My Dad loves nothing more than meeting new people (preferably in a crowded room) to loudly chew the fat, find out all about them, and above all, give his opinion.
My Mum, however, loved nothing more than staying home with the TV on, a magazine, a book, a crossword, and a quiz in front of her, stirring only to potter about the garden.
You’d think that the offspring of these weirdos would be a delightful mélange of the two; able to swim effortlessly from crowded gig to sketching and reading, then back again. But nay. Continue reading →
So my grasp of Italian is such that I’m not entirely sure I haven’t been using just fabric softener to wash my clothes the entire time. But living in a place, as opposed to just breezing through as I normally do, puts a whole new spin on Being Foreign.
I think I’ve always been a good traveller because I’m generally confused by most things in the world that others seem to tackle with nonchalance. I generally feel the odd one out or awkward or oversized or silly in some respect, so at my grand age am now comfortable with that. But what of being permanently thus? Well I’m glad I’m in a place where people are generally extremely kind, chatty, and community-minded! Here are some thoughts.
The length of one’s day It breaks down like this:
Brekky starts at a normal time with a 30-second espresso (see below) and a pastry, then zoom to the office/school until about 1pm, when every shop clangs shut until after 3-ish.
Queues start at the gelateria at about 3:30, increase about 4:30, keep steady through till 8pm, then all shops close with a clang at 10-11pm.
The hour of the aperitif goes from 6:30-8:30pm, with a free buffet, which is what you do before dinner. One does not go out after work with one’s colleagues in general. Dinner can be around 9pm on, although the other night after fencing I was asked to dinner at about 11pm.
During Sunday Lunch we observed ladies kicking off with Spritzes at 11:30am and families winding down at about 4:30pm.
I’ve always been very good at drawing. I don’t even remember when I started. It’s something I’ve always done. This is why I always took this skill for granted, and so 10 years ago I chucked it all away.
Since the lead-up to Italy, I’ve been unraveling this mystery. Whether a quick sketch from a photo, 2 hours on a detailed pen and ink sketch, or a full day gawking at gargoyles, curlicues and rooflines, drawing now happens every day.