Blackie, you're doin' a heckuva job

By early evening of our second night in Barbentane we had given the furry children the George W Bush kiss of love -- American nicknames that approximated their personalities (or not). 

• Mistic - Thing, Puppers, Puppety Pup
• Scotty - Fat Bastard, Fatty, Wheezy, The Thief (he works hard to steal everyone else's food, and he has major sinus issues and snores like a banshee)
• Nouchka - Mouchka, The Old Lady (she is very old, and has sensitive teeth so gets to eat hamburger meat because it's soft 
• Scratt - Scat, Blackie
• Chloe - The Bitch (has a low tolerance for petting), The Pisser (we think she's the one who is peeing all over the house)

going Griswold

Anyone who has seen European Vacation can sympathize with the trials of Americans in roundabouts -- how to get on, how to get off, it's like a horizontal game of jump rope, only with Transformers. "Cinderella, dressed in yella, went upstairs to kiss a 'fella..." CRASH! 

Now, Barr is no slouch at roundaboutage. She's lived in Italia 13 years and can park on the sidewalk with the best of 'em. And in normal (read that, American) situations I'm a pretty good navigator if I do say so myself -- and I DO!   

But combine the totally UN-intuitive French signage (what the hell is Toutes Directions (All Directions) vs. Autres Directions (Other Directions)???) with an overabundance of roundabouts, and you've got the recipe for getting lost FAST. And we have. 

So, we went old school... we bought a map... a PAPER map! And it is really no better... about as easy to follow as Canterbury Tales in old English.

And so we've gone Griswold -- going 'round each roundabout at least twice. Once to read all the signs, once to take the correct exit, and others as needed in the middle to consult the paper map. 

At this point I'm considering an outing as successful if we can navigate to and from the sight and arrive home successfully. 

In Bartentane

Friday morning V and M were heading to the airport at 7:30, so we all fed the kids together and said goodbye to mom and dad. Mistic promptly ran into the bedroom and hid.   

We are supposed to take Mistic for a walk at least once per day, and we didn't want to traumatize her on our very first day, it took a whole lot of gentle coaxing to get her out and into the harness. And then we were off to explore the little village of Barbentane. 

V and M have a nice yard with a grape arbor over the patio (on which Scratt is dozing in the sun -- on the arbor in the sky, not on the patio!), tons of rosemary growing against the house, an olive tree, and a heavy metal gate that must be kept always closed. 

We strolled through the Centre Ville and a man on a bicycle thanked us for picking up Mistic's poo (as we stepped over all the other poo on the sidewalks). Then stopped in to the patisserie Place des Delices where the sweet proprietor speaks English and Spanish, and sat on a bench outside the grocery to eat our pastries. 

Everyone was so friendly as they walked by. "Bonjour!" "Bon appetit!" What a sweet little ville with some pretty sights. 

We walked back home, deposited Mistic and headed into Avignon to see the bridge. 

da milano ad avignon - parte quatro

Being wise and prudent, we turned around and headed back towards the lights and the airport -- back toward civilization. Luckily we had mobile coverage at the airport, so we called our hosts to come and pick us up. And we followed them on a TOTALLY DIFFERENT route back to their home. (Damn you, Google! WTF you leading us into Deliverance country!?)

V and M are really nice folks! A youthful retired couple of triathletes (max 60!), V speaks much more English than M, but we four were able to make ourselves understood in Franglais.
 
Barr and I met the kids -- Mistic (Yorkie), Nouchka, Scotty, and Chloe (Mistic's feline siblings), and Scratt (Mistic's feline cousin) -- and ran through the instructions for feedings. We took a quick tour of the house. And then we had a nice dinner with duck and a fabulous Rhone cuvée. 

Too soon, it was time for bed. 

Mistic

Chloe  

Scratt  

Nouchka  

Scotty

Cuvée 

da milano ad avignon - parte tre

We got off the highway in Aix and stopped in a gas station (benzine? petrol?) and asked a very helpful lady who was filling her SUV how to get to Avignon. Her English was good and she sent us to the second right off the nearest roundabout. We were sooooo excited! 

Until that second right led us right back onto the major highway we'd just exited. And, our phones were again out of coverage. 

So, we made a management decision and decided to follow the Google instructions. 

We got off at Exit 24. We followed the instructions exactly... through this roundabout, past the airport, right onto a street called this, left onto a street called that... the directions were explicit and unquestionably correct. We were very confident. 

So imagine our growing concern as the Google directions led us farther and farther into the countryside, away from lights, and eventually onto a bumpety road and past a sign saying "Privee!" ... Private! Do not enter! 

OMG! Do you hear banjos? 

da milano ad avignon - parte due

Since Barr drove the Milano to Genova leg, I was in line to drive the next leg of our trip, but I was hesitant to drive inside Genova. All the trucks and crazy on ramps and signs I don't know. 

So Barr drove for about 20 km and then we switched. It was a nice ride along the Ligurian coast and through mountain tunnels, with the Med to our left. 

We wondered about the transition from Italy into France. We knew the autostrade would flow directly into the French equivalent, but the GPS system on Barr's Fiat 500 only charted to the border. As if travel in France was not worthy of tracking. 

We had good ole fashioned printed directions from Google, but the instructions were confusing and the signage in France is unlike both US and Italian signage. And to make matters even more concerning, we lost our mobile service and seemed to be about an hour behind schedule according to the Google maps. And, it got dark, as it does in December. 

We'd been sending texts to our hosts, unsure if the texts had been making it through, and so as we were switching drivers again we gave them a call. 

We got through to our hosts! Turns out Google was wrong about leaving the highway at Exit 24 to head north to Avignon. Instead we were to leave the highway much earlier at Aix en Provance and follow signs to Avignon Sud. And then call our host to come pick us up. 

So we soldiered on. 

Da Milano ad Avignon - Parte uno

After asking everyone's best friend, Google, we learned that Avignon is 6.5 hours drive from Milano, via Genova. And since I have a friend in Genova, Barr and I made plans to stop in Genova for lunch. 

And since Barr lives north of Milano, and I live in south Milano, we made plans to rendezvous (huh huh, francais) at a suburban train station south of the city. 

I had packed a carry on sized rolling suitcase with clothing, my work rolling bag with activities and electronics, and my backpack with food. And I headed out for the two looong block's walk to the train very early... thank goodness... because rolling bags at the same time on a busy work morning while wearing a backpack and carrying a purse... a little awkward and not really speedy... Then I had to carry it all down a double flight of concrete stairs in a single fell swoop. I was damned happy to climb into the warmth of the train. 

We met at 10:15 on a beautifully sunny, but cold as a mofo, morning, and hit the autostrade for Genova. It took the expected two-ish hours to drive to our meeting place. 

We had a great lunch with my friend D, who gave me a Genova guide in anticipation of my ditching Milano and moving to the beach, and then we headed out toward France. 

sur la pont...

... d'Avignon

I'm spending Christmas in Avignon, France! 

I found a site for "pet sitting" called nomador.com which is a digital global clearinghouse for bartered pet-sitting. 

Basically X-person lives in Bangkok, has 2 cats, wants to go on vacation from date-A to date-B, and wants his cats well cared for. Z-person lives in Milano, likes cats, and wants to go on vacation to Bangkok from date-A to date-B. X-person and Z-person find each other on nomador.com. They talk, maybe via Skype, and they decide "OK, let's do this!". They make a plan for Z-person to show up at X-person's house. And voila! Instant pet-sitter for X, instant accommodation for Z!

Everybody wins! Then, when it's all over they write reviews for each other on Nomador. Wash, rinse, and repeat!

So, I found a couple near Avignon with 1 one dog and 4 cats, and my American friend Barbie and I are off to France!  

... and also with you

I felt like an interloper, or maybe a corporate spy, today while I was waiting for students at the client site of a multinational bank. At least until I remembered that I am no longer an employee of a competing multinational bank. 

First, I was downstairs in the caf grading test papers when the place began filling up with suity-types... bankers all, not a geek in the bunch, not my people... They all headed for an area away from the food and cash registers, hundreds of them. It was clear they were having a meeting, something quick and probably impromptu. So as they packed in, the folks milling about were stacked and packed closer and closer to where I was sitting. I decided it would probably be best for me to leave, since I assumed they were there to hear some internal announcement which they wouldn’t want non-employees to hear. So I packed up my belongings, and it was only as I was rolling my stuff away did it occur to me that I wouldn’t have understood what the hell they were saying anyway! 😉

Later I was hanging out in the lobby waiting for my next student. There was a lot of Christmas commerce happening at a temporary table selling Lindt chocolates, and when they wheeled out a new table and set it up next to the Christmas tree I just assumed a new vendor was coming. How right I was!  

At the appointed time slews of workers started showing up and waiting around... Not just suits this time, but geeks too. And then I heard the unmistakable sound of a Catholic mass, complete with call and response between the priest and parishioners. I was amazed, to say the least!  This went on for 15 minutes, and then upon some cue (in Italian... Latin.. who knows) everyone broke trance and disbursed. 

My student arrived 5 minutes later (late!) and explained that it had been a ceremony to bless the people and the bank during the holiday season. HR had sent a blast email to all employees to join if their schedules allowed.

🤔 

My hands are registered as lethal weapons

Boys used to say this jokingly when I was a kid. Now, after living in a city and depending on public transportation I believe it's pretty safe to say "My hands are weapons of mass destruction". 

I had two terrible colds during November, one of which I am sure I got by touching a surface in the Metro. 

Think about it. A kid catches a cold at school. He comes home with a runny nose. His mom takes care of him and wipes his nose one last time before sending him back into the school. She hurries to her transit.... She takes a tram for 6 stops and she has to grab hold of multiple handles in getting on, during the jerky ride, and getting off. Then she rushes down to the Metro, where she touches stair rails, the ticket reader, the turnstile, the escalator rail, and handholds inside the car. When she gets to work she passes her badge over the card reader. At every touch she's left germs from her kid's cold. 

And how many hundreds or thousands of people are grabbing those same handholds, stair rails, turnstiles in a day, waking up to chills and runny noses the next day? 

Then when it becomes cold enough outside that you must wear gloves all the time -- thus offering some manner of protection -- in order to blow your nose you take those gloves off and use the tissue until it's falling apart... with those fingers that touched the change handed to you from your morning caffe' bar. (Change from the money you handed to that unsuspecting barrista with your germy hands!) 

It's exponential! And totally mind-boggling for a germophobe like me. 

Therefore, I'm currently slathering my hands with germ protection gel, sneezing into my elbow, wiping my laptop and phone with germ killer, holding my breath around people who are obviously sick... and never, ever, ever touching my face with my weapons of mass destruction.

Wtf

I paid 24 Euro (Euros? Euri?) for two copies of each of these two larger keys. I can only assume that the double edged funky key comes at a premium... Or my financial adviser failed to mention “Buy metal!” 

Internet for your Italian home

Much like the mystery of the Electricity for your Italian home,  is the internet service for your Italian home... And again, it seems to be system of brokers selling units from the pool of resources available.

You are not limited to some monopolistic vendor (or very short list of vendors) who has acquired the right to use the hard wires coming into your house or who have satellite hardware that is inoffensive to your HOA's peculiar sensibilities. 

There is a long list of Internet service providers, including most mobile phone companies, who offer competitive plans and deals... and you are open to choose any one of these vendors. You are free to choose X mobile company for your phone, and Y mobile company for your home internet... and even if you choose a single provider, there seems to be no bundling... there MAY BE long term contracts depending upon how low the rate you score is. 

I went into my phone provider to check the rates. The guy at the counter asked my address -- by this he can tell if I have fiber (fibre??) in my apartment building, which is used to determine your plan availability. I have fiber (which is apparently a good thing), and therefore a really nice plan was available to me (23 Euro per month, for enough juice to supply me with surfing and streaming aplenty). 

The vendor will need to come to my house to "install" my internet -- basically a modem/router.... and this will take 10 days to 3 weeks to schedule. But in the interim, I can add on for 0 Euros "the little bar of soap", which is a portable hot spot billed against your internet service plan (not against your mobile phone plan).

Within a couple of hours (just waiting for the new customer batch process to cycle), I have internet in my house and in my purse. 

My little bar of soap

Electricity for your Italian home

In Italy, electricity is sold in a  much different way than we experience in the US. 

My experience as a residential consumer in the US is that electricity is a product of a monopoly that is regulated/protected (choose your own verb) by state (and local?) governments. For instance, a rate hike by your local electric company (or gas) must be reviewed and approved by your state legislature. As if! Which leads me to ask -- who benefits from your electricity being delivered to you by a monopoly which is regulated by politicians? 

It Italy, electricity is sold to individuals by "brokers". These brokers offer different plans and special deals to the consumer, to entice them to sign up with that broker. Once you sign up, the electricity you use in your house, as measured by your meter, is billed to you at the rate from your plan through the broker you chose. Think of it like your mobile phone plan. (You can then pay for it online, or at your local tabaccheria, which is a totally different discussion!)

This is very confusing to me, because I can't get beyond the "but how does the electricity get to your meter?" question. I guess all the electricity is in a big pool, and all flows along the same lines, and then the brokers pay the "pool" per unit sold at a general rate.... I guess the gamble is "how much and when will X house use?"

Because, YES, apparently WHEN it's used is a BFD. Late night electricity will be billed to the consumer at a different rate than midday electricity. 

And Europeans take the conservation of electricity (and all utilities and resources) very seriously. Many public service commercials on TV show oafs leaving the light on when they leave a room, leaving the fridge door open while they pour juice, leaving the water running while he brushes his teeth. Oaf-ness is not tolerated in Europe! 

SO, in my apartment for instance, I have my own water heater (rare for a tall building -- usually they have a boiler servicing the entire building) and it has an On / Off switch on the wall nearby... so I can turn off the water heater during times when I won't be needing instant hot water. And perhaps I can schedule my laundry during periods which are most beneficial to my electricity plan.

And so back to the original point -- who benefits from your electricity being delivered to you by a monopoly which is regulated by politicians? 

Oh Bej!

I spent a beautiful late morning and early afternoon at the Oh Bej! Oh Bej! Christmas Mercato. This is an annual market, properted to have begun in 1510! Let that sink in for a moment... this Milanese Christmas fair has been held since 1510. 

While containing many of the same type booths as a normal mercato (fruits and vegetables, used/antique dishes, sweaters and hats and gloves (oh my! or in this case oh bej!), this market also has items suitable for Christmas eating and Christmas giving. 

Just a sampling:

You can buy hot chestnuts to eat at the fair...

... or take them home and cook them yourself.

Or you can buy roasted and sugared nuts of all types.

You can sample meats and cheeses.

Check out the stuffed deer and boar heads above the shop.

Notice that this little piggy has a big Italian roll in his mouth, instead of the traditional apple.

Even I got into the spirit, and had a hot doggish sausage baked in a roll.

The softest Italian leather gloves... 

Fur, fur, fur...

Copper pots

Christmas crap...

Mediterranean bulbs for your yard

Ssucculents and cacti

Art...

Olives...

And what Christmas fair would be complete without a booth of US Military Surplus?

Pictures for my new apartment..........

Moving day

My last breakfast in the little bar next to my temporary housing.

My first meal in my new apartment.

Celeb sightings

Santa Claus and Colonel Sanders were on my tram tonight

Global truth #2

Global truth #2

When you are cool, The Sun shines all the time...

Even in the metro station

Even in the subway car

Happy Thanksgiving!

"What did you do for Thanksgiving?"

I got this question from a lot of my friends, and the answer is -- on Thursday, nothing really. 

I told my students the (now deemed politically incorrect) story of the Pilgrims escaping religious persecution, traveling to New England, being totally unprepared for the hardships they would face and losing an incredibly high percentage of their population to sickness and cold, until the friendly local natives showed them how to plant crops, hunt for game, and basically how to survive... and then they had a big feast together after the harvest and we all lived happily ever after. 

I also told them about watching parades with giant balloons in the morning, watching (American!) football in the afternoon, eating and drinking to the point of pain, perhaps playing cornhole, and waiting for the black Friday sales to commence. 

So that was my Thursday. 

But on Saturday, my friend Barbara and I cooked all day for a Belated Thanksgiving dinner attended by Americans, Italians, a German and a Brit. 

We had turkey, dressing, greenbean casserole, creamed corn, cornbread, pumpkin pie -- all the heavy hitters were there! 

It was fun and delicious! 

Barbara has a giant kitchen... by Italian standards

... speaking of easy riders...

In the metro this morning, there was a guy wearing a decorative silver chain from his belt. It affected the “biker” look of chaining your wallet, (I  assume) so you don’t lose it while you’re riding the steel horse. 

But this chain was made of largish silver balls, which he kept fingering as if they were Buddhist prayer beads.

And another... it’s officially a trend

Iper! Iper! Yay!

Today I went to Iper the first time. 

Iper is a giant upscale grocery store with small appliances (and some linens and hardware). It’s the closest thing I’ve seen to Tarzhay since leaving Charlotte.

I’ll go back there when it’s time to furnish my new apartment. 

Here are some photos from this fabulous store!

A prosciutto tree! 

Prosciutto for slicing, in Italian tri-colore.

Porchettas... cured ham

A whole pig and they will slice it up for you! 

Big breads...

More hanging meat