November 12th 1999
Italy never ceases to amaze
- Just when you think it's an absolute disaster area, some quaint
'benefit' drops out of the blue to make you re-assess the quality
of life here. Tody was just such a day - My inlaws asked me to
fix their umbrella, one of those ones which collapse into a sort
of wet floppy truncheon after use and can be hidden in a breifcase
for the modern man who thinks that carrying a good old fashioned
Jermyn Street stick is poncey.
Alas, yet another example of the demise of proper dressing.
Anyway, the little brolly in question was in a sorry state - A spring had erupted from somewhere within and the whole thing wouldn't collapse. I repaired to my quarters and wrestled quietly with it for some ten minutes before pronouncing it un-fixable.
Not that Iam totally handicapped in the DIY stakes - For some five years once, I furnished almost my entire dwelling from articles found in rubbish skips - A screw tightened here, a lick of paint there -
"one mans' rubbish
etc..." I'm the last person to ever throw anything away
if I think there's the remotest possibility it can be repaired
and given a new (possibly even improved) lease of life.
When Idie, my gravestone should be inscribed "Here lies
the last of the great low-techies".
Unfortunately though I was uncharacteristically defeated by the
in-law's umbrella, and duly returned it to them in a worse state
than that in which it had ben entrusted to me earlier.
Some five minutes later however, an uncertain cacaphony issued
from an
electronic loud-hailer in the street . My mother in law grabbed
the wrecked umbrella and rushed outside waving it.
Not being a native of these shores, as you know, I was of course
slow to grasp the translation of the amplified cries of this
passing street-trader. However, I can now reveal his most opportune
message as, (roughly): "Bring out yer'old umbrellas! Get
yer broken umbrellas fixed here! No brolly ever turned away,
no umbrella problem too large or too small for our most diligent
attentions!"
So there you have it -We may have an appalling postal service
here in Italy, sickening levels of bureaucracy,irregular refuse
collection and occasional volcanic eruptions, but by some way
of compensation there also exists a small, dedicated and psychically
gifted proportion of the native population who make it their
business to turn up outside outside your house at the opportune
moment, fully equipped with all the relevant spare parts to provide
medical attention to the sickest of umbrellas.
October 26 1999
Yesterday the results of
our local elections were announced. it was a "Yes/No"
vote, the motion being "Yes, lets separate our local government
borough from Central Rome and have our own local government."
In our house we were split right down the middle. My in-laws
said it worked in Fumicino , it would work here. We maintained
however that the local government would be corrupt (not that
it isn't already) and bankrupt within a year.
Actually the central Rome council have spent a lot of good money on the boroughs over the past two years, new roads, renovated stations etc. So now the local boroughs have had their money, they just want to pull out and do their own thing - They waited till now to do it - Evidence enough that the local government (if elected)wouldn't intend to spend a single cent on public services once they'd got their money.
Anyway, sheer apathy won
the day - due to a record low turnout of voters,
the motion to split was rejected and declared a "No"
vote. We'll be staying under Roman rule in the next millennium...
Actually, elections in Italy are great fun. It's a bit of a social occasion. For a start, they have them at the weekend, usually Sundays, and generally the whole neighbourhood seems to come out to vote (this time was a rare exception).
Unlike England, where it's
usually raining and voters furtively slip into the polling station
stuff their vote in the
box as quick and possible and rush off again looking miserable
and agitated, here in Rome, everybody hangs around both in and
around the polling station, smiling and chatting in groups. Everybody
has brought their children and dogs, and the bars are packed
with people enjoying a post-vote caffe.
Also unlike England, instead
of the frosty, plaid-skirted retired sub-post-office mistress
types, in Rome we have bright young high school kids manning
the booths. It's all very relaxed and carries a nice party atmosphere.
October 18 1999
Actually this October rainy
season has given us some incredible skies - The cloud formations
are out of this world. In the morning we have red sunrises as
beautiful as sunsets. After the storms yesterday evening the
clouds broke up into several strata at different altitudes, some
mare's tails blowing along dark fast in the wind, and other more
cumular shapes actually
seeming to phosphorescently glow an intense icy-blue/green from
the inside, and all this against a near black sky as the storm
front receded in the distant east… it was weird but incredibly
beautiful. I would have photographed it for y'all and put the
shot up on the site, but skies are hard to photograph effectively
and I just know that at 72dpi it wouldn't have looked the same.
Anyway, I'm no Ansel Adams when it comes to landscapes
October 17 1999
Today I put a long sleeved
shirt on over my T-shirt and swapped my sandals and shorts for
jeans and shoes.
There's been a noticeable rise in motor accidents on the roads
round here recently... The reason? Well, the autumnal morning
dew makes the roads just that bit slippery in morning rush hour
- This always catches the Italians out as they never think of
leaving more breaking distance from the
car in front when the roads are wet. By and large, Italians are
not very good at handling rain, or sub 70º Fahrenheit temperatures
in general.
October 16 1999
Weather here finally turned
cooler this month. After five months of melting on the sidewalk,
I switched on the windshield de-mister in the car last Tuesday
morning.
Yesterday there was
torrential rain in the afternoon, but an hour after it stopped
and was only faintly drizzling a drop or two every five seconds,
they still had their umbrellas up, even the men. As a normally
weedy and mild-mannered Englishman, this was my big chance to
look tough as I manfully strode down the street with my brolly
firmly furled and buttoned shut.
Or the more likely explanation is that they just thought I was
stupid.
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