Ciao from earthquake free Firenze as Rome begins to disintegrate according to some dead self taught seismologist who Mussolini gave his stamp of approval - he also gave this stamp to Adolf Hitler so hence my frivolity at the "predicted quake" today.
The prediction was made decades ago, but many Italians are apparently taking it seriously and staying home from work - any excuse for a day off. I doubt this would cut it back home - "I can't come in today as my dead great grandma's best mate who dabbled in astrology reckons Melbourne CBD will self combust" - another only in Italy moment.
I may have fast tracked the getting used to the noise at night as we had all the windows open last night as it was still quite warm (sorry Melbourne) and I slept like a baby and woke at 8:15 to the sweet melody of a street sweeper reversing and an ambulance - birdsong is for wimps
Tarn is beaming with delight as she has found a toaster. This joy was short lived as the only plug it fits is in the hall and it does not pop up as she discovered as plumes of smoke filled the hall - Maccas anyone?
Tarn, Grace & Mum have gone out this morning as Charlotte wasn't keen and I am feeling a bit broken and thought I would do some catching up but again Italian technology has let me down.
I cannot speak enough about the amazing buildings and roads from the ancient past but for some reason modern Italy seems as adept with modern technology as a Siberian brown bear.
I hate to rant but this country has the biggest "she'll be right mate" attitude in the known universe and unlike Australians whom have the same attitude it rarely turns out right.
Let's take wifi for example. It is as reliable as a schizophrenic crack addict. It drops out more than it drops in. Next up is their mobile service which I threw many a euro down the gabinetta for almost nil service. As I write this in the middle of one of Italy's largest cities I have no coverage on my mobile and surprise surprise the wifi has gone all Italian again and gone for a 2 1/2 hour lunch break.
Washing machines also are giving the womenfolk grief and the "automatic" machine requires much manual intervention as each cycle has to be manually changed before it does a rerun of the last cycle. It's a bit like a car which can only be pushed not driven. Oh maybe the washing machine is an Alfa Romeo.
But it doesn't end at technology - the art of servicing customers tends to evade them. Rather than stop a conversation or more often arguments between themselves and other staff members and serve you they finish when they are ready, serve you in a manner where you have just beaten their sainted mother senseless, take your money, and resume the verbal fisticuffs. Tarn's favorite is the gelati shop across the road where it's always service with a sneer.
Oh I know I may be getting a bit more truculent in my late 40's and really starting to miss home but it is taking all my resolve not to give one of these rude k*** a knuckle panini.
There was one guy yesterday who was lucky to evade this delicacy when after getting off his bike and basically walked backwards into Tarn and Charlotte stood there making gestures and mumbling profanities like a petulant school-kid even though he clearly was at fault. He was then treated to an impromptu express English lesson with many adjectives as he went in to the post office. What a spanner.
Ah but its not all doom and gloom. Breakfast still gives much comic relief. Italian jewelry and leather is unsurpassed (as are the womenfolk), and the shoes are unreal but almost unattainable for big foots like me. But never give up and this afternoon we will try and seek out some 47's.
The apartment manager came in just now to check the air-conditioning with a technician. They looked, pointed and walked out. Must have been the thorough yearly safety inspection and as the unit was not currently in flames it passed muster.
Cannot half tell it's time for this little black duck to be home in his beloved Monny.
Ciao for now.