Eh?

My son's grasp of the Italian language is coming on, eh. He speaks rather well in fact, eh. Asks a lot of questions which consist of only 'why?', eh.

I don't know if other foreigners resident in the Living Museum have noticed, but many Italians, especially women, seem to end statements with a noticeable 'eh'. Well, now my 3 year old son is doing the same.

As for his English, well, it's a bit embarrassing, seeing as I teach the language. He understands lots and will use 'yes' and even 'why' in English. He imitates some of the things I say, but does not generally respond in English. I don't suppose this is a great surprise really since his only real exposure to the language consists of many DVD's and little old me, but not my little old other half. The poor little lamb has to put up with comments from his mum in Italian, followed by comments from me in English. His responses are inevitably in Italian and he's not stupid, he knows full well that I understand Italian.

Whether I shall achieve my goal of raising a bi-lingual sprog is not all that certain at present, but I suppose it's early days yet and he should have more opportunities than most other Italian children in that he has two English cousins with whom to pass the odd summer hol or two when he is old enough.

There is at least one of the day nursery staff who speaks reasonable English, although I'm not sure just how often she speaks to Marty in the language. It would be nice to send him to a bi-lingual school at some point, but my wonderfully erratic teachers income will possibly not permit this; more's the pity.

It would be sad if he were not able to learn my language as it may be of great use to him in future. I'm a bit reluctant to discover exactly how bi-lingual kids should be brought up seeing as I'm pretty sure we're doing it wrong. Other half is not being overly helpful either and has little enthusiasm for trips to the UK in view of it's rather dodgy climate. Can't say I really blame her, as that's one of the reasons why I left. We'll have to see. There's a bit of a culture clash taking place as I'm not that sure that other half really cares whether he learns English or not. My parents at least tried to make me learn another language, they failed partially in that I learnt nothing at school, however they did generate a spark of curiosity in me and wanting to see if I really could get to grips with another language is another reason for my leaving the UK.

I shall try to be as patient as possible and monitor the situation.

Funny country

Recently, as those in Italy know well, rather a lot of people have been caught with their trousers down as a result of the clever use of phone taps.

Dodgy football dealings have been revealed, as I've already mentioned in another post, and now the unofficial prince of Italy has been shown to have been quite possibly wallowing in the mire. At present HRH is languishing in a nice cool Italian jail.

Good things these here telephone taps, one might think. They may even convince a few people to desist from shady dealings, which must be a good thing.

Well, the above would be true in a normal society, not here I fear. You see those examples of godliness and goodness, the politicos, are planning to put a bit of a brake on these devious methods. I mean it's just down right wrong that the rich and powerful should be persecuted in this heinous fashion, is it not?

If I were a policeman or a judge in Italy, I might be thinking about finding some alternative employment. Upholding the law in Italy is not at all popular.

Funny country.

Cakes….at a price

Pictured here are the two cakes we got for our son’s belated third birthday party.

… Continue Reading

Chosen

Walking in the mountains had always been a passion of mine, so, yet again I found myself wandering the high valleys of the Italian Alps.

I had always wanted to explore this particularly arid valley, which hang mysteriously above the main, and much greener valley below. Many had warned me about the vipers that filled this rocky valley, in fact my wife had tried to prevent this particular excursion, despite the fact that she knew I had armed myself with a few doses of anti-venom. I told her not to worry, but I knew she would and had said that I would be back just before sunset.

After about four hours of tramping I found myself had the far end of the valley which tapered off into the mountains. Some snow still clung to a few of the surrounding peaks although the sun burned down on the back of my neck and I had my usually permanently sweaty forehead. There were no clouds in the sky. Not one. Just a beautiful incredibly clear day, of the kind you only find high up in the mountains. The silence was total. There was no wind, and I could not even hear the sound of the waterfall which I could see cascading over the rocks high above me.

Now, I do not really know why, but I moved off the main track. This was something I often did. I suppose I just wanted to tread where nobody may have ever been before, although I knew that there was little likelihood of really exploring any new ground. The local residents had been everywhere and then some, but I liked to feel that I was exploring. It made me feel go, so what the heck.

After a few minutes I started to feel a rather cool breeze. Strange, I thought, seeing as the weather forecast had predicted nothing but sunny weather. Then I noticed the clouds gathering in the sky. The breeze became a wind and the sky turned an ominously dark grey, the grey that you see on the eve of the worst of storms, only the colour changed within what seemed a matter of moments. Knowing that I would have to sit the storm out, I dug out my mobile phone. To my disbelief, the display clearly showed no signal, although I remembered having been told that I would have no problems making calls should the need arise. Well, the need had arisen and my phone would not work.

While I was considering my best course of action, I felt the first few drops of surprisingly cold rain hitting my as yet uncovered forearms.I scrambled to put my waterproofs on as quickly as I could and decided that I would have to look for a place to bivvy up for the night. I had done this on the odd occasion before, although never without having first called my other half. She would be becoming worried and, I feared, I would find it very difficult to convince her to let me go on another of my little jaunts in the future. With these thoughts I headed towards what looked to be an overhang one hundred meters above me on the slope which went up towards the waterfall I had seen earlier. The weather became worse as the minutes passed and the wind became a gale, with the rain driving towards me, almost ushering me towards the sheltered spot towards which I was heading.

As I arrived at my sanctuary the clouds burst and the wind seemed to move into a higher gear as it howled noisily around me in stark contrast to the idyllic silence which I had been experiencing only moments before. As I moved down into the dip just below the rocky overhang I noticed what seemed to be a crack in the rocks. I followed the crack down the the base of the dip and noticed that the crack appeared to be the opening to a cave. At least I would not have to worry about being blown away I thought as I squeezed through the upside down V shaped entrance.

Once inside I noticed that the cave opened up a fair bit. I unhitched my rucksack and rummaged around in it for my faithful head torch. I switched it on and noticed that the cave went much deeper into the mountain than I had expected, then I stepped on the snake, which had also been trying to escape the sudden bad weather. It hissed and lunged at my shin. I recoiled instinctively and kicked my leg in an attempt to remove it. My attempt was enough to convince the serpent to find shelter elsewhere and I followed it out of the cave with the beam of my torch.

Once I had calmed down a little I pulled up my waterproof trousers and shone the torch on my leg. There were no marks, luckily for me it had not managed to penetrate the double layer of clothing I was wearing. At that moment the wind changed direction and started blowing right into the cave. Time, I decided to go a little deeper into this grotto. I picked up a few stones and hurled them ahead of me in the hope that I might scare another other sleeping snakes away. The thought of having to spend the night in a snake infested cavern did not enthrall me. It was then that I noticed what appeared to be a ledge about three meters above me. Now, how can I get myself up there, I wondered, thinking that at least it would be out of sheltering snake range. I shone my torch on the rock leading up to the ledge and concluded that it was just about within my limited climbing ability.

Slowly, but quite easily I moved up the rock towards the ledge. I heaved myself up the last metre or so and onto the flat oversize step. Then I noticed that it was no ledge but the entrance to another cave. I managed to stand up and I pointed my torch into the depths of this new entrance. The light of my torch seemed to be reflected back off what appeared to be a shiny smooth surface. The rock appeared to have been melted and the surface felt not unlike that of glass. It was like nothing I had seen before, the tunnel was perfectly circular, it certainly was no cave. For an instant I thought about climbing back down the rock to brave a night with the snakes, but the very idea made me shiver. Time for some real exploring, I mused.

The tunnel went on for quite some way and seemed to be going gently up hill. The diameter of this odd tube did not change one bit. I certainly had not read about any mines in this area, but then I had never seen such perfect walls in any of the mines I had ever seen, and I had seen a few. Then the tube widened considerably and seemed to become a cavern. It was a little like walking along the thin part of a funnel towards its gaping mouth. I warily walked a few more steps forward. In an instant the cavern filled with yellow light. I nearly jumped out of my skin and turned and ran back down the funnel. ‘What the hell?’, I asked myself as I managed to remember that the tube ended in a three metre drop. The light had gone out.

I sat down and got out my little gas stove. A good hot cup of tea would go a long way towards helping me decide what to do next, I reckoned. Then I heard, or rather felt, this voice, it was inside me, in my head. Its tones were soothing, friendly even, but there was something inhuman about it. “Don’t be afraid, Alex”, it crooned. “There is nothing to be worried about. We can help you.”. If the voice had not used my name, I would have almost believed that I was hallucinating and decided to go and spend the night with the snakes, but the use of my name reassured me, and filled me with curiosity, rather more curiosity than I thought I was capable of, to be honest. “That’s right, be curious. You are a curious person we know.”, came the kind voice, reading my mind. OK, I thought. Time to be curious.

I went slowly back up the tunnel and as I came towards the section where the tunnel widened into a gallery, the light started to come on, only it did not fill the way ahead with light, it came on slowly, as someone were operating a dimmer switch. “Come on. Come on. This way, Alex.”, the voice continued. Then it apologised, “Sorry about switching on the light a bit suddenly before. You were right to have been disconcerted.” Disconcerted, I thought, I was bloody terrified. “Yes, you were. Sorry.”, came the reply from the charming, but invasive voice in my head. “Look over here.”, said the voice, almost lazily. “We are here.”

I looked and as I did a shape seemed to drift slowly down from the roof of the gallery. The shape was oval, like an egg on its side. It turned slowly around on an invisible axis and the nose of the shape turned towards me. I could see only a silverish outline to the shape, which for the most appeared to be transparent. “What are you?”, I asked out loud. “A ship.”, came the reply. An eggship, I mulled. “Yes, you could say that.”, was the reply, which was followed by, “Would you like to come aboard?”. I had never been invited aboard an egg before, so I accepted the offer. No sooner had I thought the reply, than I found myself inside, what I thought could only be the talking egg. “Please have a seat.”, said the egg in my head and part of the generally grey surface around me moulded itself into a seat. I sat down, still having some difficulty taking everything in. I was in the middle of a sci-fi film I thought, only it all seems to be very real.

The eggship then explained how it came from an advanced civilisation located many more light years than I could comprehend from the planet Earth, and that this race was conducting an experiment in which a dweller of Earth, namely me, is given the opportunity to experience a level of technology many, many times that of the existing level. I could think of it as a form of advanced psychological study, I was told. I, it appeared, was the guinea pig, the lab rat or whatever, or so it seemed. The ship tried to convince me otherwise, and I have to admit that it was surprisingly convincing, for an egg, that is.

First, I was to undergo a sort of training course which would enlighten me as to the ship’s capabilities, but before that the ship told me I was going to take me home. It did. I found myself just inside the entrance to our holiday apartment. I felt dazed, bewildered, at least until the eggship’s voice told me to calm down, and I did.

I climbed the steps towards the apartment wondering what I was going to tell my, by now, I thought, distraught wife. I opened the door.

“Wow, you got back pretty quickly.”, she said greeting me with a happy smile. I looked at my watch. Only three hours had passed since I had set out.

I beat the taxi!

Yes, it's true. My other half and baby set off from hospital, after an abortive attempt at a magnetic resonance scan (our wee one suddenly developed a cold), in a taxi. I was aboard my trusty new bike (I had expected the bairn to be in hospital for at least one more day).

I passed through the centre, beside Il Duomo, down Via Dante and over the road to the Castello, through the park and then across Paolo Sarpi and home. I did not even rush, well, I rode briskly, but I by no means raced. Not even a little bit. Indeed, even I was a little surprised to have got back first.

Good things bikes. Apart from making you end up rather sticky and sweaty, that is.

When life isn’t – unless you are a mouse.

Dictionary.com

life (Slang.) A sentence of imprisonment lasting till death.

The above definition has always been my understanding of what is often referred to as a ‘life’ prison sentence.  In simple terms, life imprisonment meant that the guilty party would spend, if not the rest of his life, a very long time in prison.  Very long time = 20 years plus.

However, under English law ‘life’ prison sentences now bear little relation to the life of those convicted in what seems to be an ever increasing series of cases.  Unless you consider that the life to which they refer is the lifespan of your average mouse.  

There have been two particularly nasty cases of child abuse in the UK press recently, one of which is mentioned in this article.  There is the other horrific case here – it is appalling, so be warned.

In both situations ‘life’ sentences where handed out; only the legal definition of ‘life’ seems to have changed from the traditional concept, unless, as I mentioned before, you happen to be sending mice or possibly rabbits to prison.  

The cases I’ve linked to this entry are by no means in a minority, or so it would seem from what I have been reading, which is why I have decided to write something.  Supposedly, Blair and his mob have been changing the sorry state of the law in the UK to take into account the effects of crime on its victims and not treat those who react to crimes against them or their property as criminals.  Before Blair’s attempts, you might as well have invited a thief into your house and said ‘help yourself, mate.’, because if you had hit the poor chap and injured him, you would have been treated as the bad guy in the situation and would have ended up in one of HM’s prisons, whereas the chap who had called all the upset would have probably walked free and had a go at suing you for compensation.  Absurd, totally upside down.  Now, at least this situation has been, partially, put right.  Only they still seem to be treating criminals as a down trodden minority in need of mercy.  OK, sometimes this is true, but when certain individuals re-offend almost as soon as they set foot outside of prison, then something, somewhere is not right.  

I can see this, why can’t the politicos?  Good question.  Or is it possible that the MP’s are too busy powdering their noses and worrying about their public images to be actually doing anything useful.  Nah, this could not be true.  Silly thought. Forget I even said it.  Maybe.