Mito e me

This past weekend LeAnn and Marsha took a long-weekend road trip to Barcelona for a cat show. Since we're a one-car family, that meant I was going to be 'senza auto' while they were away, so we rented a car for me to get around in. We requested the cheapest car that Europcar had, which would have been the Fiat Panda. For those of you who don't know, the Panda is basically a metal two-drawer file cabinet on wheels. But all was not gloom-and-doom in the driving department, as the rental office didn't have any Panda's. Don't ask me why, maybe their lease was up and they all went back to China or something. Anyway, the nice folks at Europcar upgraded me to an Alfa-Romeo Mito. As the gentleman at the desk explained the situation and passed over the key with that wonderful Alfa logo on it, my resting heart rate suddenly ramped up to a non-resting heart rate. You see, ever since I'd thought about our move to Italy I'd been thinking that I'd want an Alfa when it came time to get me a car. I figured if I'm in Italy I might as well drive something Italian, right? Just like Brad Pitt asking for that El Camino.


Now, I'd seen the Mito on the Alfa website, and occasionally out on the road as well and thought it to be a cute little car with a very aggressive-looking, very-Alfa-like front end. Almost too aggressive I thought, considering its price point. I mean, if the car looks cooler than it winds up being to drive, it risks becoming a parody of itself, doesn't it? What is the good of slathering on all that exterior coolness if the driving experience is just an average one?

Anyway, we tooled over to the designated rental parking lot (consisting of 6 parking spaces in all) and picked up the little blue thing after lunch on Thursday. It was indeed cute-looking, but thankfully not enough to scream "CHICK CAR!". I got in, quickly acclimated myself to the control layout, adjusted the seat, steering wheel, and mirrors, and set out on my way home.

The car did feel nicely sporting, but something was very strange. You see, whenever I had pictured myself driving an Alfa-Romeo in my mind, the accompanying soundtrack would always sound revvy and throaty like the Ansa exhausts of old - not quietly clattery like a delivery truck. So I had a new paradigm to work with here, and I was very interested in seeing how I adapted to it as the weekend progressed. But the 1.6 liter turbo diesel did pull us along quite well, and that's pretty much most of what an engine should do for a car, so I let it slide.


On the outskirts of one of the little towns between Vicenza and Mestrino there's a small, newly-created traffic circle that is a pain in the tail to anyone not driving a motorcycle or a sports car (and an unexpected oasis of curvy fun to those that are). As I arrived at the circle, I decided I'd have a bit of fun and with no other traffic to interfere with my plan, I tossed the car in, shifted down, gave it the right foot and cranked the wheel over. What happened next was a revelation. The turbo spun up and got the cute little diesel sled nicely into the meat of the powerband, settled its suspension, and got down to work. The tires hung on tenaciously to the pavement and the more I turned in, the more they did so. Try as I might I could barely elicit a sound from the OEM spec Continentals. The car either had hardly any understeer or a small bit of oversteer, but in either case it felt fantastic and really opened my eyes to its potential. Strange soundtrack or no, this could turn out to be fun!



One thing that is unique to the current crop of Alfa's is a largish momentary slide switch mounted on the center console to the left of the shifter. This is the "Alfa DNA" selector switch, with DNA being an acronym indicating the three possible driving modes available for your use. 'D' is for Dynamic, and selecting the Dynamic mode sharpens the steering and increases its weight, as well as firms up the suspension and puts the throttle on hair-trigger as well as allows overboost on the turbo. Ever see a cat on high alert, with its tail all bushy and it standing on its claws? That's this car in Dynamic mode.

'N' stands for Normal mode, which puts the car into a good all-around mode for driving around. Response and ride and steering weight all are still a tad firm so as not to let you forget this is an Alfa-Romeo, but bumpy pavement won't turn you into a human bobblehead doll either (although I have read that the 17-inch wheeled versions of the car tend to do that a bit in Normal mode, presumably because of the stiffer sidewalls on the lower-profile tires. This car having the standard 16-inchers seemed fine in that department to me, and I've ridden motorcycles and driven cars that were too firm like that, so I have something to compare to.)

Lastly, 'A' stands for All Weather mode, and selecting that mode relaxes the car even more. Alfa says that mode is best for bad pavement and/or slick conditions.


So it was neat having the car at home to get to know. And a funny thing happened. As the weekend went on, I found myself doing things like getting some music CD's and taking them out to the car, and setting the equalizer on the stereo system and listening to music. Or just walking out to gaze at the car every now and then. I opened the hood to look around, sat in the back seat to check the room back there (not bad) and how easily I could get in and out (pretty easy, even from behind the driver's seat), read the owners manual (as best as I could, since it's in Italian) to see what's what and how things work and what features this car had as well as didn't have, and generally did the same things that I would do if this car were mine for keeps. I was falling in 'like' with the little Mito, if not quite 'love'.


Today being Monday, I woke up thinking that maybe I should take a little road trip, since it's my last day with the car before I return it tomorrow. But nothing came to mind, and since museums and such are closed on Mondays here, I thought that I might just let that go. But then I found out that there's a Harley dealership in Verona that's open on Monday afternoons, so I could buy the motor oil I need for the bike (as I had to empty it prior to shipping)! So I got directions to the dealership, and set out for the hour-long drive down the Autostrada. Sure, one day wouldn't kill me if I couldn't have the oil, and by the time I got back it would be time to feed all the critters, walk Dog Chandler, and get dinner for myself and I probably wouldn't work on the bike tonight, but it's the sort of psuedo-errand that motorcyclists do all the time, as a reason to ride and a place to ride to. So, this was my excuse to take the car out on the Autostrada, try out the different driving modes, and just generally have One Last Fling with Mito.


Well, long story short, the drive was exhilarating. The trip to Verona and back cemented my opinion of this car as one that is on my proverbial 'short list'. Heck, it might even be the only one on the list. Its manners and behavior are perfect for driving in Italy (go figure), and whether cruising alertly at 140 kph on the Autostrada in Normal mode (in sixth gear you're only loping that diesel along at 2500 rpm), or carving up one of those driveway-width twisty local roads in Dynamic mode, this car raises my awareness level and my excitement level and just plain enhances the experience of traveling on four wheels. Cage or no, It's been a long time since I've felt this excited about driving a car.


Funny, I didn't plan on going car shopping this weekend - !

English, the language of shopping and T-shirts.

It's kind of funny in a smirky sort of way (as opposed to a laugh-out-loud sort of way) where and how you'll see English words used in Italy. One local merchant's circulars (pubblicita') curiously use the phrase 'low cost' in English as part of its slogan, with the rest in Italian. And a large sign at a shopping center entrance near us proudly states "tutto il tuo shopping!". Could it be that Italian doesn't have an equivalent word to 'shopping' as a verb, or is it more along the lines of not having a word to describe the recreational purchasing of items as an end unto itself? Or, could it be that it's more trendy to say 'shopping' to evoke the American practice of purchasing for purchasing's sake in a hope to encourage that same practice in the local population? Sounds like a great pseudo-intellectual post-drinking conversational topic, doesn't it?

Speaking of drinking, it seems that partaking in some might assist in attempting to discern any meaning in many T-shirts worn by Italians around here. Large typeface is preferred, I suppose to try for maximum impact, sort of like Orson Welles' famous line in "Citizen Kane" , "if the headline is big enough it makes the news big enough". For some real-world examples we've recently seen, picture the following in large letters, one word per line, reading from top to bottom:

"I'VE GOT YOU NOW"
"THIN REGULAR LARGE"
"I AM A NOUN"
"FUN BEACH" (you'd think there would be a picture with this one, of the 'actual' mythical place, but no.)

Another type of T-shirt you'll see is the kind that is slathered with all sorts of American place names with superlatives mixed in, like "Brooklyn New York City Best Athletic Professional" or something like that. I suppose it's sort of like an American builder when they bulldoze an old farm and divide it up into lots and build spec houses and name it something like "Adjective Adjective Nouns", maybe "Springy Leafy Acres" or some such (although they should respectfully name it after the family history they just obliterated from the earth, but I digress).

I suppose it could be a purposely half-hearted and self-deprecating attempt to make the clothing appear to have style street-cred. For instance, LeAnn recently brought me home a very comfy burgundy wool-acrylic blend sweater with that type of treatment on the front. In ivory sewn-on block letters like an old varsity jacket it says "VINTAGE WEAR" and in between the top word "vintage" and the bottom word "wear" is a large ivory patch stating in black print:
EUROPEAN ART GALLERY
5, MAIN STREET
EASTHAMPTON

What does it all mean? Who knows. We probably shouldn't give it too much serious thought, for as Sherlock Holmes remarked to Dr Watson in one story, "to run the brain on too little information is like racing an engine, it cracks itself to pieces". I certainly wouldn't wish that fate on any of your brains! Certainly not for a stupid T-shirt.

I will be interested, though, on wearing my sweater on my next road trip down the autostrada and seeing if it makes me look sufficiently un-touristy to the cashier at the autogrill. I'll know by ordering un caffe' and NOT being asked any followup questions like "espresso?", or "caffe' americano?", which are two examples of the coffee-ordering equivalent of a Microsoft Windows confirmation dialog box asking me "Are You Sure?".

Yes I'm sure. Give me my coffee. And tell me where'd you get that cool T-shirt? Allora, andiamo shopping!

The Electrical Walk of Shame

Time and again when reading or hearing about how the Italian people live, you'll be told how 'passionate' or 'exhuberant' they are, how the Italians 'live life out loud'. And as true as that continues to show itself to be, there is one area, one niche, one grotto if you will of the Italian lifestyle that is by comparison remarkably restrained. I'm talking of course about their use of energy. (This may in fact be a hallmark of how Europeans on the whole, or heck, maybe anyone-but-Americans use energy, but instead of overgeneralizing and quickly exceeding the limited pool of supporting information I possess I'll just stick to what I've observed firsthand.) And at no time is the Italian rule of frugal energy usage brought closer to home, figuratively speaking, than when it is actually, literally speaking, brought into your home. After a few occurrences of being the surprised recipient of the Great Circuit Breaker Dope-Slap, where you're forced to trudge humbly through your darkened house and outside in your bunny slippers at 3 am and down the sidewalk to unlock the electrical panel on the fence to reset the main circuit breaker that feeds your home, you come face to face with the undeniable truth - that you're no longer living in the land of 'infinite wattage for me!'.
From what I have discovered, the situation has its roots in two basic structures. One is the structure in which you live - your home. Or more accurately, the design electrical capacity of the electrical wiring in your home. The second is the service level you have agreed to get from your local power utility. In the USA you call your local power company and say, "I would like electrical service please" and you get it, with your home's total electrical usage limited by the current rating of the Main circuit breaker in your breaker box (typically between 100Amps and 200Amps) ,in most homes sized large enough that you can run whatever appliance or appliances you want without running into a problem and you simply pay for what you use. In Italy you can't simply use as much as you want. The power company will normally have on record what the wiring of your individual home is rated for, and apparently most Italian homes don't have wiring that is rated very large capacity. When you set up your service with the power company you have your choice of tiers of service, and each tier has its maximum power usage level. Let's call them A, B, and C. (They are actually rated numerically based on killowatt-hours or whatever it may be in metric-speak, but for here we'll just call them A, B, and C.) Now if you want to get the cheapest tier of electrical service, you say to the power company "I want electrical service to my house, and I'll take Power Level A." Fine. You'll be on a cheaper rate structure, but the trade-off for you is that you can't run two major appliances at the same time, say, the oven and the dishwasher. Or the washing machine and the dishwasher. The power company imposes the agreed-upon limit on the power it supplies to your home, and if you attempt to exceed that limit, the circuit breaker out on the sidewalk trips, and you have to go outside to reset it. So you learn to live with that limit, or you can decide that you want to pay more for your electrical service so that you'll be able to run your washing machine and your oven at the same time. So you call your power company and say, "I would like to upgrade to service level B", and after about 8 weeks they make the necessary changes on the supply end (they either reprogram the circuit breaker supplying your house or physically change it out, i'm not sure, but I do know that your circuit breaker to the house is a 'smart' breaker that also serves as your electric meter, so it's tripping may be more than a function of an old-fashined bimetal element that overheats. Anyway, they do something on their end to enable the higher power supply to your home.) So now you're on Power Service Level B. However, we have talked to folks who have done that and STILL can't run their oven and their dishwasher at the same time, so then they're just paying more for the same old electrical lifestyle, so it's not always doable. And if you want service level C, well, your house may not even be rated to handle it, so that may not even be an option for you. Anyway, that's how it works. But regardless of which plan you're on, you still have to learn to live within your means, electrically-speaking.
And LeAnn and I have managed to do that. It's not that tough, really. Take last night, for example. At 7:45 pm I loaded the clothes washer and set it up to run. Recognizing that it wasn't yet the magic hour of 9 pm (at which time the cost of electricity is reduced due to it being off-peak time) I chose to use the washer's delay start feature, deciding to play it safe and setting the delay to 2 hours. Fast forward to bedtime (around 11:30 pm), when I finished loading the dirty dishes into the dishwasher and setting it also to run overnight. After my quick mental calculations, I set the dishwasher to delay its start for 3 hours, so that the clothes washer and the dishwasher wouldn't be running at the same time. See? Easy. You just have to learn to get yourself into a routine so you don't wake up at 3 am to use the bathroom to find your power out!

Anyway, that's how this whole power thing works.

Did I mention how nice and peaceful it was outside our house at 3 am this morning?

siamo completo! Bill writes!

To everyone who has been following our blog, our apologies for there not having been an installment recently. Now that I’m more or less settled (although to be honest, being disoccupato is not the type of ‘settling’ I want to maintain for very long), I finally feel that things are sufficiently on autopilot that I can take a little time to put some words together.
It’s been a little over six weeks now since I said goodbye to the village of Goshen NY, paid the good folks at Lufthansa a small fortune in excess baggage fees for a 65lb furry red dog, two cats, a bicycle case and a second checked bag, and settled into my seat on the overnight flight to Munich with my seatbelt securely fastened low and tight across my waist. Somewhere past St. John’s, high up in the night sky over the inky-black Atlantic I was finally able to enjoy that one special moment which I’d been anticipating for weeks -a single satisfying couplet of breaths, one in, one out - that to me officially marked the end of my life in New York, and the beginning of my life in a foreign country. Although, not that foreign, really. There was something about the thought of living in Italy that to me seemed new and different, sure, but at the same time comfortably familiar, as if my heart had always been ready to live there but my mind had to come around to the idea in its own good time. So as I settled back into my seat in the intimately-lit cabin nursing my second glass of red wine, John Hiatt singing from The Open Road through the standard-issue headphones, I was illogically reassured by that by-then-familiar combination of excitement, irresponsibility, hopefulness, stupidity, and confidence I’d long been feeling about our decision to move there. And I looked forward to us all being one big, brown, furry family again, wrapping my longing arms around mybaby mybaby mybaby mybaby, and settling into our comfortable abode, complete with its lack-of-furniture echo in every room.
The next morning found me at Munich’s airport, winding my way along with my fellow travelers up and down stairs and escalators and on moving sidewalks in the gleaming white-pipe-and-glass terminal buildings. In my arm, Leo our tabby cat was curious and talkative in his soft carrier (and I thought surprisingly calm considering he’s not a big fan of traveling!). I arrived at the oversize baggage claim area to find the bike case, dog crate, and cat crate already laid out by the attendant, perfectly orderly and respectfully spaced from each other (should I have expected anything less?). I indicated to the gentleman that all three items were mine (his eyes got noticeably bigger), and I took a moment to have a brief but slobbery reunion with Dog Chandler aka Red Dog, and a hug with Rachmaninov the Havana Brown. Rachi had already been a bit talkative as I approached, but after I returned him to his crate post-hug he grew much more vocal, so much so that he attracted the attention of a large woman dressed smartly in Lufthansa blue with red accents, who strode directly over as she asked with a perfect combination of helpfulness and authority what was the meaning of all this katzenjammer –ing that was going on? She offered to get a baggage porter for me, so I waited for a while for that to happen (as Rachi called after her asking where she was going, why she hadn’t stayed to pet him, and can she please bring him some salmon). Some curious travelers ambled over to us to admire my imaginative choices of oversized baggage as well as to shake their heads at my complete and utter failure to travel light. Finally here came the baggage porter, with a longish baggage cart whose shape reminded me of one of those little boat-things that banana splits are served in. Except thankfully it wasn’t made of that flimsy thin plastic, and a good thing really as there’s no way it would have stood up to three critters, two Pullmans and a Trico Iron Case. Plus it was much, much larger and if anyone ever finished a banana split that size, well, they’d wind up like Mr Creosote for sure. Anyway, the porter and I loaded up the banana-split cart and he asked me where to, and I explained to him in my best German (which even after two years of high school class wasn’t all that great – I really didn’t think it appropriate to say “hier kommt die Strassenbahn!” , “Sommerschlussverkauf”, or “Siegfried war unverwundbar”, which left little else in my repertoire – why the textbooks had that stuff in there I’ll never know) that my wife was going to be picking me up in the car. So he wheeled my bags and my furry entourage through a long passageway lined with shops and out a large sliding door at the end, where we landed on a wide concrete sidewalk next to a small parking lot. In our hallway travels, I’d managed to retrieve a ten-dollar bill from my wallet (I had decided incorrectly that I could get by without exchanging any euro pre-departure), and tipped him, explaining es tut mir leid, aber ich habe kein Euro. He seemed ok with that.
So, with bags unloaded from the cart and one final round of danke sehr! / bitte, I claimed the newly-discovered Baggage Island on the sidewalk. I set the critters up with more food and water, and put Leo in Rachi’s crate with the shoebox litterbox, and took Chandler briefly to a patch of grass a few feet away to let her sample the scent of German dogs who hang around airports. Then we settled in to wait for LeAnn’s arrival, which I really really hoped would happen where we were, since we weren’t really equipped to wander around to look for her! Happy to be out of her travel crate, Chandler was extremely content lying on her side on the shady sidewalk, so that’s what she did, and we passed the time saying ‘hi’ to various people and looking cute (well I'd given up trying to look cute, and instead tried to act as if I hadn't in fact been forgotten, and that hanging around the airport with bulky travel items was exactly what I and my critter posse had decided to do when we woke up that morning and we were being terrifically successful at doing it thank you very much). Eventually, after what seemed like a long time – mostly because it was – we managed to be found! Hugs, barking, meowing, and slobbery kisses all around! We rolled everyone and everything over to LeAnn’s car, loaded things and cats into the car and set up food and water and litterbox, ate some picnic nibbles, took the remaining baggage to the rental car area, rented a smart new black VW Golf for me to drive back (as there was no way baggage, critters, and people were going to fit into LeAnn’s Mercedes Doorstop) and finally - after running out of reasons to hang around the Munich airport any longer - we began our drive to Italy.
You gotta love renting cars in Europe – my Golf had a six-speed manual tranny! Even better than the 5-speed that I first thought it was until just past the Italian border ;-)
After a relaxing and scenic drive we arrived in Mestrino late that afternoon. HOME! We were all at home together once again. Welcome to the Land of Prosecco and Prosciutto e Melone!!!

********************************************************

The story of my travels here wouldn’t be complete without saying a HUGE thank you to our wonderful friend Marsha, who patiently accepted my pre-trip anxiety and graciously gave us all a ride to JFK, even allowing me to drive the good old Land Rover Disco II through the potholed expressways of NYC one last time.

BTW, I’ve traveled Lufthansa, and I’ve traveled other airlines, and Lufthansa stands above. They simply provide a superior air travel experience for both people and critters.

Next time, less time between posts. Promise!!! a' presto!

Becoming a regular

One of the favorite local places is called Regina's. It is just a small local place that is frequented by Americans who live on or near the base. I'm guilty of eating 3-4 meals a week there. Yesterday a co-worker and I decided to go there for lunch and were disappointed to find it closed. Fortunately it's only temporary. There was a sign posted on the door that read: We are closed for holiday. Until we return we suggest you try eating at home. I just can't imagine ever seeing that on the door to a resturant in New York...
It has been a beautiful week in the Venito. Sunny, breezy and around 80 degree all week! I woke before the sun on Saturday, which btw comes really early here :-( and made my way to the bus that was to take us to the Italy-Swiss border. The trip through the Dolomites was very nice as there is still snow on the mountain tops and the rising sun turns it a beautiful pink and purple, like cotton candy on the tops of the mountains.
We arrived at a small village around 10am and wandered around a bit. We were advised to pick up some lunch to eat on the 4 hour train ride so I found a place that had a cold Risotto, Pea and Mushroom salad and I topped it off with a big hunk of fresh bread. On the way back to the station I spied a Gelato shop and figured that two scoops of Pistachio would make a good appetizer. We walked across the border and boarded the Glacier Express for a 11:00am departure - Swiss time. At 10:59 the wheels were in motion.
No matter how I might try or what language I do it in, there are no words to express the beauty of the Swiss Alps in late spring. If not the most beautiful place on earth, it is the most beautiful that I've ever seen and I've seen some pretty phenomenal places. I will link to a couple of videos but I've seen video before and it didn't even come close to the rapture of seeing it in person. If Switzerland is not on your list of places to visit, I highly recommend you add it. http://www.myswitzerland.com/en/travel/getting_around/traveling-by-train/bernina-express.html
St. Moritz is very nice (ok, that's an understatement) but I was way out of my league there. I can hardly afford to breath in the free -but thin- air. Having spent a decent amount of time in Vail, Colorado I felt that I was truly in Vail's motherland. Americans have worked hard to create a place in the Rockies that is similar but it really pales in comparison to St. Moritz. http://www.stmoritz.ch/
Back on earth now... this week I did a lot of paperwork required to move in to the house and get utilities set up. The painting should be done and it will be ready next week. I pick up the keys on Tuesday and my personal items and rental furniture arrive on Friday. Next weekend I'll take some pictures to share. Next weekend I also hope to visit the Suave Castle. It sits on a hill just east of Vicenza and is only about a 20 minute drive. I passed by it one evening and looking up from the road below it was amazing. It was lit up and had walls coming down each side - I'm told it even has a draw bridge... as all Medival Castles should! http://www.castellodisoave.it/castellosoave_ing/castellosoave_home.html
This weekend I'm going to visit friends and spend a couple of days on the beach. It will be slow on excitement compared to the last few weeks but I'm due a relaxing couple of days before the chaos starts again. http://www.costadimaratea.com/hotelsandiego/listini_e.html

Driving around

Well I finally passed my Drivers License test and got my car registered so that I am now legally allowed to drive in Italy. The problem is - it scares the shit out of me! When I had the rental car down in southern Italy I had no problem, in fact I enjoyed driving. Here it makes me so nervous! Partly because the scare the crap out of you in your drivers training class so you are acutely aware of the dammage you could do. Also, ignorance is not an excuse if you have just taken a class and passed the test.on

But before I could even get to the driving part, I had to go to the bank and get money and then go to the Italian bank and have it changed into Euros. We then went to the temporary insurance coverage. Next was the shoppette to get the required gear for passing the inspection. That included a flashlight, orange vest, first aid kit and reflective triangles. Then, off for Safety inspection. The registration office was packed so we waited. Once we had documentation saying we had passed we n then had to leave and go back to the registration office. They took the inspection paperwork and put it in a file and then gave us the plates for the car. Once that was done we had to go back to the insurance company with the plate numbers and call the agency to change from a temporary insurance document to a regular one. Wow, glad that's done!

I decided to go for a drive after work today. My hope was to be able to find my house. And I did with very little initial effort. The return trip had me lost and I was so dissapointed I could call 'Houston' for driving directions.

My other experience with my lovely little car was adding gasolene... or should I say learning to add gasolene. It took me three tries adn three cdomputers ti figure out how it all work. I left there so proud.

Sleepy time now!
Ciao,
LeAnn
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Cinque Terre Videos

I appoligize in advance for my lack of video skills, but here are a few videos from my Cinque Terre trip on Saturday.

1. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=478gjXYXoQk

2. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ofFOxDNCgBY

3. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O80G4jP3eCM

4. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xhgX9xI4giw

5. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CHlggho6dus&NR=1

6. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kmQ5qxT2SVM&feature=related

7. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=apVg41u4sAc

Happy Memorial Day to all!