I started official Italian lessons with a woman who teaches English to primary schoolers - so as a teacher, she is fully qualified to teach me, and does it well. I am able to hold a conversation, which I am proud of, but I am still stuck on future tense conjugations. My "I am there in 10 minutes" needs some tweaking, but I'll get there.
Current events? I had a picnic in Parko Sempione in Milan this arvo with some friends - we went to a supermarket and bought fresh baguettes, sundried tomatoes (the best EVER), roasted peppers and a tub of ice-cream and a fancy little lunch in the sun. Divine.
I was in Milan this weekend for a Rotary event - we in district 2040 and some others from district 2050 all met up in Cremona - the cultural centre for violins in the world. I am not going to lie, I was NOT looking forward to the museum-ridden day, but the fact that I was with the best company had me reeling in anticipation.
We arrived in a huge piazza to a crowd of cyclists protesting for the lack of bike-lanes in their street (if only this was South Africa's biggest problem.) The participants all had signs of some sort strapped to them, and one was very punny. I enjoy this.
The first museum was boring as poes. One of the students tripped over something and made a noise, and the tourguide said, "Ti faccio male" (Basically, I will hurt you.) Dick. So nothing special here. Although a man played some beautiful music for us. We were then taken to a private manufacturer of violins - a woman introduced herself as Yael Rosenblum (how much more Jewish can you get.)
Turns out the chick is one of the most famous violin makers in the world. Jol.
Having my driver’s license at home means having the option to go wherever I please, whenever I choose.
I can’t drive here, so am forced to take the public transport, which, unlike in Cape Town, is easy, safe, cheap, and clever.
I take a tram to the city centre, take buses all over, the funicular to the upper city, take trains to Milan, and the metropolitan underground in Milan…
Despite the advantages of having public transport, I have seen some dirty things. Dirty dirty gross vom yuck shudder. For example, the other day I saw a woman plucking her eyebrows on the tram. I mean, come on chicki, you have a mirror and a bathroom at home for that shit. No-one wants to breathe in your eyebrow hairs.
Not only dirty, but dirty and hilarious. Just yesterday I watched as a smelly bergie ran out one door of the metro train, and back inside through the door of the same train 2 metres away, and pretended to wave to someone, while slouching over like the hunchback of the metro-dame, and covering his face.
I have been so grossed out by things I have seen on the public transport that washing my hands has not only become routine, but almost a bit of an obsession. I keep hand-sanitiser and wet-wipes in my bag for this reason. The other day I saw a guy with terribly infected eyes rubbing and rubbing his eyes, then proceeded to the door of the tram where his hands basically made a baby with the hand-rail, and then the button to open the door. Needless to say, I try not to touch anything. I prefer to stand with my feet in a wide stance for balance, and falling into people, and apologising profusely. I’d rather not get some disgusting infection, thanks.
Besides germs, the public transport is also rife with people pathogens. Inconsiderate, rude, dirty, sleazy people. I had a terribly incident-filled day last week, where an old man not only reached out to touch my eyebrows on the funicular, but had the audacity to pat his lap as a gesture to sit down on him Bro, you’re like 65 years old hitting on an 18 year old girl. Someone arrest this guy please.
The same day, on the bus home from my Italian lesson, my backpack accidentally touched an old moustached woman sitting on the seat beside where I was standing. She legitimately SHOVED me away from her. It was a full bus. It couldn’t have been avoided. I am SORRY, you silly bitch. Go shave your moustache. But please not on the bus.
Taxi’s at home in Cape Town are a very frequent mode of transport for me - especially home from clubs late at night. I would generally pay R70 to get home, if I was alone, and that would be split if I was with friends in the taxi. The taxi’s here START at €6.20 (the equivalent of R70) and my friend Tish and I split a taxi for €40 the other night, after seeing Cyberpunkers and Belzebass at Bolgia (a famous club just outside Bergamo.) We paid €23 each to get inside, €10 each per drink (regardless of size or content). We each ended up spending about €60 that night. Goodbye to shopping this month L
While waiting for this taxi, we had a SUPER-drunk 14 year old approach us and ask for a cigarette. (We will get onto the smoking subject soon.) After repeatedly telling him neither of us had cigarettes, he starts this drunk-slur of a rant saying that this is Italy, this is Mussolini, and thus, we must have cigarettes. We didn’t. We ran to seek shelter with the car-guard, who did NOTHING to help us, but then… our saviour came from heaven. <3 Mauro. <3 This beautiful man approached us, shooed the kid away, and offered us help to call a taxi, and offered to wait with us until it arrived. He was a DJ at the club, and was just… wow. WOWOW. In my trou. Best part of the night.
The night, as usual, started with a visit to Sette Nani (According to my friend Fede, the Seven Midgets), from Bianca Neve (Snow White), our local bar hangout. We were driven to the club in Massimo’s car – something out of the Smurfs (iPuffy in Italian – I don’t understand why. Smurf isn’t even a real word). I was then exposed to what I think is the best thing Italians have brought to the music scene since ever. Fabri Fibra is the equivalent of the Italian Pitbull. His song “VIP in Trip” has taught me more Italian than my 3 weeks of lessons. Swear-words and judgements about prostitutes, more than anything, but vocab is vocab.
