Another warm autumn day in Italy. Got up early for my early start, woke a couple of times during the night, think I was stressing that I wouldn't wake up in time for the early train. I had to use the keys to unlock the front door of the apartment building so that was a bit tricky - where to leave the keys for the wierd landlady. Left them under a plant in the foyer, but didnt know what 'foyer' was in Italian so SMSed her and told her that I had left them under a plant inside the front door. She seemed to understand because she texted me back and thanked me for staying there.
Train to Bologna was uneventful, although the five people in the compartment that holds 6 weren't too pleased to see me because they had spread themselves out over the extra space. The train had come from way down south in Reggio Calabria, I was there last time and the place isn't the most pleasant. When I first got on the train, I was looking for carriage 1 where my seat was booked. Wouldn't you think carriage 1 would be at the front of the train. ahhhhh nah, not in Italia. The first carriage was full of men, the work men, it was their carriage so I soon scooted out of there! But, I had to race past eight freaking carriages to get to the end before I could annoy everyone for my seat. A few people left at Bolgona and one lady and I were left, we were both happy to not have other people breathing in our air UNTIL two stinky men, one woman with the worst ever BO carrying a baby boy about 8 months old and two little girls about 2 and 3 got in the carriage. Well that was a joyous occassion! All the way to Parma. An hour.
I arrived at Hotel Torino where I am staying and Mr MyShitDoesn'tStinkButManYoursDoes was in reception. He looked me up and down and I handed him my booking paper with my passport. He looked at my Passport and said 'oh good you speak english, you dont have to speak Italian' patronising prick.
I asked if he wanted me to pay then.
Pay whenever you want
Ok, I will pay now
If you are sure
Yes, here is my money
Oh
Where is a good place to get something for lunch
Madam, you can eat anywhere
Yes, but where is somewhere nice, where can you recommend
You can eat anywhere
So you cannot recommend anywhere
Yes, what do you want to eat
I wanted to say FUCKING FOOD but I said a pizzeria will be fine
He drew on the map and said I will show you this way because madam if I show you another way you will just get lost
Wish he had got fucking lost
You would think by now I would have learned, but no, I asked for the wifi password
Long story short, I ended up handing him my phone so he could put the password in. How hard is it to write the thing down for me arsehole!!
Anyway, dumped my bags, went the wrong way and eventually realised, turned around and found the pizzeria Mr MyShitDoesntStinkButManYoursDoes was talking about, had delish potato gnocchi but worried the waitress because I didn't eat it all because I was so hungry I had inhailed the bread with the wine before it had arrived.
I have roamed around Parma, it is a lovely medieval town with some absolutely lovely medieval buildings. Someone said to me 'why on earth are you going to Parma' and I said 'I don't know'. The places I am visiting are places I have read about and they have been on my list of places to visit. Parma has always been on my list and I couldn't remember why, but I'm glad I came.
Passeggiata is a phenominon in Italy that amazes and amuses me. It is the evening stroll that everyone in Italy, no matter where they live, undertakes. It starts around 5.30 and the streets are crowded, the noise the people make sounds like a football match. They stroll around in their best clothes, women walking their babies in prams wearing silk and 6 inch heals, men freshly after-shaven walk hands behind their backs, couples walking hand in hand no matter what age, young couples trying to impress each other eating the smallest gelato they can buy (they are dead broke), neighbours running into each other and double kissing each other while fussing over babies that they probably saw half an hour ago, people walking their dogs that have probably been locked up in small apartments all day. The window shopping that goes on is phenominal. They look in the shops at things they pass every day, but during passeggiata they look at the items like it's the first time they have every seen them. I was watching from my window and realised that while they are strolling the streets in Italy, Aussies are working in their gardens - weeding and pruning and watering. These Italian's don't have gardens. They have a few rooms in a building. While they are rich in history and respect that goes back thousands of years, Aussies have their bbqs, their boats, their beaches and their gardens. I can understand now why Italians want to live in Australia. I finally get it. We have so much that they don't, not monetarily necessarily, but in life style. They have history, we don't have anywhere near as much history, but I don't think they are all that worried about the huge churches, the amazing buildings, touching walls that are thousands of years old. They see it every day, big deal. I finally get it.
But, in saying all that, I am so glad I have come back. It is so different the second time around. Or I am.
I hardly speak Italian this time. They either don't want to bother listening to me struggle and tell me it's ok we will speak English, or they answer me as if I am fluent and all I hear is blah blah blah and understand nothing and bring myself totally undone, or I just don't bother like when I'm wanting something definite like a train ticket to Como - even though they STILL don't understand me! I asked a small boy who would have been about 10 years old at a newspaper stand today (Italian school buddies help me out here) Vorrei un journale englese per favoure. What I got back was 'allora blah blah blah blah' I said parlo poco italiano, parla englese? - he said cosi cosi, and then went on 'allora blah blah blah' All I wanted was a newspaper in english. I thought I had said "I would like an english newspaper please".
I sat tonight at a small bar and had a couple of proseccos with the free bowl of chips. I sat at one table and six old men sat and stared at me from the other table. I've also come to the conclusion that I am fooling myself by trying to fit in. I look nothing like an Italian. Dress nothing like them. Make up nothing like them. Hair nothing like them. Shoes nothing like them. Who the fuck do I think I am kidding! So, semi-tourist I must be. I just refuse to be one of those umbrella/red rag on the end of a stick tourists.
My room at this hotel is so tiny it's like a cubby house. I asked to be moved to a quieter room because my room is at the front of the building and every bit of noise carries up into my room. Mr MyShitDoesntStickButManYoursDoes said 'I do not notice the noise'. The second shift guy said I can move in the morning after breakfast to another room. It reminds me of Salerno last time and to be truthful I can't be stuffed so wont bother.
Their wifi sucks shit too and I get so frustrated with it. However, I rescue remedy myself, turn everything off and walk away. An hour later, I turn everything back on and it's fine for half an hour. My expectations of perfection haven't changed.
I've come back from passegiata eating a magnificent gelato of pistachio, nutella and hazelnuts with chunks of hazelnut, air conditioner is on 15 even though Mr MyShitDoesntStinkBut ManYours Does said it should stay on 20, about to have a shower, go to bed and try to find something english on the tv, because, after all I am an english speaking tourist not an Italian.
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