Emiliano’s friend has already rented the apartment to someone else. However, I’m beginning to evolve a new strategy towards the coming months. I think I’m going to give up my apt in Monza anyway in June. I will either move to the center of Milan, or move somewhere else. I'll leave the motivation, criteria, and strategy unpublished.
I’m happy to feel that I have reached some sort of internal closure after the discordant thoughts of last night.
Inter, one of Milan’s soccer teams won the Italian championship today so people have been waving flags and beeping their horns for hours. I’m pretty tired to join in the festivities tonight.
It’s been a good weekend after a pretty monotonous workweek.
Antonio came to visit from Florence, so we went out in Milan both Friday and Saturday night. We pretended to have a tropical happy hour in Monza before meeting Lucy and a couple others for an hour before going to a party at NABA in Milan. I had hoped to see some girls at NABA that I met there Thurs, as well as some others that I’d met when I studied there in August. I ran into one of the girls that had invited me to the party though we only spoke briefly as she appeared to be leaving. Antonio and I roamed the grounds scanning for a familiar face, or other people that looked interesting to meet. I ran into Katerina just as we were pondering leaving to find Emiliano at another design-week party. She’s a girl from St. Petersburg, Russia that I met in August while I was studying Italian. We had been in touch briefly this week. I think there was a mutual happiness in actually seeing each other although we soon went our separate ways.
We found Emiliano and a few of his friends that I’ve been getting to know amongst a mob of partiers in the street. One of the first things he told me was that he found an apartment for me in Milan. (!)
I cooked fresh ravioli from the super market today that could rival the best ravioli I’ve ever had in the US. (Maybe I’ve had better stuff in the restaurants here in Italy, but that’s mostly because the sauce was probably also home made.) Go Italy for having superb pasta!
On another note, I’ve put fly screens on two of my windows today. Just like my apartment was lacking a shower curtain (or shower for that matter!) I also took it upon myself to install fly screens. Unfortunately, my landlord has asked that I don’t poke any holes in the wood frames, so my screens are secured by strips of velcro.
Everything has taken on a new shade of green. This is a color of spring that I have not seen in Florida or California. --The pollen may also have a more detrimental effect on the cough I’ve been fighting, but I have a feeling that this is less related to the seasons because it started a while ago and did not subside in Spain. I’m hoping a good night of rest will trigger improvements.
I had a lot of time waiting in the airport to finish this old entry. I think Mark Twain’s said, “If I had more time, I would have written a shorter essay.” However, this did not seem to come into effect today...
The kidney is not for sale
I had booked a flight to Barcelona about a month ago because I’ve never been to Spain, and some of my Italian co-workers have suggested that I might really like it. I picked the weekend after Easter because I figured Easter would be more crowded. The city was pretty crowded anyway, but I guess high season is beginning soon.
One of friends called a couple weeks ago to invite me to some sort of yoga conference that I didn’t go to, but this led to a conversation discussing plans for the next couple weekends. I mentioned I’d be going to Barcelona. (I think this was around the time I wrote the “Hotel Barcelona” entry but never got around to mentioning this conversation at that time.) She suggested that she had a friend living there and that I might be able to stay at her place instead of renting a room. So over the next few days I began to establish contact with her friend. She sent me her address, directions, phone number, photos of the apartment, then photos of her visiting Rome, and then Germany. Things seemed to be going a little too fast and were falling into place a little too easily that I began to get suspicious. I discussed these developments with a few friends and arrived at various conclusions. In the worst case this could be a setup to steal my kidneys to sell on the black market. In the best case I might make a new friend in Spain, or even get to stay the weekend without paying rent. The general Italian consensus seemed to be that this was a set-up opportunity to sleep with this woman. But they tell me that the other girl also wants me, which I find absurd to consider because she’s more than a few years older than me.
Yellow Flowers
There was a train strike on Friday so I decided not to go into work that day because it was going to take me even longer to get to the airport. I left at noon for a 4PM flight because I had to take the bus into Milan, wait a while, and then take another bus to the airport. Although the travel went smoothly, it still took more than two hours to finally get to the airport. (At least I was in the pleasant company of two girls born in Hong Kong that were studying in England.) I would have to take another hour-long bus from the Girona airport to Barcelona. This made the trip a total of about 4 hours dealing with busses, about 1 hour flying, and 1 hour waiting for my plane to leave bringing up a grand total of 6 or 7 hours traveling. –Funny how flying was the shortest part…
I left Italy on a warm sunny day that had me wondering if I should be wearing shorts, but arrived in Spain to find a grey drizzle. Soon after leaving the Girona airport we passed vast fields of bright yellow flowers that brightened the day despite the gloom. I’d made it to Spain and was excited to continue my adventure! But I was still unsure what I might be getting myself into, and since I had been unable to make contact by phone, I wrote down a few phone numbers of hotels before leaving just in case something was awry.
Tapas and internationals
I was feeling rather soggy by the time I arrived at the apartment. I sounded the bell unsure what to expect, but a sweet voice on the other side welcomed me inside. There was a moment of awkwardness in figuring out which language would be most comfortable. I think I saw a flash of disappointment on her face when I said I am not Italian. But after living in Italy nearly 8 months, I can see it would still take quite a lot more before I might begin to think and act Italian.
I got a quick tour of the apartment complete with narration of the decorations that included some of the photos, various artifacts, and souvenirs from around the world. I felt comfortable here, and was glad that my hostess was so welcoming. She even invited me to go out with her and her friends later, but I explained I was getting hungry and was thinking about going in search of dinner. So she offered me some Spanish antipasto at her house, and suggested that I could get some tapas later. This sounded great, as I wasn’t looking forward to going back out in the rain. We shared some red salami, cheese, bread, and a cup of hot tea made my sore throat feel much better while chatting through some more introductions.
The tapas bar was an interesting experience. I didn’t know what I to really expect but was anticipating a sit-down place like the Spanish restaurant we used to go to in Mountain View. Instead almost everyone was standing around high tables or near the bar littered with plates of colorful snacks. We found her friends who had already amassed quite a pile of toothpicks. Evidently they had been there for quite a while already. I was surprised by the mix of people: an American girl who had been living in Spain several years and married a Spanish guy (who was not present), an outspoken American guy on vacation from Japan with his two children, and another visiting for a month from Ft. Lauderdale. I was expecting to exercise my Spanish, but instead, found that more Americans than I’d ever gone out with in Milan surrounded me. (Although this was not really a typical group. Even the two kids were already talking politics at the age of 12 and about visiting countries that I don’t think I could find on a map.)
Barcelona is…
Barcelona took me by surprise as a clean, orderly, cosmopolitan contrast to the cluttered mayhem of Milan. The wide tree-lined boulevards make for pleasant walking and bicycling, and there were a considerable amount of tourists doing just that. The beach reminded me a bit of Las Olas, Ft. Lauderdale, while the numerous piers converted into a shopping mall was reminiscent of Darling Harbour, Sidney. However, everything is colored with a greater or lesser sprinkle of Spanish flavor making it unique in a way that could be the basis for some of the architecture sets used in Pirates of the Caribbean.
I like Spain’s Spanish
I didn’t get out the next day until almost noon because we had been up pretty late last night and I was still fighting the tailing end of the cold, so didn’t want to push it. I took the metro to Gaudì’s unfinished church-monument to the Sagrada Familia. Between the tourists and locals, I listened to the people around me speaking a potpourri of languages. I’ve noticed the Spanish here is markedly different from the Cuban and South American accents that I’m more used to hearing. They sing it more as though it may be influenced more by a French or Italian timbre. I still struggle a bit more to pick up some words, but I’ve decided that I definitely prefer the sound to what I hear back home.
I exited the metro and did an about-face to find the church towing behind me. I think its tall ornate spires have a strangely organic posture that I would later find is typical of much of Barcelona’s Gaudì-influenced architecture. I opted not to pay the 8-euro admission because the line was long and I didn’t feel like waiting. Instead, I began to make my way across the city with the eventual destination of reaching the beach.
I stopped for a few empanadas about half way across the city when it began to rain. I wouldn’t have picked this spot if the rain didn’t push me inside the first available door. The empanadas were good, though priced about double what I would’ve considered reasonable. After lunch I backtracked to the Pedrera, a museum famous for more of Guadì’s works and roof with panorama of the city and some very unique chimneys.
Surf: missing cali
I continued my jaunt stopping in the cathedral, and taking time to wander though the Barrio Gothic before the streets suddenly opened up to the harbor. I saw a monument to Christopher Columbus and a cable car stretching over the water to a nearby hill overlooking the city to my right. While an oversized mosaic head and a boardwalk leading past the piers ending at the sea were in front of me. I chose to walk straight and return via the piazza of the monument. I passed some loud Brits making an ass of themselves. Their faces were rosy from the recently glaring sun or the sangria. I guessed the sangria.
I crossed the piers and finally reached the sea. Big choppy waves had attracted some surfers, but the wind and the cold gave them exclusive use of the water. I took my shoes off and touched the water to trigger a flashback of Santa Cruz. I felt remorsefully far away from my days of surfing and windsurfing in California. When will I be back?
Multinational dinner
My host had suggested that we might go to dinner together if I wanted. I enjoyed the company of her and her friends the previous night, so I agreed to meet her at the apartment by 8. We went to a vogue hotel for a drink where we would meet some of her other friends. We searched for the others but didn’t find them so took a seat on a couch to wait. I had a strange sensation that the waitress treated us as a couple.
Late like a Latin
The group eventually assembled shortly before midnight (for dinner!). It was a diverse bunch of professionals. Some of them had done an executive MBA together others were random acquaintances. Out of 14 people, we had 12 countries represented. The median age was probably close to 40. I soon became disinterested by most of them with the exception of the Brazilian, the Filipina, and Flemish. The oil tycoon sitting next to me nearly put me to sleep, but he paid for everyone’s gourmet dinner so I guess I shouldn’t complain. Although in hindsight I would’ve preferred a smaller group of the people I felt more compatible with.
Club cuties
Then we went to a club around 2. I couldn’t really picture this group dancing much. And apparently the bouncers had some reservations for certain grey-haired members in our company as well. But eventually everyone got in. The tycoon bought a round of drinks and then the group began to spread out. I think some of the others went home, or went looking to meet new people in the club. I was very impressed by the clientele. There was a great female/male ratio with a median age closer to me than I typically find in clubs in the USA. I think I could’ve had a lot of fun meeting people here, but I felt it would be wrong to leave my host since it was nice of her to bring me along. I like her company though, so I didn’t feel that bad about not trying to meet some more of the clubbers.
Love lost
We left around 4 or shortly after even though the place was still hopping. It had been a long day and it was about to get longer. She saw some friends of her recently separated boyfriend on our way out. They spoke for a few minutes before she got emotional. They went back in the club and we started back to the apartment. This was not drama that I wanted to be a part of. --Especially at this early morning hour. As we walked home she explained that there was a guy she thought she was going to marry and have a family with, and now he was getting more and more distant. I guess I was taken off guard because I associate girls crying over boys with middle school and movies, but this was a grown woman in tears. I felt genuinely sad for her, but had no idea what I could say or do to console her.
Touched, Vulnerability
I put my arm around her as we walked trying to think of something to say. Nothing came out. I guess in a situation like this the better thing to do is listen then speak. After all, who am I to give advice about love? It has been a long time since I’ve had a girlfriend. (Some people have me thinking that it’s been too long, but that’s a different story.) So I offered to listen if she wanted to talk. I felt this was also a moving experience for me, -glimpsing into the deeper emotions of another person and force myself to consider some questions that I’ve been avoiding. I think this dialogue brought us closer together.
A global problem?
I woke late again and only had time to visit the Guell park before I’d have to leave for the airport. The park is beautiful, though crowded with tourists. It’s heavily influenced by the Gaudi style with points of interest along a path weaving though scattered groups of trees and open areas. I reconsidered some of the events of last night, and began to wonder how we have allowed modern society to appear to work against natural selection. It seems the poorest and least educated sectors of society seem to be breeding the most while less professionals appear to start families.
Benvenuto a Italia
I got off the plane in the Bergamo airport and asked the kiosk for a bus ticket to start my journey home. They only had tickets to Milano Centrale, and pointed me towards the tourist office. The tourist office was closed for dinner so I walked to the other end of the terminal looking for another ticket salesperson. I found a tabacco shop (which usually sells bus tickets) but they were all sold out. I returned to the tourist office. The clerk was back, but did not have change for a 20. I asked a café for chance, but they could only give me two 10’s. I went back to the tourist office, but this was still not small enough denomination. I walked to another café, but they did not want to change the 10. I started yelling after a third café began to balk at changing the 10, but they finally agreed. I walked back to the tourist office to get the ticket. But by now I had missed the bus and had to wait 40 minutes for the next one. It took me to the train station where I would catch a train back to Monza. But the train was leaving in 1 minute and this ticket machine had a line of 10 people. I found another machine across the station, bought my ticket and ran to the train barely catching it. Phew! What a way to be welcomed back to Italia…
Tag-a-long-friend
Florence was packed
No bus
Apt with a view
Greek food and dance
The cherry affair
Boboli
Train joyride
I went snowboarding with Paddy and Michael one last time this season. We picked Monte Rosa, (the highest mountain in Italy) in hopes of finding some traces of decent snow. Once we got off the autostrada, the drive turned into a beautiful winding road though increasingly steep valleys. Halfway there we passed the village of Varallo where I could see the Sacre Monte perched up on a mountain that I hoped to visit a few weeks ago. We continued into the mountains without seeing many traces of snow as we drove alongside a river beckoning the kayaker in me to try to navigate its waters. Later we passed signs for a rafting camp verifying that the water could be piloted.
We finally arrived at Monte Rosa to find it packed with people there on Easter holidays. But it’s a huge mountain, and though we did wait on a few lines for the lifts, they weren’t too bad. The snow was heavy and grainy in the blasting sunlight. In spite of using sun block, I got a goggle tan-line on my face. But I guess that’s OK because it says I probably had more fun this weekend than anyone else that doesn’t have one.
Early in the day I really started cruising down the mountain until taking a violent tumble that left long a skid in the snow behind me. I shook myself off as I began to rebuild my confidence taking it a little slower as the snow continued to soften. We had a great time exploring nearly the whole mountain that day going on and off piste. By the afternoon the snow was pretty much slush so I began looking for jumps off the growing moguls and various rocks and lips beyond the confines of the trails.
It started to rain as we got to the bottom after the last run, but everyone was content to end the season on such a beautiful day. I’ve been to the mountains 8 times this winter. I started off struggling to remember how to snowboard and finished being able to hold my own on some of the expert runs. I’m not sure where I’ll be living next winter, but I’ll be sure to take a few days to go snowboarding.
After two consecutive days of snowboarding at La Thuile, a fun time Saturday night with Emiliano and some spanish guys, good dinner with Paddy and co Sunday, and meeting a new girl, I’m in much better spirits than I was before the weekend.
We had a sunny powder-day Saturday. It was a 10. Sunday was greyer, but still a good time. I’m really getting the hang of snowboarding and can go down most of the black runs without being fazed much.
I’m looking at the full moon tonight and am wondering if is connected to the way I was bouncing around pretty chipper in the office today,
New calculations show that sensitivity of Earth's climate to changes in the greenhouse gas carbon dioxide (CO2) has been consistent for the last 420 million years, according to an article in Nature (March 2007) by geologists at Yale and Wesleyan Universities.
http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2007/03/070328155540.htm
It’s been another good week. I filed my third patent on Monday, had dinner with the Ambassador Tuesday, played soccer with some colleagues on Wednesday, enjoyed an Aperitivo with the girl from the train and her roommates on Thursday, caught up on sleep Friday to go snowboarding Saturday. I had hoped to go to a party on Saturday night, but I could not find anyone else who wanted to go out, and did not have the motivation to cowboy up and stay out until the 5:30AM train could bring me home. Maybe I just have to bite the bullet and go to a few student parties taking a cab home until I make a friend in Milan who likes to go out and has a couch where I can sleep until the trains start running in the morning. I imagine that I may be able to rent a car for only a little more than the price of a cab, but I don’t think I would be able to find my way home without getting lost unless it came with a navigator.
Rubbing elbows with some of Milan’s aristocracy reminded me that I should to keep pushing (harder) do great things and that I could benefit by surrounding myself with (more) capable people. There remains much to be done, but I take some consolation that the project of this most recent patent may have significant potential. At least one VC seems to agree…
Soccer was fun. I don’t have a whole lot more to say about it except that I’m surprised that this is the first time I’ve been invited to play in Italy.
The aperitivo was good. I enjoyed eating Indian food instead of Italian, and the company of other Americans. Afterwards we walked around the duomo and went for a gelato before saying goodnight.
I had a great day snowboarding in Switzerland with Paddy. There was fresh snow, sunshine, and almost no lines to ride the lifts and cable cars. Andermatt reminds me of Arapahoe basin Colorado in that it’s high and wide open without trees. They even have the avalanche warnings. The top of the mountain (Gemsstock at 2963m) is a crested pinnacle about 10 or 20 yards wide where both sides plunge off into steep slopes. From here the view opened broadly to the Swiss Alps partially blanketed in clouds.
Andermatt has a lot of off-trail skiing where we were able to ride powder about a foot deep. It took me a little getting used-to, but it was awesome once I got it. Snowboarding powder feels a lot like more wakeboarding because more weight shifts to the back foot, and the board can slide laterally though the snow without the edges biting just like a wakeboard can side-slip a little through water. By the afternoon I felt like I was planing the snowboard over the powder. Bombing down a black run seemed like the board only sank a couple inches instead of half way up to my knees like it did when I went slower. I think I may be hooked on snowboarding. Maybe even converted from skiing –Although skiing today would’ve also been phenomenal!
Despite the great times I’ve had in the Alps, I maintain the opinion that the USA has better mountains. I have yet to find a resort that can beat the views you find at lake Tahoe or the slopes of Colorado. Another observation: of the 4 mountains I’ve been to in the Alps, I have yet to find a single run peppered with moguls. I’m not real big on skiing the bumps, but I can appreciate the variety and added challenge they bring. Maybe they’ve been packing the snow more than usual to try to conserve it since it has been a very warm year. I even saw an exhibit on a glacier conservation project here. For the past few warm summers they’ve been covering their little glacier with a huge sheet to shade it from the sun to keep it from melting so fast. I think it’s a good idea when you look at the accelerated melting of our glaciers over the past few years but we need to make sure to focus efforts on “curing the disease in addition to treating the symptoms.”
I went to an Erasmus party with Ricardo and 2 of his roommates in a club called My Bali. I was pleased by the venue, but as the night went on the crowd seemed to get less and less friendly. I tried meeting a few new people, but didn’t really get far. It seems like a lot of the local Italian guys like to frequent these events to try to pick up chicks. Too much male presence can spoil just about any party, and this was no exception. I’d seen enough by 2, but had to wait about ninety minutes before we could convince one of the other guys that it was time to go. I woke up three hours later to inhale breakfast and then wait an hour for Mateo to pick us up to go to the mountains.
I dozed for a while in the car and woke to find us driving through a classic alpine valley dotted with quaint villages. The jagged peaks of the Alps reached skyward in the distance. We reached Cervinia and suited up in our snow gear although it was a sunny 65 degrees at the base. We took the first lift up 1000 or more meters to the base of the skiing area from which we could see small waterfalls of snowmelt pouring over the rocks below. Another lift brought us to some icy trails where the slush from yesterday afternoon had frozen into a slab during the night. Another lift, and then tow rope, and then cable car brought us to the peak of the Italian alps. From here we could look across the cirque to view at the Matterhorn, half hidden by a cloud. Patches of blue ice left from the glaciers of the last ice age remained tucked in some corners where they were protected from sunlight. And we could look down the other side of the mountain to Switzerland and Zermatt --only a few minutes away.
Before long it was time to head back to the bottom and drive home. I had a great time snowboarding, despite a slow start and little sleep the night before. I’m finally starting to get the feel of it. I’m really hoping we get some snow this week because the forecast says it will cool off and I’m hoping to go again next weekend. If not, I’m thinking about going to Norway for Easter weekend to get a few more days riding the snow.
I’ve gotta get to be because I’m still coughing since the day I returned from Tuscany. Tomorrow I’m joining the US Ambassador for dinner, so I’d like to be sharp!
Toscana Part 2: Firenze
I’ve wanted to finish the entry for such a long time that I don’t know if I’ll get around to writing it, or if it even pays to publish it this late. I’ll start with the outline, and maybe fill in some material if I get around to it.
Arrival. I feel superior because familiarity
Dumb-sounding Texans + Italian guys
Firenze has a supersexual vibe
Like college spring break
Model Show
Eucre American girls
The onion story and Daniela’s description of the game
(http://www.theonion.com/content/node/34198)
Rebecca and company
Party with Spaniards
Box wine and coke
The 4-5 cuties
Lots of talk but still striking out
Chianti, Greve
Wine tasting, wine opener
Hill Fiasole
Are Fiorentinos/Toscans more interesting than Milanese? Or my bias based on this experience?
Approach artist
(Farewell) dinner
Missing having close Friends/Companionship
I just came back to Monza after a good week of work with one of our partners outside of Pisa. I took advantage of the weekend in Tuscany to visit some new and older friends in Florence, and explore the hills of Chianti. After eating out 6 nights in a row, I decided to continue the streak, but change the cuisine. I had a terrific dining experience in a Japanese restaurant about 15 minutes from my apartment. I’m not sure what was more noteworthy: the fresh tuna and salmon sushi, or the beautiful Japanese waitresses. There seems to be a definite paucity of both around here.
Let’s go back to the start of the trip one week ago.
I slowed my brisk walk to the train check out a group of six girls loitering on Platform #12 in Milano Centrale. To my amazement, they were speaking English, and it looked like we might be riding the same train. However, my reservation was on the 10AM train to Firenze, in spite of the fact that I made it to the station just in time to catch the 9AM. The foibles of the ticket purchasing process blocked my attempts at from buying a ticket for the 9AM at 8:39. In any case, I was ready to board this train so I asked one of the conductors if there were seats available, and if there was a penalty riding with my ticket. He said it would be 8 euros, and I could probably find a seat around the middle of the train in the 6th or 7th carriage. I decided to go to the 10th carriage and sit in the seat assigned to me there on the 10AM train hoping to avoid the fine.
Coincidentally, the American girls were bantering together a few rows behind me! I settled into (my) seat and counted the minutes before the train would leave. But then a small blond girl approached me and stuttered, “Pa-paarli ingeles?” I beamed, “As a matter of fact, I do!” I was hoping this might turn into a more pleasant 3 hours than I’d planned on! So I made a new friend --a girl from New Hampshire studying architecture in Milan. Soon the rightful ticket owner arrived and ousted me from (my) seat, but I lingered in the aisle talking for nearly an hour before the conversation began to taper off and I excused myself to take a nap in an empty seat. The evidence is mounting up that I’d have quite a different (social) experience if I were living closer to the center of Milan. I regret not devoting more diligence to my apartment search, but living a handful of kilometers away from the action should not be enough to exclude me from the games if I try a little harder. –I just have to make a few more connections.
I woke up about a half hour before our scheduled arrival. The American girls were still talking and giggling in the background. They seemed like the loudest ones on the train. I eavesdropped on their conversation from (my)-(new) seat, but soon became disinterested in their nonsensical chatter about a guinea pig that had passed away during their younger years. I opened my new book about a seduction artist that I started reading about a week ago. I was finding the content more interesting than my last book, and I was hoping to make some good progress this week.
We arrived in Firenze, and I said goodbye to Ms. New Hampshire without ever asking her name. I thought it was a little weird to part so anonymously after talking about an hour, but I didn’t want to seem like I was prying.
Soon I arrived in our partner’s office outside of Pisa and worked though the afternoon on some coriolis force calculations for a mechanism I’m designing. I was happy to put them aside when it was finally time to call it a day. I strolled Pontedera looking to select a restaurant for dinner. I eventually selected a seafood joint and had a decent pasta dish and some fried fish that included a few bits of calamari that may be the best I’ve ever had.
I began to my stroll back to the hotel, but took a detour into a bar that looked way too happening to pass up. Inside was a model-shoot. I asked a couple of guys what this was all about, and they explained that this was for the spring collection of a locally made brand of jeans. The place was swarming with people. I felt consciously out of place in my white tee shirt in this fashionable environment. To my disappointment, there was an aperitivo large enough that I could have made a dinner out of it if I hadn’t already eaten. So I ordered a drink and decided to observe the proceedings. The fashion show ended, but the party didn’t seem to miss a beat.
At some point I found myself standing close to one of the models. She was a pretty girl, about my height, with long dark hair, and dark eye makeup that was strange bordering on artistic. The eye makeup made for an easy opener as she laughed that she doesn’t always go around like this. I was surprised to find her to be rather down to earth, and would’ve liked to get to know her a little better, but she excused herself and left with some other guys. Two men standing next to me approached in a way that might’ve raised my gaydar, but they were obviously more interested in learning more about the girl I had just finished talking to than they were interested in me. A bit later I found myself talking to another girl, and I eventually closed the night by collecting her phone number. I felt like quite the player when she typed her name into my phone and it said that name already exists!
I finally got to post some pics in previous posts!
I had a nice dinner with the neighbors on Friday night, but couldn’t really find much to do afterwards so sawed at the violin for a while and went to bed early feeling a little defeated yet having fought nothing.
I woke up and went jogging in the morning mist without the sweatshirt (non-rocky-style) because it was like 55 or 60. I tried to push the pace a little, and probably ran a ¼ mile more than last week. I enjoyed listening to 2 chickens and a rooster one in someone’s back yard, but I’m beginning to abhor the trash and graffiti accumulating on the shoulders of the path. I really think there’s more than enough trash in the city to sustain the homeless population with reliable work.
I showered, dressed, and swept the apartment before being picked up by Paddy and Maddy to meet Chiara and the others to go to her parent’s vacation house in the mountains above lake Como. We stopped in a supermarket to buy some food for the weekend where I saw the biggest deli-meat in my life. This mortadela was a hulking 2 feet in diameter, and almost double that in length. I wouldn’t be surprised if it weighed in excess of 50 pounds!
We continued on to the lake on the highway snaking though tunnels opening to peek-a-boo views of the shores. At Argegno we left the highway we began to weave our way up the mountain on roads barely wide enough for one car, but somehow accommodating 2-way traffic. We passed through some villages where the houses came up to the road, sometimes forming archways over the cobblestones. We finally reached Pigra (which translates as slacker) around 1. The house was high on the mountain with two stories of porches opening to awesome views overlooking the deep water and snowcapped mountains beyond the other shore. We unpacked the food and basked in the sunshine enjoying the view while lunch was being cooked.
One of the pine scrubs in the garden smelled like California. I miss that smell (and the fresh air). I practically lived outdoors at Stanford, or at least near an open window. There doesn’t seem to be much fresh air or pine trees around Milan…
Lunch was served. First was a generous assortment of dense cheeses, prosciuto, salami, and bread. Then we had a plate of spaghetti with tomato and little bits of fish, followed by salad, coffee, and desert. I was having some trouble keeping up with the conversation but caught some bits about a shepherd who had a refuge up in the mountains near us and sells homemade cheeses. When the food inspectors came to monitor his operation, he repelled them by throwing rocks from the top of the mountain.
After lunch we bundled up to go exploring the nearby mountains. I regretted only bringing my fleece, but Chiara’s brother, Pietro had a traditional wood-cutter shirt for me to wear. We piled into the 4x4 and drove a narrow curvy military road to several lookouts over the lake. We crossed several snowfields before reaching the end of the road. Now I understood! The shepherd lived in an old military outpost beyond the next ridge that the Italians used to maintain their sovereignty over the lake during WWII. We began picking our way along a trail scratched into the side of the mountain to reach this final view of the lake. We shivered as the wind whipped around us. Even the woodcutter’s shirt wasn’t keeping its half of the bargain but at least I looked like I belonged on the trail as we crossed patches snow and mud. The sun was setting by the time we finally reached the outpost. The shepherd was gone for the winter, but he left a spectacular view of Bellagio far below, and a full moon rising above the mountains on the opposite shore. I don’t think I’ve ever regretted forgetting my mini tripod more. This was an incredible shot, but all I could take back were memories and blurry underexposed photos.
After reading for a while by the fire that night, we played Pictionary. I needed translations for most of the Italian words, and had to do most of my guessing in English, but it was a lot of fun. –Maybe even more fun than usual because this added a new element to the game. I think Chiara and I came in second place against two other teams. Not bad for a first time in Italian! I would recommend this to any bilingual group interested in a fun way to practice language.
I stood out on the porch for a while gazing up at the lunar eclipse reflecting in the lake surrounded by dark silhouettes of the mountains against the night sky. I used the tripod to snap a few photos here, but I mostly enjoyed the silent clear air. I could almost hear someone singing cowboy songs under the same moon in front of a fire far away on another continent.
The next day we had a breakfast of hardboiled eggs, coffee with milk, salami, cheese, and bread on the porch. The plan was to take the funicolare down to the lake and then take a ferry to Bellagio for lunch. Unfortunately we missed the ferry, but we still had a good lunch. I ordered fish from the lake. This consisted of a fried fillet, a half dozen whole minnows fried to a crisp, and a larger (5 inches) fish that might’ve been baked. I thought the friend minnows most intimidating, but actually the most enjoyable once I got into them. I was wondering how in the world I was going to extract a nibble of flesh from the head and bone until Patty ate one whole. You crunch up the head and everything. It’s really not bad at all.
Later we explored the grounds of an abandoned mansion before packing up and going back to Milan. It was a great weekend.
It’s a gloomy rainy Sunday and I’ve been moping around the apartment all afternoon. I hoped to find someone to go jogging with, but that’s not going to happen today. I spent an hour or more cleaning and then took out the violin for a while. I struggled to think of an interesting song to play, and put it back in the case after just a half hour to catch up on a few journal entries to the beat of Gli Anni.
I received an unexpected package Friday evening. I tore though the padded cardboard to find a seasoned-looking book. It contained a mysterious message printed on the front cover instructing the recipient of this gift to return it to the person they’d received it from if they’d already read it, or to read it in less than 12 days and pass it on to the person they think would benefit most from its message. I was amazed. I don’t believe coincidences happen by chance, and the timing is ripe for this story to return to me. I first read this story in Spanish about 3 years ago. Then I signed the inner cover and gave it to my friend Jimmy as a going away present before I moved to California. Coincidentally, I think he had already read it in its original language: Portuguese, but he was happy to accept it and read it again in his native language, just as I happily accepted this version in English. I’ve been experiencing a wonderful deja vu rereading the story though different sounding words. This is the first book that I have read in 2 languages. I think the Spanish version seemed more mystifying and viscerally poetic – in part because I could not understand every word, whereas the English translation comes across lucid and much more palpable. I blazed though it, and finished the book in less than 5 hours spread over the weekend. Now I’m faced with the task of deciding who to pass it on to.
I ate an apple with peanut butter and cowboyed up to go for a jog in the rain. The city is strangely quiet because there is a moratorium on driving in northern Italy this weekend. Every winter they declare a few days of traffic block for all vehicles that burn gasoline or diesel fuel to try to reduce the pollution around the city. I think this is the first time they’ve extended the ban though the rest of the region. I support this movement and believe these actions are an important step towards a sustainable carbon economy. Bravo Italia!
I would like to begin this entry with a shout-out to my friend Adam Gilbert for writing and performing tonight’s musical selection that I’ll hear while I write this entry. Readers located in the NY/NJ area should think about seeing his band perform live!
I caught a ride to Milano with one of my coworkers that live in the city. I arrived in the center before 7PM (earlier than I usually get home!), so had nearly an hour to kill before meeting Sally to go for a drink, and then go to the show. I took the metro to Garibaldi and began to stroll the neighborhoods north of the station in an area they call Isola. I’ve concluded that if I were to move to the center, the best location would be near Garibalidi because then I could get to work on a train to Arcore and then bus it to Vimercate, or take the metro to the end of the line, and bus to Vimercate from Colognio. I think in either case I’d be looking at a slightly longer commute, but I’m beginning to think I’d rather live closer to the center of the city. Driving is a third option, but I don’t think it’s worth the expense. Unfortunately, I did not find much in the way of apartments up for rent. But these things are seldom advertised publicly because the real estate agents have set up an extensive monopoly allowing them to collect exorbitant commissions on new leases because it is nearly impossible to find a place without going though them.
In any case, I was excited to meet Sally around 8 to head down to the show. I’d first contacted her nearly a year ago when I was trying to hustle for a job in Italy. I met her in person about a month ago. It was great to share some experiences with another person who sees Italian life and culture filtered by an American lens much as I do. This creates opportunities to discus a lot of comical idiosyncrasies unique to this region that deserve thorough jocular consideration.
We met up near the Duomo and headed to a café near the bar. I enjoyed the conversation that ensued, though didn’t feel like I had a lot of new news to share since our last aperitivo. I still don’t have closure on a new job contract, still interested in living closer to the center of Milano, etc.
Soon it was time to go to the show venue.
I see the same guy begging for money in the same spot several days a week as I walk to the bus stop. I don’t know what he does on his days off because I don’t usually see him there on the weekend. I guess even bums deserve a break. Maybe he distributes his begging among several locations to balance his collections about the city. This brings up a bit of a moral dilemma for me. In one case I feel somewhat guilty for ignoring him day after day, but I really want to do is tell him I’ll give him 10 bucks if he’ll pick up all the trash within 100 yards of my apartment. (I think he could be more efficient than the state of the art roomba.)
The people around here don’t seem to hesitate to toss their filth and cigarette butts on the ground, so I imagine this guy could get a steady stream of work while making more money than begging, and he could help to resolve a problem instead of contributing to it. Although this approach may seem more like treating the symptoms than the problem, I’m optimistic that the greater populace might become more attentive to their trail of trash if they saw poor people that seemed to care more about the city than the average citizen. This may be the catalyst to tip the society into thinking (and acting) more interdependently instead of typical myopia.
Just imagine if all the beggars became the keepers and shepherds of the city: entrusted to keep things clean, and make sure they stay clean. I see model similar to the adopt-a-highway program-- except more personal. They could expand to cleaning spray paint and other eyesores around after the trash is collected. Then later we might even start thinking about our air and water… I can imagine a whole new economy being created where before people were just standing around asking for money. Now how do I initiate this social movement with a contagious mechanism to reach global proportions? This could be the start of my work towards a Nobel prize…!
I paraded up to the bus stop ready to carry on with the day, and look for a way to implement my employment strategy for the other beggars of the city. Along the way I counted no less than 22 expectorations on the sidewalk between my apartment and the bus stop. These slobs don’t even bother to spit out of the walking path.
However, I encountered a different sort of creature loitering around the bus stop for no apparent reason. Here was a small horde of high school students. (Have you ever wondered how we have high school, but not low school?)
I imagine that they couldn’t be up to much good if they were out of school on a Friday morning, but I guess one never knows these days. I guess they’re entitled to have their own social agenda as well. -Probably something that involves defacing public property, or at least leaving more trash at the scene than when they arrived.
One of the highschoolers had a champion mullet. It was truly something to marvel at, even more outrageous than you can find in the dukes of hazard, or anything else I’ve ever seen showcasing the most redneck sectors of American culture. The white trash/pimpstar with oversized aviator glasses and a ridiculous mullet seems to be in vogue around here for mysterious reasons though I suspect it might be some sort of act of rebellion.
I tried to rally to go out on Friday night in Milan in hopes to see (and meet) some of the models here for the Spring fashion shows. I’d planned to meet my friend Emiliano earlier that night, but it was getting late and the place they were meeting would have been hard for me to get to. I called a bunch of people with out finding anyone else interested in going. Bummer! Rather than bust out the violin like last Friday I decided to take a stroll around Monza. First stop was the Vanity Café. It was mostly empty, but despite the warm welcome I got from the waitresses, they didn’t seem interested in socializing much. (Typical.)
I ordered a mojito to stir while I hanging out see if things would pick up. Every mojito I’ve ordered in Italy has been sub-par until tonight. My usual complaint is that the sugar isn’t dissolved and there’s not the right balance of lime. Except tonight wasn’t really made like a Cuban-mojito that I’ve learned to drink in Florida, or a Mexican-mojito that was big in California, but rather some new Italian interpretation on the theme of mint, lime, rum, and sugar. Only they added a healthy dose of angostura bitters and a shot of amaretto. The angostura stirred up halcyon memories of canoeing at Club Bianco, and I thought the amaretto added a nice touch as well.
Feeling bored, I left and strolled down to the Irish pub where I had a good time 2 weeks ago. Tonight was karaoke night! I ducked thought the doors to find a couple of (cute) Italians trying to sing American classics along with other Italian songs. This music was less nostalgic and more stimulating than the angostura, and I soon found myself tapping my foot along with the show. However it was hard to really get involved because I hardly knew any of the songs. I contemplated asking to sing but overwhelming evidence from the left-brain kept me planted securely in my chair. I think this place has some potential to be a great time with the right mix of people.
I went home by midnight so I could get up early to go snowboarding with my new American friend, Miguel.
I went to one of the offices in Genova to help design a couple of test platforms. Despite spending nearly 4 hours in the car (and arriving home at 9:30) I feel like it was a very productive afternoon. I’d like to think I made some valuable contributions. -And I actually felt like a design consultant! Unfortunately this late return forced me to cancel my first chance to play soccer in Italy. Maybe I can play next Thursday if I’m not in Pisa.
(Last Sunday continued) We arrived at the mountain to find snow depth of zero millimeters at the base, but some people that were leaving said that it was OK up higher. We got dressed, bought half day lift tickets, and wedged ourselves into the giant cable car to hoist us up to the first level. We divided up 3 sandwiches 8 ways to scarf down for a lunch/snack while the cable car ascended a nearly vertical wall to get to the actual base of the skiing area. The obscured windows made photographing the view irrelevant. (Maybe to keep people from freaking out by the height.) The doors opened, and we rambled out onto a grated platform that you could peer though to the village thousands of feet below. This was a view that could probably give a construction worker butterflies in their stomach.
I had considered getting a snowboard today because I had a good time with it last weekend and I thought I understood that it was only the second day for some people in our group. But upon seeing that 6 out of 8 people had their own gear, and some were toting skis that were longer than they were tall, (usually a sign that they know what they’re doing), I decided to rent skis so I wouldn’t be the one holding up the group. It was a good thing because 2 of the girls were faster than me, and everyone did really well! I may not be a natural skier, but I consider myself to be pretty fast for a guy from Florida… We had a blast flying down the mountain all afternoon.
Giuliana invited me into her house to have a drink before dropping me off home after we said goodbye to the others. I was a little surprised to meet her parents there, and I had some strong flashbacks to high school, but I guess this is the Italian way and I shouldn’t be taken aback by it. I felt like we parted on a positive note and I hope to see her again. She nearly lives within walking distance so maybe we’ll go for a jog in the park or something…
Our office buildings outside of Milan
I always feel valentine’s day is a good day for meeting people because the couple’s (who are generally less interested in meeting people) are all off doing their own thing, and the rest of us are left over. I’ve been making small talk with one of the girls at the bus stop some evenings, and I felt that we might of raised the conversation closer to a meaningful level tonight, but her bus came and I was left with Stephen Covey again. I’ve about 170 pages to go. I was briefly interrupted by the crash between a bicycle and pedestrian in the cross walk, but they seemed to brush it off OK but surprised that they could not occupy the same space at the same time.
Later tonight I’ll go for dinner with Ricardo and some other friends. Outcome is yet to be seen…
Where was I? Oh, the passegiata Saturday…
By now the police were out in force, and dozens of officers were stationed around the city. With so much security I didn’t know if I should feel safe or in danger, but the usual parade of weekend window-shoppers continued unhindered, so I figured it was probably not a big deal. After visiting a few stores to no avail I spied a small cafetiera in the display of a boutique.
Further inspection revealed that it was a 1-shot model made of stainless steel except for a brass pin in the hinge and plastic handle. Although it doesn’t really have the form to speak to the message I was looking for, I decided to buy it because I probably won’t see a single shot made of SS for a while.
I had planned on seeing a movie that night, but my viewing schedule didn’t seem to line up with their showing schedule, so I went to bed somewhat early for lack of another activity for the evening.
I got up Sunday and had a stout breakfast before heading downstairs to meet Giuliana and the others to go to skiing at Chiesa Valmalenco. I rode in a tiny little car with Giovanni and Guiliana while Anna and Bruno followed in another car. We picked up Marta, Rubin, and another girl (I think Vera) along the way. I was surprised to find that the rest of the group was mathematical engineers at Milano Politecnico, but they seem like a fun bunch to be mathematicians!
