I decide to try out the coffee bar at the bottom of my street this morning. I am learning that the trick is to order without appearing to be talking to the person concerned. All morning orders are delivered like this; with the utmost nonchalance. The bartender is usually having more than one conversation at once, and given that my Italian is far from fluent, it's often difficult to know whether he is talking to me, or one of the other 3 individuals at the bar. Clearly the haunt of the cooler 30something male, all present are engaging in the time honoured practice of discussing the state of the world with accompanying expansive hand gestures.
There are 2 different prices in a bar; one for standing at the bar and one for sitting at a table. I prefer to pay the extra euro and sit, which gives me a birds eye view of the proceedings. Breakfast is the only time of day when Italians seem motivated to move beyond a slow amble; which means a high turnover of characters.
Flicking through the TV channels last night I am amused to find that Big Brother, or rather Grande Fratello - has made it to these shores. No mixed race contestants means no Shilpa controversy here, although there are the usual shower of social mismatches. One of the males who clearly fancies himself as a bit of a ladies man is striding round the house wearing a pair of white Y fronts teamed with a pair of flip flops. I would love to see how long he would last with Jackay.
The weather was breath-in-front-of-your-nose freezing this morning, with a fog surrounding the Ponte Vecchio and creeping up the river banks. However, this lifts giving way to a hazy but beautifully sunny day. The haze over the bridges never seems to lift completely, and I am left wondering whether Michelangelo et al invented sffumato, or whether they were just painting what they saw
Katy
(E is for Emotion 98.4 Mylo)
There are 2 different prices in a bar; one for standing at the bar and one for sitting at a table. I prefer to pay the extra euro and sit, which gives me a birds eye view of the proceedings. Breakfast is the only time of day when Italians seem motivated to move beyond a slow amble; which means a high turnover of characters.
Flicking through the TV channels last night I am amused to find that Big Brother, or rather Grande Fratello - has made it to these shores. No mixed race contestants means no Shilpa controversy here, although there are the usual shower of social mismatches. One of the males who clearly fancies himself as a bit of a ladies man is striding round the house wearing a pair of white Y fronts teamed with a pair of flip flops. I would love to see how long he would last with Jackay.
The weather was breath-in-front-of-your-nose freezing this morning, with a fog surrounding the Ponte Vecchio and creeping up the river banks. However, this lifts giving way to a hazy but beautifully sunny day. The haze over the bridges never seems to lift completely, and I am left wondering whether Michelangelo et al invented sffumato, or whether they were just painting what they saw
Katy
(E is for Emotion 98.4 Mylo)
