Robe

Hello y'all

I'm writing this partly to kill time today. I'm pretty bored to be honest, and if you're reading this then you're more than likely to be too. If not now, then definitely in a couple of minutes.

Ya see today I'm on holiday. I was meant to be going to Rome to visit Stevie, then that was cancelled, but my lessons for today had also been cancelled. Therefore, I'm just kicking about. Shooting the breeze. Wasting your time. Choose as applicable.

For the past 9 months, I've been paying 30% tax. It's not through any particular good will on my part, that's just how much the government takes. But now the financial crisis doesn't only exist in banking and the newspapers, but is wreaking terrible damage on TEFL land as well. The idyllic landscape of beautiful teachers running through meadows filled with singing birds and beer-filled streams has been replaced by a dark, barren landscape where hideous hunchback mutants shuffle along the dark path beside the stream, wincing at the putrid smell of the tramps pee that's replaced the beer which replaced the water. Yes, it's that bad.

Sooooooo.......................... I've been paying 30% tax, which seems a bit steep, even when the financial waters are as untroubled as a newborn. However, as is now the case, the waters are now (maybe a little) reminiscent of Joaquin Pheonix's grip on reality (or is it all just a publicity stunt? Do I care? No, not really, but was I struggling to come up with something suitably current and troubled? Yes.), so I need to do everything to maximise my earnings while not actually working any harder. See, because companies now have slightly less money, they are less willing to pay for their students to have English lessons, even when their teachers are witty, urbane, dashingly good looking types. My students have also had their lessons cut. Therefore, just as a melting snowcap trickles eventually into a vast body of water, so these cuts at the top of the figurative mountain are now having an effect on Loch Michael and its all too shallow finances. So, to cut a long, albeit illustrative if a little punctuaution heavy point short, my hours are down, and I have less cash. This is why I mention tax. There is a way of reducing your tax rate down to 25%, which to be honest, I'm not entirely clear about, but I understand that having what the Italians call a 'Carta di soggiorno' helps a great deal. This is essentially me telling the government that I'm here.

In order to get one of these, you have to first have the patience of someone with a lot of patience. Which is kind of perverse, having seen people drive here. But anyway, this morning I went along to the Post Office where I hung about for a while before getting the relative document to complete. I was quite pleased though, as the attendant lady said well done about my Italian. Get in! After 9 months I can make a simpe request in the Post Office! Rather than making this form a straight forward task for the non-Italian, the document is about as difficult to comprehend as people believing in Scientology. (Seriously, lizards? Who ever heard of such a thing?) So, after making a pigs ear of the first copy, I think I understood it enough and went to hang about in the Post Office again for a fresh copy. Now, I only need to send it away, cross my fingers, toes and testicles, and hey presto, in no sooner than a months time the government will know I'm here!! Yay for bureaucracy, Italian-style!!

Next week I creep closer to death, officially, as I turn 26. I realised the other day that I'm now closer to 50 than to 0, which is sobering. However, I don't remember being 24 never mind 0, so I'm not too bothered by this. To mark the special day my mum and dad will spend half the day in Italy with me before going to enjoy themselves in France for their proper holiday. It'll be nice to see them and to show them the city. It shouldn't really take too long, but still, quantity not quality, as they say. Oh, wait, that's wrong. But Genova is short of both, so I guess it'll have to do.

I hope this hasn't been too rambling for you, if it has, you've probably not made it this far, so I think you smell and look funny.

G'day

A little bit more

Ciao i miei amici

Today's only going to be a short post, I promise, but I'm facilitating your skiving, so I hope it's ok.

On Sunday I went to the football armed with my Genoa songs. If I had been genuinely armed I don't think that would've been a problem, as the 'security' is pretty lax. The only time I've been searched was when I went to see Sampdoria with Simone, and they searched my bag for weapons. All I had was textbooks, so I was free to pass. Without wanting to be discriminatory or cruel, alot of the security people seem to have special needs, which makes me wonder about their suitability. I'm sure they're just as likely to do as bad a job as a regular Italian, but still.

The inadequate Udinese were sent back north (or maybe south or west, I don't really know. The important thing is they were sent packing) with their tails between their legs and with a 2-0 defeat. Forza Genoa!!!! In an unusual twist to the story of the season so far, the referee seemed to be for Genoa, which was nice. I've had several Sampdoriani complain to me that Udinese were robbed, but it generally seems to be the other way around, so I think we should be allowed to have one dubious victory. The game wasn't particularly good, but as any manager will tell you, it's the result that counts, even if it'd be nice to have a performance to match. No matter, 2-0, job done, Champions League here we come. Maybe. It was pretty cool at the stadium - the usual flags were a flying, but also with lots of confetti, glitter and receipt rolls being thrown. These seem to work in the same way that toilet roll does in Britain. Alot of shops would have been struggling to give out receipts on Monday, as there was a lot of this. Coincidentally, you have to be given a receipt for absolutely everything, and if you don't take it, you can be arrested and charged with aiding tax evasion or somesuch nonsense. Crazy.
Rather excitingly, in the second half someone a couple of metres in front of me lit a flare. I've only seen them from a distance, so to be close to one was quite exciting. That said, I am aware that they're dangerous things, so made sure there were a few children between me and the actual burning flameyness.

I then went home and watched Liverpool thrash Aston Villa 5-0. Brilliant.

Now for links to stuff:

If you, like me, enjoy music, there's a pretty good internet radio station called Deezer (http://www.deezer.com/) which seems to have every song ever and you can pick what it plays. This is quite cool, although the radio stations are a bit odd in their categorisation of music - I'm listening to Classic Rock just now, and alot of the songs are not what I'd describe as 'Classic', and some are decidedely not rock.

Also, if you want to see an absolutely belting free kick, I suggest you look at Ibrahimovic's goal second goal against Fiorentina from a couple of weeks ago. A better strike you will not find:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N7ggEbhOoJs

I saw a video on Facebook from a guy from Portobello who filmed a rap song on the prom. It's quite good, and nice to see the old stomping ground. If you're interested:

http://www.facebook.com/ext/share.php?sid=57141178198&h=Er89r&u=z-Ps6&ref=mf

And finally, because my mum had to make do with only a phonecall on Mothers Day, and also because she loves a bit of shameless promoting, here's a link to one of her vidoes:

http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&VideoID=20720831

I think that's enough for today.

Ciao per ora

Happy Mother's Day!!

Hello my friends and family

So, yes, in Britain, today is Mother's Day. So, to reiterate the title of todays nonsense, Happy Mother's Day mum. Also, if you're not my mum but you're a mother, Happy You Day. On Thursday it was Father's Day here, but as my dad isn't here or Italian I neglected to wish him a Happy Father's Day. To have two, plus his birthday would be too much, especially as there is no Middle Child Day. I have to make do with only my birthday until I bear offspring. Truly, I believe this is the best reason to have kids. I might try to have several in each of the countries I journey through, thus multiplying my potential gifts from my no doubt adoring brats.

Not really that much new stuff to tell you (but I've still managed to whitter on for ages). I must admit that I was a little nervous about my last post as I know that some of my students read this (why? Most of this isn't grammatically great, and is full of in jokes and slang.) But yes, I felt a bit nervous about taking shots at Italian TV and it's godawfulness. One, (hello Stefania) asked why I only watched the worst of Italian TV. It's very hard to see the best of Italian TV, as I understand that it's on very late, or is segued between gameshows and adverts. Also, I don't have all of the TV channels, as the reception isn't great on all my channels. So, I will continue in my (possibly mistaken and unfair) belief that Italian TV's crap. To find out anything different, would frankly require effort, and to quote Jesus (probably not, I don't know, I never knew him, although I think some might say we all know him) "I can't be arsed". The thought of deciding something, then changing one's mind seems like unnecessary mental hardship, which as you may or may not know, is not something I've ever rated too highly.

That said, I am awfully happy here. Happy is maybe forcing an adjective on something which I don't really think about, but I'm certainly settled here. I was talking to someone, don't remember who, and Italy has yet to annoy me or kill me inside in the same way at had for them. When I see someone driving through a red light, or generally being reckless; when I get pushed by an old woman on a bus, I just smile. These things I'm sure are chipping away at my resolve, but at the moment I still have enough of a reserve of resolve to not be utterly sickened by the whole country. I like living here as a foreigner, as I don't really have to care about the mess the country's in. If I was an Italian, I think I'd be horrified by it all, but as that's not the case I find it charming, safe in the knowledge that when it all get stoo much I can retreat to Scotland where the politicians are just as inadequate, but at least they don't control everything and if they drop the ball in a criminal sense they can be prosecuted, and probably won't return to a position of power. Here, it seems like the more suspect you are, the more cases that have been brought against you, the higher you can get. How many countries have a leader who brings in laws saying he can't be prosecuted for anything, that are hey, just before a case was going to be brought against them? I may cynical, but I think that's a bit fishy.

Also, Italian is a really nice language. It's quite unusual for me, as the vocabulary seems awful flowery, but it's also quite beautiful. In Britain, if a footballer is interviewed, you can expect the usual monosyballic phrases peppered with cliches. Yes, the game was difficult, and yes the boys done good, but still, please say something else. A great example of the Italian language is a recent interview with Alex Del Piero:

“Football is a team sport, but there are infinite moments of solitude where you concentrate and thoughts run through your head before a game.
“Joy is also shared and yet personal, as after a goal or a victory there is this ecstasy where you don’t understand what’s happening, throw your hands right and left, close your eyes and your teammates jump on you. Those are the sublime moments that sport can give you.”

Now, I may be an old fool, but I think that's really nice.

It's only a few months til my passport drags me back to Scotland, and to be honest, I'm not really looking forward to it at all. Of course, it'll be nice to see my family, friends and animals, but I'll be home for three months, which seems like a long time. I'm sure it'll be good, but I like ruts, and I've settled into my current one quite nicely. I think this rut was designed specifically with me in mind.

And now my weekly chat about football: A couple of weeks ago I went to the Genoa v Inter game (we lost 2-0), and I took my camera. Unfortunately, I'll never be a wildlife photgrapher, as I saw someone underneath me with a flare and I thought: "That'd make a good photo". Sadly in the time my brain had processed this (I'd had a few beers pre-match) and I switched on my camera, the flame had gone out and I was left with this:

I'm off to see Udinese get spanked this afternoon, and for the past few weeks I've wanted to get some lyrics for the songs here so I can sing along. Finally on Friday night I found the two that I was after. Here they are (if a student is reading this and can verify that they're correct, I'd be immensely grateful)

1) Per te per te per te io canto per te,

Ovunque tu sarai non ti lascero' mai

Translation: For you for you for you I sing for you,

Everywhere you will be I won't ever leave

2) FORZA GENOA............FORZA GRIFONE.............FORZA GENOA GRIFONE OLE',

(repeat)

Forza Genoa ale ale ale, ale ale ale, ale ale ale

(repeat)

ale aleeeeeeeeee ale aleeeeeeeeeee forza Genoa ale aleeeeeeeeeeeee

Translation isn't really necessary on this one I don't think, but 'Forza' means 'come on'.

I look forward to stretching my vocal chords and sharing my lilting voice with the rest of the choirboys in a couple of hours.

Until next time folks, take care of yourself and each other

An enjoyable Saturday

Hello everybody,

First of all, what a fantastic weekend of sport! Yesterday (Saturday/Sabato) there were three big matches of the sport we call football. Man U v Liverpool, Hibs v Hearts and Cagliari v Genoa. I'm naturally a bit pessimistic about these things, as I've learned through wearily bitter experience that the more I anticipate something good, it inevitably turns out to be bad. So, I had steeled myself for, at best, two draws and a loss. First, I watched the pitifull Reds of Manchester crumble under the awesome force of the glorious Reds of Liverpool in a mixed state of irritation and awe. Irritation because we watched the game on t'internet and had English commentary. Although he didn't say this during commentary, guest 'expert', Iain Dowie would apparently like to marry Cristiano Ronaldo. Even though the Portuguese goon didn't play very well, Dowie lavished him with praise. Liverpool were ok, but their four goals were difficult for Dowie to see as he was so constantly dazzled by Cristiano's radiance. Still, 4-1, great start to the day.
Almost simultaneously, Hibs were beating Hearts thanks to a sublime piece of skill by Fletcher - not many people have mastered the 'shoulder-er', but now he's one of that select list. Skill, not at all luck. 1-0.
Finally, Genoa made the journey to the rolling hills and sheep loving people of Sardinia. As is so often the case, Genoa scored late on, and won 1-0 thanks to a header from 'Il gatto di marbo' (think that's right). This means the cat of marble, and is not an overly fond nickname for Ruben Oliviera. Still, a wins a win, and there should have been more for Il Grifone.
All in all, 3 wins out of 3, a perfect Saturday! I love football! (Until next weekend probably)

Now that I've' been welcomed into the warm and comforting bosom of technology (TV and internet), I thought it'd be churlish of me to solely read about football on t'web. So, I've watched a wee bit of TV. Needless to say, mostly programmes about football (of which there's an abundance, but very few that actually show any action. They're mostly just old men shouting at each other). However, I have watched two programmes that I've deemed worthy of mention here. The first is called 'Porta a Porta', and seems to be some kind of topical news talkshow. Talking heads talking about the burning issues and most important items of the day, etc. So, last week, there was one, with the title, 'Matrimoni misti quante vittimi?' Admittedly my Italian is not great, but the translation of this is not too difficult I think: 'Mixed marriages how many victims?' I know, I didn't think that marriage had a victim. Maybe they should make it illegal? But I digest. One of the talking heads was Alessandra Mussolini. She's, I think, the grandaughter of the other Mussolini that you may have heard of. Given that he was a fascist, and as far as I know they aren't down with mixed races integrating, I was surprised that they'd have her on. Although she's not as ardent as he was, she still leans in his direction. A range of opinions is important, but this seems a bit far.

Part of the staple diet of every TV station here are gameshows. Even more than Britain, they just run on and on until some old men come to shout about football, or the news starts. One of the gameshows that's on all the time is the Wheel of Fortune. The glamour girl who is qualified in standing beside a big screen and pointing at numbers is Victoria Silvstedt, who's a model type from Sweden. She is very striking, but in a crucial oversight can't speak Italian. But she's very striking. At seemingly random moments they play music and everyone starts to dance. She is always wearing little more than a nighty, and unfortunately, all of the cameramen are either midgets or NBA players. When she's dancing all of the shots of her are either veeeeery low, or from above her head. I've seen her pants more often than I've seen mine, and her boobs quite a lot too. Great TV, if a little far from the culture that Italy has a reputation for.

Sampdoria are at home today against Roma and apparently just scored, which is good for Genoa. When I sat down to spill this bilge into my computer and in front of your eyes, the fans were milling about like tiny foolish ants. Coincidentally, if, like me you're interested or amused by the collective nouns for groups of animals, a group of ants can be described as:
A) an army
B) a colony
or C) a swarm

The internet is truly a wonderful invention for pointlessly filling in blocks of time. Without it I may never have known that a group of jellyfish is called a 'smack', or that larks are afforded two nouns: either an 'ascension', or an 'exaltation'. Brilliant.

On that educational note, that's all for now folks,

Ciao

New flat, same demographic :(

Hello my friends and countrymen

Well, I've moved in to my new flat. I moved last Sunday, and in true not-particularly-intelligent fashion, I went out on Saturday. I didn't mean to, and in fact had many opportunities (all spurned) to leave the pub and go home. As it was, I was caught up in the revelery and stayed for the duration. D'oh! Last Saturday there was a carnival in Genoa, which was predictably lame (it was in the 'City That Never Wakes Up', after all). I went to see my colleague Clare sing with her choir, who sang The Age of Aquarius and were all dressed up as hippies. There were lots of other tizi (folk) doing stuff too, including a group who were dressed up as bottles of olive oil and parmesan. No racial stereotypes here please. I also walked past a black Pope, which was a bit surprising (and extremely unlikely, although maybe he was adopting "Yes we can"). Strangely there was a man dressed up with what looked like a pineapple on his head. Unfortunately as the only football geek Brit, no one knew who Jason Lee was, so my football chant didn't last long....

So, yes, I went to see Clare sing. The rugby was on after, so I hung about and went to the pub with her to watch it, and so quite reasonably blame only her for me getting drunk. I had missed the Scotland game, but watching England lose never gets old, even if the game wasn't very good.

Sunday was not a red letter day. March is described as a crazy month here, weather-wise, and so after three weeks of uninterrupted sunshine, Sunday (1st March) was raining all day. It made lugging my stuff unpleasant, which combined with the hangover was not ideal. After living for about 6 months with two middle-aged women I was looking forward to maybe living with young people. But as soon as I got here my hopes were dashed. Another middle-aged woman had already moved in! Also, last night another one came to inspect the other room. I seem to be like catnip to them, unfortunately.

Still, the flat's nice and big, cheaper, and I'm writing this at my window with a great view of the stadium. On Wednesday the foolish Sampdoria played Inter in the Coppa Italia, and I watched it on the TV with my window open so I could get the surround sound effect. It were braw! Inter were terrible and lost 3-0, a feat I hope they replicate this evening when they come back to play the mighty Grifone. There was a Columbian defender called Rivas who played for Inter, who frankly would look only ok in Scotland. Here, it was just embaressing. I have my ticket, and so will make the two minute walk to the pub and then the game shortly.

Here's the view from Wednesday. Pretty super-fly!

Unfortunately the flat's beside a very busy road, so it proved quite difficult to sleep at first, as the buses, cars, tanks and jumbo jets drove past. Now I'm getting used to it, thanks in no small part to earplugs. At first I was hesitant about using them, as my only prior experience of them had me getting an ear infection in Greece. So far, so ear infection free, which is nice.

I now have internet, which is nice. But actually having it has reminded me of what a boring thing I think it is. All I've done really is read about football and play a gangster game on Facebook. Maybe it's not the internet that's boring, but me, but I struggle to believe that!

Without wanting to use a catch-all generalisation, all Italians love nick names. Loads of things have nicknames, from football teams (Giallorossi = Roma, Grifone = Genoa, Bianconeri = Juventus) to politicians (Il Cavaliere = Berlusconi). Italy also has quite a deferrential culture, with the polite form of addressing people that you don't know, and also those that command respect. The football coaches are called 'Mister' (pronounced 'meester'), and so I was very pleased when I was called this in a coffee shop. In the same place, co-incidentally with the best cappuccino I've had here (Tre Corona, Via di Francia - some free advertising for their kindness), the manager guy calls me Bionda (blonde), which is quite cool I think. It's much better than all of the other things that people shout at me, most of which I choose not to understand! Strangely, the guy I'm going to the football with now calls me Nimmo. It seems that no matter what country I'm in, people have a natural aversion to the name Michael. I don't mind, but I thought it was a bit strange. That said, people do call each other by their surnames here sometimes.

Well, I think that's it for me for now.

Adios mi amigos