Ich bin ein Sampdoriano ( solo per una notte)

Auf wiedersehn pets, and greetings from Italy, land of the sun!

The weather has been really cold for the past week, and I'm starting to regret leaving my gloves at home. I genuinely never expected it to be that cold here, but to my horror it has been. The knowledge that my gloves are keeping themselves warm in my room in Scotland is cold comfort, literally.

On Thursday I went to see Samp vs. Stuttgart in the UEFA Cup (hence the title). I managed to muddle up the stands in my head, so casually strolled to the wrong end of the ground, realised I was in the wrong place and had to run to the right end. Unfortunately the correct end had big queues, so I missed the first 10 minutes, and the Stuttgart goal. Extremely peeving. The rest of the game was ok, but neither side played particularly well, and it was mighty chilly. It finished 1-1. I was in the Gradinata Sud, which is the hard core fans stand. It was pretty good, although naturally not as good as the grande Genoa matches. There was a bit of a ruck behind me at one point, which was surprising, but in true Italian fighting style, I don't think anyone was actually hurt. Here's a photo of the stand, and also a video. I was thoroughly impressed when they started singing a Samp song to the tune of Flower of Scotland.



Tomorrow I'm going to see Genoa vs Bologna, so hopefully it's a bit warmer, and a good match.

I don't really think I've much else to say, which will come as a blessed relief. I'm back in less than 3 weeks, so will see your cheery faces then, I hope.

Until next time, take care.

Ciao

Now with added tongue

Bonjour fiends

I almost called today's post "I like a bit of tongue", but in a rare moment of self control and maturity I decided against it. But what am I referring to, I psychically hear you think? Well, in the spirit of all good dramas you'll have to wait until the end of this instalment to find out, or if you have the patience of a child, scroll down now.

But first, here are the dramatic pictures of the mareggiata (sea storm)I teased you with last time around:

They're pretty cool, I think you'll agree.
I said last time that I had bought myself a Genoa scarf to ingratiate and infuriate in equal measures the Genoa and Sampdoria fans, respectively. On Thursday I joined the Fisia Genoa Supporters Club (they're one of the companies I teach at). Not only am I the first foreigner to join said club, which seemed to please them, I also have a nice wee membership card, a discount on Genoa tickets and one free game per season. Plus, I received another Genoa scarf! Now I can wrap up super warm in the cold nights and also have extra protection against any roaming vampires. I probably eat too much garlic to appeal to vampires, but one can never be to careful with one's mortal life.

On Thursday it was my partner-in-wine (get it?), Stevie's birthday, so we went out for a few beers to celebrate his ageing. We also saw Quantum of Solace, which was excellent. To be honest I didn't really get the plot, but my confusion was assuaged by lots of violence and the car chase in Italy at the start was cool. The strange thing is that, having been on the roads here, the driving didn't seem too reckless.
In the pub we were quietly having our Guinness' (Guinni?) when my eagle eyes spied some cash lying on the ground at the bar. After some careful positioning we collected a satisfying 35 Euros. In deference to the gods of luck, we toasted them several times with our windfall. I knew that returning the cash to the guy at the start of the week (see last post) would pay off. Who says karma doesn't exist? Stefano, aka Wolverine, the bar manager, treated us to some shooters in celebration of Stevie, which were really tasty. Needless to say, Friday was not my greatest day, but at least my students could get drunk of my fumes.

A couple of weeks ago me and the burd went to a castle to see a Buddhist art exhibition. The pictures were pretty cool, and a lot more fiery and scary than I imagined Buddhism to be. The owner of the castle lived about 100 years ago, and managed to plunder a surprising number of countries in his time. There was stuff from all over the world, with lots of pictures of him striking poses in front of bewildered natives. It was all rather interesting, and a welcome shot of kultcher.
To get to the castle you could walk, but as everyone here is lazy, they also have a public elevator. It's weird. You go in, and it trundles along a corridor. It gives the impression of a ghost ride at a theme park, so I half expected a witch/skeleton to drop from the ceiling with a tinny sound effect. You then stop and it starts going up, much like a regular lift. An ingenious, if strange, way to encourage public slothfulness.

And so, we reach the final act of today's blog.
I've had a couple of chats with students about eating tongue, so on Saturday I went out and bought one. It weighed in at a whopping kilo, so was a bit pricey, but thankfully it was real tasty. The trick is to boil it for hours with veg and then enjoy. I had it with some salsa verde which is a traditional sauce from Piemonte (the next region over), so thanks to Giovanni for the recipe.
Here are some pictures of it, both before the boiling. and then the serving:

I must admit, touching it was pretty awful as it was very texturey. Once it had been boiled I then had to peel it, which is as unpleasant as peeling a tongue sounds. But, the pay off was definitely in the eating. As I had so much of it, I've still got lots left, so made a soup from it and have also enjoyed one or two tongue sandwiches (pun intended).
I'm starting to feel pretty at home, but Stevie is packing his bags for the final time at Christmas and won't be coming back next year. This will obviously put a bit of a crimp on my stay, and certainly on my drinking. The latter might not be such a bad thing, but it won't be the same, as my social circle will be dramatically reduced. As my mind changes more regularly than Spurs managers, I don't know what I'm going to do in the coming year, but I'll certainly be coming back here for a few months at least.

That's me for now party people, until next time,
ciao.

Very much alive

Hello chums and chumettes!

Profuse apologies for my recent absence - I've had my nose to the grindstone for the past couple of weeks, and so have had very little 'Michael' time, let alone time to keep you lot up to date with the crazy, helter skelter life that I've been living.

So much to say, so little time......

Starting in a rough chronological order:

November is traditionally a crappy month for weather here in Italy, the land of the sun. Indeed, for about 2 weeks it rained like dogs and cats, as I believe you Brits and Steve McClaren say. It's a far cry from the tropical autumn/winters I grew up with on the beach in Porty. (No, I'm not drunk, yet, but give me time!) It was really bad, and I even considered buying a pair of wellies. There was a 'mareggiata' (sea storm), and as we're by the seaside, by the sea, we bore the brunt of it. It was quite dramatic really, as the pictures I put here at a later date will attest

There were some pretty butch waves, and the airport was closed because fish were blown onto the runway. Expect British Rail to trot that excuse out anytime soon. There was also a passenger ferry that crashed in the harbour. It listed to about a 40 degree angle, which would have been squeaky bum time for those on board, I imagine. The next day I saw a newspaper billboard that read (roughly): "Disaster! 40 people hurt on ferry!" I was teaching Coastguards at the time, so I have it on good authority that only 6 people were hurt. It's nice to see that the Italian press work to the same rigorously high standards as the British hacks. Max Moseley would be impressed.

In general 'crazy dangerous Italian' news, I have two anecdotes to tell you.

The first is less of an anecdote really, but I hope you don't mind the mild mis-selling of my tale. On the autostrada's (motor ways) here there's a fairly relaxed attitude towards safety and control, and this even extends to regular streets. Apparently, you can only be charged with speeding if the police put out a sign to say that they're in the area looking for said misdemeanour. If they don't put out the sign, you are quite within your rights as an Italian to scoff at him and flounce off. Call me a traditionalist old fuddy-duddy if you will, but I always thought that if you drove faster than the sign showing the speed limit, you automatically broke the law?! It kind of makes a mockery of the whole 'speed limit' idea, don't you think?

My second tale of wanton disregard for personal safety goes thusly: Some excellent students of mine (take note any students who read this - all these guys passed their final exam) took me out for a rather flashy meal. The meal was in Aranzano, who for the fleet of mind/stockers may remember that I went their and burned in July. The meal was very good, but on the way the guy driving pulled over into a petrol station to light his pipe. We had driven for miles, but he thought this would be the safest place to light up. You may find it hard to believe having read this latest bout of verbal diarrhoea, but words eluded me.

I'm seriously up in the karma stakes, as the other day a guy was walking ahead of me in the street and he dropped a veritable wedge of notes. I picked them up and gave them back. He looked very grateful. I think they were his anyway. I now feel as if I can openly curse people, cross roads without looking and drive on the autostrada's without fear of retribution from the karma police. Only time will tell.....

I've also been paid, so to celebrate, I went out and bought some stuff. A Genoa scarf (nice), a flat cap (respectable old gent), and a jacket. It looks a little like a coat I have at home, but this one has a pretty red inlining, and needless to say was more expensive. Excellent.

Lastly, one more insight into the enlightened mind of Italian's. I was watching Who Wants To Be A Millionaire, and they asked the question: "Which invention, invented in the 1950's, has given women a lot of pleasure?" A: Curling irons for hair. B: Disposable nappies. C: Foldable prams. D: Electric steam iron.
To my neolithic brain, none of these seem to be pleasurable inventions. But, Italian's know best, and even if they don't, during the ensing conversation they will shout louder than you until you accept defeat.

Sorry to any Italian's that read this.

Until next time my amigos

Ciao ciao