The Adventures, Mishaps and Musings of Me

So yesterday marks the fact that I've been in Italy solidly for three months, and that, now those three months are up, I'm not *cough* technically *cough* supposed to be here. Let me explain, since both the UK and Italy are in the EU it means I can happily live in Italy for three months without filling out a single piece of paperwork. However, if I stay longer then three months I have to get hold of a "permit of stay" - fill out paperwork, hand in a load of documents to the city hall, be interviewed a couple of times, blah, blah, blah, all in all, a very, very tedious thing to get hold of. I did initially in my first year try and get the "permit of stay", but after seeing the list of things you need to apply for it, I decided it better to exploit the very large, and obvious loophole that surrounds the "three months" of free stay time. The fact that if you leave Italy at any time, for example just cross the border into Switzerland, then the three months reset themselves. This is great... except that this semester I haven't left Italy once. Oops.

Though, it's not really much of a problem. I've only got one more week till I go home to England for Christmas (^_^) and the only way it's possible for me to be found out is if I have sudden dealings with an institutional body that would require a paper work show... so basically as long as I'm not admitted through the healthcare system all will be well (although, I did narrowly avoid being run over by a bloody ambulance today). This isn't...er... the first time I've overstepped the legal limit for staying in Italy, and have done so without a hitch.

Man, a British person being an illegal immigrant in Italy... It could only be more ironic for me to be an illegal immigrant in Poland!

Italians produce fantastic food, cars, fashion, and generally excel at anything that requires passionate input. However, when it comes to administration and organistaion, the country is an absoloute disaster. England, a country that often views itself as beauracratic, is simplified bliss in comparision. After my year and a half of living in Milano (Yes, Milano, not backwards Napoli), I have many, many examples, so let me tell of my most recent run in with the joy of Italian administration...

( "The Beautiful Mess" Explained... )

Before I start, let's get one thing straight : Italy is no more racist then any other country on this planet. The lower ends of the working class cannot deal with the idea of immigrants - a characteristic that is true of pretty much every nation. This is not simply constrained to an "Italian problem". So, with that in mind, let me account my Saturday night...

"This doesn't look like a nice area," was the remark of my (very, very camp) Idonesian friend when we got off the metro... with a 2km walk ahead of us through an unknown area, on the outskirts of Milan. "Yes, doesn't look like the type of place you'd expect an opera house to be," I replied, marvelling at the sheer amount of graffiti, litter and abandoned warehouse buildings. I mean, my dormitory is situated on the edge of a pretty rough area filled with prostitutes, but this was a whole new level of "ghetto". Nevertheless, we set off... using a roughly sketched map copied from Google as our guide. Couple that with the fact that both me and my friend look pretty exotic compared to Italian standards - he's clearly Asian and I've got pale skin and red hair - we might as well have been carrying a flashing sigh reading "NOT FROM AROUND HERE!". Boy, did we feel safe.

At the first road we had to cross, a drunk guy on a moterbike drove past, yelling immigrant insults at us. You would have thought that 8pm was too early for drunk guys to be yelling and driving moterbikes, but not here! We walked further, more people drunkenly yelled at us from moterbikes and cars. Frankly, as long as they didn't stop, we didn't care.

"Wait, is that car up ahead slowing down?"

Oh, crap.

I saw this video yesterday with my friends (both Italians and non-Italians) and we just laughed and laughed and laughed. Everything in it, every comparision, is unbelievably true (especially all things roads/queues/smoking/beauracracy)! Seriously, watch this video and you will understand how things work over here in l'Italia so much better!

In the canteen of my University they serve up, everyday, four types of pizza, four types of pasta, a million types of panini and tubs of overpriced (yet delicious) salad.  Yesterday, on walking past the menu attached to the wall, I spotted that the "Pizza del Giorno" (pizza of the day) was the never before served "Americana". 

Mio Dio, I thought to myself, are the Italian's getting off their culinary high horse and serving American style pizza??  Going over to the pizza counter quickly answered that question in the negative.  The pizza the canteen had fondly named "Americana" was Italian style, thin based pizza simply with french fries (another question, why are they called french fries?) baked on top.

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American stereotypes of Europeans are often pretty absurd and silly.  The same is clearly true the other way around as well.  Seriously Italy, I've been to America twice, and however sugar and chemical filled their food may be, they at least have the good sense not to bake fries on top of a pizza.

Apparently, the Italians don't.

It's come to that point in October where Italy's extended summer abrubtly drops into a sudden cold autumn.  In other words, it has come to that point were I wish there was a radiator in my room. 

At least this means no more mosquitoes.

Rolling Stone has closed for good.  It is to be bulldozed and replaced by an office block.  This is tragic.

Utterly, utterly, utterly tragic. 

It was a sleaze pit like no other sleaze pit.    If you were under twenty five, it was the only place to be on a Saturday night.  It was the Temple of Rock in Milano.  There was no other night club like it.  The city of Milano, and my weekends, will never be the same without it.  It will be sorely missed.

RIP Rolling Stone:  Thank you for erroding my memory and liver all those Saturdays.  I will miss you.

So last night I really got in touch with my Milanese side and went to a big Vogue sponsored fashion show.  Basically an excuse for the big brand shops to sell clothes, shoes, belts, bags, etc. in an even more exclusive and expensive manner then they usually do.  And why was I involved in such an event? 

Free champagne!  Not to mention vino rosso and cheesy-crackery-thingys.  For free champagne I will happily look at any model wearing a leopard skin pudding bowl on her head.  After the third glass, heck, I'll even try one on.

And from the fashion show, we did not leave empty handed!  No, I didn't get a leopard skin pudding bowl, but instead five champagne flutes, two wine glasses and two cocktail glasses were pinched  salvaged for the good of pennyless studenthood.  For added class, we even carried them home on the tram at 1am in the morning.  Suffice to say, many a strange look was received, but hey, dormitory parties are going to be a little more sophisticated from now on. 

There are times and places where the tangy scent of sweat can be sexy as hell.

However, crampt on a hot, stuffy one hour bus journey from the airport is certainly not one of these occassions.  Alas, the demand for deodrant is rather low in Italia.

So tomorrow, I'm flying home to England for a few days before the July exams.  Amongst the many things on the family itenery, we're going to London to see "Waiting for Godot" with Ian McKellen and Patrick Stewart.  *Fangirlish excitement*

It's about time I flee to England, because something very strange is currently taking place within Italy.  Something strange that I first noticed on the weekly shopping trip a few weeks ago: There were blond people in the supermarket.  Not just one blond person (that would be disconcerting enough) but many of them, in the pasta aisle, confusedly weighing fruit and clogging up the cheese counter.

"Very strange", I thought to myself as I waded my way through the masses.  More strange was that all the blond people carried a degree of sunburn, as if they had too much time on their hands to lay about in the sun.  At first I thought blond hair dye must have suddenly become Milan fashion and sun tan lotion out of fashion, but then, as I found myself in the queue for the checkout surrounded by non-Italian speakers, the dramatic and frightning truth hit me - They were all on holiday.

( The Dramatic and Frightning Truth Continued... )

I am absoloutly sickened by the European election results.

Really, if the party in power, masquerading as socialists, makes a complete mess of things, does the population (an unsettlingly large proportion of it) truely believe that the answer is extremist, down right racist, right wing politics?  Has 20th century history taught us nothing?

Apparently not.

Comparitively, in Italy, the exact opposite is taking place, but from a similar reasoning.  With Berlusconi venturing far into the right wing of political policy, left wing extremism is raising its equally ugly head, gathering supporters, and thus Milan is currently covered in "Vote Communist" posters.  Fabulous.

I went to a Sicillian style lunch party today, which meant we started cooking at 1pm, started eating at 2pm and didn't stop eating until after 4pm and now it's past 9pm and I'm still stuffed and unable to walk, only waddle.

Oh, Italian and student life, I love you. 

Horror of horrors, I went shoe shopping in Milan... and came back with a pair of 40 Euro, real leather ankle boots.  The price is excellent for the quality and the fact that this is, of course, Milano.  The clear sign of a good quality pair of shoes is that they have the size and "made in Italy" engraved, ornately on the bottom instead of with a sticker. I think Milan has slowly corrupted my stance on "fashion is evil". It's not evil, it's just silly.

I have to say, the choice of wearing my most trampy pair of converses (with rips) to go shoe shopping in was a bad idea. As this caused many a shop attendent to come and try and usher me and my Russian millionare friend (who was trying to buy a leather bag for Uni with a budget of 500 Euros, but still the 800 Euro bag was tempting) out of an annoyingly large amount of shops. In the shop I purchased the shoes from, I'd found a pair I liked and so put my conversed foot on one of the "sitting blocks" to undo the laces in order to try on the shop's shoes and the shop attendent comes over to tell me not to put my foot up on the block.  Charming.  Then she realises that we are actually serious in buying shoes and becomes suck up to a vomit inducing degree.  Saying how she adores The Beatles and Queen and how the shops best leather comes from Russia.  Uh huh.  She did not say anything when I put my foot back on the block to relace my converses.  Honestly, it is moments like these when I wish my Italian was better in order to be more smart ass to prissy shoe shop workers.

After such a tedious day of shopping, it is then, of course, most necessary to attend mad Russian drinking parties involving The Wickerman, Playstation 3 driving games at 3am in the morning and extortianate amounts of hair gel.

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And photos. 

To buy the cheapest pair of smart shoes possible that I will be allowed into the opera with! 

...

In Milano, this is going to be tricky.

I love Milano and its random fashion/design/art exhibitions.  I love even more that at said fashion/design/art exhibitions free stuff is abundent!  Stickers, bags and caffine-overdose-coffee for the win!

Of course, such an afternoon could not be complete without being shouted at by an Italian woman who was most upset that I mistook her art for a sofa and procceded to sit down and put my grubby converses up on white leather.  Oops.  

Also, today I found out (theoretically) that it's an incredibly bad idea to mix spirits with caffine based drinks such as Red Bull.  Another oops.  A worse idea than even mixing a spirit with another spirit, apparently.  I can vouch for this.  Spirit + Red Bull = Hospital.

All LJ friends rush off to buy Red Bull and vodka.

In other news, I am totally excited for Saturday; I'm going to Torino/Turin to see the Italian musical of Notre-Dame de Paris!  I have two favourite books of all time and Notre-Dame de Paris is one of them, so the chance to get to see the musical (really famous in Italy and France) is utterly awesome beyond all sense and reason.

And will I be buying an overpriced programme all in Italiano with pretty pictures?  HELL YES!

Italian ladies who work in post offices are lovely.  They are the athesis to evil Italian cleaning ladies.  Sadly, they don't quite balance eachother out because I come into contact with Italian post office ladies perhaps once a month, where as cleaning ladies thrust their evil presence on me twice a week.  I think this is one of the little unfair-ities of life.

Above fact proven by fadagaski  staying with me in Milano over the weekend - she wasn't a social retard/stalker/otherwise freak!  She was fun!

( Fadagaski's and Jackk's Milanese Adventures... )

After this good "meeting people from the internet" experience, I am now open to giving tours to internet friends who happen to come to Milan for a weekend.  Just get yourself a room - the sneaky sleepover thing, though fun, was WAAAAAAAAAAYYYY too much hassle.
 

I had a bloody fantastic time at Rolling Stone last night, except for one thing.  My favourite black jacket was stolen!  Seriously, I must have been tempting fate with talking to fadagaski  about Milan's thief issues And what's even more annoying is that it had my detailed map of Milan in it, which has been my bible for the past two months.  RIP map *sniff* I will miss you.  I'll never forget all the times we shared together; planning nights out at the back of lectures; trying to figure out how the hell to get home at 3:00am in the morning in the middle of the street - you shall be dearly missed.

Luckily, I didn't have any valuables in the jacket, and I knew my way home without a map (After a Long Island Iced Tea and an Angelo Azzuro that's quite impressive :P).  But still, walking home at 5:00am in the morning, in November, wearing just a shirt wasn't much fun.  I bought hot breakfast (toasted brie and ham baguette thingy - yummy) and was able to hop on a bus to take me most of the way.  (One thing that is great about Milan is the cheap, always on time network of public transportation). 

The loss of my jacket and map aside, it was a great night - first night at Rolling Stone since my mid term exams - woot!

Friday night, I went to the cinema to see, of all things,  "Mamma Mia!"  For those of you who have seen this crazy, corny to the power of ten movie, imagine seeing it dubbed rather badly in Italian with the songs remaining in the original English, with Italian sub titles.  Little to say, it was priceless!  It wasn't my kind of movie at all (being more into dark, twisted films) yet I thoroughly enjoyed it and laughed heartily all the way through (the fact that I couldn't follow what was being said most of the time made no difference - if anything it probably enhanced the experience!).  All the Italians loved it, the whole cinema clapped along to the last two songs and then applauded at the end. 

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It would have been a fantastic weekend, if not for losing my flippin' jacket!!!!!

I think I'll go express my annoyance in the real world now.

In case any of you visit Italy, here are 20 tips to ensure your survival:

1.  Beware of mopeds.

2.  Beware of roads.

3.  Beware of middle aged Italian women who work in low level jobs. 

4.  Everyone who you expect to speak English won't and everyone you expect not to speak English will.

5.  Do not make eye contact with street vendors.

6.  I said DO NOT make eye contact with street vendors!!!

7.  When on the underground, guard your bag as if you were surrounded by a group of pick pocketing thieves.  You are.

8.  When being asked why you haven't got a ticket on the tram respond "Non parlo Italiano!".  Then run.

9.  Ice cream = ecstacy.

10.  Say goodbye to a few years of your life due to passive smoking.

11.  Italy is not in a state of permanant summer.  The postcards lie. 

12.  On Sunday mornings, the entire population of Italy disappears.  They will not return to serve you lunch.

13.  You WILL dance and you WILL NOT be drunk.

14.  If you ARE drunk, you will also be broke.

15.  Beware Italian men with goatees.  They grope.

16.  If you are in the north, be wary of the Mafia.  If you in the south, be afraid of the Mafia.  If you are in Sicilly... they are watching you!

17.  Pay for food first, then collect food.  Don't collect food, then pay.

18.  Go to bar.  Buy cocktail.  Shovel buffet food into mouth.

19.  Yes, the coffee cups are that small and, yes, the coffee does cost that much.

20.  Corruption.  Be disgusted by it, accept it, embrace it!

I have had such a fantastic weekend.  Really, really fantastic.

( Weekend Tales... )