This is my new dilemma.  I am in search of a hairdresser.  Italian women go to the hairdresser weekly.  They have their hair washed and set, the color touched up, a little snip here or there.  They always look perfect.  I've mentioned before how much of their time and money goes into their appearance.  Even the school cleaning lady, who spends her days pushing around a wheeled bucket and mop, is impeccably coiffed.  Moi, not so much.  I find it all exhausting.  I'd been going to Super Mario in the city but he is too far and too expensive.  Frankly I just don't care enough about my hair to spend half a day and half my salary for a cut and color.  He's too high end for me.  A while back I tried a place down at the bottom of our hill with a distinctly less chic look.  When I walked in everyone stopped what they were doing.  When I started talking everyone stared.  I don't think they'd ever heard an accent before.  The problem is that when I suspect someone doesn't understand me, instead of slowing down, I start to speak more quickly thinking that speed will cover up any grammatical deficiencies.  Strange, but that rarely helps with comprehension. The woman who cut my hair didn't speak to me at all but just pointed at the chipped sink and the worn chair when she wanted me to move.  I'm not going back.  I really would rather not be stared at like a zoo animal, the cut wasn't great and I think they overcharged me.  So maybe that time I aimed too low.  I asked around at school and an American mom I know said there was a place very near me that she'd heard good things about.  It's close enough to walk, looks good but not too good, and when I stopped in to make an appointment I was greeted at the door by a chocolate lab, a big smiling bald guy and a laughing little old lady in curlers you kept pointing at the dog and saying, "That's the hairdresser, that's the hairdresser!"  I'm going in on Tuesday.  I feel like Goldilocks.  The first place was too hot, the second too cold and hopefully this one will be just right.  xxoo me

101 in Italian bureaucracy.  Anything that should be simply can and will be made complicated.  Example number one:
I have somehow or another been made the go-between for a couple of colleagues, who don't speak much Italian, and their utilities companies, who speak no English.  I have been given the assignment of setting up satellite TV for one and questioning the bills from the electric/gas company for another.  Today at school I called ENEL, the energy providers.  I was typically, (just as in the States), put on hold, sent from one representative to another and told to press lots of buttons before finally reaching a live person.  The live person asked for my name, ID number, (SS#), client number etc and I explained that I was calling for a customer who spoke little Italian and only needed to ask a few questions.  The rep told me that she needed my info because one never knows what I could do with friend B's electricity account.  I was already in a bad mood, (more on that later), and didn't feel like giving her my info so I tried to argue that my data wouldn't do her any good as she would be looking at B's account.  That didn't work.  So I tried something else which was to say, "Fine", but to give her B's info.  (I thought I was being very clever.)  However, when she pulled up the account my ruse was discovered and she became most huffy.  She said that B had to speak to her and I again explained that she couldn't because she doesn't speak Italian.  This was getting us nowhere, so finally I gave her my name, which for all she knows was false, and told her I didn't have an ID number as was just visiting from the US because to be perfectly honest, it wasn't a matter of principle as I don't really have many, it's just that I haven't memorized the damned number because it 20 characters long and I didn't feel like getting up and digging through my purse to find my card.  Bingo.  I got the very top secret information regarding B's electric and gas bills.  Now I am trying, unsuccessfully, to set up a time for another friend to have SKY TV antenna installed.  He set up an account online but needs to speak to them on the phone to make an appointment.  Unfortunately anytime he calls and tries to communicate in his very broken Italian, they hang up on him.  First I called SKY and was told that I have to speak to the technicians who are actually subcontracted, and therefore at a different number.  I called the technicians who said, no, I have to speak to the installer, whose name in Stefano, who is subcontracted through yet a different company and so at another number yet again.  I called Stefano who obviously is in the antenna installers union because he told me he only works from 9 to 5 with an hour lunch break so essentially only does 4 installations a day at 9:30, 11, 2 and 3:30.  I asked for 4 but couldn't get it.  He has to clock-out by 5.  "Ahhh, of course.", I said.  (He didn't seem to catch the sarcasm in my voice.)  "So how does a working person get an antenna installed?"  Silly me.  As though he gives a flying ****.  And they wonder why the Italian economy stinks.  I don't know how this one will be resolved.

Example number two, (and reason for my bad mood this afternoon):
Back in October, my library colleague and I put in the first of our supply and book orders at the school.  Subsequently we have placed two other orders, all of very essential materials.  We have received 2 rolls of tape.  That's it.  Any inquiries just pass the buck until they reach the desk of a man whose actually position is very murky.  He's there because he used to work with the Head of the school's Board of Directors in FIAT.  I don't know what he did there either.  The Head brought him in to the school some years ago where he marches smartly along the halls, dressed to the nines in expensive suits, and doesn't make eye contact with lowly workers like myself.  This is very common in Italy and another huge problem with the work force.  Too many people are given positions because of who they are related to or friends with.  They are paid a bundle of money to do absolutely nothing except hold a job title.  Our orders are held up because somehow this guy controls the purse strings.

I am now going to go get a glass of wine, or two.    xxoo me

I'm not crazy about Milan.  It's a huge, grey, smoggy city with little character.  But last night my friend B and I went to an area that I'd never visited.  It's called Zona Navigli or "navigable canal zone".  Many hundreds of years ago, canals were built connecting some of the large northern lakes to the river Ticino which empties out into the Po river which leads to the Adriatic near Venice.  It was all part of a navigation system for Milan transport dating back to the 1100's.  Most of the canals were covered over in the mid 1900's but some remain and have been revitalized.  About 10 years ago someone recognized the value of this cool, old area of Milan and it became a haven for artists and funky secondhand retailers.  The area is mostly pedestrian and the canals are lines with restaurants and bars and shops and galleries.  It reminds me equally of parts of Venice and the Old Port.  Last night was chilly and pouring but the locales were still packed, with even the outside bars filled with people huddled under the canopies and umbrellas on the sidewalks.  We grabbed a drink in one of these places, sitting under a canvas "roof", with warmth provided by those tall gas outdoor heaters.  We were very cozy.  We had a few hours to waste while our girls enjoyed their concert so we wandered in and out of various shops that were still open at 8 in the evening.  I found lots of wonderful, useless things that I wanted to buy but thankfully I didn't have my credit card so GP was saved from waking up to a clock made out of a vinyl record and a hanging lamp made from an old vodka bottle.  Next time!  xxoo me

Unlike in the States, Tuesday was Father's day here.  It was also Saint Joseph's Day so it makes sense.  Why do we celebrate in June?  We took GP out for dinner at a great Japanese place along the river in the city.  I say "we" because it took two of us to pay for it.  Grace couldn't swing the price tag on her own.  Sushi is not a cheap alternative in Italy.  But it was very yummy and a nice change.  Yes, one can get sick of great wine and Italian food.  So it was a Kirin beer and rice noodles for me.  Apart from that there has been little excitement but it's Spring so that's OK.  Everything is in bloom.  The apricot and peach trees are pink, the apple are white, the forsythia is brilliant yellow.  There are magnolia and quince and something unidentified and purple all over the hills.  It's a beautiful time of year.  Saturday Grace and a friend have tickets to a concert in Milan.  We moms are driving them the almost 2 hours up and over and then spending the evening in the city waiting.  Milan in notorious for bad traffic with long back-ups and a maze-like highway system.  This could be fun.  More on our evening later.  Happy Spring!  xxoo me

It is only 2:30 and I have already accomplished an amazing amount today.  GP woke up early and headed up to the mountains.  I'm done with winter so I stayed here where there are flowers in need of tending and no snow.  I have tidied the apartment and started my heavy spring cleaning.  I'm no housekeeper and spring is the only time of year I get out the ladder and clean the unreachable or wash the curtains.  All the doors and windows are open.  I can smell Sunday dinner being cooked in a dozen households and the soccer game on even more radios.   I've sorted through winter clothes, put away heavy bed covers, organized cupboards and storage.  I'm a regular whirling dervish!  (An aside here.  I decided to look up whirling dervish as I knew it had something to do with men from some Middle Eastern or Asian country spinning in circles and wondered why we use this expression and this is what I read.  (n.) A person whose behavior resembles a rapid, spinning object. These actions are often spastic fidgeting and incessant babbling. The actions of the whirling dervish are irritating and annoying, often exhausting other people in the immediate vicinity.  Damn!  That's me!)  Well irritating or not, I feel I deserve a rest so I'm retiring to the sun with a book.  xxoo me

Forsythia blooming, yellow primulas in front

Today as I was returning from the supermarket, a dangerous mission any day but practically suicidal on a Saturday, I decided what driving in Italy can be compared to.  It's like driving in a pinball machine.  In the few short minutes it takes me to get home from our local mini-market, I had to swerve out of the way of a guy entering my lane, pull over quickly into a driveway to permit a bus to pass on our too narrow road, slam on my brakes to avoid hitting someone going through a stop sign, all the while keeping my eyes open for dogs, kids, and the elderly who frequently pop out from between parked vehicles or walk in the middle of the road.  Driving is not a tranquil experience here but I must say it can be fun.  For the first time in forever we are staying home this weekend.  Or GP and I are.  Grace is in Rome for a soccer tournament.  The school doesn't really have teams but they recruit a few students for these international school tournaments, give them a practice or two, them feed them to the wolves.  I just got a text from her and they have one game left, having lost the first but won the second!  GP is recovering from his week in Germany and working on our taxes, ugh, and I'm spending the weekend in spring cleaning and gardening.  I'm also baking, which I never do, because of Italy's weird reverse tradition of having the birthday boy or girl treat friends and colleagues  to cake or dinner.  Tomorrow is GP's birthday so I'm baking up a million chocolate muffins for him to take into work Monday.   OK, so maybe not a million, but I did have to triple my recipe!  Ooooo.  First batch is ready.  I may have to test one.  xxoo me

I teach royalty!  Really.  I've actually been teaching him for seven months now but I have just been made aware of who the kid is.  I mentioned the name to GP and his jaw dropped to the floor.  We foreigners don't recognize the names of any of these families.  They are just a bunch of spoiled rich Italians.  There are a lot of students who are driven to school by chauffeurs or who, for safety reasons, have to be dropped off inside our big green iron gates that are locked at 9am sharp.  But this beats the wealthy industrialists kids big time.  The other students couldn't care less and only know who the footballer's children are.  I wouldn't know the footballers if I tripped over one.  Which I probably have...  Anyhow.  So my little prince is from some very old aristocratic family with ties to all the European nobility.  They have vineyards and a villa from the 1300's and dad and Charles are old buds!  Yes, that Charles.  To think I have patted the same sleek blond head that the big "C" has probably patted.  And in fact if I want to go all "seven degrees of separation" I can say that my bum has sat upon the same toilet seat as the kid whose toilet seat at home has possibly been sat upon by Camilla's rosy cheeks!  Maybe I should frame it. (The toilet seat).  Oh the life of a peon!  The kid, by the way, loves me.  He's a glutton for punishment because I'm mean to him.  He's probably so accustomed to everyone fawning and slobbering over him that he likes the challenge.  Had I known who he was I'd probably have fawned and slobbered too.   But now it's too late as we have already established our relationship .  I tell him to go away and he comes back.  I tell him to speak English and he answers me in Italian.  It tell him he's bothering me and he laughs and laughs.  These royals are weird.  Probably too much intermarriage.  xxoo me

So that's it.  Vacation is over and it's back to the salt mines.  Much of the week was spent with errands and appointments but I did get to the spa and to the mountains twice.  I went snowshoeing on Thursday and was completely alone.  Grace and I went up with friends, and while they all skied, I followed our usual trail up the mountain.  I was the only person around.  It was glorious and kinda freaky.  I've never been able to see so far and not see another being.  It was probably my last time snowshoeing this season as spring is definitely here.  Everything is beginning to bloom and the snow in the mountains was deep but wet.  It has actually been an exceptionally warm winter for much of Europe.  GP is in Hanover Germany for a trade fair he has attended for the past 20 years.  This is the first time it hasn't been miserable, wet and cold.  Like here, it's sunny and in the 60's.  It's lovely but makes you wonder.  xxoo me

She LOVES having her pic taken!

Not a soul around

Unbroken trail

My medical situation has gone from the sublime to the ridiculous.  What started out as, "Wow, all this preemptive stuff keeps people healthy!", has turned to "Not another Freakin' exam!!!".  Way back in the day when I discussed my problem with my family doctor, he sent me to a specialist and prescribed a few tests.  The specialist then prescribed some more tests and sent me on to another specialist who has prescribed more tests and told me to return to first specialist and later back to him again.  At every doctor's office and clinic they flap these little red and white sheets at me called "ricetta" meaning recipe or prescription and each tests has to be done in a different location at a different time.  I have piles and piles of paper all over my desk that are the results of all these visits and tests and they have to be taken or e-mailed to the correct doctor and cc'ed to the others.  This is how they live so long!  They get so damned much exercise and are so busy they don't have time to get sick!  And my little bladder issue?  In the meantime it has slowly diminished and is bearable now and will probably go away on it's own out of boredom.  By the way I am healthy as a horse, have the ovaries of a 26 year year old so , whoopie, can still have kids, and my cholesterol has gone down 88 points.  Still have appointments looming ahead of me and if they order more tests I'll throw myself off a high bridge reducing the need of any more testing greatly...  xxoo me

So this is vacation week and as we aren't going anywhere I am using it to do a lot of things that I haven't had time to do.  This morning, at almost noon mind you, Grace crawled out of bed.  I was washing curtains and rugs.  Four hours later I was outside cleaning the garden when she burst out the door, still in her pajamas, and wailed, "I have my tennis lesson in an hour and I don't want to gooooooooo!".  I love living with a teenaged girl.  It's like living with Sybil.  She's happy, she's sad, she's mostly crabby and sometimes hysterical.  Geesh.  I'm certainly not the only one going through this and yesterday a friend and I took our two recently very emotional and gloomy girls for a treat.  Okay so maybe it was a treat for us and we decided to treat them too so as to assuage the parental guilt of obviously having done something wrong.  The four of us spent the day at the spa.  But not just any spa.  A wonderful spa.  The place is called QC Terme and it is freakin' amazing!  Check it out: (http://www.qctermetorino.it)  It is four floors of complete luxury and decadence.  The underground is dedicated to "water" with steam rooms, mineral tubs of various temperatures and scents, waterfalls, foot and body scrub centers.  The 1st floor is the bar/dining room, massage rooms, and gardens with hot tubs.  The second floor is for the "relax rooms", five themed rooms for sleeping or meditating with soft music, scent and visuals.  For example there is the water rooms with waterbeds, a kayaker paddling up river projected onto the ceiling, and the sound of lapping waves.  The top floor is for saunas.  There are five, all with different temperatures and humidity levels.  On Tuesday afternoons they offer a light buffet with fruits, veggies, sweets and wines.  Apart from the massage which is extra, one only pays an entrance cost of 40 euro.  We arrived at 12:30 and left at 8 pm.  It was glorious.  No electronics.  No loud talking.  All in a fantastical old noble villa with 15 foot ceilings, beautiful art on the walls, tiles and slate in the water rooms, marble bathrooms.  I could live there.  So Grace, after a day like that, after sleeping til noon, after lounging in her darkened room for most of the day, still managed to be an emotional grump because she had to go to an hour tennis lesson on a warm and sunny afternoon.  As I said, geesh.  xxoo me

Ammunition

battleground

the protective coverings for buildings and spectators

riding to battle

love this guy

looks like an enclave of cardinals

we called this guy "the viking"

during the battle

ain't they handsome!

The Battle of the Oranges!

Today was great.  Grace, a friend of mine and I went to see the famous Battle of the Oranges.  It was warm and sunny, the perfect day for our little excursion, along with 50,000 others!  It was standing room only on the train out to Ivrea, an hour away.  The city was packed with bobbing red heads as we were told to wear red hats to avoid being hit.  Ivrea is a lovely place at the foot of the mountains and straddling the Dora river.  The streets were lines with stands selling red apparel, sausages, beer, mulled wine and other goodies.  People were dressed in medieval costumes.  The walls of the buildings along the "parade route" were covered in protective tarps and netting hung from poles erected all around the "battle fields".  And everywhere there were orange crates stacked up six feet high.  There were about a dozen horse-drawn carts carrying men and women dressed in "armor" to represent soldiers who parade up and down the streets, stopping in various squares where they were attacked by people representing the uprising peasants.  Spectators stood behind the netting that somewhat protects them from flying oranges, though not the juice that squirts everywhere and smells glorious.  We parked ourselves in a large square where one of the biggest battles takes place and waited for the carts to arrive.  The participants are all members of a number of teams that are more like clubs because the  members, (who pay a huge fee to join), meet all year long using the two week carnival as an excuse to get together and party.  The teams wear costumes and have silly names like "Defenders of the neighborhood" and "Barons of the Castle".  Many are dressed as Celts with kilts and shaved heads and big fake tattoos.  They are mostly men with way too much testosterone.  We saw bloody noses and black eyes and cuts on heads and faces.  It was like a brutal orange snowball fight.  Very cool.  Pictures coming up!  xxoo me

Carnival has started and last weekend Grace and I went with friends to see the celebrations in Chieri, a town not far from here.  Every town or city celebrates Carnival differently, though apart for once years ago when I went to Venice, (incredible), we've only seen Carignano's, (GP's hometown).  Chieri had a parade with floats and a large flea market covering all of the pedestrian medieval center.

The crowds watching a Pirate Ship

It was small and really just for kids as most of the provincial town celebrations are now.  Tomorrow, however, we are going to Ivrea, a large town north of Torino, which has one of the more famous Carnivals in Italy.  Tomorrow we'll see "The battle of the oranges"!  History says that it is a tradition started in the 12th or 13th century when townspeople overthrew the local bigwig tyrant and his army.  The tyrant had tried to rape a young miller's daughter but instead she cut off his head, (that'll teach him), which was the beginning of the rebellion.  Now Carnival in Ivrea is 2 weeks of constant partying, balls, parades, fairs all culminating in the "battle" representing the uprising.  I've never been and it should be fun.  We've been warned to wear washable clothes and something red to mark ourselves as "off-limits"  Can't wait!  GP will not be joining us as he has filial responsibilities.

 Another saga is upon us.  The in-laws 60th anniversary is coming up.  They are all in a fuddle to organize a large lunch they'll be hosting for 40 guests some weekend in April.  Big anniversaries, like weddings and baptisms, are a time for showing "una bella figura", (translates into "making a good impression").  My mother-in-law loves this stuff.  She'll put on a good spread, be the center of attention, and it will give her fodder for talk for the next few years.  They have already sent out the invites and she is thrilled that everyone has accepted.  Tomorrow GP will take them to see the restaurant where the party will take place.  They'll have lunch and spend hours with the owner discussing the menu in minute details.  There will be six appetizers to choose, (3 cold and 3 warm), 2 "firsts", (pasta, rice or soup dish), 2 "seconds", (meat or fish), sides, desserts, wines, cordials.  It'll take the whole day.  As the last thing I need is another huge meal I'm glad Ivrea Carnival is a cultural experience that Grace and I really shouldn't miss.   Now off to find a red hat.  xxoo me

I believe this is a toadstool