During my week in Rome
I also went shopping with my mum, of course, and couldn’t help bringing back
new clothes, a pair of shoes, presents for the rest of the family and food. I
had only hand luggage this time, hoping to
restrain my shopaholic impulses, and had to cram everything into one
small suitcase. My handbag was filled to bursting. There were so many beautiful
things I couldn’t afford that I opted for a picture instead. I found a nice vintage shop,
Tempi Moderni, in Via del Governo Vecchio. It has unique ties in vivid colours and unusual patterns, ideal for my
husband. And I discovered an original clothes shop in Via del Pellegrino, where
a friend of mine lives, where I found a blue dress for an affordable price,
unbelievable in the centre of Rome.
Piazza Campo de’ Fiori
was full of colours, with fruit and vegetable stalls, a great variety of pasta
and spices, oils and peppers: all very Mediterranean.
Tourists were everywhere. It was sunny and mild. I was getting into a holiday
mood and finally relaxing.
To break my bliss I had
a close encounter with the dysfunctional Italian bureaucratic system. Even
after seven years, the school where I used to work before moving to England hasn’t
completed a form (called PA04) which they need to send to the pension tracing
service office to complete my file. The office
urged them several times to send it. I phoned the school again and again
over the years. They always said they didn’t know how to fill it in and now
they had lost trace of my request. I felt as if I were living in the animated
film The Twelve Tasks of Asterix
where the protagonist needs to find permit A38 in The Place That Sends You Mad.
I should invent a new form, as Asterix did, to feel less powerless. But this is
not the way it works in Italy, unfortunately. My sister had a similar problem.
For two years officialdom failed to complete a document she needed and sent it
from one office on the second floor to another on the fourth floor of the same
building till a friend of hers, who was in the union, threatened legal action.
In the end they did it in two weeks. I longed to be back in England.
I read two books, The Reunion by Fred Uhlman, a moving,
very readable, story of friendship under Nazi regime and Le ali della sfinge, a Montalbano story by Andrea Camilleri. I love
the Montalbano TV series. We always watch it at home. The actors are fantastic
and the stories are full of local flavour with a pinch of true commitment to
better the world, which is uncommon in detective stories. But the book is
written in Sicilian dialect, not only the dialogues but also most of the story
as it is narrated from Montalbano’s point of view. It was a struggle and a
great effort to finish it, though I got used to it towards the end. It may be a
good idea to read the next one in English.
Some news from
newspapers and magazines:
In Milan an angry,
crazy man went into the Law Court with a gun (the metal detector had been
removed six months before as it was broken) and killed three people. It was
revenge for being sued for debts. He
also managed to escape but was caught after some hours by Carabinieri.
The Vatican has refused
to accept the gay French ambassador for the Holy See.
The Church is concerned
about the wide gap between the one per cent of people who get richer and richer
compared to the rest of the population who financially stagnate.
Sexist advertisements
are finally banned. Until now, most of them have the voluptuous parts of the
woman’s body disrespectfully linked to a
product, in a sort of soft pornography, a kind of family entertainment to
remind women where their place is.
At the stadium in
Naples one of the supporters, after singing a song saying ‘siamo partenopei’
(we are Neapolitan) didn’t know the real meaning of ‘partenopei’ (Partenope was
an ancient Greek name for Naples referring to a myth). Hearing his comments, a
teacher decided to start a blog about art with the title Art for Chavs, written
in dialect.
There are several
restaurants in Italy and around the world
called ‘Berlusconi Pizza’ and ‘Bunga Bunga Pizzeria’. They may create a
proper dish in his honour in the future. You know, history can change facts.
The day before leaving
I had a whole family day at my sister’s. It was a really big dinner with
lasagne, roasted rabbit and chicken, several side dishes and three desserts.
Wine and prosecco at will. There were two of my cousins I hadn’t seen for ages
as well. We had plenty of updating and laughs and beautiful pictures under my
sister’s blossoming cherry tree.
New pasta recipes will
follow.
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