"Breaking up is hard to do..."

A "Dear John letter" is a letter written to tell someone their relationship is over, usually because the composser has found another lover. They are often written out of an inability or unwillingness to inform the subject face to face. It pains me to do it, but, this is my "Dear John Letter" to Italy, (only I have not found another lover, just another country)

    

Dearest John, I mean Dearest Italy,

I know this isn’t the way it’s supposed to be done. Writing like this. But, it’s the only way I have left. I am constantly surrounded by you, looking into your food, wine and culture, my mind goes blank, my thoughts jumble, and I am left with nothing for you but tears.

Being with you has been wonderful. Being with you has taught me so much. And there is so much that I am grateful for, so much that I will cherish well into my declining years.

But the time has come to say good-bye.  We both knew that this would not last forever.

We were simply not meant to be, my love.

You have your ways, I have mine, and nothing in the middle seems to make sense, particularly driving habits.  So many things still baffle me about you.

I love you, still. But the carbohydrate intake that lies beneath my stomach lining, has become more than I can endure. More than anyone should have to. For me, and for you. We are too good to settle for something that will never be.

I wish for you, all the things you dream of. All the things you need, such as more patience while queing and a better understanding of customer service.

I wish for you, a happiness that will endure.

Good-bye Italy my love, you will never be forgotton.

"Io vi amo e vi ringrazio per i ricordi."

 

Gonzos Abroad

Love and Loathing

Love and Loathing. I have discovered that it is actually possible to feel these two polar emotions at the same time.  As I think about leaving Italy, I am starting to reflect upon what I love and loath about this unique country.

• Everything is ancient
• LOVE the history, architecture, art, food; Italians respect their past and make an effort to cultivate others of their treasures
• LOATH the hole in the ground toilets and the resistance to change for the better

• The clothing tags are longer than the garments themselves
• LOVE that washing directions are in several languages, feels extremely 'European'
• LOATH forgetting to chop the tags off and feeling like I am shoplifting A4 sized notepads under my shirt or dress
• Disregard for road rules
• LOVE the fact that you arrive faster due to parking where you want, and not stopping when you have to
• LOATH the fact that drivers do not stop when they have to, (stop signs, red lights or pedestrian crossings), and they park where they want, (footpath, middle of the road, double/triple park; as long as the hazard lights are on, "we are all good")
• Ignorance of personal space
• LOVE the innocence of people picking up my children for a cuddle and taking them to show their friends (I know none of these people)
• LOATH my confusion between the two words friendliness and abduction



Random waiter in Florence that insisted we take a picture of him???

• Food
• LOVE it all, delicious, and you are EXPECTED to order first and second courses
• LOATH the amount of carbohydrates

• Coffee
• LOVE that it can cost 80c for a coffee, and a coffee to go is at a bar, served within the minute and you can double park to get it
• LOATH that you do not 'meet' for coffee, or it would be a 1 min 30 second outing, and a really quick conversation
• Wine
• LOVE that it is sooooo cheap and yummy
• LOATH the looks we receive from fellow diners when we order our litre of wine with meals
• Shopping
• LOVE that twice a year EVERYTHING goes on sale from 50 % to 70% off
• LOATH that everything is so expensive otherwise and nobody told me not to shop until July or January
• Children
• LOVE that people you slightly know, eg work colleagues, gym workers, shop assistants all request "meetings" with your children when they find out you have them
• LOATH.... seriously, this a little creepy
• Language
• LOVE the sound of it; it really is a lovely language even if I do not understand it
• LOATH that I do not understand it and am paranoid that I am being called silly French woman (I know, majority think I am French, bizarre)
• Customer Service
• LOVE that most of the smaller retail shops will greet you with an immediate "buongiorno", usually hollered from the opposite end on the store
• LOATH the come down after the enthusiastic greeting. You will now be ignored, even while purchasing something, you take second place to phone calls from Nonna or a review of a co-workers choice of nail polish colour
• Fashion
• LOVE the quality, availability and application of high fashion.  A visit to the local post box appears to be an occasion, you would only leave the house (apartment) in your "Sunday Bests".
• LOATH that imitations of the high fashion is sold on every corner displayed on a sheet or cardboard box.  Also loath that it is not socially acceptable to go to the local post box in my pyjama's (even if accessorised with a nice pair of kitten heels and a pair of over sized sunglasses).  Most are associated with Barbie in Milan, full of plastic and the face expression does not change much.

• Perception of necessity
• LOVE that on every corner there stands a church, (not a pub) that is older than the country that I was born.  Not often I passed a church without poking my head inside to see if there were fresco's, an organ, or any holy water in the font.
• LOATH the development of my conscience in my time in Italy.  The more churches I visited, the more I felt it disrespectful to take photos in this place of worship, but I have been torn, as I feel that this is the haven for the worlds best art.  Also loath my children's discovery of echo echo echo in these tranquil places of worship.

• Hand language
• LOVE the enthusiasm and expression of emotions. Speaking simultaneously with hands and mouth is a given for young and old, (see hubby, it IS possible to do more than one thing at a time)
• LOATH that arm flapping is a language in itself entirely.  A conversation can also be had with the hands and no words; yet another form of communication to be learnt.  (The only hand language I understood up until now was the middle finger for anger and rub your belly if you are hungry.... apparently there are more than 2 in the hand language index) www.youtube.com/watch?v=jVCuyrPk7P4
• Italy
• LOVE it entirely



Milan's Duomo

• LOATH that it is time to leave

Bulls in a china shop

Since we are trying to squeeze in tourist acts in any moment possible, we decided it was time to take the bulls by the horns and visit a museum in Milan.  We generally avoid museums.  I am presuming they have a similar motto to shops regarding valuables, "You break it, you pay".  Therefore entering the china shop wearing red with two juvinille bulls would not be in our best interests.  I am not even quite sure how you would go about replacing a vase from the 5th Century, "Do you take VISA?"

The Bagatti Valsecchi Museum is a not-for-profit historic house museum in downtown Milan. The Italian Renaissance art and decorative arts collections of the barons Bagatti Valsecchi are displayed in their home and visitors may view not only particular pieces of art, but also the house's authentic ambiances, expressive of late 19th century aristocratic Milanese taste.  The children are told not to touch, but as we enter the first room they both run to climb up onto an old chair.  From this point on, we are followed extremely closely by security in each room, (I can even let you know that the security man in the study had bad breath), they were definitely near-at-hand and not stealth.  Bit hard to blend in really; clumsy family of four enters and my husband's whispering louder than a scream "Don't touch" to the bulls.  Waste of time really.  Bulls obviously don't understand english, or italian.

The building was designed in Neo-Renaissance style, it has an elegant facade and is furnished with works of art and imitation Renaissance furniture.

15th to 17th century furniture for children

The rooms feature tapestries, ivory work, ceramics and arms, and important art works.



16th and 17th Century porcelain vases



Found next to a bed, alarm clocks have definitely changed over time

Bath tub

16th century wood paneling furniture concealing a piano

Private ballroom for princess to perform her ballet

Potty training anyone?



16th century bed with Christ ascending Calvary and scenes
from the old testament carved in the bedstead.

We managed to escape without having to pay for anything, and the non-smiling guards even managed a smile at us as we were leaving.  Hang on a minute... was it because we were leaving?  I wish we had taken the opportunity to visit a few more places like this sooner, it is a great way to educate the children and I relish in the history.  I love old stuff!

I'd prefer pull a rabbit out of my hat

I have officially achieved a hat trick!  Something has been accomplished 3 times, in this instance, I am referring to theft against me for the third time.  Alright, so this is not necessarily the kind of hat trick I wish upon myself.  Personally I would of preferred my hat trick to involve pulling out a rabbit, or rolling a top hat down my arm.

First I had my handbag stolen.  Then our car was broken into and someone stole our GPS, (which only spoke english by the way, so I hope the thief in this instance only speaks Italian).  Next; our weekend entertainment has been stolen.  Goodbye to my new bicycle, and to my husbands bicycle.  As a matter of fact, also a big farewell to the other six bicycles that have also been permanently borrowed from our apartments bike rack.  You would think I should solace in the fact that another six bikes were taken.  Nope.  There is no comfort in my sorrow.  Is it my bad luck or does Milan just have a high crime rate? How do you casually steal eight bikes?  What do you do with eight bikes? Were there eight thiefs?

Is this where my bike has gone?

I can not help but think that maybe if we rode to the markets on Sunday, (which is apparently when the robbery took place), that my bike would still be here.  I wonder if my bike had not been your 'average looking bike' then the thief would of thought it too suspicious to take.  They say "Third times a charm", I do not find this 'burglary thing' charming at all.

Maybe if I had this sort of bike it would of been left behind

What upsets me most of all, is the dwindled visions of  "happy European family" bike rides.  We only have six weeks to go.  It looks as though we will have to conclude our European tour via scooter.
Good things come in three's.
Three cheers for the thiefs, hip hip, hooray, hip hip hooray, hip hip hooray, (now stay away)!

I think the bandit came prepared with REALLY sharp scissors

This empty bike rack reflects the empty spot in my heart


I want to ride my bicycle
I want to ride my bike
I want to ride my bicycle
I want to ride it where I like
- Queen

Contagious moods and lack of lolly pops

On the last Sunday of the month, (excluding July and August) Naviglio Grande (the larger canal in Milan) comes alive for antique markets.  We had heard of these markets and today was literally our last chance to visit as they were about to close for the summer break, (along with the rest of Europe) and we would be ending our stay here in Italy mid August. 

Water was shallow and quite clear

Length of the market is said to be over 1km long

Second-hand vintage clothes, antiques, old books, furniture, clocks, silverware, jewellry, art work are all on display. For some reason I was expecting something similar to a flea market or a boot sale, but there were definitely no insects or boots for sale. The antiques are displayed by approximately 400 merchants and the market is unique due to its size and the variety of items.  Some furniture and art were priced over 1000€, and I think you needed a trained eye to distinguish between quality and a bargain.

Variety of instruments on display

"Can we carry this home on the metro?"

Retro posters and cards for sale

Navigation equipment for my next pirate adventure

No possibility of speed dialing here...

A lot of the shops on the canal are local artists and if you wander into some of the courtyards you can see more art on display as well as see the traditional public style housing of the past.  This ancient market was known as the “Artists center” where artists wanted to paint the old Naviglio canal and old buildings on the both bank of Naviglio. Even today this canal is used as an open air studio by many artists.

Art found permanently displayed on a wall in an alley

Exploring off the canal

Beautiful old buildings

a door

Some fashion designers have opened their boutiques and studios along the canal, I mostly noticed a retro vibe, and quite alot of comic book stores.

Gas pumps and juke boxes for sale

It was a really nice day and it would of been really pleasurable to stroll down the canal and see what interesting or strange things are on sale.  I say "would have" because with two tired toddlers in toe, princes bad mood was being contagious, and we were running out of lolly pops! After he spread his mood like the plague, he surrendered his complaints and settled for a sleep in my arms as i walked in the 30 degree heat.  Not quite the relaxing stroll I had envisioned.

 If you want to stop for lunch, many of the restaurants are open, but not until after 12, which is quite normal, but irritating when you have run out of lolly pops!  (Lolly pops are like my sponsor in an AA program, they should ALWAYS be accessible.) We found a great spot to have a foccacia, a refreshing ale, people watch and an opportunity for my son to sleep on my lap and dribble down my top.  I wish we had visited these markets sooner.  I have a feeling I will be thinking I wish I did that sooner about a lot of things in our last 6 weeks here.

My view from lunch, visual shopping

Energy restored after a bite to eat!

I am THAT PERSON, ewww...

As I have mentioned before, I go to a sweatless gym.  This is a place where the Italians meet to catch up with friends, grab a coffee, share a cigarette, and occassionaly walk from one piece of eqipment to another, all while talking on their mobile phone.  Yes, I said gym; not bar; not Wi Fi spot nor did I say a destination for speed dating; is this really what I am getting for my health membership?

Am I the only one who brings a sweat towel to put over the equipment? Sweat towels are non existant, why wouldn't they be, nobody sweats!

Am I the only one who brings a water bottle to rehydrate? A coffee machine greets you as you walk in the door, because I know once I have run a few kilometers on the treadmill, a quick espresso is always good for the heart rate.  No one is drinking any water, but then why would they be, nobody sweats!


There are no showers at the gym, just toilets and change rooms, why would there be, nobody sweats!

I should of paid more attention to the fellow patrons during my orientation.  I am yet to see another cuddly person at the gym.  I am sure there was a 'stage one' gym they were supposed to send me to first?  Some sort of room underground for the sweaters and belt busters to get into shape, before initiation and a pass to play with the pretty people. But instead, I am the only sweater!  I am unique!  I have a sweat towel, (which is more of a double sized beach towel), a water bottle that is refilled in the handicapped toilet several times during my work out, (I am obviously reffering to the basin not the toilet), and a little ipod that i listen to music on, (no need to use my phone for music like everyone else as I have nobody to call or text anyway).

I am now 'that person'.  That person that everyone looks at but does not speak to when at the gym, ("ewww she's sweating"). At my last gym in Australia, 'that person' wore all green, (shirt, shorts, socks and shoes) and was often seen riding the streets on the weekend with an empty beer carton as a hat. Maybe I am that person minus the beer hat? I know I am watched, I sense it. I huff. I puff.  I sound as though I am having an asthma attack minus the asthma.  I look as though I have been severley sunburnt as my face turns the colour of beetroot.  I smell like I have been attacked by several promotors in a perfume aisle, (I try to overcompensate for the sweating before it happens.) 

So I think I have finally figured out why there is no need for Italians to sweat.  Afterall, sweating could help you loose weight.  Why would you want to sweat if you are already thin?  Besides, if you don’t like to sweat, you could try one of the 100 firming and toning creams sold in Italian pharmacies that promise “un corpo perfetto” (a perfect body), “una impeccabile silhouette” (an impeccable silhouette), and the disappearance of stretchmarks and cellulite. 

I am not rich.  I can not afford the cream.  So for now... I will continue to be that person.  I do however hold comfort in the fact that my husband returns from the gym looking as though he has just been caught in the cross fire of an adolescent water fight.  So, he too is that person.  It is just a shame that we are never at the gym at the same time so we can be that person together.

I want to ride my bicycle

Life is like riding a bicycle - in order to keep your balance, you must keep moving. ~Albert Einstein

So I did... keep moving.. into a hedge... then onto the pavement.  Splat!
 
Apparently, you never forget how to ride a bike.  But you definitely lose the expertise, mobility and courage.  Hubby and I purchased new bikes last week and with added seats for the children, basket for the front, I was feeling very 'European' and could not wait to have a leisurely cycle to the city.
 

"I want to ride my bicycle,

I want to ride my bike,

I want to ride my bicycle,

I want to ride it where I like!"

I had been practicing this Queen song in my head all week, so surely I was well prepared?  I took dibs on travelling with my son, presuming the 3kg weight difference between siblings could make all the difference to my thighs if we hit an incline.  So I strap him in real good, he is not going anywhere, poor thing is very excited "bike, bike, bike" and can barely see under his safety helmet, which is probably for the best, he can not see the nerves on my face.  "I think I will need to practice a bit" were the words to leave my mouth as my husband pushed off with daughter in toe.  I saw my husband wobble slightly, is that what i am supposed to do, wobble? As you know, husbands know best, so I mimick his actions, my bike wobbles.  This resulted in panic as I attempted to mount the high curb, (some may say it was not a high curb, but instead a smooth incline, do not listen to 'them', they are not the ones retelling the story).  So in my attempt to 'get air' over the extremely high curb, I ride into a hedge, and end up doing a slow motion fall to the ground, bike between my legs and son strapped into the back.  "Help.... help... help, help, help," started off mumured under my breath slowly, then increased to a quick squeal.

I now know that these bikes are heavy, especially when you are trying to lift it off the ground with a toddler still attached.  He was strapped in well, he didn't go anywhere!  Son was not overly impressed with this new bike thing, and was a little hesitant at my response of "Ta Da", I think he was a little unsure about the adventure ahead.... considering we had not even left the front gate of our apartment!

Needless to say, I am now nursing a bruised leg, wrist and ego, but determined to look like a cute European family, I climb back on the bike.  (I actually don't.  I walk the bike out the gate, accross the road and down the path.  When my husband asks me if we are planning on walking the children on the bikes all the way into town, then I climb back on.)  He was smirking at me for the rest of the day, and I am glad that the mental image of me falling off the bike 15 meters after I mounted it, brings him such happiness.  Afterall, I am here to entertain.  In an attempt for him to feel less guilty for his giggles, he did in return get his wheels stuck in the tram track and squealed like girl.  That makes me giggle.  Now we are even and can enjoy our day.

Our ride into Milan city centre, probably should of been 5 minutes, but took about 10, we were in no rush, and by the time we arrived at our restaurant, I had convinced myself that I had training wheels so the bike would not fall again. We had a lovely lunch at one of our regular restaurants, and the children ate well and entertained each other without breaking any glasses We climbed back on the bikes, now feeling a bit more confident with a couple of glasses of wine under our belts, (surely that would assist with the bike wobbles) and found ourselves on wide paths in the park. Yep, you guessed it... I had another moment. We all giggled riding next to each other, proclaimed our love for each other, everyone was smiling and we managed to maneuver around pedestrians without having to use the bell. I had an urge to sing "The hills are alive, with the sound of music!" Why I do not know because I wasn't on a hill, but it just reflected my happy feeling. The day ended with us all eating gelati, now I just need some flowers to decorate the front of my bike basket!

E-I-E-I-O... Yee hah!

The anticipation had been building all week, and I am really starting to think that I should get out a bit more often.  Is it appropriate for a 33 year old to be more excited about a visit to a farm than her children?  Denim, checkered shirt knotted at the waist, boots and hair in piggy tails... what, too much?  The Farm Pasquè is located in the hills of Varese and was our destination on this fine Saturday morning, we accompanied 100 others in an organised excursion by our daughters asilo nido, (nursery).

At the farm we saw  many kinds of domestic animals such as cows, horses, donkeys, pigs, sheep, goats, rabbits, geese, turkeys, ducks, roosters and hens, capons, and guinea fowl.  These animals were all accompanied by the stench of tinkle and dung burdened hay piles.  (Farms are fun places, but I would suggest the introduction of barn yard deodoriser to boost return visits.) We also found wild boars, guinea pigs, ferrets , Bismarck rabbits, bantam roosters, Tibetan goats, Shetland ponies and llamas.

We were guided around the entire farm and educated about the general day to day activity of milking cows, feeding the animals, etc.  It was all in Italian, so I did not leave any smarter than when I arrived, I did however find myself giggling with others when the guide would throw a joke into his speeches.  (Seemed easier this way then asking my husband for constant translation.) 

The children had a great time throwing hay at the cows heads, poking animals thru fences and they even got to make their own cheese.  The day ended with a delicious supplied lunch of fresh produce made on the farm, and a smashed glass on the floor. (This occured 2 seconds after the "Please don't play with the glass, it might break" comment.)  The beauty of this setting, was that being surrounded by so many other families, our embarassments and performances seemed to blend with the behaviours of others, enabling us to go slighty unnoticed.  A great day was had by all, I love finding something new to do with the children outside.