare Ballado (I think that's what it was called). It's a big studio, with a band and singer lip-synching along to some easy-listening schmultz, while old people shuffle about dancing. It's on everytime I watch TV, so it must be quite a ratings winner. I just hope that the creators of Big Brother in the UK realise this, so you guys can be treated to the same quality viewing.

3) My favourite, a football programme, where you don't get to see any football, but just a group of old men shouting each other. Again, I have no idea what they're saying, but it does make me smile. One guy in particluar explodes into a rage at almost anything, and he shouts and his face goes really red. In between them is a woman who clearly struggles to keep control, and regularly fails.

If any of you fancy a holiday, and seeing your old friend Michael, then I'm sure you to could be privileged enough to see these TV gems.

Any ways, I have to go and buy a ticket for the Genoa match on Sunday, when they play the mighty Siena. Massimo Maccarone (quitessentially Italian name there) plays for Siena, and formerly Middlesbrough, fact fans.

Ciao the now

Exciting times

Hello one and all,

I've had quite an interesting time over the past few days (although I'll let you judge for yourself).

Friday was pay-day, and the omens were not promising for the rest of the day when I got trapped in the airlock-style door that the banks here have. Basicially, you have to go in one at a time, and then wait while the first door closes and the second opens. Much to my chagrin (but everyone in the banks amusement), the first door closed.......and the second door remained locked. So, I was stuck in the doorway, gesturing for them to let me in. Oh, how they laughed, and I died a little inside. In hindsight, I shouldn't have eaten a large plate of beans and omelette before I went there.......

Thankfully, I did escape my smelly tomb, and got my money. "How best to spend this", I thought? The solution was not long in forming; I went to the pub. From there on in, the night descends into the mists of my damaged brain, but I can say with some certainty that Stevie fell asleep in La Lepre and as this is not in keeping with the Italian way of doing things, the staff called an ambulance. I (think) I tried to explain that this was not the first time, and that he'd be fine, but off to the ambulance we trotted. We spent the night in hospital; Stevie continuing his unconscience routine, which left me trying to explain what had happened. This would not be easy if I was sober, but alas, I was not, so my Italian was tested to its full. I'm not sure how they understood, but they seemed to, and he slept it off on a comfy looking trolley. I, on the otherhand, was consigned to the little chairs in the waiting room, which I believe were invented for torturous purposes. They should be up there with water-boarding as crimes against humanity and dignity. In the morning we left and Stevie went to buy some brains and tongue. I was all out of bravery, so turned down his kind offer to share them.

In other news, I'm generally quite happy, although as always slip into the dark abyss of misery with all to disconcerting regularity. I'm keeping my chin up, by and large, though.

I know there was something else I meant to say, but can't think what it is, so goodbye for now!

No buses for ages, then two turn up at once!

Hello again compadres!

After the blog-barren spell, when I trust you were all nervously updating my blog every 15 minutes for the next thrilling installment to no avail, you get two posts in the space of 3 days! Lucky people!

Not alot to say today though, I'm mostly just killing time until I have to go and get my bus for my last lesson of the week. I've read everything I wanted to on the BBC Football website, and after that I run out of uses for t'internet. I'm not really 'switched on' to it's awesome power I'm afraid web fans/geeks.

Two astonishing insights into the lives of Italians though.

1) Dogs
There seem to be two varieties of dogs here. Either tiny rat things, or massive bear/dog hybrids. Not a regular Kip sized hound at all. It's quite strange. The wee ones are all yappy and are apparently determined to be stood on by me while their (generally) elderly female owners totter down the street, zig-zagging like me walking home on a Saturday night. Meanwhile, the bear/dog monstrosities are big enough that they could quite easily escape their leads and cause havoc on a mildly irritating level.

2) Language
Although many an Italian might mistake me for a particularly pale native, my Italian is coming along slowly. It has some quirks that make no real sense when translated into English, such as when you talk about how old you are. Instead of saying "I'm 25 years old" (Sono 25 anni), you say "I have 25 years" (Ha 25 anni). Although this may seem triflingly small, I'm getting older and more cantankerous, and so this seems like craziness on a voting-for-Sarah-Palin-cos-she's-a-hockey-mom-just-like-me scale. Seriously, she's not, and she doesn't like Polar bears. Also she's an avowed creationist. Stupid, stupid Yanks. But I digest.....
Also, instead of asking "how someone is", they ask "how someone stays" (Come stai). What!??? When I point out these obvious flaws in their language my students generally say that they think English is silly for being different. Who's language is used almost everywhere in the world? Who won the World Wars? Exactly. Case closed. While I'm on this subject, they have six different ways of saying each verb, depending on who they're referring to, but one word for why and because. Why the amazing multitude of words for one thing, but strict economy on the other? Perche indeed (in the 'why', rather than 'because' sense, obviously).

Ah, that feels better.

In more Michael related news, I'm thinking that I'm going to get tattooed once more. Genoa is famous for many things (allegedly), but iconically has a lighthouse, which is quite cool. It's surrounded by Command & Conquer style power factories, but of you ignore them it's quite a quaint spectacle. It doens't seem to be on my memory stick, but I'll put a picture up next time.

So yes, thinking I might get that, with the light being projected the tricolore. I'm not sure though, this came to me in a fit of inspiration this afternoon, so will have to have a think about it. What use is the internet, if not as a sounding board for half-baked ideas though?

My bus will be coming soon, so g'day that's all for now folks.

Ta ta

Sono pigro e stupido

Hola muchachos!

It's been about two weeks since I updated you on my kerrazy Italian times, so thought it would be best to do that now. I'm at work playing on my laptop, and the friendly middle-aged racists who have an office downstairs don't password-protect their internet. Silly middle-aged racists! They're from the Ligue Nord (Northern League), which is a political party here. I realise that as I don't know them, that may have been an unfair description. They might not be friendly at all.

So, what have I been up to?

Well, I've been working alot, hence my lack of blogging lately. This week is apparently the calm before the storm though, as I only have 10 hours of lessons. Apparently next week the term will kick in with gusto, so hopefully I'll be rich, rich, rich, or at least not homeless, homeless, homeless. Fingers crossed!

My Italian still isn't making any great strides, although I do have lessons now, so hopefully that should provide the proverbial kick up the backside in terms of learning. I also have a (forgiving) lady friend, which is pretty nice. I realised that I've been back here for nearly a month, but I'm feeling quite settled, and didn't even notice the time pass.

I've been asked to put on a picture of my colleagues, so here it is. It's an old one, taken the night before I went back to Scotland in July, but barring a couple of hair cuts, no one's really changed.

Obviously the clearly sober, fiendishly handsome person on the left is me, followed by: Stevie, Clare, Clare's husband, Patrick (although we just call him Patrick), and Katarina. What a jolly alcohol fuelled night that was!

Last weekend I went to see Sampdoria play Juventus, which was pretty exciting. The game wasn't up to much, but the atmosphere was good, and it was generally pretty cool to go to an Italian game. It wasn't nearly as boring as they are on the telly. It finished 0-0, and there weren't too many chances, but overall, good. However, afterwards Stevie, Simone and yours truly went out, and at some point during the evening (don't remember when) I got hideously drunk, and made a bit of an arse of myself. To be honest, 'a bit' is actually quite tame; I was an idiot. Coupled with my hangover, and then finding out what I'd done, did not make the start of last week the most fun. Brilliantly (and kindly), my indiscretions have been forgiven. Huzzah! Having learned my lesson, I didn't even look at alcohol again until Saturday, when I eased myelf back into it's warm embrace with a few beers and gins. No stupidity ensued this time though. Good times.

Here's a shot of the gradinata nord (North Stand) of Stadio Luigi di Ferraris. Flags a kimbo!

I'm sure I have more astonishing insights to blow your mind with, but at the moment I can't think of them. No doubt when I'm eating my focaccia on the way home I'll remember them all. Just trust that they're earth-shattering.

So, so long, farewell, auf wiedersehn and goodbye. For now.....

Ciao ciao