ON NOT BEING A DOORMAT

Once again, I am just back from a supermarket and once again, my pazienza has been sorely tried: This time it was a supermarket that I don't usually go to, but as they have certain offers on this week and a friend had offered me a lift, tonight I went there.

I hadn't intended to buy a doormat but I do need one, so when  I saw a very cheap and jolly specimen I picked it up, only to be told, at the cash desk, that it couldn't be sold until tomorrow. I asked why, in that case, it was on display and the response was a shrug. I asked for the manager, who only repeated that the item could not be sold tonight,"because it won't pass through the system" so I asked if it could be put aside for me until tomorrow. The answer, again, was "No". I found this unhelpful to say the least and I'm also British enough to expect to hear the words "I'm sorry" but what flabbergasted me was that my Italian friend thought it was all perfectly acceptable.

The first time I came to Italy, in 1969, one of the reasons I thought it was a wonderful country was that service standards were so high compared to those of the UK at that time. It remains a wonderful country in many ways and you can still find excellent service in some sectors, particularly in bars and restaurants, pasticcerie, small shops and when dealing with most craftsmen. But in the intervening years, the rest of the world has moved on where Italy has not and service standards in some supermarkets leave a lot to be desired. [I'm not even going to start on post offices this evening!]  This is sad in a country that was once so proud of its tradition of good service and in these economic times Italy cannot afford to be uncompetitive.

I have now decided that I am not going to be a doormat even if I can't get one and have just taken the supermarket chain in question to task on twitter.  Needless to say, no reply has yet been receieved.

"IF YOU CAN'T AFFORD THE TIP..." - A "LET'S BLOG OFF" POST

Every two weeks, the blogosphere comes alive with something called a Blog Off. A Blog Off is an event where bloggers of every stripe weigh in on the same topic on the same day. The topic for this round of the Blog Off is "If you can't afford the tip, you can't afford the meal."

The excellent Vecchia Aidone restaurant
in  Enna, Sicily

Back in Britain I had a friend who refused to tip.  This used to irritate and embarrass me no end whenever we were out together but over the past few years I have softened a little towards her stance.

In the UK, unlike in the US, tipping is not obligatory.  You may get some surly looks in certain restaurants if you don't tip but the only person likely to yell at you for your omission is a London cabbie.

Whilst I used to round up taxi fares to the nearest pound in Britain and tip in restaurants provided the service had been good, I rarely tipped my hairdresser because the tip, added to the already high cost of his attention, would have rendered my visit to him prohibitively expensive. It is also a British convention not to tip the owner of a salon.

Not so long ago in Britain the postman, newspaper delivery boy or girl, refuse collectors and the milkman all expected tips at Christmas and these were usually given ungrudgingly by householders. I am even old enough to remember when we had coalmen and the coalman, too, got his tip.  But then there came an era when all these good folk started knocking on doors to ask for their "Christmas box" and I'm not sure that people gave it quite so willingly from then on.  Having been away from Britain for nearly seven years I am uncertain about the extent to which this custom continues, but it is rarer these days because there is more rotation among workers and local populations change faster than they used to.

Here in Italy, too, tipping is a matter of choice:  it is appreciated but not expected as a right in bars and restaurants and I even know of waiters and barmen who will hand back a proffered tip to a customer.  Why? Because taking the trouble to present even the simplest order elegantly and providing good service with a smile are regarded as routine duties and not as frills for which the customer has to pay a hidden "extra".  There are, however, a few public conveniences [restrooms] in tourist spots which the unfortunate traveller will find hard to exit without leaving the "optional" tip!

My friend in Britain felt that the tipping habit was resonant of the aristocrat distributing largesse and that its continuance actually stopped workers from fighting for better remuneration.  I have some sympathy with this view and regard tipping as being on a par with the boss who always buys his secretary a frivolous Christmas present rather than paying her the proper rate for her work.

To sum up, in a tipping culture I want a choice in the matter of whether I tip or not but I would really like to see the custom abolished. It is a social minefield and a throwback to the class system.  Pay everyone a decent wage instead!

Below is the full list of bloggers who are participating in this week's Blog Off:

MORE FROM OUR NEW BAR

Just look at the plate of complimentary antipasti I got with my [non-alcoholic] aperitivo in Bar Cicara yesterday!

I particularly liked the idea of spooning orange and onion salad onto bruschetta [left] - that's one I'm going to copy.

And little ones are not forgotten in the terrace seating arrangements:

WHERE MEMORIES LEAD YOU....

A new bar, La Cicara - cicara being a Sicilian word for a little cup - has opened just across the road here and of course, I have been to explore it a couple of times.  I must say that the service is good and it has a very pleasant décor and atmosphere.  Today it was already crowded just before 1 pm as people stopped off for an aperitivo and to partake of the delicious complimentary antipasti on offer.

Imagine my delight when, on paying for my coffee, I was presented with this pretty little jar of sweets as a welcome gift and a thank you for my custom.  On the back, there is a quote from the singer-songwriter Vinicio Capossela:

"Il bar non ha ricordi ma i ricordi portano inevitabilmente al bar." 

"The bar has no memories but your memories will inevitably lead you to the bar."

I wish Bar Cicara good luck.  Their little gift made my day and traders who will go to so much trouble to please their customers deserve success.

SEASONAL SIGNS

I love to see mounds of chestnuts on sale and to catch the aroma of their roasting as I walk home on autumn evenings in Sicily.  Broccoli, too, is abundant and the purple kind, especially, adds to the rich tapestry of colours here as you pass greengrocers' shops or fruitsellers' lorries.

The fruitseller who calls me bambina has returned from his extended summer break and who am I to argue when he tells me that his wares are in regalo ["a gift"] today at only €10.00 per crate?  As usual, after asking the nearest passer-by to watch his lorry for a few minutes, he carries the crate home for me.

Domenico Modugno - Ciao, Ciao, Bambina

LITTLE LIDL RANT

It is rare to meet with discourtesy when dealing with staff in shops or public service offices in Italy.  The Post Office may be slow and the Water Office inefficient, but nobody in either office is rude.  In Modica's Lidl, however, finding myself without a euro in change for the stupid trolley deposit, I just had the following exchange:

Me to cashier:  Excuse me, could you change these 2 fifty centesimi for a euro for the trolley?

Cashier:  No, there aren't any euros.  [Not , "I'm so sorry, signora, but I don't have any change.]

Me:  Well, can you suggest something?

Cashier:  What can I do, if I haven't got any, I haven't got any!

Me: Well, can you call someone?

Cashier:  Who can I call, signora?

Why didn't I say, "the bloody manager"?!

By now, I'm extremely angry as a male customer is just standing by agreeing with the cashier.

Cashier:  Take a couple of carrier-bags and put your purchases in those, signora.

Me:  I can't carry everything round the store!

Cashier: Oh, there are some customers outside, now.  Ask them, signora.

So I go outside and change my centesimi-pieces there.  I think there are two factors at play here, the first being that there is still enough of the Brit in me to remember service in British supermarkets, a sector with so much competition that staff will do anything to retain customers [except for Marks & Spencer, who are extraordinarily stingy with carrier bags].  The second is that Italians always prefer to ask anyone other than a member of staff or an official for help.  

OK, now I'm armed with a trolley and I complete my purchases. I go to the check-out and it's the same guy again:

Cashier [pointing to the end of the counter]:  Put the trolley there and put everything in it.

I avoid saluting and clicking my heels to attention and follow orders. I put a few things in a carrier before putting them in the trolley.

Cashier: In the trolley first, signora.

Now at last I lose my temper:

Me:  I'm not stealing things, you know.  Why are you being so rude to me this afternoon?

This brings cringing apologies, which I accept.

I did think of ringing Lidl HQ as soon as I got home and possibly losing the young man his job, but I seem to have become Sicilian enough not to do that.  A rant here will suffice.

One thing everyone who deals with the public in their job should learn is this:  A little discourtesy can ruin someone's day, just as a little courtesy can make it.

LA VITA È BELLA

It has been a beautiful sunny day, I am in the "land of lands" and on the territory of the Gattopardo. What is more, this morning I got me a job! I'm fed up with the insecurity of doing "a bit here, a bit there" and have now been offered a significant number of teaching hours in the same language school. The school's proprietors called me on Wednesday, out of the blue, and I went to see them yesterday, coming back with the impression that I'd be offered some work, but I didn't know how much: I also thought it would be after Christmas. However, they called me again last night and asked if I would go in this morning to discuss a timetable so of course I did. I was greeted with , "Hello, this is your timetable and this is your office". "An office?!" I exclaimed [after I got up off the floor] and we all had a good giggle. "And you start on Monday", they added. They have all sorts of students, of all ages, abilities and levels, with varying types of problems with English. I will sort them out.

I do hope this will be a turning point as I've been very low about work lately and things have become a little hairy financially: it's my own fault that I haven't pushed my CV around before now but I had a position of considerable responsibility in secondary teaching at a young age in Britain and I've had enough of "selling" my skills. There is also a lot of my gambling father in me: I don't gamble with money but I do take risks in this life and never get off my butt till I have to. Once I do, though, watch out!

Please wish me luck, reader...

Two more trivial events to report today:

The water lorry arrived at 5pm. "I came at midday and you were out!" cried the driver accusingly. Now, as he can turn up at any time between 6.30 am and 10 pm I wouldn't have much of a life if I waited in, would I? "And there was nobody else in!" he continued. Hardly my fault, either, but pazienza... I just signed the form and wished him the compliments of the season.

I have cleared my ironing pile! - Well, not personally. I looked at it on Wednesday and thought, "To hell with it" but, with no Virgil to guide me, took it to the dry cleaner's instead. I collected it tonight and it's all so beautifully done that I don't recognise half my garments. "If it's too heavy for you to carry back I'll bring it round when we close", offered the shop owner kindly. I managed but I do appreciate this aspect of Sicilian service. I promise I won't let it get that bad again....

AN UNEXPECTED GIFT

My [non-blogging] commenter Sally was asking about the Altro Posto the other day: if you are not a regular reader you may like to know that it's my preferred bar, for location, service and food. It is conveniently located in the middle of the Via Sacro Cuore, so that you can stop for refreshments there whichever end you are coming from [laden with shopping bags in my case], is next door to the computer shop and a short stroll from Raffaele the hairdresser's. I tend to go there after a visit to Raff's and if it's too hot I sit in the air-conditioned interior; otherwise I settle myself on the terrace, read the papers and watch the world go by. They treat me well, I hear the comforting clink of ice being put into the glass for my gin and tonic as soon as we've said "Buongiorno" and once, when I was using the ATM opposite, they espied me and I turned round to see them standing there with the g&t and plate of complimentary antipasti at the ready! Well, it would have been churlish not to go over... They also give me a discount and sometimes a little gift in appreciation of my custom. [Italian shopkeepers and service providers tend to do this at festive times.] When I was there on Friday I was delighted to be given this new book about the area. It is one of the most informative I have read in Italian and there is an English edition which you may like to look out for if you are visiting.

A PARADOX

Looking back at the week's posts, it occurs to me that I have been rather grumpy and it's nearly a week since I posted a food picture! I haven't even been down to Eurochocolate, as the cold, damp weather has caused a flare-up of my arthritis. [I will try and get to the festival tomorrow or Sunday.]

Thinking again about the bureaucracy that has irritated me this week, I never cease to marvel at the Italians' ability to put up with the waiting, form-filling and literal rubber-stamping that accompanies every single transaction, not to mention their tolerance of inefficiency! The different attitudes that the Italians and the British have regarding this is perhaps best summed up by a conversation I had with friend Irma about that persistent bugbear of mine, the post office: "Oh, I go back at siesta time if the queue is long", said Irma. Apart from the fact that going back later, without a car, to an area of the town in which I have no other errands to do would be very inconvenient for me, my instinctive reaction is that it is not for me to go back when the queue is shorter, but for the post office, as a public service, to operate efficiently whenever it is open.

Yet it is this very patience and forbearance, along with attention to detail, which make Italy the country it is: Little shops survive because Italians have the patience to go to them and maybe the many pleasant courtesies that you exchange as you carry out your day to day business come about precisely because you just have to talk and ask questions during all the long transactions! Anything you buy will be gift-wrapped for you free of charge upon request and this practice continues because Italians care about detail and are willing to wait while it is done. [It can often take a very long time, as the shop assistants are fussy about the finished look of their packages; I have often seen them decide that one is not pretty enough and start all over again!] Would we in Britain, at Christmas, say, be prepared to wait while the parcels are wrapped, over and over again, at shop after shop? I doubt it, with our frenetic lifestyles.

I just wanted to end the week by reiterating that I happen to love this fascinating, beautiful and often exasperating country!

A POST FOR CURVY WOMEN -

- and any of you boys who care to read it, but, be warned ... it's a girly one!

Yesterday my personal B-day had come, in that I just couldn't leave the task of buying some new [black] bras any longer. So off I went to the little intimi shop, which may look old-fashioned and sweet but is actually filled with tempting, costly, classy designer goods! I've never been one for buying such garments at M&S in Britain, having been lucky enough to have lived in Cardiff where for many years we had the now much missed David Morgan store where a posse of efficient, motherly women d'un certain âge would measure you, fit you, hold the item so that you sort of ladled your equipment into the cups and then they adjusted the straps with a jerk so that [after you got your breath back] you felt suddenly taller, firmer and at least a size thinner.

None of that here! For a start, as I've written before here [and I also discussed underwear here and here, if you're new to this blog] you do not find the items on display so that you can peruse them first. And you are not measured, for the shop owner takes pride in being able to look at you once and know, just as the owners of some shoe shops do. Then in you go to the tiny changing cubicle where item after item is handed through the curtains to you. You know what it's like, my voluptuous sisters: parts of you will persist in falling out of one end or the other of the thing if you do not choose very carefully and so the whole episode can become rather fraught, especially by the time you have tried on the twentieth garment!

Having made my selection, out of the changing cubicle I come and where is the shop owner? She has been busy, for she is already holding up half a dozen lacy, matching - er... nether items for my inspection and praising the quality and workwomanship thereof. And of course I bought some, dear reader, for who could resist such prettiness, so charmingly sold? [Ok, so I'm gullible!]

Buying intimi in this non-browsable way is a much more expensive adventure than similar shopping in the UK, but now it occurs to me that the lack of free display is actually sound, Italian business sense!

Anyway , I can walk tall and comfortably until the summer, when another visit will be necessary to obtain items that won't show tell-tale straps peeking out of summer dresses and I'll leave you with more Lawrence Ferlinghetti:

"Women's underwear holds things up

Men's underwear holds things down

Underwear is one thing

men and women have in common

.........................................................................

Underwear controls everything in the end

Take foundation garments for instance

They are really fascist forms

of underground government

making people believe

something but the truth".

A BUREAUCRATIC BARRIER - EPISODE 2

Continuing yesterday's story, the landlord's wife came with me to the same bank today. [I was cursing all the way as it is cold by Sicilian standards, reader - 9C daytime temperature and icy pavements for the first time since I've been here, with rain and hail as well!] We asked to see the manager [I was so taken aback yesterday that I didn't even think of that!] and he told her exactly what the cashier had told me. She was as astounded as I was. The manager was full of apologies, but - pazienza - what could he do? [Arms flung up in the air gesture.] It was a new law, it had taken effect last month and they had been informed of it themselves very late. Winchester Whisperer asks about a standing order, but no, you are not allowed to set up one of these on someone's personal account either! It does seem, however, that I can make a transfer every month but it will have to be carried out manually each time - I can't just set it up and have done with it. Anyway, we asked what solution could be found for this month and , provided Mrs Landlord was willing to take two copious forms to Mr Landlord's place of work to be signed by him, she could come back and the money could be paid into his account "as if he had done it himself." So I waited while off she raced. Back she came, panting, after about twenty minutes and the transaction, for this month, has been completed. I'll worry about the next one a month hence!

A BUREAUCRATIC BARRIER

In Italy, things can appear to be going swimmingly for you; then suddenly you will come up against an element of Italian bureaucracy and if you're me, you will take it personally! For nearly two years, I have paid the rent on the designated day of the month into my landlord's bank. Apart from the fact that you have to produce about 500 documents to carry out the simplest transaction in Italy and so have to remember to take them along with you, this has never been a problem - until today:

Bank clerk: "You can't do that any more."

Me: "Sorry?"

Bank clerk: "You're not allowed to do that any more."

Me: "But I've been paying this rent in for nearly two years, in this very bank, and you've got all the details on your computer so why can't I do it today?"

Bank clerk: "Because they've changed the law, signora, and now no one can make a payment into anyone else's bank account."

This, I imagine, is anti-mafia legislation, but I have convinced myself it's the Italian State conspiring to make my little life more difficult. For god's sake, Italy, why do you have to upset ordinary, innocent folk with it and why don't you at least tell us about it? ! [Banking in Britain is so straightforward in comparison and any change in the law like that would occasion your own bank to write to you explaining it.] Grrrrr!!!!! Reader, my pazienza has deserted me!

A GOOD BUSINESSMAN

On Saturday I bought some fruit and vegetables costing, in total, €2.60 from our nice greengrocer's. I had the 60 centesimi in change but otherwise had nothing smaller than a €10 note. The greengrocer, having no change either, did not rush over to the nearest café to get some or wait till another customer arrived with some; instead, he just thrust the goods into my hands and said that it didn't matter. When I went over today to give him the €2 he looked at me as if I was mad and seemed about to faint from shock! His gesture has, of course, ensured him my trade for evermore.