ronnyd's we(blog)

A Sunday afternoon sitting down to take care of a ‘few quick things’ with the website and all of a sudden I find that it’s 5:45 and I have to decide what to eat this evening.

If I haven’t spoken to you in a while, and that’s doubtful, because any of you reading this are in communication with me in some sort on a pretty regular basis, the latest news is that I am back on the soil of the United States. That news is itself about two months old now. I left Reading on the 25th of September and arrived back in San Francisco the same day.

Getting used to the United States again wasn’t all that hard. Hell, living here in the U.S. for 28 years, and then only six months in the UK wasn’t going to alter my perceptions completely but the change in me wasn’t negligible either. I had a great experience in the UK, and I came to appreciate a new perspective on my life and on the world from having lived there. I have my Italian passport, so jumping ship to the other side of the pond would be a snap. I’m not planning anything as of today, but Tuesday might bring with it a new view, and a new desire to migrate again.

I have since reconnected with old friends, have plans to see those that I haven’t seen yet, and have made some new friends. San Francisco is a good place to be.

I spent a good deal of time this afternoon getting the weblog portion of the site into a more manageable state with a new more aesthetically pleasing layout. Or maybe I didn’t; let me know what you think.

I’ll do better about keeping all of you who are on the edge of their seats with salivating anticipation regarding my adventures up to speed by logging in a little more often.

New pictures will be posted eventually. Take care. Keep in touch, email me.

Hello. Well, this is my fourth day in Italy and I want to tell you a story that, believe it or not, is far from atypical in Italy during the month of August. The story is that of Sarah’s and my attempt to take a bus from Caiazzo to Caserta, a ride which should have taken only about 25 minutes on the bus.

Caiazzo is the city just outside of which is the village from which my father hails and where were are spending our time con i miei nonni (with my grandparents.) There is more I’ll write about the village, but I’ll stick to the story about the buses for now.

This is the time of the year that is Feragosto [fair-Ah-gosto], which is the start of the national period of vacation. Most people start their vacations on the 4th of the month, but the official start of the vacation as marked by the government is the 15th. Feragosto comes from feria [vacation] + agosto [August] and everything starts to shut down for a few weeks during this time. I don’t think that most Americans are actually aware of how much vacation time the Europeans get, and if you were, you’d be quite jealous.

During this period of vacation, the things that continue to function, such as the civil services, do so half-assed at best. This is where the troubles with the bud began. We got up early in the morning, because of the extreme heat wave that is affecting all of Europe right now, and because in order to make use of these civil services, you more than likely have to do it before 8AM. Well, I was up and ready to go by 7:45, but getting Sarah out of bed was another story. We scrapped out original plan of going to Naples, and we decided to go to Caserta. It was closer than Naples and I figured that the bus to Caserta, though later in the day than we had intended, would still get us there in time to take a walk around and see the Royal Palace.

We starting waling to Caiazzo from the village, and were picked up and given a ride, as happens most of the time, by a relative or someone we know. This time it was a cousing of ours, Giovanni San Giovanni. We thanked him for the ride, and went to the tabacco shop to get the tickets for the bus. I asked when they wouyld dpart and was told that it would be around ten thirty or thereabouts. ‘Thereabouts’ is where the problem lies. We had purchased the tickets at 9:50 and were prepared to wait the 40 minutes for the bus to arrive. My grandfather had showed about at about 10:10 because he had come into the town to see if he could get some green beans for lunch. He sat on the bench with us and waited. We talked for a bit, and finally saw a bus arrive at about 10:15. Good! A little earlier than I had expected but that was nothing to complain about. I stepped onto the bus and asked if it was heading to Caserta, and sure enough — it wasn’t. So we sat back down on the bench with my grandfather and waited some more.

Here’s a pic of Sarah and Nonno when when we were waiting for the bus that never came. This is probably before we had seen the bus that was early but not going to Caserta because there are still smiles on their faces. We were told back at the tobacconist that there was going to be a train for Caserta at 11:30, but that would have brought us into the city at 12:30 at least and the day was already getting to be too hot. That time of the day would have been a half hour before all of the shops started to close, so we scrapped the idea of going into the city, and went to the grocery with Nonno and headed back to the village to eat, and then nap after the meal. It was just going to be another typical day in the village.

Sunday night, on the train back to London, connecting with the local train back to Reading. We had a nice weekend in Paris, as short as it was. We arrived really late on Friday night, and my dad, of all people, was the one who suggested that we go out to get something to eat. So we left the hotel at almost 1 AM and found a little deli a few blocks from the hotel that was on the verge of closing. I had a piece of fruit pie, Sarah had an eggplant and pepper salad and Dad had a piece of quiche. My pie was good, Sarah liked her salad, but the quiche was lacking, according to Dad. I had no desire to try it. The deli was the first of many places that in which we would be able to communicate our needs in English.

Saturday we went to Eiffel Tower, and walked the Champ Elyses to the Arc Du Triomph. We walked a lot. On Sunday we went to the Louvre, saw Mona, and her slight smile, as we were herded by like cattle. I’m really tired right now, and don’t want to write anymore, so will fill in the gaps later. Good night.

same day – Guest entry from Sarah:

My time in Europe and in Italy (wink Noah) has been great so far. I have experienced so much in only 3 weeks. I arrived in Reading on July 18th at about 10 in the morning. Ronny picked me up from the train station and we walked over to his flat. He showed me around and then we went out to lunch at a place called The Gorge Cafe. Ronny advised me not to order the black pudding, so of course I had to ask what it was. Its pure cow blood. So that made me lose whatever appetite I had and Ronny ate my food. After lunch I walked back to his flat and slept until he came home from work around 6:30 or so. He talked me into going out that night so we headed for the Slug and Lettuce. They have to stop serving alcohol in England at 11 so we went to the Purple Turtle after that. I guess they have a special license or something. We stayed there until 2 and went home. I was beat, plus we had to get up early on Saturday because we were going to London for the weekend. I like London a lot. I love that you can walk down the street and hear so many different languages, it is very eclectic. We walked around all day, and saw many things. Buckingham Palace, Big Ben, The British library, that was cool, they have actual Beatles lyrics.