It was only a matter of time

One very common complaint about living in Italy is that the postal system sucks. I have read many accounts of other expats dealings,actually they sound more like run- ins, with the postal system. Having to pay mysterious taxes on packages, having things sent back because a prescription is needed for toothpaste I think it was. So as you can imagine I was feeling pretty lucky. I had received everything that had been sent to me and not had to deal with anything unusual. Cards, a calendar, soap, books and photos all made their way here. Even one card that had cash in it.  That was until yesterday.

Luck as we all know will eventually run out and my postal luck ran out this week. So far I am missing at least one birthday card and a gift. The gift (a book in English and an address book-thanks JG) is interesting because its definitely been stolen. How do I know? The unstamped card that was inside of the package arrived. Yup, that is right they opened the package liked it and then left the card to be delivered. M and I went to the main post office to see if by chance they had the package and the guy at the window said  no they didn’t have or know where it was and  that it wasn’t his fault. If I had a euro for every time someone said to me its not my fault here. Apparently accountability isn’t big deal at the post office.  M then asked if there was a boss/ supervisor to talk to and he said that there was not a supervisor or boss and that they all just do their own thing.  Are you kidding me?! Ugh.

 So I thought that I would ask the woman who delivers our mail. According to her it was just in her bag unstamped but she delivered it out of the kindness of her heart. I asked her where the package was and she said she didn’t know. Then she said wait for it… “Non e colpa mia”  translation: It’s not my fault. To which I said  of course not.  Next time, she told me, she won’t deliver it at all.  It times like this that I really wish that my Italian was more fluent. I would have really liked to have given her a tongue lashing. I guess that its just more motivation to study. Anyway, Italian postal system I am just not that into you and we are over.

It’s not my fault it’s yours.

Parco per Cani: the dog park

Lucky for M and I we have a dog park within walking distance from our house. We go twice a day because anyone who has ever had beagle knows that a tired beagle is a good beagle. We seem to be on the same schedule as some of the other vicini ( neighbors) who have dogs. Matisse is the only boy and is very popular with the ladies. He runs and plays with the other dogs and their owners ooh and aww over him.  They are especially amazed when he runs after another dog and lets out this high pitched howl as he is running. Its really cute and I have tried to get it on video but have been unsuccessful.  When we are there alone he spends most of his time with his nose to the ground. Its been said that beagle are noses with legs and that is true of Matisse. He had little interest in learning to fetch. He only likes to carry the ball around and rarely will go after it. He is more interested in sticks and leaves that is for sure. We joke that he’s a vegetarian. 

 

Matisse at the dog park.

Sniffing at the dog park.

View from the dog park.

 

The park.

 

 

 For me the dog park is exercise too. It gives me an opportunity to practice my Italian.  Before we even walk out of  the door I review my Italian book and try to think of something that someone might ask me or a question that I might have; anything so that I can be prepared.  But still somethings get lost in translation. Be it culturally or linguistically. I mentioned that Matisse sleeps in his gabia (crate) at night and the look on one of the other pet owners faces was like I had just told her that when we get home I staple him by his ears to the wall. I couldn’t figure it out . She then asked me why?  What I tried to say is so he won’t relive himself all over the house when we are sleeping. This did not seem to help. Which then made me wonder about that state of her house. I then told her that he likes it and that when we have people at the house and he wants to nap or take a break he goes inside. Then she asks do you keep him in there all the time. Ugh!!! No only at night do we close the door or when we are out of the house. Oh she says, still not conviced. Great. Our neighbor now thinks that we keep our dog locked in the crate all day and only let him out to go to the dog park. Its frustrating for me but  I guess these kinds of things are just a part of the learning process and maybe even when I do speak perfect Italian people will look at me like I have three heads.

Me talk pretty one day?

Um, maybe…On Monday I start my final week of Italian class.  The class has been very intense 5 hours a day of Italian for the last two weeks.  But I am still nervous when it comes to talking to strangers and even with the friends and family of M. I know that I just have to do it.  I need to get words out even if they are the wrong ones because that is the only way to learn. The great thing about Italians is that you can butcher the language and they don’t seem to care too much. They want you to speak their language and are thrilled that you are trying. They are also the best teachers I have found. With M’s friends we have this half English/Italian thing going on and with his family it’s a lot of hand gestures and smiling. My English/ Italian dictionary is truly my best friend. M. and I have also started to speak in this mix of Italian and English. I guess I am impatient; I really want to talk to people and to truly understand what they are saying. The wife (from Minnesota how funny is that!) of one of M’s friends said that it took her about 6 months to feel comfortable with her language skills. We will see were I am in 6 months.

The other curve ball to the situation is that here in Bergamo and in every area in Italy they have their own dialect. Okay, now for a little Italian language history, I hope I get this right. Before the Divine Comedy was written all the different regions only spoke their own dialect. The Italian language as we know it did not really exist. Well it did it was the Toscana dialect in which the Divine Comedy was written. It became the standard for educated people in Italy; then became the national language. I’m not sure why or how but there you have it. So these dialects are whole other ball of wax. Example: To say “How are you?” in Italian you say “Come sta?” in Bergamasca you say “Tut a post?”. What?!?!?!?

I am going to concentrate on Italian and hope for the best with Bergamasca.