Grandmother Tales

As days passed Franca started to tell me stories of the other students who had stayed with her.

I am not sure if it is because I have become more communicative (with my slightly more fluent Italian), or because she has learnt to understand my accent, or learnt to guess what I say and hence able to at times even correct my verb conjugation(rather than shake her head and not catch what I was trying to say). Maybe it’s because we are more familiar with each other and she felt chattier. Maybe it’s a combination of all factors.

Her tales are pretty interesting. She said all the Japanese girls who stayed with her seem to love Italian food. One of them put on 6 kg within three months – eating desserts, pasta, ravioli and as many as five sausages for dinner.

She mentioned about an English girl who cried frequently at first because of the death of her boyfriend two months before her arrival. And about how she finally felt better and started taking singing classes at the Uni and how beautifully she sang in the house.

She chuckled over another girl who got completely lost while driving to another city because of miscommunication with Franca, who had given her instructions to another place instead.

She told me that she has removed her alarm system when I told her I was going home late one night. This is because, when she had the alarm system once, after a late and drunken night, no matter how much the girl had been reminded to ‘’deactivate’’ the alarm system, she had forgotten everything and had set off the loud alarm at 1.00 am, waking the neighbourhood.

Franca also told me gleefully about how she helped a Japanese girl. According to her the Uni’s housing agency is rigid and unsympathetic and once refused to let the girl extend her stay with her. So she told the agency that her room is no longer available because her niece was staying with her and secretly rented the room directly to the girl (and hence by-passing the agency), and refused to answer their follow up call! When the agency rang again, the girl picked up the call and they insisted on speaking to Franca. They asked her, ‘’is your niece a foreigner? She does not sound Italian,’’ and Franca’s reply was, ‘’that was my niece’s classmate who is visiting!’’

Some students who have stayed with her and who subsequently returned to Perugia for further studies requested through the agency to stay with Franca again, causing the agency to ask her, ‘’why is it that everyone wants to stay with you?’’

I am not sure why the other students wanted to stay with her. But I have my own reasons. First, before we got familiar with each other, I was attracted to her cheerfulness. She is elderly and certainly not agile but she is always cheerful and loving. And active – actively knitting, actively hand-making pasta, cooking, doing housework, chatting with friends and writing letters to students who had stayed with her.

After staying with her for a while, I was moved by her concern whenever I mentioned I felt cold. She would lend me her scarves, ask if I needed extra blankets, took my laundry to wash in her machine. She would always be asking me to dress warmly and getting me to sit at the fire to warm myself. She even asked if I was going to be home late so that she could leave some dinner for me. All this is not part of the ‘’package’’ I paid for at the housing agency.

These days she would look forward to my return and barely have I settled into my room and she would ask me to join her at the fire to warm my icy hands. She would hold them to check how cold they are and urge me to put them nearer the fire.

Then she would tell me what happened in the day. For example, once she was mad with her beloved granddaughter Beatrice who had visited her for lunch. They had bisticciare (to bicker – a new vocab I had to look up the dictionary when she used it!) over the boyfriend. Franca met him once and decided she did not like him; she felt he is not the serious and sincere type. Beatrice defended his ‘’long disappearance’’ and absence of regular contacts and insisted they love each other. In the end both lost their appetite - Franca still had a small appetite during dinner! I secretly heaved a sigh of relief for not joining them for lunch – Franca had invited me that morning.

More jig-saw puzzles pieced
I felt the urge to want to know her better and picked up courage to ask about the friends who often visited her and about her personal life.

For example, why does ‘’il francese’’ (‘’the French’’ - that’s what she calls Roland) always give her fresh vegetables? Where does he get them from? Apparently he has some land and grows them!

What are the names of the two ladies who always visited? The “pedicure woman”? Oh – Adele. And the one with white hair? Giselle. Both are widowed and live nearby, according to her.

And Marlene is actually her part time maid, not friend, who comes every Tuesdays and Thursdays.

And at what age did she marry? How did she meet her husband? What did he do? She married at 21, met him at her aunt’s house and he worked as muratore (bricklayer). He even went to work in France for three years when times in Italy were bad and he could not find a job. Those years, he returned home twice a year while she remained behind to raise their only daughter.

During dinner we would watch the news on TV and she would add her comments and explain some of the news in her own words to me.

During my final weekly soap-serial last Friday, I asked her to explain about the lady protagonist’s actions. She had been saying in previous weeks that the woman was involved with her lover’s brother and I didn’t quite understand why. Maybe I had not understood the entire story, or I had not been concentrating (since I tend to work on my laptop while in front of the TV), but it had not occurred me to ask.

Finally I did. And she did a good job explaining, patiently!

Shopping in Perugia

Hat Shopping
Upim – a department chain store, with a branch at the train station. Limited and sad-looking merchandise.

Coin – another small department store with limited stock. I had spent considerable amount of time there bonnet and hat-choosing once but could not bring myself to buy something that makes me look ‘’weird’’ and I would not wear in Singapore.

Finally succumbed to temptation and the tormenting cold and went hat shopping, first at Benetton and then back at Coin.

Fun to be trying on caps like every one else, and wearing one too. Feels very winter, and they do keep you warm! (I was doubtful initially and had thought it was another fashion gimmick to make women spend)

I managed to find the styles that suited me, at Coin! After much hesitation, I bought a blue one as I was wearing a blue scarf then. I had actually wanted a red cap and so bought a red one too, only to have to hunt for a matching scarf. Otherwise I would look so multi colour and I am still not used to coordinating winter wear yet. Coin has pathetic merchandise but at least they had thick long red scarves (more like carpets that truly keep you warm!) that I was looking for. The week before, I managed to get a pair of eyebrow tweezers there too.

New Shops
Perugia may be ancient city but there are new things and changes. A new shop just opened – Sisley.

And another new shop near my house – selling lovely colourful bags. I went in the day before it opened with Kumi – we were attracted by the lights and I had not recalled it being there. When we went in, they gently ‘’chased’’ us out saying that they open the next day, and that was when I realised it was that new.

Old Shops
On my way home, very near my house, there is a friendly internet point – AT Communications. It offers water, clocks showing time zone of other major cities, and is less cramped, brighter and more cheerful. But it’s a few cents more expensive than the one near the Uni (Multitel) where I go to for my work emails. I go there in my first week and now only when I need to urgently check non-work emails because it does not allow laptop hook up.

Just after the internet point is Sidis – a supermarket chain, but this particular one is run by the Chinese. I heard them conversing in Mandarin and decided to ask, ‘’duo shao’’ for the price in Mandarin at the cashier. It’s bigger than the cramped and perpetually crowded Coop in ‘’centro’’ but they are unfriendly and sullen. Maybe the Chinese are simply practical and business-like – no need for greetings or courtesies. Buying groceries is just a business transaction. When someone did give me some help with weighing the fruits, it was an Italian staff that did it!

Along the way home, up and down the slope there are many pretty shops and even an art gallery. But I hardly see any customers! Some looked so posh that I did not want to venture in. One of them does have a sociable lady who looked up from her desk and smiled at me as I walked past one day.

There is a jewellery shop selling beaded and murano glass jewellery. It’s run by a well dressed, haughty and aloof-looking lady. In my early days of arrival I bought a simple pair of ear rings from her because the backing of my existing one dropped off and disappeared.

Along the way are some bars and eateries, all pretty inconspicuous but look cozy.

Next to my house is a friendly pastry shop Lupi. It sells dried goods, some savouries, Italian desserts and ‘’French pastries’’ – panificazione francese. I once bought a slice of pizza for lunch amounting to 1.73 euro and the lady said, ‘’basta’’ (it’s enough) when I handed her 1.70 euro and was digging my purse for 3 cents.

Opposite Lupi is an inconspicuous restaurant with no name! I could only see the lights and kitchen staff busy doing I know not what.

Around ‘’Centro’’
My favourite pastry shop is at Arco Etrusco. The affable and cheerful lady showed and explained all the cakes she had when I asked for suggestions on what dessert to buy for dinner. On my way home after school I like to drop by to get something for Franca and I for dinner. Once the lady explained that the particular sweet I was pointing to was a special Perugian dessert and even listed its main ingredients. I bought it without much hesitation and Franca truly enjoyed it.

Coop on Piazza Matteotti – the cramped and ever crowded ‘’food-only’’ supermarket with limited produce, but with fresh meat and cheese. It does not sell tissue paper! I had to go to a pharmacy which ‘’hid’’ the packets behind its counters. I had to enquire and she handed me a packet, and I had to ask for another one! It seems few buy in bulk here.

At least it’s friendly. I had been to Dr Andreoli Luigi’s Farmacia to get facial cleanser, toner and tissue paper and the pharmacists are as icy as the winds of Perugia.

Next to Coop is a pastry shop, pretty good and famous, according to Franca. It has lovely looking desserts but the people are not very welcoming or helpful. Once I wanted to buy a tart to share with Franca for dinner and the woman first did not make an attempt to understand me (maybe it was my accent but I did pronounce the name correctly) and then when she did, cut a huge portion, even though I wanted a piece for two. Since then, I prefer to patronise Arco Etrusco even though the choice there is limited.

Next to Coop is Conti. It sells yarns for knitting, like a haberdashery store, and practically everything knitted – socks, gloves, scarves, caps, pyjamas, bedroom slippers. I bought my towels there on my arrival.

Arimo on Piazza IV Novembre– a rather expensive store from Milan, selling sleep wear with cute cartoon prints. When I first arrived, the window had a very attractive display of its ‘’Panda collection’’. I bought its pyjamas – my excuse was my delayed luggage and that my pyjamas were inside the luggage. Later I ‘’grew’’ my panda collection with the purchase of a pair of warm bedroom slippers. My excuse then was that the weather was getting too cold to go barefoot at home. I bought a pouch for Yannick at another Arimo branch too. This store has my vote for the most attractive window display and most frequent changes to the displays.

Bubble on Via Calderini sells cheap and cheerful clothes made in China. I went there for woollies/ tops when I felt tired and sick of the very few tops I had brought. I do not plan to go for holidays in winter and simply do not want to spend too much on expensive winter wear, so this shop is a perfect solution for me.

The Trendy Corso Vannucci
Sweet Way is one of the few shops open on Sundays and always crowded with long queues. It was especially crazy and crowded on the first few days of my arrival. I suspect it’s because of the chocolates that they were selling at the Chocolate Festival of Perugia in late October. It is still popular now with locals and tourists. But very expensive. An American commented, ‘’these few pieces of chocolates cost as much as our lunch!’’ Today I bought a slice of dessert; it looked so pretty but it cost me more than 8 euro a slice!

Sandi is a posh bar where you can enjoy hot tea, chocolate or coffee with desserts or savoury snacks. Well dressed executives drop in to buy desserts wrapped in lovely boxes. I often salivate at its windows admiring its pretty cakes. The shop seems to specialise in chocolate cakes in the shape of porcupine. Interesting!

Another posh but very friendly and service-oriented shop is Perugina, selling the city’s pride – Perugina and the famous Baci chocolates. But thanks to globalisation, Nestle now owns this confectionary of Perugian origins. This is where I got Tian Mi Mi her Christmas gift.

Benetton is one of the few shops along this trendy street that don’t close from 1.00 – 3.30 pm for lunch and which opens on Sundays! It is also the first shop I hit to get a pair of jeans and a T-shirt due to luggage delay! Subsequently went in to get a long sleeve top that was on sale and another top. Alas – weather is too cold to wear it and it would be too warm to wear in Singapore!

Farmacia Lemmi is where I brought my box of cold tablets from Singapore and showed the pharmacist to ask if he had the same thing. He was really helpful and patiently explained he has something else similar but less strong, and went on to explain the ingredients. He even explained it a second time in English.

Makan Shops
Osteria dei Turreno on Piazza Danti offers ‘’cucina typica’’, it claims. It is a modest eatery but more like a coffee shop with nasi padang in Singapore. I went there a few times in my first two weeks as it was one way to avoid pizza and other ‘’fast food’’. Also, it is self service, convenient and easy – just point at the food you want. Plus, they are pretty friendly, especially the cashier who speaks English to me even if I managed with my Italian. It seems popular even with Italians despite its location at the city centre, perhaps of its reasonable price.

Next to it is Vodafone shop where I got my cell phone charger and adapter when my luggage was delayed and my phone was dying. Later Kumi got her cell phone and SIM card there with me as her interpreter.

La Grande Muraglia – The Great Wall Chinese restaurant on Via Pinturicchio. I walk past it on way to and back from the Uni. Kayoko and I decided to try it out one day, as it was recommended in a little local guide book.

The menu has interesting errors that confuse the Japanese. For example, fried noodles is placed under ‘’spaghetti’’ section and the Chinese translation became ‘’fried rice’’. So is it Chinese noodle, spaghetti or rice?

They also have interesting dessert like ‘’fried milk’’ (latte fritto) and ‘’Macedonia di frutta cinese’’ (Chinese fruit).

We had dinner there and tried its ‘’student menu’’, applicable only on weekdays. For 5 euro you get a choice of fried rice or noodles and a choice of meat and mineral water. It was great value and the choice of carbo and meat were extensive. I went again today with another Japanese friend, Kumi, for lunch.

The Chinese lady asked in Italian where we were from, Japan? Were we here for studies? She told us she came from Shanghai many years ago and her whole family and relatives are here. Her daughter studied here. No wonder she could not understand Mandarin or English when I tried to ask her on Kumi’s behalf about a certain dish on her menu. I guess it’s ‘’natural’’ for Kumi to expect us to be able to communicate in Chinese but we, both Chinese, ended up using Italian as our common language. It felt a little funny.

The lady bade us a really warm goodbye. I felt strange again – her welcome/ greetings were always very nonchalant, almost cool, but her goodbyes were usually more cheerful.

Dal Mi’ Cocco on Corso Garibaldi is touted to be great value for money for a full meal at 13 euro. It was where I had lunch with Jason and Kayoko. But I did not find the food that tasty, though it is always crowded and recommended in guidebooks.

Pizzeria Mediterranean – small little obscure eatery near Vodafone. It is always crowded because of its yummy and reasonably priced pizza. Huge selection of types of pizza; even dessert pizza with Nutella topping. Serves typical huge pizza per person! Kumi introduced me to this place and I loved to look at the pizzaiolo working in front of us, and the big fire used to grill the pizza. I don’t mind being his apprentice, and learn to knead the dough so skilfully and to use strong arms to take the pizza in and out of the grill.

Pizzeria al taglio – where you can buy pizza by the piece and take away with drinks. Lots of these in Italy. I went to one last Thursday afternoon on my way to school. The friendly chap greeted cheerfully and chatted with me. Are you cold, he asked when he saw me rubbing my hands together? Where are you from? Your country is never cold, right? You are here to study, right? I guess Perugia is a University city and anyone ‘’young-looking’’ and especially foreign-looking is assumed to be a student. I also noticed that shops not located at the city centre are friendlier; this is common sense I guess.

Thunderstorm in Todi

I woke up with a heavy head, bad throat and stuffy nose. Outside, heavy rain was pelting down. I had planned to take the 11.50 am coach to Todi but decided to cancel the day trip.

After breakfast and medication, I went back to sleep. I woke up at 12.30 noon; the rain had stopped.

I felt the great urge to get out of the house to do something: it’s my last weekend in Perugia – I should see more of the region!

There was another coach to Todi at 1.30 pm. I hurriedly dressed, made coffee and ate a slice of bread. Franca saw me and I told her I wanted to catch the bus to Todi, that I was feeling better. She offered the cauliflower and ‘’crostini’’ she had prepared. ‘’Lascia, lavo io’’ she urged as I gulped down the food. (Leave it, let me do the washing up)

It was a very brisk walk to the bus terminal. I skipped the escalators full of people and ran down steps of the staircase next to them. I broke into a run towards the bus terminal, and nearly got run down by a bus as I crossed the road at the terminal. I bought the ticket and boarded the coach just a few minutes before it departed. ‘’Si, signorina, bella studente…., vero?’’ the bus driver answered me with some (presumably) nice words (of which I managed to catch only a few) when I confirmed with him that it was the coach for Todi. Ha ha - he still thought that I am a little signorina (a term used to address women below 18).

Todi, 40km South of Perugia, ‘’quaint’’ and ‘’one of the most enchanting hill towns’’, according to my guide book. The American press and a posh travel magazine actually named it ‘’one of the world’s eminently liveable cities’’. No wonder so many signboards of hotels lined the roads before the coach arrived at the city centre. “And many have actually bought properties there – for vacations or retirement’’ my guidebook added.

Janet Loh moment came – the rain started pouring, fiercely, in tandem with the thunder. When I checked with the driver if it was the town centre where I should alight, the kind driver confirmed it and pointed to the two monuments nearby (the Duomo and Santa Fortunato) that I could visit. He reminded me to wait at this exact place - Piazza Jacopone - at 5 pm to catch the coach back to Perugia.

All wrapped up with my cap, thick scarf and gloves, and with my umbrella, I walked to the Duomo. When I entered there was not a single soul in the huge empty church. It felt weird and irrationally, I feared being locked inside and undiscovered. It must be even weirder to be travelling 40 km in heavy thunderstorm and still suffering from a cold, to visit a little inconspicuous town. Much later a few other tourists entered, and I felt less of a weirdo.

I roamed aimlessly around Piazza del Popolo and wandered into Cisterne Romane to view the remains of an elaborate underground wells and cisterns of this medieval city.

After roaming in the empty streets and looking sadly at the unopened shops in this empty ghost town, and with my umbrella fighting with the wind, I decided to go into a café for a hot cup of tea. I had arrived at past 2.00 pm and the only shops open were eateries. The others would re-open after lunch at 3.30 pm at the earliest.

When the rain got lighter, it was also about time to catch the 5.00 pm coach back. I decided to dash up the hundreds of steps where the massive Franciscan shrine of Santa Fortunato sits, for a quick look.

I only managed to see my guidebook’s greatly recommended ‘’high renaissance masterpiece’’ - Temple of Santa Maria della Consolazione - from the warm coach, as it drove past the monument on our way back to Perugia.

When I finally returned home in the near empty coach, barely dry and with bottoms of my jeans drenched, Franca gave a cry of welcome back. We both laughed about the ‘’ tante acqua’’ (lots of water) that poured the minute I left home. She commented it was brave of me to take bus in heavy thunderstorm and alone, to go sightseeing.

I think it was more like ‘’foolhardy’’ and not thinking of consequences such as developing pneumonia!

An Early Wake up Call

Some colleagues still do not accept the fact that I am on legitimate annual leave. Yes, it’s a bit long, at one month, but hey, an annual leave is no different from legitimate maternity leave, which is even longer.

So I keep getting sms, calls and tonnes of emails that take ages to download, from day one of my arrival here. This morning was the ‘’ultimate’’. I got a call from Japan. She rang Franca’s landline and alarmed her. I was still in bed at 8.30 am, after a long day and a late night the day before with homework, lessons, test and some work.

Franca excitedly barged into my room, ‘’this is definitely for you, she could not understand a word of Italian; she had actually called twice this morning’’ she said as she handed me her phone.

After sorting out with her some matters (which certainly does not warrant an early wake up call to alarm Franca and me), my cell phone rang.

By now my tone of voice is as chilly as the Perugian wind. I should have been warmer. It was a headhunter. He remembered me from a year and a half ago when I told him I was not ready to move. He now has a more suitable opportunity and wanted to talk.

I felt so bad. First I had sounded cold, and secondly I could not remember him. Yet he was so polite and considerate.

What excellent timing. My stay here is drawing to an end, and I have two work-related calls to remind me to start switching gear.

Jigsaw Puzzle Pieced
The lovely music on the harmonica was playing as I got out of the bathroom. I heard Franca open the window and say something and a man replied thank you.

‘’I love this music, who is playing?’’ I asked. She showed me the man playing outside our apartment and explained that he would play his music here regularly and she would give him some money if she sees him, for him to buy a pizza or something to eat. ‘’It’s better to do good than to do bad,’’ she added.

So that’s what it was all about! I had heard him on my first week of arrival and had not been able to figure out where the music had come from. I tried asking Franca when she returned home but she did not understand what I was trying to ask.

It is the same music I heard - a bit melancholic, just the right piece to match my homesickness then when I first heard it. Now, it is just the right piece to match my reluctance to leave, I guess.

I went into my room and came out again with the impulse to ‘’do good’’. Could I give him something too? I asked Franca. ‘’Don’t worry, he has left, you can do it another time,’’ she said. I am not sure if I will get to see or hear him ‘’another time’’ though. But tone deaf and musical idiot that I am, I will still remember the music in my heart.

My Last Ten Days

Snow in Perugia?
They said it would snow two nights ago. It did not, though the temperature was zero degrees. Then they said it would snow last night. It did not either, though temperature crawled up to five degrees.

This morning I woke up feeling a chill stinging my face, and with the nightmare of the preposition ‘’con’’ chasing me, still fresh in my cold head. I did not want to get out of bed.

But I had to – I wanted to leave the home earlier to collect part two of my scholarship money before class began. Yes, they give it to you only after 21 days of full attendance in class. So actually from today after collecting the money, I could skip all classes and cavort in other parts of Italy if I want to! Unless I want to receive the certificate of attendance from the Uni, and that would mean I would have to stick it out till 30 November.

Have I stayed here 21 days already?! Now I truly believe it when friends told me before my arrival that ‘’one month will pass by really quickly’’.

Honestly, when the wind cut through my skin and gnawed at my spine, and when I thought of Yannick every minute and missed him so much, those words mocked me even more. I wanted to give up everything. To hell with learning language. I don't need to speak Italian with Yannick, do I?

I struggled out of bed and turned on my handphone, hoping to hear a beep and see a message symbol with Yannick's name on it. There was a beep and my heart jumped, even if he had sent me messages a million times. But it was from someone else.

I replied with a monosyllable, and went to wash up.

I went into the kitchen and the phone beeped again. ''Are you sleeping?'' my friend asked, puzzled why I did not reply him more 'completely'. ''No, having breakfast and chatting with my landlady,'' I replied.

Franca has already been up long ago making tonnes of cappilletti to give her friend. I hovered around to look as I nibbled on my bread. She asked me to pass her the bread I was eating and gave me some of the meat fillings to go with it.

I would normally buy dessert to share with her during dinner. It’s my little contribution to thank her, since she always provided me with dinner and I don’t need to cook. She would always thank me so graciously for the wonderful dessert I bought. Last evening I replied it was nothing at all since I had been having her coffee for breakfast and eating her dinner. Her reply was, ‘’it’s nothing – that little soup that you take at night!’’

My Walk to School
I saw Franca’s pedicure-friend Adele and waved her a big hello, ‘’buongiorno!’’

I went into Palazzo Gallenga, the Uni’s main campus, to collect my 50 euro, part two of my scholarship. I could still remember day one when I collected part one – 500 euro. The only difference is I am certainly more fluent today with the bank teller during the whole transaction.

I dropped by the friendly stationary shop to get a new notebook. In 21 days my own notebook is almost filled with notes from lessons. I could still remember my day one at the same friendly store to get my marca da bollo – a stamp (kind of tax) costing 14 euro, for the tedious permesso di soggiorno. And yes, the difference is now I am more cheerful and (fluently) chatty with the store keepers.

With errands completed, I was on my way to class at the nearby campus at Palazzine Prosciutti. I passed by the lovely hills and valleys and slowed down to gaze as usual, thankful that the sky was clear, despite the cruel wind numbing my fingers.

I crossed the roads with the help of traffic policemen waving their little lollipops, for the benefit of school children. It’s been a long time since I have seen such ‘’lollipop men’’. Those in Singapore during my primary school days waved much bigger ones.

I saw opposite me Alexandra my classmate from Serbia, who was almost late for class like me, and we smiled and waved at each other as we hurried along.

So Little Time Left
Have we all sensed that time is not on our side? While at the language lab sitting next to me, Jason asked if I had checked out his website yet. I told him I would definitely do so today, and gave him the URL of my blog, which he promised to visit. He seems to be asking lots of questions during break time, about Singapore, Serbia and Kirghizstan. And I asked Mirlan more questions too about the political system, languages and publications in his country. We were even reluctant to go back to class and continued our chats even after the rusty bell shrieked to signify the start of lessons.

Our last exercise was to break into groups to discuss and write a short para in passive form. Piao Yi, who was in my group, said to me in Chinese, ‘’I don’t understand what we are supposed to do.’’ Marina saw him asking and tried to explain to his blank face. I looked at her and told her that I would try and explain to him in Mandarin and she nodded knowingly and walked away. Kayoko and Santo, in the same group, watched anxiously as I struggled in Mandarin. Piao Yi did not understand me either, partly because I did not know how to say ‘’passive form’’ in Mandarin, and partly because he had not understood the earlier explanations anyway. In the end we just worked on the text on tortellini without him.

Pancakes, Chats, Family, Love and Friendship
Class finally ended at 2 pm and I grimaced at Kayoko, ‘’now we have to take the canteen lunch’’. She suggested going to an inexpensive pizzeria in the centre of town instead. Santo, who usually prepares his own healthy meals, said, ‘’I am going home to make pancakes.’’ Pancakes for lunch? I was curious. ‘’Yes, I am going to try something new – mango pancakes.’’ ‘’Bring us some to try tomorrow,’’ I joked.

But he invited us to his home for mango pancakes instead, and we readily accepted the invitation.

We had warm yummy pancakes with warm maple syrup, accompanied by a nice long chat at the kitchen.

My friend Denis is right. Don’t believe soap TV and Hollywood movies. Not all American families are dysfunctional and broken. Santo told us how much he missed his family and how his family would make it a point to have dinner together at 9 pm every evening, even though both parents work till late. Maybe this is because his father is Italian – and ‘’having dinner together and talking with the family is a big thing in Italy,’’ he explained.

We talked about how much we enjoyed our classes, how our Italian has markedly improved over the days and how great our teachers are. ‘’Did you know that Marina co-authored the text book we are using?’’ he asked. Kayoko and I had not realised, and had not noticed the authors’ names on the cover! No wonder she is so systematic and clear in her explanations, and was the one who prepared the syllabus for our class. I told Franca about it and mentioned her name. ‘’Oh yes, she is famous – we have all heard her name.’’

We started talking about a pot luck dinner next week to celebrate Thanksgiving, and perhaps some day try Chinese dinner at a Chinese restaurant. ‘’We don’t have many days left,’’ he commented, when we were trying to find a day when all three of us are free in the same evening.

Santo will have his Capoeira training this evening and Kayoko and I decided to leave him some time to study for our test tomorrow before he went for training. We thanked him profusely for lunch.

‘’No, I like cooking for others, and not just eat alone. I had a nice time. Making pancakes takes a lot of patience. But most importantly, there was a lot of love – that’s what I like,’’ he replied, as he walked us out of his apartment in the biting wind.

Again, it is nice to hear from a young American, at 24, talking about friendship and love. Not all Americans are junk foodies walking around with an ipod and ear plugs stuck in their ears, chewing gum and speaking and swearing in American English.

I came home after mailing Yannick a postcard and checking my yahoo account for a poem he had written for me. I greeted Franca and her visiting friend, ‘’Buona sera!’’

When her friend left, Franca asked how I am: ‘’Piccola, come stai?’’ Ha ha, it feels funny to be called ‘’piccola’’ (small) – I am hardly small in size and in age.

On other days she would call me other terms of endearment, most of which I could not catch, or understand.

Later she called me out of my room, ‘’Jenny, vieni!’’ She handed me 104 euro, the ‘’damage deposit’’ that I had paid on arrival at the accommodation agency and that I would get back at the end of my stay.

‘’Now? I thought I would get it at the end of the month?’’ I asked. ‘’But the end of the month is not far away, and it’s better to give you the money now so that you can use it to buy something you like, ‘’ she replied.

I thanked her but she thanked me instead. I hope in ten days’ time I would be able to thank her more adequately in Italian.

Winter has Arrived

Winter begins ''officially'' today. Which grand maestro in Perugia orchestrated such perfectly synchronised timing? Temperature plunged sharply, friends start to take out tissue papers for their sniffling noses, coughs and sneezes greet me, and my fingers are frozen.

I had thought it could not get any colder, and I am obviously wrong. One wishes one's scarves could get thicker and longer and could go a few more rounds over the neck. Caps, hats, bonnets seem to fly off the shelves at the store, and everyone's busy buying gloves too!

Spoleto

Spoleto, 63km South East of Perugia, is less than an hour away, by train.

It’s a quiet, sleepy but beautiful little city that springs to live in summer for the Spoleto Festival, one of Europe’s most important festivals of music, art, dance and theatre.

Kayoko and I visited it in winter, for its Ponte delle Torri. Apart from the usual narrow streets and steep slopes, what stood out is the friendliness of the people there. I guess we could not help comparing our experiences with people of towns and cities we have visited – Assisi, Siena, Deruta and Gubbio.

After a simple meal of strangozzi (the name used for the pasta pici used in Spoleto and Assisi) for me and spaghetti for Kayoko, we walked along the fortress Via del Ponte and around the bend we saw the bridge – Ponte delle Torri. It was a tranquil walk on a quiet Sunday afternoon. The gorge, the bridge’s arches casting shadows against the walls of the valley behind the city … it was breathtaking.

I could sense my headache throbbing away (lack of sleep the night before, plus an impending cold waiting to crash on me) as we climbed higher and higher in the dense forest and hills.

‘’Where does this lead to? What is our goal?’’ Kayoko asked cautiously as we encountered narrow paths and dense foliage. ‘’Keep walking, it does not look too steep,’’ I encouraged.

We came across a little waterfall and she gave a small delighted squeal. We decided to go further up. We finally came to a landing and saw a board with diagrams of exercises, like those in the parks of Singapore. Kayoko laughed, ‘’now we have to do some exercises here.’’ We actually saw one or two joggers pass by.

And the splendid view was our reward, for withstanding the cold and the steep climb. We could not help let out a big ‘’wow’’ and snapped the best shots so far.

When we went down, we found a café and had a hot drink, with the hills and its serenity in front of us. My headache disappeared. Families with kids and dogs strolled past and stopped for refreshment. The crowd seems to thicken, compared to earlier when we first arrived. I guess the people were either still in bed or were having their all-important Sunday family lunch when we arrived.

We headed for the Duomo and two Italian men approached us. They were trying to make friends. I was my usual ‘’closed’’ and cautious self but Kayoko was her usual Japanese polite self.

The men asked what we were doing in Italy and mentioned having just visited Perugia. They followed us to the cathedral and offered to take a photo for us. Kayoko was on the verge of taking out her camera but took my cue when I hesitated and mumbled some excuse about taking the picture later.

Once inside, they continued to hover around us and at one point I wanted to tell Kayoko to deliberately walk the opposite direction but she seemed unperturbed. ‘’How to get rid of them?’’ I whispered. ‘’When we leave, wave goodbye and they will not follow us’’ she suggested.

And that’s exactly what she did with a big smile! I would have just completely ignored them, to avoid trouble and persistent flirts… but she calmly explained, ‘’wave to officially say goodbye…’’

Phew, they did not follow us. I guess my stony silence must have overshadowed Kayoko’s politeness and totally put the two men off.

We spent a long time in a café having hot tea, to warm ourselves, before heading for the train station. Once at the train station, we learnt that our train has been delayed, first by half an hour, and later by a total of 42 minutes.

To avoid shivering, we spent our time at the café at the train station, watching TV and trying to keep warm.

The train finally arrived, and the warmth inside was simply heavenly.

Assisi

Assisi, 27 km East of Perugia. A perfect Umbrian hill town, one of Italy’s top sites, says my guide book. Make sure to book accommodation way ahead, even in Fall, it continues.

Yes, Assisi offers wonderful vistas and beautiful views of mountains and valley patchworks of fields and olive groves.

But it is also terribly commercially touristy. Tourists, especially Americans, throng the place, even in winter. Maybe not ‘’especially’’ Americans, but they sure have a way to make their presence felt or heard.

Tourists are curious to see the birthplace of Saint Francis, Italy’s patron saint and founder of one the world’s largest monastic orders.

Everywhere I went, every inch of the piazzas in the town, has a souvenir shop, selling figurines of monks, cards printed with St Francis’ ‘’Prayer for all’’ and the ‘’Tau’’ cross in all forms, sizes, materials and colours. Some shops even sold, among the usual souvenirs, fashionable gypsy-style cotton garments made in India, at a criminal price.

The first shop I visited was a little leather-goods shop. I was attracted by the simplicity of the shop, and also by the bags on display.

It turned out that it was the work shop of ‘’Modi’’ leather wear, handmade by Mr Mauro Cenci. I could see he was a one-man-show, standing behind his sewing machine and tools and entertaining a loud bunch of American girls.

They were excitedly ordering in bulk custom-made leather covers for their Bibles. They spent a lot of time debating about the colour and placement of Assisi’s famous ‘’Tau’’ cross on the cover. Some have obviously returned to the shop to order more. And many have even brought their Bibles along to ensure the size fits.

I wonder how often they ever read their Bibles, or if they do read them everyday, do they really need leather, hand/custom-made-in-Assisi covers with a special ‘’Tau’’ cross?

But who am I to judge and comment on such things? Didn’t I also step into the shop? No, I am not interested in any crosses. I am a lot more practical.

I had been looking for a sling bag of that particular colour and size – very handy for office wear and easy to match. I have never heard of Modi brand and don’t really care. Friends back home tell me I should be looking for the Prada factory outlet or Gucci shop in Italy – land of Prada and Gucci. I just want a well made, long lasting, brown bag that can carry all my stuff while going to the office daily.

With my purchase done, I wandered along the streets admiring the pretty cakes and desserts on display at the crowded bakeries. Just looking at them makes me really happy. Though I was not hungry, I was tempted to buy at least a small (and expensive) piece to try. My conclusion – best to just feast with the eyes and not with the mouth, as they looked pretty rather than tasted good.

The Basilica di San Francesco, a grandiose cathedral that sits on the rock of the mountainside, is considered the highlight of Assisi.

I have my own highlights. For me, the eerie image of the cold, misty, foggy, deserted Rocca Maggiore will always stay in my mind when Assisi is mentioned.

It was about 5 pm but it was pitch dark and excruciatingly cold with the strong wind splitting every inch of my skin, piercing into the quick of my fingers and stinging every little bone in my body. But I wanted to see something special, other than souvenir shops and loud tourist groups.

So I braved the howling wind and darkness and with crackling knees, climbed up the spooky steps and hills of this fortress. I did not get to the very top, but enough to snap a picture.

With that, I walked briskly, shivering and shuddering in the relentless and angry winds, to the bus stop to wait for the bus back to Perugia.

Living with Nonna

At my ripe old age, I have not had a ‘’nonna’’ (grandma) to ‘’nag’’ at me for a long time.

But these days I feel so ‘’pampered’’. Franca would ask me to wear warmer clothes, would ask what I had for lunch, would ask if I had lessons the next day and at what time, would ask if I was tired and if so I could sleep longer the next day since I have no class, would be urging me to warm my frozen fingers at the fireplace.

On mornings that I have early classes, she would be suggesting that I took the shower the night before instead of the next day early in the morning as it would be too cold. ‘’Yes, I know every little bit of sleep is important and tomorrow morning you won’t have time,’’ she added.

Glimpses of Classes

Che Giornataccia! Wed 9 Nov
It means, ‘’what a lousy day’’! Words ending with ‘’accia’’ or ‘’accio’’ means it’s ‘’bad-something or other’’. Eg, ‘’che tempaccio!’’ means ‘’what lousy weather’’! We just learnt this the day before. And we already had the occasion to use it the next day.

Marina our phonetics teacher was late for our class, shooed us into the wrong language lab and shooed us out to another.

After an hour of trying to speak Italian with the right intonation (read: ‘’nearly impossible’’), we hurried upstairs for three hours of grammar. The room was already occupied by a bunch of students from another class. Teachers of both classes started to dash about to clarify; and great – my class could stay in the room we had been assigned.

Meanwhile Halina my friend from Poland was trying to explain to Kayoko and I that we should take advantage of our lunch break to go to the stazione to check on the coach time table for our trip to Gubbio on Friday.

I tried desperately to explain to her that we would not have an hour today but only half, because of a make up session, and that the day would be long, ending at 6.00 pm, and that we would need that brief half hour for lunch – it would be the only break for our eight-hour day. She hardly understood and thought that I meant that we would not have time to go to Gubbio during lunch. ‘’No, non andiamo a Gubbio oggi, andiamo il venerdi…’’ she repeated so many times. I repeated equally emphatically, ‘’Si si lo so, ma oggi abbiamo classe… non c’e tempo per andarer alla stazione…’’

Poor Kayoko just looked and said smilingly, ‘’you two can go, I am staying for lunch – I would be so hungry!’’

Somehow during the three hours of grammar Halina ‘’understood’’ what I had told her and realized we would only end at 6.00 pm, and decided to go check the time table the next morning when we would be less pressed for time.

We had only half an hour to get our lunch at 2.00 pm; after 25 minutes of long queues, it meant we had 5 minutes to devour it.

We rushed to our ‘’grammar exercise class’’ (some still burping, some wiping their mouth and you guessed it – me ‘’indigested’’ and bloated) only to find yet again that another bunch of students were ‘’fighting’’ for the same room. More frantic exchanges Italian style and we won the fight again and got to stay.

It was 3.5 hours of grammar drills, from prepositions (a foreign language student’s nightmare) to tenses to types of direct pronouns. Gosh, this morning didn’t we have enough - jumping from future tense to condizionale to imperfecto to passato prossimo to tra passato - until my mind became an entangled bundle of over-cooked (ie, Singapore style) spaghetti?

History of Italian Language and Pizza Margherita
Not only did we learn some history, we learnt the roots of many words, and how words were derived or formed.

Cudos to our two great teachers, I enjoy every minute of class, no matter how long the day is, how early it starts or how much I am starving after a long stretch.

The intensity, passion and sense of humour of our teachers are infectious. They took patience and lots of time to explain certain interesting bits, like ‘’straniero’’ – foreigner. ‘’Stra’’ from Latin meaning ‘’extra’’. Or how the word ‘’negozio” (shop) came about – ‘’non e ozio’’ – there is no ‘’ozio’’ (idleness); a shop does business and has no place for idleness. Or ‘’combi-words’’ like “portafoglio” (wallet), “portachiavi” (key ring), “portapenne” (pen holder), and fannullone (fa + nulla – do nothing), ie, loafer.

During our ‘’pausa’’ (10 mins break) we would either dash to the loo, to the ‘’bar’’ for a coffee, or simply chit chat, usually in Italian, among the students.

Certainly we would queue up to mark our own attendance on the register. Piao Yi, the chap from China, who’s adopted ‘’an attitude’’ since day one, commented to me, ‘’the school cheated people just a bit of money (pian ren jia yi dian qian) and it had to give us so much trouble (zhen ma fan)’’. I just ignored him. I do not know why he refused to speak to anyone else in class but would either make comments like this to me, or would ask me rudely about teacher’s instructions he did not understand, all in Mandarin.

Sometimes we would open the window to look out and just dreamed. How lovely to be having classes with the tranquil hills and the serene Umbrian Valley in our background. On bright sunny days we would be wishing that we were out there having a picnic, and our teacher would tell us that we could actually see as far as Assisi. On wet gloomy days we would still open the windows, braving the cold, and stare at the same scene, peaceful and unchanging, despite the extra cold.

Once I was very curious about Mirlan, who comes from the Kyrgyz Republic. Where is that? What is the country like? How many inhabitants? What is the typical cuisine? I bombarded Mirlan with questions – in all the Italian that I have learnt and managed to recall! He took a map and guide book of his country and started explaining to me. Soon a small crowd gathered at my seat, and more people bombarded him with questions. Some even sidetracked to ask about Nepal and Mongolia.

When class ended Kayoko and I walked our usual route home. Mirlan came over to join us. He saw my heavy bag and laptop, stretched out his hand and asked, ‘’posso aiutare?’’ I was impressed but declined, mumbling something like they are not heavy. ‘’Nel mio paese i giovani aiutano…’’ he began. I didn’t allow him to finish his hesitation and mumbling, but completed it for him: ‘’le donne?’’ If he was going to say that ‘’in my country the young help the elderly’’ instead of ‘’women’’, I was sure I would smack the young punk, no matter how sweet his offer had been, or even if he is half my age!

A ‘’Lifetime’’ of Grammar- Mon 14 Nov
I don’t recall having done so much grammar in such a short period. Not even at the Uni in Singapore when I did English Grammar and had to dissect each phrase and sentence to break it down into mathematical-looking formula (with plus, minus signs and brackets and all) called ‘’generic structure potential’’.

Or during my Pragmatics module when we had to analyse passages and break them into precise econs-sounding jargons like ‘’transactions’’ and ‘’exchanges’’

But today, at 8.00 am first thing on a Monday morning, Marina strolled in and happily gave us a long passage for more preposition drilling. We just had un sacco (tones of it) last Friday! And she even gave us a wicked smile and asked, ‘’are you all awake yet?’’

After that it was all about condizional composto and its applications. Gosh, now I begin to appreciate Mandarin (for the ‘’wrong reasons’’) – no such ‘’tenses’’ to worry about or to perform mental gymnastics each time I speak.

Debates on Prepositions and Semantics - Tue 15 Nov
Santo from California is known for asking many questions on preposition, or for asking about usage of certain words. He is really a very committed and enthusiastic student. Once, long after his debate with our teacher over ‘’da’’ and ‘’a’’, he even asked and reconfirmed ‘’the correct usage’’ with me and diligently wrote some notes in his book.

On another occasion he asked why it’s ‘’la lingua Italiana’’ but ‘’l’Italiano’’ – why is the first ‘’feminine’’ and the second ‘’masculine’’ since both refer to ‘’Italian’’ and Italian is a language and language is feminine, and hence why such and such a usage in a particular paragraph of text.

It became almost a metaphysical debate.

Storm in an Italian Tea Cup
This wet, stormy morning he started an interesting discussion on ‘’tea cup’’ versus ‘’cup of tea’’ during yet another preposition exercise at 8.00 am!

He asked why we could not say ‘’Sei entrata in cucina per preparer una tazza da te’’ (You entered the kitchen to prepare a tea cup) and not ‘’una tazza di te’’. Grammatically, both are correct, according to Maria our teacher. But in her roundabout way, in Italian, she explained the difference and it just caused him more confusion, especially so early in the morning when some were not very awake! I just had to blurt out in English, “una tazza di te’’ is like ‘’a cup of tea’’ and Timothy continued, ‘’yes, and una tazza da te’’ is a tea cup!’’ (literally “cup for tea”) ‘’Exactly’’, said Maria. And she continued to explain that we have to look at the meaning and context – do we prepare tea or do we prepare tea cup?

And then she gave more examples, like a glass of water (glass filled with water) vs a glass (made) for water. But dear Santo was still argumentative. “But I saw a sentence, ‘’una tazza di ceramica’’, why ‘’di’’ here since it is not filled with ceramic? ‘’Una tazza di ceramica’’ is a cup made of ceramic – if you involve materials that are used to make something, eg una camicia di seta (silk blouse), you use di,’’ Maria patiently elaborated. By then I have had enough of di and da and just wanted to yell, ‘’Look, language is not just grammar rules, or memorisation of some other examples, sometimes it’s instinctive and if you know a language long enough it comes naturally. Also, you gotta look at the meaning of a sentence!’’ And, you can’t just translate directly from English like what Jason, from the US, did when he said ‘’vivo in Italia per (for) molti anni’’ when it should be ‘’da molti anni’’. (I live in Italy for many years).

Was Mad, and will be Mad
I was going mad with all the di, da, dal, dalla, sul, sull’, sulla, nel, nell’ and nella when Maria side-tracked and commented about the building we are using for class. It was once an ospedale per pazzi (literal translation – hospital for madmen) but now converted into one of the campus buildings for this Uni. If we continued with prepositions debates every morning at 8.00 am, the Uni might as well re-convert it back to a mental hospital for grammar students. I am already having visions of crazed loonies wandering along the corridors going, ‘’la, di, da’’.

We continued to have some fun at the language lab, practising intonation and Italian expressions. Marina was really pleased with us today and grinned from ear to ear when she heard us abandon our reserve to sing out the phrases the Italian way.

The fun had to stop and we went back to grammar – condizionale presente and condizionale composto. She realized that we have had two hours of make up class since 8.00 am this morning and voiced her sympathy. Somehow, at our final hour at 1.00 pm, she decided to forget about the exercises we had just prepared and said we should chiacchierare (chit chat) instead. So she invited us to ask questions and in answering them, we learnt many new words and expressions.

Kei, a Japanese student, was full of curiosity and asked many questions, like when it would snow in Perugia, and if it did, what would happen. (Apparently it rains a lot in November but hardly snows in Perugia; but when it did last year the whole of Perugia came to a chaotic halt.) When would the Christmas lights be lit? What are some special Perugian dishes, what would one eat during Christmas? We started talking about food – at 1.00 pm, after five straight hours of class – another madness.

Soon an hour of chit chat passed and Kayoko and I hurried out of the room for our highlight of the day – a meal outside the Uni. I was truly sick of school canteen food and did not fancy queuing up with an umbrella in the pouring rain for some ‘’leftovers’’ at the Mensa. It closes at 2.30 pm and by the time we went after class at 2.00 pm you could imagine the type of ‘’food’’ that is left.

The rain and thunderstorm since early morning showed no signs of abating. But we managed to chat, hanging on to our umbrellas, with Mirlan, Halina and Jason as we sloshed our way to the city centre.

What I like about my class is, we all make genuine (and stressful) attempts to converse in Italian, even if many among us could speak English. No matter how long it takes to finish a sentence or how roundabout we had to go, we had the self discipline to do so.

Mirlan and Halina disappeared into the foggy rain, chaotic traffic and sea of umbrellas. But Jason was beside me so I asked if he would like to join us for lunch. I told him Kayoko had already identified a resto from her guide book as soon as I had suggested eating somewhere else besides the canteen. ‘’I cannot just eat a slice of pizza, I must have a proper hot meal,’’ she said. In Italy, a ‘’proper meal’’ consists of antipasto, then both pasta (il primo) and meat (il secondo) and side dish (il contorno) and dessert!

The set meal at Dal Mi’ Cocco is 13 euro, many times more than our 2.60 euro canteen meal. ‘’It’s expensive for me, but today’s a special occasion,’’ commented Jason. What occasion? I was curious. ‘’The heavy rain,’’ he joked.

A Nice Love Story for Lunch
Kayoko asked Jason how he had met his wife, who is Perugian. Jason is an artist from Atlanta. He took a large part of our lunch time to explain in Italian, refraining from breaking into English. He could have completed his story in half the time, and perhaps more precisely too. But it was worth our patience. It is a heart-warming love story.

She had made the first move. When she visited the U.S, she missed her flight, went to a cafe and saw him working on the computer on his website. But she did not approach him then. Rather, she sent him an email about how she liked his website, only when she returned to Perugia. They corresponded, chalked up hefty phone bills and travel expenses, and after a few visits, they decided he would move to Italy, and not the other way round. And now he is learning Italian so that he could get a job in Italy.

Native Language
It is said that no matter how fluent you are in a foreign language, you tend to count and swear in your native language. I would like to add, you discuss politics in your native language too.

By dessert time, Jason switched to English, as we talked about the Mayor of Georgia, the Bush Administration, US-Japan relations, policies on immigration and foreign workers, issues of poverty affecting the world and diplomatic relations and terrorism in Asia.

I am not sure if it was because he had spent all his energy on his love story, and had no more stamina left for other discussions, or if it was simply too difficult to talk policies and politics in Italian.

Or maybe, love is a universal language that can be expressed in any language, if you have the patience and tenderness that love brings?

Foggy Weather, Foggy Mind

We have two more weeks of class before the course ends and we go back to our own life back in our home country. Some of us were already lamenting how quickly time flies and were trading email addresses during class. Mirlan even reminded himself to bring his camera for a group photo.

Yesterday we started class at a saner hour of 10.00 am, though we ended at 6.00 pm, with a lunch break at 2.00 pm, just enough time to finish up the left-overs of the Mensa, which closes at 2.30 pm.

Santo seemed to be in his argumentative mood again. But honestly he just could not understand the difference between the two types of condizionale –condizionale presente for giving advice (darer consiglio) and condizionale composto for giving reproach (rimprovero). And he was honest and brave enough to ask and clarify. It is just that the way he asked, ‘’why isn’t it possible…’’, ‘’why couldn’t he have done his shopping…’’ made it sound like he was debating over metaphysics and getting philosophical. This is the only time I wished that we were allowed to use English translation. I wanted to tell him (but could not as he was sitting far from me), that darer consiglio is ‘’still a possible action’’ as it’s like, ‘’If I were you, I would do my shopping’’; but rimprovero is something that could not be done now: ‘’you should have done your shopping’’.

Marina our teacher was sympathetic and offered to set aside time later to give him a one on one explanation. ‘’Your mind is as foggy as today’s weather,’’ she joked. But seriously, four consecutive hours of grammar from 10.00 am – 2.00 pm can be too much even for grammar aficionados. At one point, when we were discussing something which I had already learnt back home (mi piace, mi dispiace) I also fell into the confusion trap and asked a real silly question. “By 1.30 pm my mind just shut and refused to think,” said Kayoko. “I know, hungry, right?’’ I winked at her.

You guessed it. After lunch we began lesson with more prepositions exercises. Santo stopped at one sentence and asked ‘’why is lamentarsi a reflexive verb? You lament to someone, not to yourself.’’ The only answer for this type of question should just be, ‘’because Italian is different from English lah!’’.

Maybe Santo’s philosophical mood is infectious. At one of the sentences I got hopelessly entangled over its meaning too and asked if the book was in English or in Italian – was it translated from Italian or into Italian and was it originally in English and can we use ‘’in’’ instead? As expected the culprit was ‘’dal’’. (Ho comprato un libro inglesse tradotto dal (or in?) italiano)

Oh well, at least I asked, and Maria said it was a great question and off she went to elaborate further! Wei Wei from China, who sat next to me, just clammed up as usual and frantically searched his dictionary instead of asking. And when he could not find a particular word (vuole) in his dictionary, he asked me in Mandarin. In the process he had lost a big chunk of the teacher’s explanation of the applications of the phrase ‘’ci vuole’’ – a phrase which you can’t find a direct translation in English or Mandarin!

The weather has not been pleasant. The day before it was non stop pouring rain and thunder. Yesterday it was foggy.

When we ended at 6.00 pm and walked towards the city centre, the whole place felt so eerie, like a scene of the haunted countryside on TV.

‘’Isn’t it nice? I like it,’’ enthused Kayoko. She was the only one in the group who could appreciate it. I suddenly had an idea! Why not take a picture of this scary scene? My camera was not with me and the one on the cell phone registered an even more eerie blur. Her camera produced similar result.

Perhaps some scenes are meant to just remain in the heart, never to be recorded.

Early Weekend

For my class the weekend begins on Thursdays, because we have no lessons on Fridays. We grumble about our torturous hours for Mondays and Wednesdays, but implicitly we are thankful for the ‘’big squeeze’’, as it means we have Friday free –to visit nearby cities.

Today, I arrived about 45 minutes early for class, after finishing up work emails at the internet point (that’s what they call here as it’s hardly a café – it’s more like an awful grotto!)

It was bright glorious sunshine and I decided to join Halina, Agnieszka and Gregorio at the tables outside the bar. First, I went into the empty bar (it was 1.15 pm and I guess most students would be at lunch at the Mensa instead of at the bar) to get a Coke and a crocante arachidi. (peanut bar).

The guy at the counter must either be happy to get a visitor at this empty hour, or he was in his flirty mood. ‘’Buongiorno, come stai!’’ he greeted me cheerfully as I walked in. Normally he would have been so busy with the long queue of students needing a caffeine fix during our breaks that he hardly talks. I brought my purchases to the counter and when I gave him the exact change, he commented, ‘’bravissimma’’. Then he asked for my name, stuck out his hand to shake mine and introduced himself very politely, ‘’Sono Andrea, piacere.’’

The sun was so strong outside I had to put on my shades. But barely had I finished my snacks and it went into hiding behind the black clouds and strong wind. The weather in Perugia is as flirtatious as the Italian men.

Another Foreign Language Students’ Nightmare: Pronouns
This afternoon’s exercises were all on direct and indirect pronouns, and some prepositions. The usual problem we had with prepositions were ‘’meaning and context’’, according to my analysis at least. Many students like to ask if we could use ‘’di’’ instead of ‘’a’’; or in one case whether it should be “con” but the real matter is the meaning of the sentence. It may be grammatically correct to use either one but the meaning of the sentence changes completely and sometimes makes little or weird sense.

Santo had his moment again. There was a question: ‘’what have you prepared for us –pasta or rice’’ and the answer was ‘’I have prepared pasta for you ’’ The point was for us to learn “ci” (us) and “vi” (you) as indirect pronouns. (Ci hai preparato la pasta o il riso? Vi ho preparato la pasta)

“Why vi – why prepare for you and not us?’’ he jumped at Maria, eyebrows furrowed. She tried to explain that it was a common situation when, for example, kids go home hungry and ask ‘’mama, what have you cooked for us…’’ Guess what was Santo’s puzzled reply? ‘’Doesn’t the mother eat what she prepares for the kids? Why can’t she reply I have prepared for us…’’

Gosh! And I thought it was a simple exercise for students to identify ‘’us” and hence reply ‘’you’’ as appropriate, and not a platform to argue about whether the mother should be eating or not!

During break time Mirlan came over to give me a handphone pouch, a handicraft made by hand, from Kirghizstan, his homeland. It was sweet of him to let me choose one of the three he brought. He must have thought it was useful for me, since I have the habit of checking my phone and sending sms during break time.

Cosy Fireplace
The weather has grown colder since I arrived. Franca has started burning wood at her fireplace. The first time she started it she excitedly yelled, ‘’Jenny, hai visto il fuoco? Vieni…’’ and she asked me to sit nearer the fireplace.

Twice, she barbecued sausages for our dinner at the fireplace.

When the warm fire is burning, I would think, I don’t mind the cold after all, as long as I have the fire in front of me. So these days I would take out my laptop and sit with her as I work on it, near the fire.

Today, Roland visited again and asked about my work at the laptop. He spoke in his entertaining French-Italian mixture with Franca as usual but with me, he spoke in French. I noticed with some alarm that my French has become Italianised since we chatted barely a week ago, and that I had unconsciously added many Italian words into my French speech. I am not sure if this is due to his influence, or due to the endless arguments about Italian pronouns and prepositions.

Vignettes of Siena, Tuscany

Siena, the Tuscan medieval city of brick (where the colours ‘’siena’’ and ‘’burnt siena’’ come from), is slightly an hour away from Perugia, if you take ‘’il pullman’’ (coach).

Kayoko and I decided to spend the weekend there. Upon arrival, we found the hotel we had identified from my Frommer’s guide easily, and checked in pretty quickly.

Piazza del Campo
We headed straight to Il Campo, the heart of Siena. It is reputed to be Italy’s most beautiful piazza. The weather was glorious. We just sat at the outdoor café, ‘’prendere il sole’’ (‘’take the sun’’ – tanning ourselves) and ordered lunch, as we were both hungry by then. I decided to try what the Sienese call pici – pasta made of flour, water and olive oil, rolled in the hands to produce lumpy, thick, chewy spaghetti to which sauce clings.

Kayoko felt she was still not full after her spaghetti and salad, so we got ourselves a gelato each. We needed the fuel! Immediately after lunch we climbed 503 steps up the tower of Il Campo – Torre del Mangia. Dark, narrow, winding, spiral steps – they reminded me of those I used to climb in the castles of England.

Kayoko was in her denim skirt and boots and climbed effortlessly. I was in my scruffy jeans and sneakers, and climbed heavily. Oh well, I was once 25 and in mini skirts and dress shoes too, when I was climbing those English castles!

The stairway was so narrow one had to ‘’give way’’ by waiting or leaning against the wall when someone else was going down or coming up. One lady said encouragingly to me as I wheezed and huffed up, ‘’nearly there!’’. On my way down, a Japanese lady tried to do her bows, courtesies and apologies in the dark, tight space. A French guy tried to urge his family members who were trying to catch up, shouting ‘’on arrive bientot’’ (we will arrive soon!) but I gave him an evil and conspirational smile, and said ‘’pas encore!’’ (not yet!)

We visited Museo Civico (known for masterpieces of Sienese painters Simone Martini and Ambrogio Lorenzetti) and the beautiful Duomo. The latter is a Gothic cathedral with its outstanding black and white banding. I love its interior and ceilings.

On the way to the Duomo we spotted a nice ‘’tea room’’ offering inexpensive set meals. After gawking at the cathedral we went there for an early dinner.

Then it was a lazy amble up and down the streets and lots of shopping, mostly window shopping, though. We decided to go for a drink at our favourite Piazza del Campo, to see the lights flooding the beautiful place.

Definition of Drinks and Snacks
My idea of ‘’drink’’ obviously differs from Kayoko’s. I ordered Tuscany’s famous chianti classico, but she ordered hot chocolate, and a foccacia to go with it! ‘’Aren’t you having a snack too?’’ she urged. Her idea of snack also differed from mine too!

I could still feel my dinner up my throat but decided to order what I thought would be ‘’light’’ – crostini. When both arrived, the portions were so big (4 big slices of crostini and one big foccacia generously filled with meat) even Kayoko was taken aback.

Before our ‘’feast’’ arrived, an old man caught my eyes, smiled and said ‘’buona sera’’. I instinctively replied the same. But I regretted it as I saw him walking around the piazza and trying to catch my eyes again. ‘’Kayoko, that man is strange, let’s pretend not to see him…’’

‘’Why? Maybe he just wants to find someone to talk to,’’ she replied. Just as soon as she said that, a bunch of guys passed by and started to try and get our attention, mumbling the usual words – ‘’che bella.’’

Kayoko meanwhile downed her cheesy, meaty foccacia and I could only manage 2 pieces of tomato and pate crostini. ‘’You got to help me here – take this with salami – you like salami, right!’’ and gave her the rest of my crostini.

And I thought to myself – hey, when I was 25, I wasn’t so skinny and neither did I have such a good appetite or high metabolic rate!

French-Italian Breakfast
The next morning, after washing and packing up for check out, Kayoko said, ‘’I am hungry’’. So we went for our complimentary cappuccino and croissant at the breakfast room. The last thing you should eat in Tuscany is croissant. (recall the saying ‘’when in Rome…’’, so when in Italy, don’t eat French!) Even those at Delifrance back home taste better. Don’t ask me why this Italian hotel offers croissant for breakfast. What I do know however, is that they have many French guests. Maybe they were there for a taste of home!

After breakfast we went to see the Duomo’s Baptistery, built in the 14th century beneath the cathedral’s choir.

After that we visited Ospedale di Santa Maria dela Scala. It was a hospital from the 800s till the 1990s, and later restructured as a museum and exhibition space. It houses an archaeology museum too – what a labyrinth it was to navigate through the whole place.

I saw Kayoko hurry through the maze, and guessed why. “I am so hungry!’’ she said. It was lunch time.

A True Belt-busting Italian Lunch
She was so hungry she did not fuss about where we should eat. We just dropped into the first restaurant we saw and liked (looking at the menu).

The set menu was a good price – for 15 euro you would get the primo (first dish) of spaghetti and secondo (main course) of either pork or beef with fries and followed by dolci - dessert.

I could not stomach meat or fries or any more spaghetti and ordered a la carte instead – polenta with something the Tuscans use a lot - baccala (dried salted cod fish) for my primo and an egg dish for my secondo.

Kayoko wiped her plate of pasta clean while I struggled to finish my big plate of polenta (which I could not), and contemplated cancelling my secondo. ‘’You always eat little?’’ Kayoko asked. Gosh, even she says this to me!

Kayoko was very happy with the satisfying and full meal. “I really love this restaurant. We should have come here for dinner last night!’’ she smiled. After the heavy lunch we waddled in the streets and I really felt like doing nothing!

We could not do much anyway. Most shops close on Sundays and those that open, do so after in the morning and after a long lunch break, at 3.30 pm at the earliest.

Something Mundane Amidst the Grand
The UPIM department store however was open and so we went in. Kayoko wanted to get shampoo. We spent a considerable amount of time studying the labels. With the help of my mini dictionary, we managed to figure out the different types – for curly hair, for dry hair, for volume, for forfora, etc. ‘’What is forfora?’’ she asked. ‘’Dandruff’’, said my dictionary. ‘’What is dandruff?’’ she asked me. Since I did not have an English-Japanese dictionary with me, I had to use gestures and some roundabout expressions. But the main point is – she understood. Without perfect grammar, but just with basic communications ‘’skills’’.

Starring Contentedly
We sat contentedly on the floor at the Piazza del Campo, starring at the kids running about, and eyeing the vast open space that we could hardly find in the city centre of Tokyo and Singapore. Pigeons flew. Kids chased them. Dovey dovey couples cuddled and kissed. A perfect ambience for Yannick's sudden strings of sms that interrupted the peace. He was in the mood to discuss marriage, over sms, miles apart. And I was in the mood to wind him up, and insisted that no one marries the one he truly loves. We are mad. Kayoko tactfully continued to stare at the kids.

Farewell to Siena
On our way to take the coach back to Perugia, we visited San Francesco, a late Gothic church. We had made a mental note to see it on our return, because when we arrived the day before it was lunch time and thus closed.

We are so glad we made time for this little gem. It may not be as centrally located as the Duomo or as famous, but it seemed less ornate and thus it is elegantly simple. Best of all, it has breathtaking stained glass windows.

We said our goodbye to Siena as we turned our backs on the church and went down the escalators to go to our bus stop. Maybe next time I sit on the Piazza in Siena, it would be with my husband and our own kids, and I would not be arguing about love, marriage and divorce.

A Great Workout in Gubbio

At thirty nine kilometres North East of Perugia, there is a cosy, hilly city sitting on the edge of a sea of mountains. Gubbio - my landlady’s hometown, famous for ceramics.

The city is an hour’s coach ride from Perugia.

The excursion group consisted of Halina, Agnieszka, Kayoko, Tim, Jodi and myself. We continued our ‘’unwritten’’ rule of speaking to each other only in Italian – well, at least at the beginning of the trip.

We wandered around the historical central, visited Museo Diocesano, Chiesa Cattedrale and searched for a particular Basilica up the steep hills of Gubbio.

On our climb up the hill we were enchanted by the ruins of a Roman theatre just below the panoramic terrace of Gubbio’s main piazza.

Further up hill we saw a tombstone of a young German guy and we paused, trying to read and understand what was written on it.

We struggled up the hill in the hot sun and bit by bit we shed our layers of clothes. Only poor Halina remained in full gear – she was always so dressed up and well coordinated – in colours as well as with matching jewellery and scarf. This day, she was wet with perspiration and melting make up as she lifted up her long skirt to conquer the hill.

At one point we stopped for a rest and discussed if we should continue to the summit. From the map it seemed that we were almost there and it would seem such a pity to give up. We were most concerned for Halina, because of her weight and size. But she was very gung ho and insisted she could manage, albeit very slowly.

Tim commented, ‘’maybe we should go up on our knees and get some credit when we go to heaven; if we only used our legs we just get tired.’’

I saw some joggers and really marvelled at their strength and strong knees – to be able to run up and down such steep slopes.
We asked one of them about the location of the Basilica and he said it was only 500 metres away.

But it certainly felt like much more, after each painful step up hill. We saw ‘’cable cars’’ (funivia) hanging above, presumably for taking tourists up the summit. Maybe the only way to get to the summit was via cable cars, which were not functioning in fall. Jodi’s face was red and she looked absolutely exhausted. We finally agreed not to go any further up, as we needed the energy to get down.

On our way down Tim commented, ‘’did that soldier die on the way up or down? If it was down I would be very worried’’.

Going down involved almost ‘’running downhill’’ – imagine how steep the incline was. Tim said, ‘’I realised we use different muscles when we go up and down. Now both my front and back ache.’’

I told him,’’ That’s what I call a total work-out!’’

‘’Gubbio is not a city for sightseeing – it’s for exercise!” Kayoko joined in.

We finally got back to city centre after 2 pm, exhausted and starving. Kayoko and I were happy just to pop into any bar to get a piece of pizza or sandwich. But Jodi and Halina wanted a sit-down place for lunch.

We took some time to find the right place and in the end Kayoko could not wait for consensus anymore and just walked into the next take away pizzeria we saw to get a slice of hot pizza. The rest succumbed and hung around the place devouring our pizza. Kayoko actually ate a second piece as Halina sauntered in reluctantly – she had been the most adamant about finding a nice restaurant.

Pizza never tasted so good. And I have not had a total work out for a long time.

Reflections

Morning March
It is confirmed, I will take the long route to my class, even in broad daylight or early hours. It is 25 minutes of climbing uphill, but the reward is la bella vista. If I take the shorter route via tunnel, steps and dark labyrinths, all I would see would be mouldy walls and graffiti.

This morning as I marched up the slope with my laptop and my heavy bag of text book, exercise book, dictionary, water bottle, and snacks, I saw many lovely scenes that brought a smile to heart.

In the narrow cobbled streets, friends greeted each other and stopped to chat. Delicious aroma waffled from the bakeries.

As I approached the Uni, I saw the golden leaves of the trees lining my path, gleaming under the sweet morning sunshine. My Uni is on the hills, over-looking the beautiful country side and the valley. I was in a hurry, but I allowed myself a few seconds to take in the scene.

Pensive Mood
I thought to myself: no wonder my new-found friend Kumi, who has worked in Nomura, and who had recently quit from Merrill Lynch to come to Italy for a six-month course, is not sure if she would accept JP Morgan’s job offer for January next year.

‘’Money is important, but it is the way of life here that money cannot buy,’’ she explained.

Our impression of Japanese must be that they are hardworking and efficient and probably very ‘’pragmatic’’. But I have always been impressed by their inquisitive minds and openness to learning new languages. In my class in Singapore, we have more Japanese than Singaporeans! I have also known of Japanese in Singapore who eagerly learn Spanish. Here in Perugia, again, there are lots of Japanese youths.

None of them took up Italian because it is helpful for their work or would gain them career advancement, or because their companies had sponsored them. (Most of my friends and relatives back home had asked me if these were the reasons for taking up Italian.) Most of them paid out of their own pockets.

Yesterday I managed to download my work emails, after searching high and low for an internet café that would allow me to download from my own laptop.

I wonder why I bothered. The emails contained nothing but politics, bitchiness, and self-serving justifications, not to mention inefficient ping-pong-ing of correspondence. They choked up my in-box and chalked up the minutes I had to pay the expensive internet café.

It is easy to say, ‘’oh but you are a student and not leading a ‘real life’…’’ Sure. As a student I enjoy free movies at the cinemas in town, free screenings on Thursdays and Fridays at the Uni, subsidised meals, discounted purchases, etc.

I am sure if I were to work and live here I would not be waxing lyrical. Won’t I? But maybe I still would!

Why?
I have not come across such cheerful, enthusiastic, and passionate teachers in all my student life in Singapore – from Primary school to Uni. For three solid hours straight Marina went on and on energetically and patiently, and managed to even make the class so interesting and humourous. It is us students who were tired. She even told us that she had been teaching for the past 26 years and truly enjoys it.

Which guy in Singapore, at age 29, stays home for Sunday family lunch and chats with his parents, uncle, aunt and grandma the whole day?

Which girl, at age 23, visits her grandma, stays with her to do her homework while the grandma watches TV, and moisturises her feet?

The grandchildren do not spend their hours glued to computer games or being silent anti-socials. They are polite and sociable; they thank me profusely for offering my hot chocolate or for emailing them the photos I’d taken; and they make an effort to converse with strangers like me who stutter and mutter in a foreign language.

The Singapore government spends tonnes of tax payers’ money to have sleek expensive TV campaigns to promote ‘’family life/ values’’.

All the government needs to do, and perhaps even more cheaply, is to sponsor some students to live (and study) with families in Italy for a month, or even just two weeks. If they learn nothing about the language or culture, at least they might have learnt some family bonding and social/ interpersonal skills.

Part of the reasons why these grown up children are still so close to their family, according to my Italian teachers back home, is that the boys are ‘’mammoni’’ – mummy’s boy. And that the kids are just being practical by living with parents – it saves them a bundle.

Well, if living with parents saves money, but develops affection and bonding, then it’s not such a bad thing after all. At least it saves tax payers’ money on campaigns that preach something that should be taught at home in the first place.

Just One More Look
Class started at 10 am this morning, but ended only at 2 pm, with 10 mins loo-break every hour. If you drink fast, you can dash to the ever crowded ‘’bar’’ to buy and down a yummy cappuccino.

By 2 pm we were starving. I picked up items from the canteen for my 2.60 euro menu, but ended up paying only 1.60 euro, with an apple to take home too. Incredible. Maybe I have not figured out which is side dish and which is main course yet.

Halina, Kayoko and I walked back together after lunch. For the second day in a row, we stopped halfway, to admire the beautiful hills and valleys, before we huffed and puffed uphill.

And tomorrow, though we will have eight straight hours non stop (except for half an hour’s lunch break – thanks to some make up classes!), we are sure we will pause at the same spot, to say, ‘’e bellisima!’’

Perfettissimo

My class is a mini United Nations. Besides me, there are a few Polish (Poles?), 2 Americans, an Australian, a beautiful Serbian, 2 Japanese, a Chinese, some Germans, and a blond Dutch slut who flirted shamelessly (but without much finesse) with the café boy from day one.

The Chinese guy, Piao Yi, amuses me. He makes me feel guilty for ‘’stereotyping’’. But heck; I can’t help it. And I am not judging or being negative, just recording my amusement.

During last week’s lesson, he shouted out ‘’answers’’ like a goody-good student, loudly. He was very good at monosyllabic ‘’answers’’. He also reminded me so much of the rote learning the Chinese are so good at – memorise and recite multiplication tables with some rhyme, memorise and recite the Chinese zodiac, again with some rhyme, and memorise and recite poems and proverbs… all of which I had gone through and hated as a kid.

It also reminded me of a school I had visited in Xiamen, China, almost 10 years back – I had witnessed a bunch of kids loudly reciting some text in class. I could try and understand why they had to recite, but why the need to yell?

This morning, whenever the teacher pointed out an irregular verb for us to note its ‘’perfect tense/ past participle’’, he would be the first to shout out the perfect answer, in quick succession. (Uccidere? – ucciso! Vedere? – visto! Prendere? - preso! Farer? – fatto! Rimanere? – rimasto!) It was like a great achievement to be able to recite a whole series of irregular verbs.

Marina our teacher could not help smiling and said that he has grasped his grammar perfectly; he just needed to learn to speak and use the language. (He could hardly manage when given a text to complete earlier and neither could he express himself, nor understand the teacher when she mentioned last week about a change of time table.)

At one point Marina explained some preposition usage and asked if we knew the rule. Piao Yi knew it instantly. ‘’He has searched his computer and found the grammar file,’’ Marina joked, though very impressed by his precision and knowledge.

When Marina later asked ‘’posso cancellare?’’ (‘’may I erase the board’’) so that she could write more stuff for us, some of us nodded. Yi Piao replied, ‘’puoi’’ (‘’you may’’).

Marina made her point: ‘’puoi is perfectly correct and grammatical; it’s a perfect reply to ‘’may I’’; but language is not pure grammar; it is alive and interactive. In this case, one simply replies, ‘’si’’ (‘’yes’’) or ‘’no’’.

I could not agree more. Language is not memorisation of perfect grammar rules. It is expression, creation, improvisation, living – a conscience. Otherwise I would be speaking ‘’perfect’’ French and Spanish by now (well, almost).

Love and Revenge
No wonder they say Italy is romantic. My homework passage last week was about a love story, and this morning’s passage was about jilted love and aborted marriage (the groom changed his mind at the altar).

After working on the verbs and appropriate tenses for the passage, we had to break into small groups to write the continuation of the story, according to our imagination.

My group consists of a Polish lady and an American priest-to-be. But the latter is not very saintly – his suggestions included things like the bride’s uncle being a mafia, vowed ‘’vendetta’’ (revenge) and hunted down the runaway groom and killing him. Another group also wrote about the death of the groom – he got into an accident and died, but the bride was happy because the groom had not changed his will before abandoning her.

What a vengeful class, commented our teacher.

After three solid hours of love, revenge and grammar since 8 am, we proceeded to the language lab – for more love. We had to listen to a romantic song and then repeat the words, questions and phrases, and answer some questions. We had to record what we said into the mike and play back, listen to ourselves, let the teacher coach us, etc. We even had to sing the song at the end of the whole exercise.

I’ve always dreaded listening to my weak ‘’girly’’ voice, which gets especially bad when recorded! Maybe this dread caused me to forget to press the ‘’record’’ button and most of my playbacks registered silence – ha ha.

La Mensa
No, I have not become a genius in Italy, nor joined the genius association.

La mensa is a canteen where students could eat a substantial meal for as little as 1.80 euro.

Today, after class ended at noon, Halina, my classmate from Poland, and Kayoko, from Japan, and I waited hungrily outside the mensa. There was actually a queue waiting for it to open at 12.15 am.

The hunger made me greedy and I chose the 2.60 euro menu – bread, fruit, drink, side dish and main course. But we could hardly finish everything. I had to save the bread and fruit for another meal. Halina did the same – she saved the bread and yoghurt for tomorrow morning. Skinny Kayoko however wolfed down everything.

We ate in relative silence, punctuated by polite questions, gestures and lots of clarifications and re-phrasing in Italian. Halina could speak only some Italian and Polish, while Kayoko could speak a little English and even less Italian. I reprised my role of ‘’Japanese translator’’ for Kayoko.

Che casino!
No, I am not starting a Singaporean pontification about casino and gambling.

‘’Che casino’’ means ‘’what a mess’’. And what a hilarious, painful, hair-raising, bloody ‘’mess’’ it was this afternoon!

When I came home after lunch and downloading office emails from a friendly cyber cafe, I saw Franca soaking her feet. Her granddaughter Beatrice was there, visiting and moisturising her feet. We chatted and I made some hot chocolate for myself. And soon Beatrice left and Franca’s neighbour Adele arrived to do her pedicure.

It was the noisiest pedicure I have seen. Franca squealed in pain and at times begged her to stop. Adele ignored her and simply said, ‘’niente’’ or something similar. More shouting and squealing from both women – I hardly understood a word.

Her friend tried to cut her calluses and over-did it. She looked like she was doing a major operation! More screaming – ‘’aiya!’’ (it seems squeals in pain sound similar to those back home). Yet Franca laughed after that. I just squirmed and felt my hair stand up. I looked at another of Franca’s friend, who had just arrived for a visit, and we both shrugged helplessly. Blood oozed. Bandaid was used. It did not work. More blood. Franca actually managed to hobble to the store room to get some gauze and bandages.

‘’Che casino,’’ laughed Adele and did an equally messy bandage of Franca’s poor foot.

I could not finish my cup of chocolate, no matter how delicious it is.

Vignettes of Perugia

A Lazy Friday Afternoon - Fri 4 Nov

Kumi and I had lunch in town, and then walked in the streets, window shopping. We explored more nooks and corners, and more precipitous slopes, allowing ourselves to get lost. It is Friday, we have time - her class has ended and I don’t even have class on Fridays.

Every corner of Perugia has some history, gallery, museum, statues and monuments; the whole city is a photo opportunity. I see busy tourists armed with maps, guidebooks and cameras snapping away and I tell myself how lucky I am to be living in this place, unlike a hurried tourist. I was in no hurry to catch the exhibits or fight with the opening and closing hours.

We reached Piazza Italia and admired the beautiful panorama in front of us. ‘’I must take a photo – I am Japanese,’’ she joked. She took out her Japanese Sony cell phone and tried to take a picture of the two of us.

A girl saw us and offered to help. We exchanged greetings. Expectedly, she is also a language student from the same uni, from Azerbaijan. ‘’You know where is this?’’ she asked. ‘’Er, yes,’’ I said, not knowing what else to say. Azerbaijan is something you read in the papers and see on CNN; I have never dreamed of meeting someone from this country, nor of having to converse in Italian with its citizen.

A Humourous Blend
Kumi wanted to see the room I had rented from Franca and followed me home. We gave Franca a surprise and she rewarded us with a hot cup of coffee.

Then Franca’s friend, Roland, visited. It was funny listening to him. He blends French words and phrases so naturally into his Italian that, had I not known French, would not have detected it.

He is French and married to an Italian and had moved from his hometown (somewhere between Paris and Lyons – I could not catch the name) to Perugia many years ago.

I just found it fascinating listening to him and Franca talk. ‘’Si, dans la meme strada, il y a….’’ and then he continued in Italian… and back he switched to an entire French sentence, ‘’demain matin je vais…’’ and then Franca would say, ‘’come, non ho capito?’’ And Roland would have to repeat himself in complete Italian.

When Franca answered a long phone call, Roland and I started to converse in French. It felt great for me, to be able to complete a few full sentences at one go – I have forgotten a lot of my French; still, it sure is more fluent than my Italian.

Soon Roland left and Franca and I watched some TV. There was a trailer for a Jackie Chan movie – ‘’Jackie Chan’s First Strike’’. Maybe one day I will just be a star and speak many languages, without having to learn it. It sure was funny to see Jackie Chan ‘’speak’’ Italian on TV.

A Leisurely Saturday Morning - Sat 5 Nov
I got out of bed, and saw my little tazzina (coffee cup) laid out on my tray on the dining table, comme d’habitude. The clock ticked loudly. I looked up – 9 am. I ambled into the kitchen – my little pot of coffee has already been set on the stove, waiting for me to heat it up. Mmmm…. Strong Italian coffee in little cups – perfect for someone like me who can never finish a full cup of any drink back home!

I looked out of the window – it was cloudy and gloomy. Franca confirmed it would rain, ‘’ma tutto va b-e-n-e, b-e-n-e …! ‘’ she sang cheerfully. I promised to myself I would try hard to cheer up in this cold and miserable weather, for her sake.

La Fiera dei Morti
This is an annual fair held to commemorate All Saints Day, from 1 – 5 Nov. At Franca’s suggestion, I took a bus from Piazza Italia to ‘’Lo Stadio’’, where the fair was held.

After missing the stop (even though the driver promised to tell me when to alight!) and having to take a bus back from the opposite direction, I finally made it to the fair.

It was a glorious display of food, and more food. There were many knick knacks on sale, from jewellery to clothing to home décor items, but I was most attracted to the food.

Italy is not a place for dieters, non-meat or small eaters. At the cafeteria people were eating heartily – huge portions, meat and carbo laden. To think I had to struggle to finish my piadina (like a ‘’wrap’’ in Singapore fast food joints)! There were many piadina, porchetta (roast pork), cheese, prosciutto, sausages, pizza and olive stalls. Most attractive of all were the beautiful dolci (dessert) stalls, selling famous sweets from Sicily, like pasta di mandorla pistacchio. There was a stall selling all kinds of olives and preserved fruits and vegetables like tomatoes. Beautiful. The friendly guy invited me to try his olives and when I wanted to take a picture he hurriedly took out three scoops to pick up three types of olives to pose for me. ‘’You have to take me at work,’’ he said.

It seems only locals visit the fair. I was the only foreigner and tourist with a camera. The stall holders were curious about me and made way for my camera clicking.

A stall was promoting some peanut sweets (il croccante alle arachidi). All you had to do was tear out the coupon from the flyer they handed out. I gave the young chap my coupon and he cheerfully gave me the sweet, and even said, with a big smile, ‘’prego, buon passaggiata’’ as I left.

Finding my way out of this giant fair and maze to go back to the bus stop was a major challenge for a ‘’direction-challenged’’ person like me.

I gave up finding after going in circles and went to another bus stop instead, and had to take a different route and change bus. Throughout this wild goose chase of buses and routes in il tempo brutto (it was pouring rain), I met all kinds of people – rude, sullen, unhelpful, friendly, sympathetic, proactively helpful…

Since my arrival barely a week ago, I have not been able to (not that I want to!) ‘’stereotype’’ or generalise the Italians. I could not say, ‘’Italians are arrogant, unhelpful, nasty’’, because there have been many nice ones. Neither could I say they are ‘’all very warm and nice’’ (which is what many friends like to say and compare against the French and the English), because I have already come across unpleasant ones, and I have also come across many lovely French and English people, contrary to the experiences of my friends.

I guess my main point is – never generalise, and appreciate each person as he or she is.

Counting Cappelletti - Sun 6 Nov
Every Sunday Franca joins her daughter Marinda and the latter’s family for lunch. It is an occasion she looks forward to. She would prepare lots of food to take over to the house to heat up.

Marinda came over on Saturday evening to pick up some of the food, and invited me over. ‘’Especially when you eat so little, it makes no difference for us,’’ she joked. (Franca has been spreading my ‘’reputation’’ of eating little.)

She picked us up in her car, with more food Franca had taken out of the fridge, to go to her big and beautiful house in the country side.

Her husband Leo was already busy preparing starters. Marinda looked at the huge bag of cappilletti and counted the number of cappilletto for each of us. There would be 8 of us for lunch, and she decided to give each of us 15 cappilletti. These are hat-shaped (il cappello – hat) pasta filled with meat, a speciality of the region.

‘’What do you do on Sundays? Prepare big lunches like us? For us, we love to eat, and on Sundays this is a ritual,’’ she told me.

‘’She hardly eats nor cooks. So far all I see her prepare and eat is bread,’’ Franca commented.

A Hearty Family Lunch
Soon Marinda’s 2 grown-up children – Michele and Beatrice - showed up. I could tell they love their nonna Franca very much. They hugged and kissed so affectionately. Michele is already 29 and Beatrice 23, but Franca actually gave Michele some money!

Leo’s sister (Daniela) and brother in law (Stefano) then showed up, and soon lunch began. We started with antipasto – prosciutto on cheese bread.

Then came nonna’s hand-made cappilletti. They looked and tasted like won-ton soup back home. Beatrice gave me a small portion and said, ‘’they say you eat little but you can have more later if you like it.’’

Next came some cooked meat and vegetables, of which I took a little (have never liked meat!). But there was more after this! I could not believe it – roast meat, potatoes and salad. I had to give the roast meat a miss and took some salad and sampled a small piece of potato, just to be polite.

I was about to explode when they brought out cheese bread, cake, tarts, croccanti alle arachidi, grapes and satsuma for desserts. As Michele served Spumante (sparkling Italian dessert wine) we started toasting one another – ‘’auguri’’ !

Conversations centred around their daily life, plus lots of questions about me and what I do. It took me some time to ‘’warm up’’ into fluent Italian. One of the first questions Stefano asked was if it was my first time in Italy. All I could manage was a ‘’no’’. Franca was surprised and I could not continue what I wanted to say, ie, that I’d been to Italy many years ago as a tourist. Michele teased, ‘’no… e poi?’’

I could not remember why the question of age cropped up and Stefano asked how old I was. No one believed it and it caused quite a murmur at the table when I told them. ‘’Da vero?’’ he asked. ‘’No, piu meno, piu meno,’’ Beatrice insisted.

While Franca washed up and Marinda made coffee, I started chatting with Stefano, who seemed pretty curious about me and Singapore. He had brought some lovely orchids for Marinda and asked if there are orchids in Singapore, and asked about the weather, etc.

Then he asked something I didn’t quite expect; maybe he thought of it because he is a doctor: ‘’Are you on a diet?’’ I was surprised: ‘’Me? No, why do you ask?’’. ‘’Because you eat so little and are so thin,’’ he replied.

‘’Me, thin? (How flattering, I thought) In Singapore there are lots of women much thinner than me, ‘’ I told him. ‘’Perche?’’ he asked. Sigh – every time I succeeded in saying something coherent, I get asked a question I do not know how to elaborate in Italian. I merely shrugged and smiled, ‘’Singapore girls are thin.’’