Friday, September 17, 2004
Another lapse, but I have an excuse. I've been in Venice. All the same there is little to report. I am not one of those people who come over all misty eyed at the very mention of La Serenissima. In the summer it's crowded and smelly, and in the winter it's the coldest place I have ever been. Ultimately, Venice is just a planning error and one which won't be with is for very much longer.
A week of pottering about the calle and fondamente was nonetheless very pleasant, though the Venetians are a miserable bunch. When you are used to the sunny disposition of the Neapolitans, it comes as a shock to see noone smile for a week. The manners are so over the top, it's impossible to believe that they are sincere, and to cap it all Venetian food is pretty poor by Italian standards. Unless you have an unending desire for polenta and black squid ink there's not alot to get excited about. However, if you want a meal with a difference I can only suggest you try a trattoria called the Cugnai near the Accademia. It must count as one of the most bizarre dining experiences I have ever had. A ctually, it was two of the most bizarre dining experiences, as unaccountably I went back.
Picture in your minds eye the inimitable Mrs Overall and Two Soups of Julie Walters. Then forget it and replace her with the Cat in the Hat. A superannuated hyperactive dervish, the waitress would appear at the table only to run off again before you'd said a word. When she finally stopped longer than 5 seconds, she wouldnt take your order but pretended to write it on a pad (instead doing Tubbs scribbles). Then she brought you what she thought you should eat. If you protested she got very huffy, would ignore you and say things lke 'Oh yes come to Venice and dont eat my fish... why come to Venice at all? She also maintained she spoke most languages, but even Italain seemed to be beyond her most of the time. A French woman next to us was in hysterics, as The Cat was all over her husband, whispering in his ear and chucking him under the chin. It was weird. But quite fun to see the Americans completely lost and leaving before any food arrived, with the exception of one man who demanded a plain omelette and was treated like a pariah for the next half hour. The tourists are served by the mad woman in a garden populated by mosquitoes. The Italians sit indoors and are served by humans. I have a burning desire to see Michael Winner eat there. Cruelly, the food is very good.
Being the film festival, there was the world premier of the new Spielberg adult cartoon, 'shark tale', in St Marks Square, which meant lots of lasers and wotnot, and huge amounts of scaffolding ruining the view. The film doesn't come out till next year so to try and stop the pirates they projected it onto a huge screen and gave out 5000 pairs of headphones with the soundtrack playing in most languages. I still think it will be on dvd in Naples by next week.
A week of pottering about the calle and fondamente was nonetheless very pleasant, though the Venetians are a miserable bunch. When you are used to the sunny disposition of the Neapolitans, it comes as a shock to see noone smile for a week. The manners are so over the top, it's impossible to believe that they are sincere, and to cap it all Venetian food is pretty poor by Italian standards. Unless you have an unending desire for polenta and black squid ink there's not alot to get excited about. However, if you want a meal with a difference I can only suggest you try a trattoria called the Cugnai near the Accademia. It must count as one of the most bizarre dining experiences I have ever had. A ctually, it was two of the most bizarre dining experiences, as unaccountably I went back.
Picture in your minds eye the inimitable Mrs Overall and Two Soups of Julie Walters. Then forget it and replace her with the Cat in the Hat. A superannuated hyperactive dervish, the waitress would appear at the table only to run off again before you'd said a word. When she finally stopped longer than 5 seconds, she wouldnt take your order but pretended to write it on a pad (instead doing Tubbs scribbles). Then she brought you what she thought you should eat. If you protested she got very huffy, would ignore you and say things lke 'Oh yes come to Venice and dont eat my fish... why come to Venice at all? She also maintained she spoke most languages, but even Italain seemed to be beyond her most of the time. A French woman next to us was in hysterics, as The Cat was all over her husband, whispering in his ear and chucking him under the chin. It was weird. But quite fun to see the Americans completely lost and leaving before any food arrived, with the exception of one man who demanded a plain omelette and was treated like a pariah for the next half hour. The tourists are served by the mad woman in a garden populated by mosquitoes. The Italians sit indoors and are served by humans. I have a burning desire to see Michael Winner eat there. Cruelly, the food is very good.
Being the film festival, there was the world premier of the new Spielberg adult cartoon, 'shark tale', in St Marks Square, which meant lots of lasers and wotnot, and huge amounts of scaffolding ruining the view. The film doesn't come out till next year so to try and stop the pirates they projected it onto a huge screen and gave out 5000 pairs of headphones with the soundtrack playing in most languages. I still think it will be on dvd in Naples by next week.
Thursday, September 02, 2004
I'm a happy chappy. My phone is connected, I'm back on the net, and it's still hot enough to burn my feet on the terrace. The downside is that soon I shall be back at work.
I've spent most of the last four days unpacking boxes of household effects which finally arrived from London this week. Now I'm surrounded by my things instead of the crap which most landlords expect you to live with. And it's a joy, though a niggling thought enters my head that perhaps I should think about insuring the contents of this flat......
I've spent most of the last four days unpacking boxes of household effects which finally arrived from London this week. Now I'm surrounded by my things instead of the crap which most landlords expect you to live with. And it's a joy, though a niggling thought enters my head that perhaps I should think about insuring the contents of this flat......
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