Kindness abounds...

ZIPIDEEE DOOO DAH, ZIPIDEEE DAY, MY OH MY our internet and telephone work!! As I write I am sitting in the comfort of our apartment and all is, today, at this moment in time, glitch free. (Well, to be really honest, I'm not sure about the phone as yet because it's charging and no one has called).

Our appointment was for 10AM but our worker came about 2PM; not too bad. No different than the cable people telling us "anytime between 8AM and Noon". People in the complex kept saying, "Just remember, this is Italy (I know, I know)" and Kim responded that it's same for us at home. Our technician was quite the sweet, young handsome man who knew a little English and I think may have picked up on our nervousness as we asked "e complicato"? He just smiled and let us know that he was going to do alllllll of it. (and what a smile it was)!

Once it was all connected, the internet, the phone connection and some sort of direct tv box that comes for "free" with all of this we remembered one detail--no phone. So, our next journey was to try to find a home phone, NOT a "telefonino" aka cell phone. Kim thought the main phone company was located at one of the main big piazzas and so that's where we headed. Of course, we couldn't find it and so it was up to me to ask for directions. I chose an older gentleman (figuring he'd understand about a telefono en la casa) who said he understood my question but was going to consult with his friends on the neighboring bench. So, before we knew it, four older folks were all talking at once and pointing in various directions. Once they came to what we think was a general consensus, I asked Kim if she understood. She said sort of (which is her usual response after hearing many, many sentences in Italian spoken rapidly without a breath), so off we went.

After quickly finding the store, we were shown two models of cordless phones and chose the cheapest of course. Rachel, naturally, had to examine the box and make sure all was well. But it wasn't-it was missing the "special" wall adaptor (un grande problema) and I (Kim) was too cheap to buy the other model which included its own damn adapter. After much Italian going nowhere and all the hand gestures (Rachel trying to demonstrate without words what the hell she was talking about), the woman took us to the cash register with the adapter from the other model in hand. We thought she was going to sell us that one. But after a few words to a man standing nearby, she took 10 Euro from the cash register and headed out the door with our phone. We looked at each other and realized that she was going to buy us our needed adapter!! She must have gotten tired of trying to get us to understand where we could go. About 5 minutes later she returned, proudly yet modestly handing us her purchase. We couldn't say thank you enough and while she was gone, Rachel kept telling me to practice saying how kind she was being toward us and how much we appreciate it. (And so I did).

PS:
And today, as you see, we have a picture of the outside of our little apartment where our new phone resides. It's the unit on the lower first floor with the iron gate in front.

A Plea

Please burn incense today, Sunday June 29, 08 in the hopes that our phone technician will arrive tomorrow AND the phone will work AND the internet connection will work.

Questions and Answers

June 28, 2008

In today’s posting, I thought I would take some time to answer some of the many questions which we have been asked. I haven’t figured out how to make the comments you have sent be seen on the blog. I thought I had picked the little box (es) that would, but so far, everything goes to my gmail account. So, here we go:

Are you & Kim happy? So sweet to ask and absolutely yes. With each day, I am happier with Alessandria as we wander the streets and learn more about the city. Another discovery is their interest in live arts. We are hoping to take in some outdoor concerts we have seen advertised. Even though we won’t be going, there’s also the national women’s championship soccer event that will be happening in a couple of days. Last weekend there was a national horse show jumping contest. My point being that it’s a thriving community with a decent amount of "happenings".

Do you have a stove? Do you cook? Say more about your apartment.
Yes, we have a small stove and the burners are gas while the stove is electric. The kitchen and living room are all one room. There is an immovable table attached to the wall that serves as our dining room table as well as my food prep area. We virtually have no counter space. I have been taking on the challenge to cook with the meager assortment of utensils and pots and pans that came with the unit. I would say I’ve done a pretty good job and have enjoyed the challenge. As some of you already know, I am the cook and enjoy the role. Kim does the cleaning up after meals. We try to eat in a lot because it’s one way we are saving money for travel but we still are enjoying some of the quick take-out at the bakery, etc. I was very happy to have found pinto beans and already have cooked a pot of frijoles with Spanish rice. One of our first purchases was a little grill/Panini maker that we both love; we have had some pretty great salami, ham, cheese Panini’s. And, of course we’ve had our share of pasta as well.

I love the shopping and have to be reined in. The number of little markets with all the fruits, vegetables, cheeses, meats, B R E A D S sends me right to heaven’s door and I do go a little crazy. Just this afternoon, Kim and I had a little chat about perhaps aiming for a budget….
Rachel can- and will- in another post go on and on about the food/groceries. We also have a pretty good sized bedroom with one wall ceiling to floor closet space. We have to use one of the kitchen chairs to put our clothes away given how tall and willowy we both are… And it even comes with a wall safe! Feels very European somehow, hiding the family jewels behind the art.

Did you bring enough clothes? HA! Kim and I are both chagrined at all the clothes we brought; but how did we know? Alessandria has turned out to be a pretty casual city and is very much like Seattle with pretty much anything goes. We have both been surprised to see the number of people wearing shorts and tank tops (locals- and no, we don’t). At this point, I think we both could have managed with one suitcase apiece and would have been happy….plus, all the other "things". Packing was a difficult process because it just wasn’t packing for a quick trip; the one year thing got me. Now I realize that what one brings for a couple of weeks could also easily suffice for a year. But again, how could we know? To spare Kim any embarrassment, I will not blog how many pairs of pants she brought; sadly, I am not too far behind. We even have a box in Seattle for winter mailing; we are going to see how winter is here before we add to our closets.

Will you buy a car; how about a bike? We won’t buy a car; too expensive and we will rent one if we decide to travel where there isn’t enough local transportation. Cars, by the way, seem to be a great love for the Alessandrian locales. Even thought this is a very walkable city/town (with its’ totally sweet skinny cobblestone roads) and everything seems so available and close by, people here like to drive. The cars are mostly small size—lots of Smart Cars, Mini’s, Citroen’s, Fiat’s, etc. But also, barreling down the little streets are some larger cars that look very oddly out of place. There is a power hierarchy: no matter what, the car takes precedence unless there’s a stop sign. The wheeled hierarchy goes car, scooter, and bicycle and always, the car goes first. As a pedestrian, it is up to us to move out of the way, watch for cars coming down the small streets and always give them the right of way; this often involves a lot of dodging in and out on our part. Do not play with this rule.

Regarding a bike, that remains a big question. They don’t seem to sell them used and the least expensive new was just about 200€ (about $300). Not more expensive than the US but we are only here for a year and since we can’t find anywhere that sells used, we don’t know if we’d be able to sell them upon departure. I am thinking that I may put up a sign at the local Alessandria informational bureau where they have ads for jobs, housing, etc.

Then what about road rage? It has been amazing to me how rather smoothly things flow given the potential for being hit or accidents between any sort of wheeled vehicle. We did see one young man; I will call him Testosterone Boy, get into an altercation with Mr. Expensive Ferrari Man. As much as I could figure, TB tried to pass MEFM and this is a no, no. Streets are too skinny for double lanes and passing, so whoever is in front, stays in front. Testosterone Boy (who I would say is about 16, very skinny, and is seen zooming about town regularly on a LOUD motorcycle) pulled over and when MFMB saw that he did too. Mr. Expensive Ferrari Man had it all under control and he began giving TB quite the lecture about the rules and his behavior (or so we think). As you would guess and expect, TB argued back but it was obvious that he was out of his league. He then (MEFM) gently tapped TB on the shoulder and walked back to his car (which I was just walking by). I quickly got out of the way because, sure enough, both of them zoomed away engulfed in their post-encounter frustration.

What’s up with you and phones? Why can’t you just buy a disposable cell phone for a year? How hard can this be? Well, here is where I am going to get a bit defensive because Kim and I do know about cell phones and phone cards, and their operation. It is just that ‘We are in Italy’ and that makes all of the above just a tiny bit more complex. We have decided to not buy a cell phone. There are many brands, contracts, etc. and we just don’t think we need one. We are waiting with anticipation to get our home phone with internet line and that it supposed to come on Monday. After several tries in different places, we were able to call Seattle yesterday from an outdoor pay phone. And, even that wasn’t the easiest. We had to try dialing about 25 different times before I looked at the pay phone wall and saw that there were directions in many languages. (Which begs the question, again, how hard can this be, girls??) From that information, our call did go through and we were happily connected. Just a tiny discomfort was the booth (with door open) which got to be about 100 degrees and the sweat poured forth.

So, a home phone, internet connection with Skype is what I am with great anticipation, awaiting. Kim has, however, forewarned me to no expect it to work. I have told her that I will block the door and not allow the technician to leave until I see it’s all connected and the internet is working. (and what happens AFTER il technico leaves? I’ll be heading out the door with Signor technico if, tardi, il computer ѐ non funziona).

What is the time difference? We are 9 hours ahead of Seattle (Pacific Coast Time); 8 Mountain, 7 Central and 6 East Coast.

What is your formal address?

Kim Nicholas and O. Rachel Diaz
Via Verona, N. 41
15100 Alessandria
Italy

Please do not send clothes.

Cribbage 10-8 ….Hollywood 21-14 as it should be… USA, USA USA all the way (cuz we’re bigger and much more obnoxious-except for all those crazy soccer fans).

Spain 3, Russia 0

June 27, 2008

Last night on television I watched as Spain beat Russia 3-0; this was the first time I have ever watched a professional soccer game. We were told by the employees at our local Turkish take out place that we must watch. This is a counterpart to an establishment we had discovered on the second night of our arrival. At that time we were still staying at our hotel and we were wandering the streets, wondering what to eat (in Italy???, but yes…); we saw the Turkish Kebab symbols in the window and decided to give them a try. We were immediately delighted and acknowledged our good fortune as we watched them take out fresh dough, roll it into a perfect circle and pop our soon to be sandwich bread/pita into the oven. (I forgot to mention that they also advertise that they make pizza). They offer falafel and kabobs with very fresh ingredients all the way down to the picante. While we were waiting, we began speaking to two of the workers telling them that we’d been to Istanbul and from there we all excitedly talked laughed and began the quick journey of each of us trying to describe who we are; how we fit into meeting one another at this moment in time. Coming from Istanbul, they have been here in Alessandria for just under six months. They too were surprised and asked several times about our year long stay—wanting to make sure that our language struggles weren’t giving them inaccurate information. And each time we confirmed that yes, we are here for a year.

In our short two weeks we have certainly met Italians but we are also meeting Italian immigrants—Julia (who cleans the complex common areas on Monday and Thursday) and her son Wriggly are Albanians. I’m not yet sure about our internet café host, Zack and his family. They are Muslim and so somewhere from the Middle East; we’ve introduced ourselves but haven’t asked where they are from. Now we meet these gentlemen from Turkey. As we walk around it’s obvious the melting pot of nationalities and again I am left thinking about earning a living, survival and my abundant life in America. How is it that I have been given so much that living in Italy is for me a dream come true versus a hope for a new and better life? While I am hoping that my being here changes me to become a better person, again I am doing this as a gifted choice versus a need.

The first time we met 8 year old Riggly, he told us how his parents had left Albania before he was born and then ended up in Morocco. Something happened in Morocco that we couldn’t figure out but he kept saying “polizia” and that then they came here to Alessandria. Riggly’s father works at a local hotel and as you know, his mother has cleaning jobs. What has been interesting to Kim and me is that two different times, the Italians who live in this complex have asked who Riggly is—making it apparent that they haven’t gotten to know “the help”. I don’t mean to sound “better than” but it has felt strange. It’s apparent that when Julia is talking to us she is always looking over her shoulder and listening. It’s a look of not wanting to “get caught” and our eye contact has verified this. I know, I know, it’s easy for me to talk. I’m not paying her (well, yes I guess I am in a way via our rent) to clean and just get on with it.

What I am trying to say (and not so very well) is that I am confronted by multiple worlds—the joy of meeting people of all backgrounds and the world of hierarchies that we as human beings have established since we began walking on two feet (and actually from my readings, prior to that). I keep telling Kim, in jest but also with a tiny level of revelation, “they all look just like us”. I have come to believe that it should be mandatory for any Presidential or senatorial candidates to have at least travelled outside of the US, without an entourage. They should have learned to buy a train ticket in a foreign language and to not have a car for one month. I still find it mind boggling that George W had never travelled outside the US prior to his presidency; this was quite worrisome to me at the time of his first candidacy. I do believe that his lack of exposure to the rest of the world made it easier for him to invade Iraq because he just had no insight into all of the faces there that look just like us. Now I can hear a few voices in my head (who will remain un-named) saying “oh, come on Rachel, too much red wine”. But I would say, ponder it, please, just for a few minutes; you don’t even have to tell anyone what you are doing...

So, to end, I am happy to know that one of my goals today will be to stop by the Kebab joint and let them know that we watched as “Spagna kicked the Rooskies” butts. We are joined together by sports and all of the “thrill of victory and the agony of defeat”. We can all relate to this; matters not what language comes out of our mouth.

Closer to home: USA has taken over in the Cribbage tournament; little Uzbekistan won a couple of Hollywood games but the score remains lopsided 20-11. Kim just knew you’d want to know…

Those no longer with us are why we are here

June 26, 2008

Those no longer with us are why we are here


I am acutely aware of the presence of our friends and family members who have died. The premature deaths of Lindy, Shelle, and Eileen made us acutely aware of not delaying this adventure until retirement. The dementia of Mamacita made us recognize that even if one is granted longevity, its quality can be compromised. The overall message: Do Not Wait for the "Right Time" because it may never come. I am forever grateful to my partner in crime for hearing the same message and allowing us to act upon my long-time fantasy.

Playing games has always made the presence of Eileen, Shelle, and Lindy more "there" for me. Our 15+ year monthly Scrabble games complete with incredible gourmet meals provided by Lindy, Shelle and Rachel were a highlight of each month-and with Lindy’s death in 1998, Eileen didn’t miss a beat, picking up where Lindy left off in meal planning and preparation (though much to her chagrin, not her Scrabble wins). No one ever came close to Lindy’s skill at Scrabble though Shelle was closest. (Rachel and Eileen were next and I was a distant fifth). Our Scrabble nights were filled with howls of laughter, an incredible amount of whining, lots of work gossip, relationship trauma/drama (one marriage, one divorce, one widowed, and multiple separations by the same 2! during those years), and much swearing about all of the above, not the least of which was the score.

When Lindy died it was like most of the air went out of the room. After a few months, we reluctantly agreed to continue because we knew she’d want us to and it was too weird not to. To us, she was larger than life while alive, and in death she remained so, especially during Scrabble. WWLD-what would Lindy do?- became our mantra for all of our Scrabble strategizing. We remembered how to laugh again and imitated her no end. We could have set a place for her and it would have been no different.

In 2005, August, none of us knew that the Scrabble we played that night would be our last together. That 5 would become 2. Eileen was getting ready for a vacation with her true love, Debbie- and Shelle, a year into her cancer diagnosis was doing pretty well, still working and beginning to plan a trip to Chile in October. As we were entering Labor Day weekend, I received one of those heart stopping phone calls-our dear friend Eileen had sustained a major heart attack while on vacation in Oregon. Less than a week later, she was dead. Shelle, Rachel and I were devastated, of course, and shocked to the core. She was only 54, how could this be? She had survived breast cancer years earlier. She was fit; she was happy.

In October 2005 we decided to join Shelle on her trip to Chile-another one of those no-brainer decisions when your friend (also 54) has inoperable lung cancer. She/We hiked to the glaciers, enjoyed the penguins, ate like the champion eaters and drinkers we are, and had a fabulous time. Once home, in November she began working from home as her illness was beginning to take more of its invariable toll. She insisted on preparing the Thanksgiving meal for twelve as she had been doing for years but that was probably the last meal I would say she completely enjoyed. December brought more of a decline but she rallied to join us for a Christmas eve meal at our place. At the end of December she was hospitalized and, while in the hospital for what turned out to be the last two weeks of her life. The night before a surgery that she hoped would help her breathe a little better (but one she would never wake up from) she said, "Let’s play Scrabble". And high as a kite on painkillers, wouldn’t you know she beat the pants off of us- and yes, we were trying and yet, we still accused her of taking advantage of our pity. Shelle, victorious to the end.

Notice I never said that I’d make a long story short. It’s not short but it is why whenever Rachel asks if I want to play Scrabble, I act like I didn’t hear her or I quickly suggest another game. But I know she knows. She doesn’t ask twice. Siegy worries that maybe our lives will be jeopardized by the game-as if there is a curse on us as players or the tiles are asbestos. I know she just wants to protect us.

But Scrabble came with us to Alessandria (it’s ALWAYS with us) and when the time is right, I’m pretty sure we’ll play again. For the moment though, it’s enough for us to enjoy thinking about Lindy, Shelle and Eileen having a fabulous game without us, somewhere, whining and laughing. And they’d be proud of us getting on with our lives- and especially with my incredible card playing ability.

SCORE UPDATE: CRIBBAGE, STILL TIED 8-8; HOLLYWOOD 19-9 (USA)!!

A little about Alessandria

June 25, 2008
So, perhaps it is time to talk a little about our city, Alessandria. The main question prior to our coming from friends and family was, “why Alessandria? What do you know about it”? The answer was quite simple; we knew nothing other than we decided to totally trust someone we’d just met and barely knew. (Note: We met Aurelie and her husband Francesco (and baby Marco) through our friend Mike Barnett. Mike and Francesco are Microsoft colleagues and Francesco and Aurelie have been in Seattle for about a year. Francesco is from Southern Italy and Aurelie is from outside of Paris). It was over dinner one night that, for me, a totally intuitive trusting took place and I told Kim I thought that Aurelie knew what she was talking about and that she had quickly figured out what we wanted. She heard us say that we wanted a real Italian experience, little or no tourism, a place where we didn’t need a car, a place where there was good train access and a place that would be more affordable given the conversion rate of our dollar and the Euro. All of this partially sums up Alessandria. Aurelie lived here (in the same apartment we are in now) for two years while she was in school. We are slowly meeting our neighbors in this complex and it is very obvious that she was very well liked and is much missed. We have a hard act to follow!

Our apartment resides in the more central and older part of the city; consequently, charm and Italian architectural beauty abounds. The streets are skinny and cobblestoned. There are a number of churches (with bells attached), piazzas, beautiful buildings with iron balconies and huge wooden doors. And, there are stores, stores, stores, and more stores. Many with a traditional specialization, i.e. the bakery, the cheese store, the fish market, the meat market, vegetable bins out front everywhere. At the same time there are small “mall type areas” that have multiple stores within—often mostly clothing but there is one place we’ve been to a number of times that’s like a mini version of Pier I. Also, there are a few more what we would call traditional style grocery stores that sell most of everything.

The streets are to me, like a rat’s maze and it has taken me these last couple of weeks to finally begin to feel a bit better oriented. There is a section in the center that is almost all pedestrian and it is a major evening and weekend hang- out for the city folk of all ages. People stroll leisurely looking into windows, buying a little something to eat which turns out to mostly be gelato. Do they love their gelato; that is a business to be in! Kim is in seventh heaven when it comes to this tradition. I have grown very fond of the limone flavor and she tends to experiment with multiple varieties.

The intertwining of streets has been okay because that is how we have discovered various places and additional stores that might come in handy. I am constantly reminded that it really doesn’t matter if we get lost because we have the time and are on no real set agenda. Usually the bigger agenda factor becomes time of day, noon until about 3 or 3:30 when it’s quite hot and most stores close. There is a very sound logical reason for this. The heat makes it hard to do anything so why even try?

One happy example for me of just wandering through unknown areas would be our discovery of a store that can be compared to a hardware store; how I love a good hardware store! In our search for a fan, as we were walking to a destination that we were told would have fans, I spied a fan out front of a store. We quickly went and grabbed the fan but within about a nanosecond a young woman was “almost” yelling at us that it was not for sale and that we would have to come back tomorrow….so, we figured out that it was a display model and they must be out of stock. Since we were there we decided to look around to see what else they had and probably would not sell me. This is when we discovered that it is hardware store-like and we will be back!

There is so much more to say about this city that was founded in 1168 and was partially destroyed by Napoleon. For today, however, I will end with one last image and that is of bicycling. Everyone either has a car, a moped (how I miss mine!) or a bicycle. Bikes are ridden everywhere by everyone. And, when I say everyone, I include the over 60 on up crowd. It amazes me every time to see older men and women (they have to be closer to 80’s) riding their bicycle to whatever destination they are seeking. Have any of you seen such a site in the US with great regularity? I told Kim that I wish I could start taking pictures of folks (older) on bikes but I worry that they might yell at me. I will have to explore this further because it is an encouraging, endearing and charming sight. And finally, speaking of bikes, we have a couple of leads on where we might go to buy bikes for ourselves and then we will at least look like we fit in.

Kim feels compelled to add:
Wish I had a banner like CNN: Cribbage score is now tied 8-8; Hollywood is now 17-5 USA, USA, USA. Someone may care, Rachel ….Berta??? Anyone???

Just Life...

June 23, 2008
Just Life…
Today we finally found the Holy Grail- at least it is in Rachel’s mind (cross yourself a few times and say thank you to the Big Guy above)…a fan!! In almost 30 centigrade (+80’s and humidity) heat I could hardly say no to the long march to find a store that sells them. E buona fortuna, succeso! And well worth the passeggiota to get it.
Now we are home watching "Everybody Loves Chris" on TV, dubbed in Italian. Rachel is simultaneously making a pesto pasta and we both, of course, are drinking our vino rosso. Last night we watched a French movie that we remembered seeing a long time ago, also dubbed. Now if they wouldn’t talk so fast, maybe we could learn something.
Speaking of speaking fast…no one here slows down even when they know you can’t speak the language. They just expect us to catch on. We just nod and pretend to understand. I can’t say enough about how much my Pimsleur CDs have helped me, though. We’d both be very lost if I didn’t know even the little Italian I learned on my commute to Western each day this winter.
Hey, now there’s a general doing the weather on TV. He’s in a uniform of some kind so he must be a general, non ѐ vero? A second career for General Schwarzkopf, perhaps?! Or Petreaus should we ever get out of Iraq?
Time to mangia. (eat) Later…
BTW, did you know the cribbage score is now 8-6 (Rachel) And the Hollywood score is 7-3, my favor!
BTW, I am not so sure that folks care about our score my little competitive bird…Kim down plays the importance of the fan. While I could have managed and "survived" having a fan makes my quality of life much better, especially given the fact that I have about 10-15 hot flashes a day. A hot flash in 86+ degree weather is dangerous for those around me and I’ve only been thinking of Kim’s well-being.
I must add that Kim has been amazing when it comes to getting us places. I am really both: directionally challenged and almost stupid when it comes to picking up the Italian language. If it were not so pathetic, it would almost be humorous to know how many times I have failed at saying the number "10". I even have little crib sheets taped to the table and walls and still, I am pathetic. While I can pick up acupuncture points/concepts in a flash, learning new words is an amazing challenge. I am left with contemplating my brain and how one’s brain works (or doesn’t work). I won’t go into all of that for now, but suffice it to say, the language section of my brain is lacking.
Directions: Almost the same deal. I have to very consciously think, "do I turn left or right when I leave the complex to go…"? Kim has an automatic, intuitive honing in device that is surely imbedded in her brain. We have made a good team in that I usually ask others for directions and have them mark it on our map or write down the street name. Kim then takes over with following the map and figuring out directions because this little city is one big maze upon maze.
So, the good news regarding all of this is that I can relax and rely on her for directional and language skill needs and she can take comfort in that I’ll figure out lunch & dinner and give her the best acupuncture treatment to be had in Alessandria.
PS: We just learned that we won’t get our phone/internet until Monday, June 30th….so ‘til then, it’s to the internet café we go.

Games and more games....

Games and more games.

To keep ourselves mentally challenged- ha!- (and to practice our numbers in Italian) we have been playing a lot of Cribbage. I quickly became tired of losing and was getting just a little crabby so Rachel suggested we play “Hollywood” instead. Hollywood is a game that my Dad taught me (an intricately scored version of gin rummy) and…I know when I’m being patronized… is suppose to be MY game. That is, to date, I am the holder of the US gold medal- of the under 85 year old set. Rachel is just the pathetic Uzbekistan 12^th place finalist who in a fit of good luck has one good night in the Olympics and thinks she is hot shit forever. I remind her that the US doesn’t take well to upstarts from 2^nd and 3^rd world countries and that she will be reduced to size by morning.

Ohhh say can you see by the dawn’s early light?? (I hope you are picturing me on the podium)

Have I mentioned that for whatever reason, my girlfriend can memorize hundreds and hundreds of acupuncture points but can’t for the life of her remember how to say the number “10” in Italian?? I guess I mention this because the Cribbage score is 6-3 and the Hollywood score is now 3-3, both in the little Mexican upstart’s favor. Bitter? Me?? No. Sono Americana- the gold awaits.

(I wrote the last paragraph last night but this morning over breakfast I “skunked” the upstart with my brilliant play and the new score in Cribbage is 6-5-getting closer to what it should be…

HEAT & NOISE

June 21, 2008 (Happy Birthday baby sister, Carol!)
As I begin to write this I can hear church bells in the background ringing that it’s 30 past the hour. At the hour, there’s a great pealing of multiple church bells all ringing simultaneously about the city. There’s also a dog howling his little heart out which is an oddity in this complex as it’s been very quiet…I was worried before I left Seattle about several issues (well really about a thousand, but here are a few that have quickly presented themselves): the heat/humidity and noise.
The noise has been quite tolerable and this has surprised me. At home I can get really irritable if there are dogs barking or people are "too" loud outside; it’s a symptom of liver qi constraint for those of you who have heard me talk about Chinese Medicine diagnosis. Here in Alessandria we are in a small complex. One enters via a locked iron gate and then you walk into like a courtyard. We are in a corner first floor unit—the only one (first floor) that I can determine. I’d guess that there are about 10 or 12 units (condominiums) here and all the others seem to be on what we would call the 2nd floor with the first floor being enclosed garage spaces that are accessed via the little court yard. We can hear a fair amount of street noise (voices, cars, motorcycles) but for me, there’s been something endearing about it and when it does get a bit bothersome, we can just close the windows. The windows are A+ thick double panned and when shut, there goes the noise. Outside of the windows are amazingly thick (white) louvered style shutters that allow for a nice air flow when closed; one can close the shutters and keep the windows open and thereby retain privacy. When I hear outside activity and/or cars coming and going I have to keep reminding myself that I don’t have to pay attention because it’s not like anyone is about to drop by. People around the other units have either ignored us (but have said a polite hello) or have taken a few minutes to introduce themselves. I do know that we are being talked about to the degree on does when new folks have moved in close by and you wonder what’s up and who they are. I am sure that the other folks who have spoken to us more—Rita and Alessandro have probably told them that we are Americans who can’t speak the language (although Kim is doing a terrific job learning). It mystifies the few people we have spoken to that we are staying for one year without being students and/or working. Julia, the woman who cleans the common areas asked us at least four times how long we were staying—trying to make sure that we understood her question and she seemed floored each time we answered the same "one year—un año".
The heat. The last two days have been considerably hotter. Each morning has had completely blue skies and I’m guessing it’s in the 80’s. I really have no way of knowing. We have no thermometer; we don’t read the paper, when I go to the internet café I forget to look on line, I haven’t heard them discuss the weather on the television (nor would I know it if they were). Today, on our way to Saturday market we got lost and ended up walking to a very dead end, nowhere land behind the train station. It was sooooo hot and we were both sweating up a storm; our clothes were soaked and perspiration just dripped off of me and we kept walking trying to find our way back to more familiar landmarks. During the behind the train station journey, a young man said "no passage" and we just smiled ("oh, ok") and kept walking along where he said it was no passage and sure enough, it was no passage. So, we turned around and continued to backtrack out of this very ugly backside area behind the train station. At one point I interrupted our silence, because we were not chatting very much to one another, by telling Kim that I had just remembered that while we were in Seattle, I knew that from other past travels, there would be days/moments like this….we laughed and that seemed to help.
The heat/humidity and sweating did get to me and one point I had to stop because I really thought that I might faint. I worked really hard to will myself not to because I thought "what would Kim do"? So, I sat down for a couple minutes, pulled myself together and on we continued. Later, I showed Kim a spot on my little finger that she should press if I were to faint in the future. It’s called Heart 9 and is really good for revivals of all sorts—fainting, hitting ones’ head, etc. (As I write this I just gave Kim a quiz asking her where the pressure point is and she passed with flying colors)! I am really hoping that there will be no future need for either of us to have Heart 9 pressed.
We are both wooses when it comes to the heat. Part of what I love about Seattle is that it doesn’t get that hot. As a child I grew up in the cool of mountains but often during the summers we would head to Texas to visit relatives—Galveston, Houston, San Antonio. Those places are so hot and humid! I couldn’t stand the weather and often was quite miserable. It was in Galveston that I developed my abhorrence and fear of mosquitoes because I have a very strong reaction to them. No little red swelling for me! Huge, hard growths that itch like a son of a bitch and no amount of Calamine lotion would help. What a crock that product is/was! Prior to leaving Seattle I purchased (at Costco so guess the size) a bottle of benydrl/diphenhydramine. So, I am prepared for the worst and hope that our great shutters and double panned windows help keep the mosquitoes at bay. (Note: No we do not have screens in our wonderful windows). I also have told Kim everyday that I want to try to find a fan; how hard do you think that should be? Every storefront we have passed, I have looked to see if perhaps it will hold a fan within. I haven’t seen a fan anywhere. Either it’s air conditioned or not and no fan. The local internet café gets hot as hell with all the computers, has no air conditioning and no fan. What an improvement a fan would make; Kim says I should start an import business. I am thinking that I will keep asking around (I wrote the name of the word fan down on a piece of paper to ask). I keep thinking, "How could they not have fans for sale here"? My back up plan is to look for one in Milan OR to ask Kim’s friend Jean (who lives in Vienna) to bring one when she comes to visit later in the summer. OR I just remembered that Kim’s daughter, Siegy will be coming to visit us and will be flying in from Copenhagen where her dad lives; maybe she could bring one…..
I want to have a good attitude (well mostly good) and just take it in stride. Kim, being the queen of bold statements has responded with "well done given that it’s only been day two of warmer weather". I am going to prove her wrong!

The 3 Plagues of Italy

The 3 Plagues of Italy…mosquitoes, ants, and Il Mafioso
Well perhaps 4 in the summer- tourists. But not in our off- the- beaten path oasis, Alessandria, where a week later, we still haven’t heard English spoken by any native speakers. (and where apparently, according to the Microsoft Mafioso-Abby??, my native grammar is abhorrent).
Getting back to the real plagues…I added the Mafioso in honor of anti-Mafia day-as announced today on Italian MTV. I can’t say I know much on the subject but was glad to see that the Italians feel they are a problem, too. I do remember reading during a trip to Sicily in ’03 that there, those who stand up to the Mafia have extremely short-lived protests. So may there be strength in numbers for future efforts.
Rachel and I are the true vigil-ant-ies!! Last night we eliminated hundreds of the little suckers in our kitchen. Why one day and not any other? Perhaps Rachel’s meal was especially tasty last night- or after numerous glasses of wine we spilled more than our usual share of bread crumbs? In any case we were the Via Verona Mafiose (apparently Microsoft also doesn’t believe that women-plural-can be in the Mafia) and the streets are now safe.
And ah, the zzzzzzzzzzzzzzanzare. Rachel lives in fear as she is highly allergic and looks like Elephant (wo)man when bitten. So far she has kept them at bay but the weather has been unseasonably cool so far (give or take a day or two) and I’m afraid that ultimately she may not be the conquistadora she fantasizes herself to be. Time will tell.

Becoming legal

June 20, 2008
I forgot to mention the other day (prior to getting our apartment) that in order to become legal here, we had to go to the "Agenzia Delle Entrate" where our successful San Francisco Visa adventure now allows us to receive our "Certificato Di Attribuzione Del Numero Di Codice Fiscale" and we can enter into legal situations/contracts (i.e. a rental agreement). Long story short, it’s an identification number like our Social Security numbers. (Kim just made me add that "long story short" when I say it is anything but. She is repeating over and over, "Danger Will Robertson, danger")! ANYWAY, the setting was a typical formal bureaucratic building with multiple flags out front; our realtor, Rosanna met us there. And, was that ever a good thing because there is no way we would have figured it out for ourselves. Picture one of our bureaucratic buildings and how we ourselves struggle to navigate—for example, the Department of Social and Health Services (DSHS) or another one of my favorites, the Department of Motor Vehicles (DMV).
First, one must find the appropriate office room. Then there is the challenge of how one gets served in this room full of people looking bored, annoyed, frustrated and hoping their number will soon be called. Speaking of numbers, there was a woman in front of a "take a number" reader that had various columns and depending upon what service you need, you push the appropriate button and out pops your number. Anyway, it became apparent that Rosanna "knows" people and before we even got a number, a woman who I later figured out to be equivalent to the office manager/supervisor was speaking to Rosanna and telling her what paperwork to fill out. Like I have done many times with my social work clients, Rosanna filled out our paperwork and then told us where to sign. For me, this was simultaneously reassuring and humbling. This makes me think and wonder about all of the immigrants who enter our country and the process they must endure. It reminds me of an Evergreen co-worker who is from Laos. One day at work, he told me a very long amazing story about hiding out in the mountains of Laos and fearing for his life. Then his journey with his family to camps and being asked one day if he’d like to leave for America. He said yes, and was told he had one hour to gather his family and get to the departure location (no five bags of belongings either). He and his family came to the US not knowing a word of English and nothing about our culture. I am here for pleasure; he came to American to survive. I am now only getting the tiniest, slightest glimpse of what he and his family have been through. The day he told me his amazing story, I had an intellectual understanding of the process; now I am able to add a few of the feelings but again, our journey is for pleasure. I should add that he is someone I have always greatly admired and for whom I hold a great deal of respect. He’s always kind, funny, and a very strong worker bee ethic; the "kind" our nation says we should welcome.
To continue with this story: it was the typical take a seat, wait and in my case, observe and try to figure out their system and process. Kim right away whispered to me that she was wondering if one of the main data entry people (who I will call "Marta" was transgendered. Marta seemed to have a lot of front desk authority and she would not answer people’s quick questions but tell them to go take a number. I should add that Kim often notices these types of situations; always hopefully noticing who is gay ("our people") or in this case transgendered. The entire time we were there, I couldn’t decide; it was close. First I’d say no, then yes. I thought no initially because she had quite large breasts and they were pretty rounded….but then that led me to thinking yes because that would seem to be an important thing to a transgendered person. I think of all the drag queens in Seattle and there is always an emphasis upon breast cup size. When we did get up to her station I looked at her hands. Still, I couldn’t tell and as I write it’s become one of those things that I’ll never know. (NOTE: Kim questions that by my mentioning this are we/am I being in some form politically incorrect and insensitive? I do not mean to be; I am only reporting what occurred and our thoughts. I make no judgment of Marta’s gender, just her typing prowess as you will note shortly).
Anyway, back to the ambiance of the room. At one point it became totally chaotic with many people suddenly converging upon the front desk; lots of chatter and the din of the room was loud. A man approached Marta and began complaining loudly that he wasn’t receiving services; apparently he’d called on the phone and was getting nowhere. Marta sternly told him to take a number but he wasn’t having any of this and they continued to argue back and forth. I couldn’t figure out why things had changed so quickly, from bored resignation to anger and arms waving. Kim told me that she overheard the "office supervisor" say "where are all of our colleagues"? I looked around, and sure enough, there were only two. The number giver woman (a critical entry guide) was gone along with other staff. (I’m pretty sure the number woman was out front smoking because when we’d first arrived I saw her outside and she was smoking. At this point in time, about 30-40 minutes had passed so that would be right on cue). All of a sudden, another woman appeared and began telling people to calm down which they sort of did but also didn’t. When the ticket dispenser did finally return, she voiced some indignation because people had taken it upon themselves to get their own ticket and perhaps that added to the chaos. Meanwhile, Marta was still arguing with the complainer when she called our number. I just kept saying to myself, "come on Marta, we can do this, we can get this done" as she efficiently typed away with only her middle finger. In typical bureaucratic fashion, Marta took and s l o w l y began with Kim’s paperwork while simultaneously complaining to her office manager across the room what an idiot the complainer must be. She took Kim’s passport to walk across the room where the copy machine resides. Never mind that she knew there were two of us and she’d have to do the same thing with my passport; no, it was part of her daily steps regime and there is a procedure and order to be followed.
After all of this, I happily report (long story short) that we did succeed and now having my new identity number makes me wonder what other contracts we might enter? Perhaps a car….? Probably not but we shall see.

Computer technical details

Yesterday I was able to copy my entry from an e drive but today it will not allow such an activity. So, until I can figure it out this will have to do for today. It is Friday and Kim is home sick with a cold. This is my first independent outing to the internet cafe. All's well. Will write more tomorrow and hopefully I'll figure out the download. Ciao for now. I only have 11 minutes left and still need to check Kim's email.
Rachel

Delusional no longer....

Okay so I was very, very wrong. Delusional, in fact. This place is as Italian as it can be. Since when can one judge a city by the area next to the train station?! When one gets lost going out the door (as Rachel does every time!) because the streets are so winding and narrow, how is that anything like anywhere in the US? And did I mention they are all cobblestone? And anyone who drives, drives small cars that take up the entire street and the rest of us have to scramble into doorways or up against the wall to let them pass. Most of us live in former palazzos that are now converted into condominiums. Ours may be one of the few rentals; the others have balconies, appear larger and seem a lot more grand. Rachel painted a bleak picture of our place but it really is quite sweet. Okay so it has a slightly damp odor but it really has some charm. One of these days we’ll take a picture of the ceiling to prove it. Our bathroom is bigger than ours in the States (and while that’s not saying much coming from us…this one fits a washing machine and a bidet along with the usual accoutrements (now I’m just showing off-trilingual!). However, should I continue to eat gelato every day, I will no longer be able to fit into the shower as it is even a tight fit for Rachel…
Today we met the cleaning lady for the common areas of the "palazzo." and her sweet 9 year old son. He reminded me of my sweet nephew Jack (hand dimples and all!). They moved here from Albania in October and he knew quite a bit of English from school. He sat and talked with us in our kitchen/living room and was patient with our attempts at Italian. Another little girl who visits her aunt regularly also impressed us with her English. We have not impressed anyone with our Italian, I’m afraid, although I have been able to communicate (more or less) as needed. But at least this communication problem has inspired Rachel to listen to the Italian language CDs we brought with us. (She is finding out that her Spanish version of Italian isn’t cutting it). She is cursing like a sailor at the moment because her CD player (on sale at Bartells!) is non funciona.
PS I want to say: I love this place

A real Italian moat

June 19, 2008
So much to say, so much to review and process…perhaps it’s best to just begin at a new beginning: We are in our apartment on Villa Verona! To be formal, we are at:
V. Verona, #41, Alessandria, Italy. No, we are not living under a bridge as the San Francisco Italian Consulate inferred we might do a couple months ago when we went (in person) to apply for our year long visa…at the time we didn’t have a formal address and he wouldn’t give us a Visa without an address. Never mind that there were technical details involved in having a real address at the time. He sternly told me that "you just might live under a bridge and we can’t have that!" No, we can’t. To make a long story short, the realtor here (Rosanna) just sent a fake address on letter head with her signature and all was good; consequently, here we are and to be honest, I have yet to see a bridge in sight here in Alessandria.
We are in a little one bedroom apartment that is on the first floor but feels like a basement apartment. It has had "problems" with flooding in the past and is a bit damp. There is good and bad news about this: it’s cooler in the afternoon when it gets hot and I think it’s going to be rather chilly come the winter. Yesterday Kim and I spent the day cleaning—it was in pretty good shape but given that it’s a rental, there were a few details…One being, moving the living room divan/couch and finding: 1) a very wet, damp wall and 2) these two little box contraptions that I am going to try to post a picture so that you can get the true image. They look like a container (square, say 3x3 with water in the bottom and then in the middle a round container of what looks like soaked kitty litter and, by the way, smells just like soaked kitty litter. So picture the image of a miniature moat surrounded by pretty disgusting looking water and the land being the clump of litter with all the odor attached…it was a strong ammonia type smell that was driving me crazy until we found these little contraptions. I can’t tell you how fast they ended up outside once they were discovered. Our theory was (and was later confirmed) that they are there to somehow soak up the humidity that is emanating from the wall. Too bad, they are history! Our cleaning involved washing the walls with bleach and trying to not have too much of it disintegrate as I moved the rag over it. We also washed the divan cover and I would say about 85-90% of the smell has dissipated; as I write this I can still smell a bit but it’s much more tolerable and when coffee is made, all is much better.
Speaking of coffee, it like many things here (which I will get to) is quite the ritual; I speak of homemade coffee. Being the good Americans that we are, we tried to buy a Mr. Coffee machine that we saw in a window but the proprietor told us he didn’t have one…oh, okay. So, we did buy (after looking at several stores), the traditional espresso type maker. We have a small one that came with the apartment but the two little tiny cups that you’re supposed to leisurely sip out of just didn’t cut it and we were making two and three pots…So, as I write this, I am drinking the maiden voyage of our new bigger maker and it has made the equivalent of one US size cup…It took me about 20 minutes to make it because I’m still trying to figure out the stove and which turner oner belongs to which burner and then I didn’t screw the bottom tightly enough and there was a little leakage and simultaneously I was trying to froth some milk with a little battery whipper appliance that Kim purchased…
What all of this is leading to (and forgive me for the length of this but with a blog, you can chose to quit reading anytime) is that I am already discovering that much of life here will be just a ritual of accomplishing tasks throughout the day. Like laundry—we have a washing machine but no dryer. We have a very nice clothes dryer apparatus that goes outside (so get over your image of us hanging things from the 3rd floor balcony) and you just very systematically hang clothes in a manner that the air gets all around them. Then, you hope it will be a bit sunny and that your corner of this complex gets some sun. It does! Around 2PM or so and that’s how clothes mostly dry. At night we bring in the apparatus and it stands in front of the television that only brings us Italian stations (no CNN—what did I think?) At different times, you go and check the laundry and as it is drying, you turn it over or move it to a different place…it’s all quite strategic and I like it (for now—we’ll see how enamored I’ll be with it come the winter). This, like the coffee making is like a little Zen ritual/meditation that s l o w s one down because of the partial lack of modern appliances that speeds thing up for us and helps us to multi-task to a point of frenzy.
We are waiting for our telephone line to which we hope will be an internet attachment. This will take about 10 days and so in the meantime, we go to our local internet café which sounds easy but it has it’s challenges b/c everything is in Italian (imagine that!) and access to the US Google has been tricky. That’s it for now because I have to go make a second cup of coffee and who knows how long that will take.

And on the third day she rose....

Well other than to eat gelato, I really had been in bed a bunch. No one who knows me well- or knows my mother-would think ah she must have gotten a virus on the plane. No... it's just my way of coping as Rachel alluded to in the previous posting. But then Monday morning (after waking up at midnight for a rousing game of cribbage) something changed. All my questions, doubts, and MAJOR anxiety went POOF! And this occurred even after I said "Honey, what if this place is Everett?" (for those on the East Coast , think Bridgeport or someplace like that). And in her zenlike manner, which can be infuriating at times, Rachel replies you know, people live in Everett and probably like it a lot. After swearing under my breath, or maybe not that softly, I shut up. What did I know about this place really? Nothing at all except that a friend liked it a lot when she lived here for 2 years-which last month was good enough for me to plan my new life around. What was I now getting all snobby about? And when I thought a little more...where in Italy can you possibly go anymore where for the last 72 hours we have not heard anyone speak English? No Brits, no Americans, no Aussies, no Canadians ( and you know we would have heard those loud Canadians!). Not a soul except hotel people trying to communicate with us. And the blocks of Alessandrians on Sunday evening strolling with their families and friends, not going anywhere but happy to just be in the crowd. No big museums or walls of tourists, jut people living their lives. So in a few short hours we will sign a lease on the same little apartment where our friend Aurelie had lived for 2 years. Was this meant to be?? I'm beginning to think so.

Soon to have a home...

Jet lag continues to be a factor but we are slowly improving...some recent observations: everything (except the churches) are smaller here. For example elevators and showers. Elevators are no bigger that 3'x 3' and the showers, about 24" x 24". That has me contemplating size and how used to super sizing life I am...It has not been fun trying to cram our 5 suitcases into the tiny elevators. But, the elevators are not tiny, it's just that we have too much STUFF!

Anyway, today we found an apartment and tomorrow we go and sign up with the police/authorities so that we can enter into a contract (lease) and get phone service, etc. It will take approximately 10 days to get phone service to which, hopefully, internet service will also be attached.

Kim seems happier with Alessandria. We both awoke at midnight last night, thinking it was at least 4AM...we played Cribbage (she won) and talked about our journey and just how we got here....in the literal as well as wooo wooo, guided here sense. She has continued to ask "is this the right place?" and I have only been able to answer that I can't answer that question. To me it's like she's asking "what is the meaning of life or is there really a god...?" I don't know. But, we do agree that we are going to make of go of it given that we do have this legal date with the authorities pending...

Fatigue has hit and back to the covers I go. It's 6:11AM on Monday in Seattle; Yikes, I'll bet that the Ommmmm CD at Evergreen Treatment Services is going full blast!

Paralysis, Day 2

June 15, 2008

Almost paralysis has set in. We are in our Alessandria hotel and mostly lie in bed with occasional movement to eat breakfast or look out the window, or use the bathroom. I seem to have a bit more energy than Kim. She remains in bed and only has come out today (upon my prodding) to eat some breakfast. Once back in the room, she again is under the covers.

A discussion takes place: “Is this the right place to be (meaning Alessandria); will there be enough here to keep us busy”? How can that be answered? We know nothing of this place. I search all of our travel books and in one, there is a 2 page entry on Alessandria—mostly about Napoleon and a war and a type of food that was created by his chef. I seem to be in a just trust that this is the right place although I’d be a liar if I didn’t admit that Kim’s questions (are they innocent—why now since the deed is done!) make me nervous and I want to tell her not to add to my anxiety but instead allow the questions b/c I do know that they must be asked. I am trying to just allow what is…knowing that all of this will take time and that this birth entry is difficult and there will and must be an adjustment period…a month or two? I keep reminding myself of what Harriet said—it will be very hard in the beginning and it will seem like nothing will be working out. “Don’t expect your computer to work….after awhile, things will be much better.”

Speaking of computers so far ours has worked within the hotel. I take some pride in the fact that I have figured out how to connect it and that I brought (from home) a telephone cord in anticipation of needing one to connect; and here in this hotel room we do need one. It took me awhile to find the cord packed away among the pounds of “necessities” that we brought with us. In the meantime, I unplugged the room phone cord (who’s going to call?) and utilized that (discovering that the plugs on phones must be partially universal—at least between Italy and the US). Now, I say “hooray for them (computers)!” So far it’s been our link to the past of home as we struggle to take in the creation of a new home. So, let’s hear it for being able to access KUOW and You Tube. Last night we happily watched Steven Colbert’s You Tube videos. Then we learned of the death of NBC correspondent Tim Russert and watched as Tom Brokaw read the announcement. Mr. Russert (who was only 3 years older than me) died due to overwork??? That’s what it sounded like; dropped dead at work! Kim and I looked at each other; yes, this is so believable and I thought to myself, “This is why I am here…” That almost sounds so horrible to say b/c I’m always telling myself that my life is no harder than anyone else’s….that these last 8 years shouldn’t have taken that much of a toll on me; but they have and I am so grateful for the opportunity to just STOP and rest and try to take in that we/I don’t really have to do anything I don’t want to do for the next year. This leads back into Kim’s and my earlier conversation about “Is this the right place to be??” My thinking was, does it really matter? We don’t have to be anywhere; we don’t have to be “back” in time to get ready for work. So, for instance, if we take a train into Milan and spend the day, it doesn’t matter what time we get back b/c we can sleep in and we don’t HAVE TO get prepared for a day of work or functional living. What kind of gift is this??? It’s actually quite embarrassing (but I’ll cope with that!) to be able to do this. And now I think of Tom Brokow (I was very touched as he clearly struggled to read the announcement and eulogize the life of his friend and colleague) and I wonder what he is thinking…I am sure he works as hard as Mr. Russert did and does he think of taking a break? Certainly, he can afford one but it’s all in one’s needs and priorities and sometimes, work is the priority for living. That’s been my modus operandi and now I am making a turn in the road of that belief and wonder what I will discover.

I have been acutely aware of the money thing…It’s very obvious that we are looked at as having money—which we do, but in a way that I’ve not really ever experienced (and I never do forget that the only reason I/we can do this is b/c my parents died—another long saga to be discussed later, I’m sure). The fact that at this point in time we can travel here to Italy for a year begs the question, “How are they doing that?” While everyone tells us how it’s so fabulous and “we deserve it” (do we? Why more than everyone else who works hard?) I still feel awkward. But, to a degree it’s been quickly remedied by being gouged by the Taxi drivers who could give a shit about being nice b/c they are working hard to make a living and why should they give a break to someone who is doing something that they only dream of? And the circle is completed, my question not totally answered but being gouged is like a penance so all is well.

Baggage is baggage....on all levels

June 13, 2008

First things first: we have arrived in Milan, Italy; all 5 suitcases! That’s the most important aspect which I am sure will soon be overshadowed by adventures and old and new lessons.

We arrived in the pouring rain. Now, we all read about the “to do’s “when travelling….old lessons learned long ago. Lessons like:

Know what your foreign currency is worth (yes, it’s prettier that US dollars but it is NOT Monopoly money…(more on this later).

Even though it’s midnight, we’re exhausted, there are signs warning about “honest and not so honest” cab drivers, we still might slip up a little….or a lot. In hindsight, we did review our errors, like: “do you see a meter?” ANS: “no.” Response: “oh, ok.”.
“How much do you think this will cost?”. ANS: “I don’t know”. Response: “oh, ok”. Upon arrival at the hotel, the driver stops up a hill from the main entrance (still pouring rain) and remarks that he can’t go down the driveway because…? Ummm, it’s blocked. Is it? “Oh, ok”. I’ll just run down the hill and get a cart or something while Kim pays. Upon return (with the cart). “I don’t see a blocked driveway”….Kim:” this is costing us $90”. Me:”oh, ok. Do you need more money?”. Down the hill we go with our 300 lbs. of luggage, in the pouring rain (did I mention that?) and being the polite American travelers that we are, we say “Grazie!—thank you!”….Thank you for ripping us off, for seeing that we were the perfect tourist patsies, that it should have been a $35 fare but we gladly paid $90 because we are Americans and we just received our stimulus package and we are happy to share (with another country).

Being good social workers, it’s good to debrief our experience prior to (trying) to go to sleep. “honey, let’s not do that again tomorrow”. “Oh, ok”.

Euros: crispy and pretty. They are worth about 1.4 to the dollar; in other words: One Euro = about $1.45; not .63 cents. Friendly reminder, the dollar is worth about .63….so best to keep that in mind as we calculate future cab rides.

Finally, if the cab driver says the ride costs equivalent to $90, we should question that price. If the cab driver stops at the top of the drive way leading into the hotel and says he can’t go in there, be a bit more curious, especially as he dumps all the luggage in puddles of rain and quickly drives away. And, last lesson for tonight: don’t say “thank you” and mean it.