Thursday July 9, 2009
Technology is the bain of my existence, especially here, having brought all sorts of electronic devices with me to try to make life easier only to find a multitude of complications. To begin with, leaving the apartment each morning takes an hour, while I try to determine which devices I will need to take. Each device has a charger, and since most of my equipment is American, I have to make sure I have an adapter on hand at all times. Today’s challenge begins with my cell phone. I have to add money to my prepaid service and Ralph has given me his phone chip to add money to his as well. Somewhere in the process I have locked myself out of my cell phone by entering the wrong PIN three times in a row. Even Fausto, with 25 years of service in the phone company, is unable to help. Did I mention that the cell phone is out of juice, so while I can’t get into the phone to make a call, it still needs to be charged.
My camera battery also needs to be charged, but the charger is at Judy’s. When I get there in the am her daughter and son-in-law are still asleep so I can’t go into the bedroom to get the charger, which I left on shelf on my last trip.
In anticipation of my daily trip to the internet place, I must also be sure to have my flash drive with me. And my computer needs to be re-charged which I prefer to do at Le Caselle so I’m not utilizing Judy’s electricity and costing her money. Then there are the car keys and the house keys, which are not strictly speaking technological devices, but in my head I categorize them as hardware, so they get thrown into the mix.
All of the strange Italian customs converged on me today to remind me that I am not in control here. My plans for the day were foiled when, already in Todi, I discovered I had only one eighth of a tank of gas and all of the gas stations in the area were on strike. Each station I approached had a sign saying “Chiuso” (closed) followed by an explanation of the two-day work stoppage. Quickly I had to decide what to do with the miniscule amount of gas left in my tank. Corciano, to return the faucet I mistakenly purchased at Brico, was out of the question. That was a good quarter of a tank away. Le Caselle was questionable – it was close enough, but what if I miscalculated and got stuck up on Monte Peglia with an empty tank and only the weird neighbors to rely on for help. Was I doomed to spend the entire day in Piedicolle , and if so, how would I pass the time; sitting outside near the circolo under the scrutiny of the local nonne? Or within the cool stone walls of the apartment, missing what turned out to be a beautiful sunny day? A real dilemma when one has only a few days left in Italy.
Suddenly I remembered that just yesterday I had gotten 20 euro worth of gas near Marsciano, so perhaps not all of the gas stations were on the Wednesday-Thursday strike. I decided to try to make it back to Marsciano, which would use up most of the available gas. I went back to the same station and found it functioning as usual. So apparently only the stations in Todi were on strike and only for two days. With the day now opened up to me I head up to Izzalini to a wonderful mercato with a huge warehouse full of antiques.
I want everything. But this is just a piccolo casa, a small house, so I have to be careful not to clutter it up. In particular I fall in love with a white wrought iron outdoor table with two folding chairs. I decide to wait until I have looked around more. So I take lots of photos and measurements and buy nothing. I speak with the owner about the poor economy. Everyone is suffering here because Americans are not traveling.
Technology is the bain of my existence, especially here, having brought all sorts of electronic devices with me to try to make life easier only to find a multitude of complications. To begin with, leaving the apartment each morning takes an hour, while I try to determine which devices I will need to take. Each device has a charger, and since most of my equipment is American, I have to make sure I have an adapter on hand at all times. Today’s challenge begins with my cell phone. I have to add money to my prepaid service and Ralph has given me his phone chip to add money to his as well. Somewhere in the process I have locked myself out of my cell phone by entering the wrong PIN three times in a row. Even Fausto, with 25 years of service in the phone company, is unable to help. Did I mention that the cell phone is out of juice, so while I can’t get into the phone to make a call, it still needs to be charged.
My camera battery also needs to be charged, but the charger is at Judy’s. When I get there in the am her daughter and son-in-law are still asleep so I can’t go into the bedroom to get the charger, which I left on shelf on my last trip.
In anticipation of my daily trip to the internet place, I must also be sure to have my flash drive with me. And my computer needs to be re-charged which I prefer to do at Le Caselle so I’m not utilizing Judy’s electricity and costing her money. Then there are the car keys and the house keys, which are not strictly speaking technological devices, but in my head I categorize them as hardware, so they get thrown into the mix.
All of the strange Italian customs converged on me today to remind me that I am not in control here. My plans for the day were foiled when, already in Todi, I discovered I had only one eighth of a tank of gas and all of the gas stations in the area were on strike. Each station I approached had a sign saying “Chiuso” (closed) followed by an explanation of the two-day work stoppage. Quickly I had to decide what to do with the miniscule amount of gas left in my tank. Corciano, to return the faucet I mistakenly purchased at Brico, was out of the question. That was a good quarter of a tank away. Le Caselle was questionable – it was close enough, but what if I miscalculated and got stuck up on Monte Peglia with an empty tank and only the weird neighbors to rely on for help. Was I doomed to spend the entire day in Piedicolle , and if so, how would I pass the time; sitting outside near the circolo under the scrutiny of the local nonne? Or within the cool stone walls of the apartment, missing what turned out to be a beautiful sunny day? A real dilemma when one has only a few days left in Italy.
Suddenly I remembered that just yesterday I had gotten 20 euro worth of gas near Marsciano, so perhaps not all of the gas stations were on the Wednesday-Thursday strike. I decided to try to make it back to Marsciano, which would use up most of the available gas. I went back to the same station and found it functioning as usual. So apparently only the stations in Todi were on strike and only for two days. With the day now opened up to me I head up to Izzalini to a wonderful mercato with a huge warehouse full of antiques.
I want everything. But this is just a piccolo casa, a small house, so I have to be careful not to clutter it up. In particular I fall in love with a white wrought iron outdoor table with two folding chairs. I decide to wait until I have looked around more. So I take lots of photos and measurements and buy nothing. I speak with the owner about the poor economy. Everyone is suffering here because Americans are not traveling.
Lunch is al fresco on the terrazzo at Le Caselle. I long for the day when I can move the table (once a have one) to the garden under a pergola and grill some bistecca on the forno. The urge to barbeque is not just an American trait. Italians love their carne. Especailly the men, who are definitely a throwback to an earlier time. If a woman appears to have any sexual juice left in her Italian men look at her as fresh meat. They assume you are open to getting laid – by them – unless they are told otherwise.
In the evening I go to Al Leone in Collazzone for dinner. It’s a modest place high on a hill with outdoor talbes and a good, affordable menu. The best deal is the pizza for 6 euro, and a half-litre of wine for 4. I run into Judy’s doctor, Emo, who comes to give her vitamin shots every Tuesday and in exchange she makes a multi-course pranzo for him and his son Andrea who works in the local pharmacy. Emo speaks no English, but is very welcoming, inviting me to sit at the table with him and his friends who have mostly finished eating. I show Emo the rash on my foot which I suspect may be poison ivy, but he purses his lips and pronounces it from some "animali", so it's probably just an insect bite. The men are all ages and some speak only a tiny bit of English, so conversation is a struggle. But my Italian improves each time I have to converse this way so I don’t complain. One by one the men say goodnight and I am left with Massimiliano, who apparently thinks because he’s the last man standing that he must pay for my meal. I vehemently protest, even finding the owner and forbidding her to let him pay. At the end of the meal I am given pnna cotta, compliments of Massimiliano, a perfect Italian gentleman.
In the evening I go to Al Leone in Collazzone for dinner. It’s a modest place high on a hill with outdoor talbes and a good, affordable menu. The best deal is the pizza for 6 euro, and a half-litre of wine for 4. I run into Judy’s doctor, Emo, who comes to give her vitamin shots every Tuesday and in exchange she makes a multi-course pranzo for him and his son Andrea who works in the local pharmacy. Emo speaks no English, but is very welcoming, inviting me to sit at the table with him and his friends who have mostly finished eating. I show Emo the rash on my foot which I suspect may be poison ivy, but he purses his lips and pronounces it from some "animali", so it's probably just an insect bite. The men are all ages and some speak only a tiny bit of English, so conversation is a struggle. But my Italian improves each time I have to converse this way so I don’t complain. One by one the men say goodnight and I am left with Massimiliano, who apparently thinks because he’s the last man standing that he must pay for my meal. I vehemently protest, even finding the owner and forbidding her to let him pay. At the end of the meal I am given pnna cotta, compliments of Massimiliano, a perfect Italian gentleman.
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