Jan 27, Day 17, Attention x5

I have some fun material to write about, but my mind has been focused on what’s next for me when my contract here ends in March, and if I have more adventures to play out before closing this chapter in Milan. I’ll spare you the details, but I’m sure you can imagine that not every aspect of my reality here is milk and honey. These decisions seem so indelible I can’t help but get a little bent out of shape trying to figure out if I’m doing the right thing even though I’m probably blowing things out of proportion. Ok. Enough of that- On with the story.

Paddy responded to my text message Friday night that he would be going snowboarding in madesimo/chiavenna, but I’d have to find my own ride. After trying without success to find someone else to go with me I was forced to resort to the bus. I was waiting outside by the train station before 7:30 in the morning, but was “Italianated” and the bus escaped without me. For a visual depiction of the exact scene search Italy vs. Europe, and watch the flash movie devoting special attention to the bus scene.

However, I dragged myself out of bed before 6AM to find a gorgeously clear and sunny, but chilly Saturday dawn. This was not the first time a bus sabotaged me and I was certainly not going to let a maverick spoil the rest of the day. I returned home, changed out of my snow gear, bought lunch, and headed for the train station. I decided my destination would be lake Como or Maggiore to see the snowy mountains over the water. Given the early hour of my departure, I opted for the more distant destination, and headed for Milano Centrale to get the train to Stresa on Lago Maggiore.

Although my train would be continuing on to Switzerland, which means a seat reservation is required, I found someone sitting in my seat. (-this was not really a surprise.) So I crumpled into the next group of 4 seats to zone out until my destination approached. Shortly after the train began to move, I noticed a tall, pretty, girl with long black hair, and the look of a fashion-model saunter by me. But instead of continuing into the next car, she asked if she could have the seat facing me. (That’s 1) This caught my full attention because there are plenty of free seats, and people on public transportation usually distance themselves as much as possible from the next person.

She began to argue with the girl who checks tickets because it seemed she didn’t have one. I carefully observed the whole affaire through glazed eyes, until she looked to me for some sort of confirmation, which also said “I see though your synthetic disinterest.” Maybe I should clarify that observing did not include listening carefully to this episode because it would take about 115% of my concentration to follow an argument. I sat up and began to lean forward trying to follow while they settled their dispute. In the end, I received another glance that gave me the feeling that somehow this display was put on partly for my benefit. In any case, I was pleased to take part as a bystander. (Too) soon enough she packed up her things, and said, “Ciao.” And left me with a smile I couldn’t help but to return.

I scratched my head pondering what had just happened. I would not argue that the Italian female is a difficult creature to understand, but here was a girl that spoke to me several times with me hardly deigning to respond from my own trance of tiredness. –An infrequent occurrence for me in this country indeed! I don’t think it would take a professional playboy to realize that she was trying to get my attention.

I consulted the conductor about the possibility of continuing on to Domodossola and eventually Switzerland. She hadn’t been there, but said it’s rumored to be beautiful and worth the trip. I decided I might try to have a quick look in Stresa and get on a 2:30 train towards CH.

I marched out to the lake to check out the view. Expansive royal blue water reflected the cloudless sky before giving way to mountains blanketed in deep green pine trees encrusted with white snowy peaks. I took a few minutes to ponder this magnificence but was interrupted by a voice. “Bel’goirno, no?” (2) It was a scrawny girl with chin-length hair and crooked teeth. Wait... (!) $%^&…(!!!) I’ve seen her before! @&#% I’m not used to getting marriage proposals, and I still had a pretty clear recollection of the last time I was in this town when this same girl asked for my hand! (See Oct 29) As incredulous as it would seem, she was standing next to me, like the ghost of Christmas past! I couldn’t help but unleash some of my exasperation exclaiming that I remembered meeting her last time I was here a few months ago. She was noticeably taken aback, and I toned it down an exchanged a few words of modest small talk before I told her I’d have to be leaving to continue my field trip.

At the next overlook of the lake I was taking a few self-portraits holding the camera with one hand trying to line up the lake and mountains without letting my face spoil the shot too much. I noticed an interesting diamond brittle-starfish pendant on top of a black jacket suggesting a certain elegance that you don’t see too often around here. She was happy to help with my photography and chat for a while. (3) It turned out she was a lawyer from London visiting for a convention at the grand hotel. I invited her to accompany me on my outing, but she politely declined professing that she’d be returning to the airport soon.

A couple with a playful looking papillon wearing a red bandanna around his neck asked me to take their picture with the islands in the background. They asked if I speak French (which I found slightly repugnant) to which my answer was no, but Italian, Spanish, or English are all fine before I was given the explanation of the functions of their camera in Italian. I was more interested in trying to get a good shot of their dog. I think it would’ve turned out ok if I had the flash on, but he’s shadowed against the bright blue sky and mountains.

I continued on towards the funiculare (cable care) declining a weathered looking captain’s invitation to take me to one of the lake’s islands. A young woman caught my eye struggling to unload a shotgun or a set of skis in a black bag from her car. I was curios in either case what she’d be doing with a shotgun, or where she might be planning to go skiing because there was no trace of snow down here. I couldn’t quite tell how old she was, but it looked like she was one of those with eyes one notch lighter than their hair – which is often intriguing though has less effect on me now because it seems more common here than back home.

Jan 25, Day 15, Mozart and Pizza

Yesterday I thought about going into Milan for an aperitivo/Italian lesson, but wasn’t sure if there was one, so ended up back home. After a brief dinner, I was going to head out to see the new 007: Casino Royale (yes, it’s dubbed in Italian so get’s the Italian spelling) at 8:30. I misread the schedule and found that the movie was starting at 10:30. Since there’s only 1 auditorium, the other film was a half hour into it, and I had not interest in seeing it anyway. So I left somewhat disappointed and walked south rather aimlessly trying to figure out what I to do with myself.

I came up to the city theater, and decided to take a look at the schedule of events. However, I was told there is no publicized schedule of events. (I suppose it’s a cultural thing.) Nevertheless, there was a show playing tonight. I interpreted the program to be the Milan Symphony playing Verdi, and bought a ticket for 10 euros. After I had taken my seat in an auditorium slowly filling with elderly folk, I took a closer look at the program to find that I was actually going to hear a quartet playing Mozart-Clementi’s 40th and 41st symphonies. This was fine because I think Verdi is mostly an opera writer, and I like Mozart’s 40th. Further inspection of the program said that the violinist would be playing a 1703 Stradivarius Violin. (!)

I think this was my first time hearing an instrument that was made before the United States was recognized as a country –And one that is probably valued in the same price range as a Ferrari. (I’m gonna need someone to check my estimations on that one.) To be honest, I thought the sound this relic was a little mellow for my tastes. Sure it could sing as sweet as…(looking for a word…) ambrosia? –I’ve never tried it. But it didn’t seem to rise to the occasion when it was time to belt it out. Maybe I just need to sit closer-- or adjust my hearing.

In any case, it made me miss playing with a group, and brought back some old memories.

I remember walking back thinking I had some more interesting commentary for you, but I went to bed, and now I can’t remember what I wanted to write about other than that I was probably the youngest one in the theater besides the flute player by 15 years, and probably 35 below than the median age. Now I don’t want you to think I’m complaining about not being old. Quite the contrary; I just wish I had more contact with other young professionals.

Tonight I was supposed to go for a pizza with a couple guys from work, but they’re now 25 minutes late, and I’m beginning to wonder if I’m going to be eating the pizza by myself. But I think I’m making the adjustment of returning to solitary life quite well. At first it was difficult. Coupled with the gloomy weather, I was going bananas by having nothing to do, and no one to keep me company while I did it. I think it’s strange to live on a planet suffering from overcrowding yet feeling pretty alone out here.

Time to go for the Pizza. I’ll continue this later.


Pictures of Pavia

Jan 23, Day 13, Just another day in...

After a slow start to the week, I felt like today was a better day although the weather has dampened. I snoozed for 15 minutes instead of doing my pushups and then zoned out at the table with a shot of coffee and my favorite magazine while I ate my standard ration breakfast of eggs and cereal. I wonder if my exposure (and ingestion) of nearly 1000 eggs yearly places me in an elevated risk group of contracting the bird flu. I dressed in short sleeves because I think being hot all day in the office does not help my attitude. I wonder if anyone has ever left the company because they couldn’t stand the office climate.

The bus arrived an additional half hour later than its usual tardiness because of the rain, but I didn’t really mind because I was happily trying to finish Herb Cohen’s, You can negotiate anything. I have 8 pages to go. I cringed when then the old wagon finally pulled up because the windows were clouded with condensation on the inside. I took a deep breath and climbed aboard. It reminds me of when we used to pack the weight room in high school so that the mirrors would fog in the summer. –Not really the environment I’d like to be in when I have to wait until I get home at the end of the day to shower. I continued cranking though the book, but the film on the windows so obscured the dreary landmarks outside that I overshot my stop and had to take the next bus one stop back.

I spent the morning looking for some data. After poring over a nice paper by a group in Finland, it was time for lunch. In the afternoon I decided to verify some of the measurements they presented with my own calculations. I thought my results sounded more reasonable than theirs but a false assumption on the location of the neutral axis could easy throw of my numbers, so I might look deeper into that tomorrow. Soon it was getting time to go.

After my usual stop in the grocery store I decided to go for a jog. 15 minutes into the trip my left leg started to hurt, and I walked back. A few minutes from the apartment I heard someone speaking English behind me. It was two guys in suits. In the dark I misjudged them to be businessmen, but they introduced themselves as Mormon missionaries here on an assignment -just out of high school.

After an unremarkable dinner, I’m left once again to occupying myself by pondering the questions of life. After reading an article on how down-to-earth Pam Anderson is despite being considered by many to be The blond of the century, the topic of tonight is girls. And more specifically, “Why am I getting to know so few of them?” I’ll leave you with an excerpt from the article, there is no distance between the person she is and the person she purports to be, no dichotomy to resolve, which not only makes her less complicated but also closes the gap between fantasy and reality. She’s the kind of girl you might actually meet in a bar. I’ll leave the commentary to you.

Jan 22, Day 12, Cupo

I don’t really have much to write about though my thoughts have been busily occupied cultivating a pensive mood fueled by the grey weather

(The rest of this entry has been left unpublished, but scroll down to find an update on Rome/Jan13.)

Jan 14, Day 4, Indiana Jones-ing it

I woke a little later than yesterday at around 7:30, did some stretching, massaged my feet, and was out the door to find breakfast, buy my train ticket, and do some more sightseeing. The owner of the hotel was a grumpy as usual, and I was happy to get out of there also. Today was the type of chilly damp grey days that I see a lot of in Milan. I bypassed the bakery where I was rudely treated yesterday, and began to ponder why the southerners brag about being so much more hospitable than the northerners, and the northerners go along with it. My experience with the service in Rome has not been the finest I’ve seen in Italy, although it is the furthest south I’ve ventured thus far. I found another bakery on the way to the train station where the service was fine, and the cappuccino was poured well.

I set off in the direction of the colloseo by way of one of the cathedrals I had been meaning to visit. I popped in for the 9:00 service to find less than 50 parishioners in a cathedral with room for several thousand. Rome is full of cathedrals. I wonder if there was a time when it was standing room only in all of them. It’s disappointing that these beautiful structures see more tourists than the real use they were built to serve.

After Mass I marched off towards the colloseo via a different route, and found an excellent view that looks just like the one you see in the postcards. There was even an X on the ground where they probably take the shot. The funny thing was, there weren’t many people roaming around this early in the morning, and only 2 other people had discovered my elevated vantage point. I bypassed the English-speaking tour brokers and gladiator-costumed guards charging for photos in search of a legendary keyhole that they say you can see St. Peter’s basilica perfectly framed though the lock.

Past the pallatino, I saw a wonderful view of the forum from a hill across the fields. My excitement began to bubble as I distanced myself farther and farther away from the typical tourist tracks where I visited some orange groves being kept as part of an abbey. I knew I was getting close. From here one could gaze over the city below and make out the cupola of the Basilica across the river Tevere. I poked my head into the abbey to find a wedding in progress. I went back out, and continued up the hill. In the next orchard I tried to line up a statue so that she looked like she was kissing the top of the dome. It would’ve worked better if I was a little bit taller.

Finally, I found the door! It was great heavy type a couple inches thick with brass trim and a large round keyhole. Sure enough, I could look though it and see a neatly manicured hedges perfectly framing the cupola though the morning fog! I tried to take some pictures, but it seems impossible to get the camera to focus on two things at once. Maybe it’s better that way. I felt the trip was complete now and I could go home happy. I hadn’t seen everything, but a few of genuine experiences away from the tourist trail in the Basilica, overlooking the coliseum, the orchard, and now this was more than I had hoped for.

But in my zealous picture-taking efforts to capture the moment, I failed to notice a van had arrived behind me, and an Italian boy wiggled in front of me hanging onto the door knockers to see thought the keyhole. He announced to his family that he really could see it. It was time for me to continue my journey. I stepped aside, and began to walk back towards the coliseum.

I bought a combination ticket at the forums, and hustled though the ruins in about an hour, so I would also have time to go into the ancient stadium before getting my 1:30 train. It’s amazing to think that this stuff is standing after about 2000 years. Buying the ticket at the forum was a great idea because I was able to bypass a huge line of people, and waltz right in. I found the coliseum more impressive from the inside than I was expecting, but the crowds of tourists were beginning to annoy me, and I was ready to head for the train by a quarter till 1.

Jan 13, Day 3, Tired feet

I woke early like a child who can’t sleep because he’s going to Disney World the next day. OK maybe jetlag had something to do with my irregular sleep schedule.

I threw an apple and orange in my pocket and was off in search of an Italian breakfast, (Pastry and coffee standing up at the bar.) I find the Italian notion of breakfast a polar contrast to the rest of their eating habits. You can forget grabbing a quick lunch from anything but an Italianized hot dog stand in less than a half hour, but it seems eating a pastry and drinking a coffee in 3 minutes while standing at the bar is the norm.

First stop of the day was The Vatican. The Vatican is the only city I know of besides The Bronx that has The as part of the name. I had a moving experience at the capital of the Church. I passed though the geometric pillars of the piazza to admire their life sized Nativity scene. Next to the precipe was a large, but Charlie-Brownish looking tree that stood dwarfed before the colossal citadel-church of Saint Peter. Entering the Basilica guarded by soldiers armed with pikes and dressed in clothes that were probably in style twelve hundred years ago I really had the feeling I was really entering a piece out of history. Inside, the titan carvings breathed in an air of vehemence compounded by the hulking pillars reaching heavenly to support a vaulted ceiling. As I meandered around the apse I noticed a side chapel (that probably has seating for 500) closed off for a wedding. I can’t even imagine what kind of person gets married there. Must be some sort of royalty?

After snapping out of my transfixion, I decided to head down to the catacombs where they have the remains of many of the past Popes. However, I was more impressed by a stone slab that they have inscribed the names and dates of service of every pope as far back as St. Peter 2000 years ago.

The Basilica is the most impressive structure I’ve ever seen-- considering it was made before cranes or power tools. (I’ll have to let you know if I still feel that way after I visit the pyramids and the Great Wall of China….) In the spirit of things I decided to climb to the top of the cupola by my own capacitance eschewing the elevator that goes half way. The view from the top will take away any breath that the climb left behind. But congestion caused by the other people at the top caused me to eat my lunch elsewhere, where it would be more peaceful albeit a less spectacular view.


Sistine Chapel
Marginality fighting, dog
Fountains
Lost
Mist

Jan 12, Day 2, To Roma

I woke before my alarm at 7:00 with the sort of anticipation of a kid before going to Disney world. I was hoping to catch a morning train to Rome, and try to get out of the apartment before the plumbers would arrive. Although they were scheduled to come at 9, they came at 8:30, and I was left to make my final preparations around them. So I locked my room, left the key with the portiniera, and was on my way. I read the lonely planet guide while traveling 250 km/hr on the way there, and called a few budget rooms before pulling into the station.

I selected the cheapest room with a private bath for 40 euros a night. Dropped off my bag, and headed out. My aim was to head towards the Roman forum/palatino, but I was distracted by some fountains and other sights along the way and found it closed with I arrived at 4:30. By then it was getting dark, so I headed towards the state building to watch the sunset from the roof. They were also kicking people out soon after I got there, but at least I had a few minutes to pan the scenery from above. They’ll be opening the elevators to the upper level in June, which will really provide an excellent view of the coliseum and nearby areas.

I continued my sightseeing in failing light and well into the night. Although I was looking for an interesting restaurant before heading back for bed, every time I reached a crossroads it seemed there was something more interesting just out of sight in the wrong direction. At some point in the night I found myself in front of the Pantheon. Later, at the Trevi fountain where I tossed in a penny I found in my pocket. Then to the Piazza di Spagna. I meandered back towards the hotel where I selected a place to eat, but the food was not impressing. I was even less impressed when I found there was no soap in the bathroom, and I had to walk all the way back to the train station to find anything open. I could barely keep my eyes open by the time I had showered and was ready for bed even though it was hardly past 11PM.

Jan 11, Day 1, Into the dream

The flight attendants turned on the lights at about 11PM EST/ 5AM Italy to begin serving breakfast. I was hoping to see the Alps this morning but it was still dark for a half hour after we landed around 7. However the Po valley was covered in its usual blanket of fog that distorted the lights of the cities below into an ethereal blur.

I chatted with a Jewish jewelry broker and then a group of 5 American girls waiting for our luggage. I chuckled as they flipped though their maps and books discussing how to get from the inconveniently placed airport to their hotel. It wasn’t that long ago I was bewildered by the same questions. I offered a bit of advice, and they asked if I would like to be their tour guide for the day. I think I would have agreed to if they were younger, but I held my tongue and left them to their own devices.

I sent mom an SMS announcing my safe arrival while I was waiting for the bus to leave the airport. Although I’ve had no trouble sending messages to Great Britain, I don’t think they ever make it to the US. I began to ponder what possessed me to leave Florida for this gloomy place as other passengers began to trickle onto the bus. I put on my only Italian cd called 883. I used to listen to it in my old car driving down to see a friend in San Jose. Malpensa to Milan is a different sort of trip, but the music brightened the morning gloom for me.

I was smothered by a rush of mixed feelings as the stazione centrale came into view. I was back in Milan: somewhere on the frontier between the absurd disorganization of the third world and the opulence of the fashion capital, where the scooters outnumber cars, cell phones outnumber people, and people drink enough espresso to put a horse into cardiac arrest, between the land of my ancestors and my home away from home, where elation and frustration play an continuous game of tag, but the food is delicious enough to metabolize almost any bad day before it becomes bitter. Maybe I have to be dreaming to understand the reality here just as I’m living this reality to realize one of my dreams.

I had several very “Italian moments” today to remind me what life is all about here in the “dreamworld”. They stamped my passport without using any ink. There also seemed to be a shortage of ink when I validated my train ticket, so I’ll re-use it. The pavers in front of the Monza train station look like they might be almost finished, but the whole renovation was scheduled to finish in the end of October. I guess that’s OK because I still haven’t been paid since November. It took 20 minutes to change 70 dollars to 48.94 euros without counting waiting in line first because off the “anti-mafia” bureaucracy involved. I bought 2 bags of groceries, but the credit card machine took 15 minutes to accept my card. I guess even machines deserve coffee breaks. Then I recharged my cell phone minutes where the girl at the counter was more committed to chatting about new years than attending the growing line of customers behind me. I returned with the groceries to the sound of running water as the kitchen radiator defiantly pissed on the floor. After I got it shut off and cleaned up the floor, I ate a prosciutto and formaggio panino in the sunlight on the porch with a glass of chianti from a 2 euro bottle. I was interrupted by a call from the landlord asking to arrange an appointment with the plumber at 9AM and for an extra key if I’m not going to be home. The apartment came with an assortment of about a dozen keys for my 2 locks, but only 1 key fits, so I guess we won’t be using both locks this. I took a nap before dinner of risotto, artichoke, assorted cheese, bread, and home made limoncello and limoncrema with the neighbors. After dinner I tried to call home, but it appears both of my phone cards have been used up. I imagine people guess the codes and use them up for you if you keep them too long.

I’m taking the train to Rome tomorrow.

Jan 10, Day 0, Season 2

After a brief vacation, I'd like to welcome all of you to the second season of The ItalianJob06.

It’s the night before I fly back to Italy. I’m having some trouble sleeping so came I to talk to my old friend –the blog. It always listens.

It’s been a great holiday seeing the family in New York, and then having two weeks in Florida to go to an awesome new years party on South beach, see old friends, relax, play golf, go to the beach, squeeze in some windsurfing, and contemplate my next endeavor in post-Italy life. I’m not sure when exactly “post-Italy” will begin, but I’m starting to look ahead because things take time to setup. I don’t want to get caught on my heels without a fantastic new prospect if my client does not offer me a new contract this spring, (Or if I don’t agree to accept what is offered)

What do you think of Apple announcing their new iPhone? I predicted they were going to make a phone 6 months ago. Maybe I should be a fortuneteller? -Or at least start trading stocks again.

I think I’m ready to try sleeping again.

I enjoyed talking to a dolphins chearleader on the plane from Ft. Lauderdale to Boston before I had a political-looking guy kick me out of his exit-row seat. I moved across the aisle and had the row to myself. The chearleader moved up to first class.

I enjoyed some warm memories of Boston walking though the airport from Terminal A to E. Of course this included doing the usual dance passing though security again, and waiting online at the check in desk to get my boarding pass from Alitalia. Before long it was time to board the plane in a semi-orderly – semi-italian manner and say goodbye to America again.

My first impression of Alitalia was good. But that was the business class. I arrived at my seat: 12J, next to a kid wearing a thin headband to hold up his long hair. We chatted a bit and he told me he’s going to Italy to play on a soccer team. That seemed like a bold move for a 16 year old, but I guess courage is a prerequisite of being a champion.

I thoroughly enjoyed finishing the rest a book I got for Christmas, The Bella Figura, before dinner was served. I’ve really appreciated this satirical book on the psychology/psychosis of the Italian mind because I can totally relate to just about everything he talks about. It’s kind of like my blog on steroids. –Or crack. I think it’s a must read for anyone planning to spend more than a few days in Italy.

After dinner I struggled to go into hypersleep because my seat wouldn’t recline and there was a baby crying loud enough to pierce though my earplugs on and off for the whole flight.

Happy Holidays

Just a copy of my Christmas card with a photo from Milan