At exactly 9am this morning if you were to peak into this apartment you’d observe two women sitting on the couch. They look puzzled at each other with a glint of humor in the corner of their eyes. In perfect synchronization, both have their left arm extended, palm upwards while the tips of the fingers of their right hand gently tap their left arm starting from the shoulder down. Then the same with the right arm. They can barely contain their laughter. What on earth are they doing? If the room were bugged, a soothing woman’s voice emanating from a laptop could be heard giving instructions in Dutch. Clued in yet? A friend of Mom’s thought Mara could benefit from a kind of meditation exercise, called Chi Neng Qigong, and sent us a few audio tracks. The lady’s voice is actually quiet pleasant. In the background, while she speaks, the sounds of waves crashing and an Ocean breeze are audible. Both women, a mother and a daughter, with the required ostentatious skepticism expected from a cynical society, secretly enjoy it! Yep…Now, if only they could get Mara to listen to it!
If all goes according to plan, I should pass my practical driving exam on the 24th of September. I am on to my fourth Italian Driving Instructor since April (I won’t even bother to mention how many I had in the Netherlands. Suffice to say this little project is costing me a fortune). I am such an obvious target that I was actually headhunted by this last one. I kid you not. Delio saw me leaving the theory examination room and immediately $ figures flashed in his eyes. The first one, Alessio (with his Lancia Ypsilon), tried to screw me over with the pricing. Massimo (with the Fiat Panda), screwed me over with the times. He’d be consistently late and we’d be running errands during most of my lesson anyway. I’m confident I’d make an excellent delivery person. Both Massimo and Alessio shouted a little too easily and I don’t necessarily enjoy paying to get yelled at. This brings me to Roberta (and her Golf). Super relaxed. Even a little too relaxed. She just never spoke. And now there’s Delio (with his Fiat Brava). He’s an older man with one thick hair growing on his nose just begging to be plucked. Of course, of course, Dad negotiates on my behalf…Delio doesn’t discuss pricing over the phone. First a lesson to establish my level of driving. Then he offers us a package deal, a special price just for us…It surprises me that he doesn’t write it on a scrap of paper and secretively presses it into Dad’s palm. Oh, and did I mention he wants me to take the exam in a different city (village)? But what truly seals the deal is when it turns out his name is Rossini too. Well, then he must be trustworthy. He’s probably a distant cousin, ten times removed. The examinator in the village next door might even be family too. All in all, the bargain of a lifetime…Only a fool would pass on such a golden opportunity…
Wednesday 9 September 2009
Tuesday 8 September 2009
Mon the 7th of Sep – Counseling 101?
I am surrounded by squealing teenagers. I must be the only 30something year old waiting to take the driving theory exam this morning…If that weren’t enough, I am definitely the only one whose father practically escorted her into the examination room! The other “kids” probably instructed their parents to drop them off. It just isn’t cool to be seen with them…Well, not me! My Daddy demonstratively hugged me, gave me some words of encouragement and waived at me as I disappeared into the room (they grow up so fast…). One teenage girl kept staring at me with the indiscretion of youth. I smiled intelligently at her trying to convince her that I was neither mentally challenged nor a Nerd…I doubt I succeeded…And before anyone questions my mental capabilities, let me give you the same practiced lame line I give everyone that looks at me funny. I don’t have my driver’s license because in Amsterdam, it just isn’t necessary and I never felt the need or the discipline to spend thousands of euros in getting it. Now, I very acutely feel that need, in a city where busses pass only once every hour! I started taking lessons in the Netherlands and already failed the practical exam a couple of times. It’s frustrating and I very conveniently believe Richard’s professional diagnosis of my problem: Ahum Ahum...Clearly I have fear of failure. Let me get this right: at a subconscious level, I must be sabotaging myself and this must be further examined in the only rational way possible: lots and lots of counseling!
Anyway, I am happy to report that I passed my Italian theory exam and hopefully in a couple of weeks I’ll pass the practical one too! Streets of Perugia…Be warned!
As for my wonderful father, in spite of my aggravation at our incapacity to cut the umbilical cord (no father/daughter relationship is perfect), I would rather have a doting, loving, over protective father then not at all. I chose to consider myself blessed and lucky with such a tremendous Dad even if surely a little counseling could do no harm?
And how is our First Lady doing? Mar’s ok. Not great, not horrible either, just ok. Last week, her progress was stunted because of massive stomach cramps. She could hardly eat. The doctors ran tests but couldn’t find anything so she just had to go through it. Her eyebrows were set into a fixed V and it was impossible through my clownish behavior to “turn that frown upside down”. She feels better this week although still unnaturally tired and so she sleeps. She did tell me yet another funny anecdote about the hospital which I couldn’t resist to repeat! In the ‘Day Hospital’ Mara generally shares a room with another patient while she receives treatment. One morning, young Venezuelan Pedro was her room mate. The doctors did their usual rounds, enquiring after each patient. They started with Mara, asking her how she felt, what she was eating, wether she was exercizing, etc…Nothing unusual. Then they moved on to Pedro and asked him the same questions…Shouting: “PEDRO! HOW DO YOU FEEL? WHAT ARE YOU EATING?” And as she told the story I immediately burst out laughing. You see, just because Pedrito isn’t Italian, doesn’t mean he’s deaf…Yet these lovely Doctors fall into the most common of cultural traps: that by shouting in their language, one would immediately understand.
Anyway, I am happy to report that I passed my Italian theory exam and hopefully in a couple of weeks I’ll pass the practical one too! Streets of Perugia…Be warned!
As for my wonderful father, in spite of my aggravation at our incapacity to cut the umbilical cord (no father/daughter relationship is perfect), I would rather have a doting, loving, over protective father then not at all. I chose to consider myself blessed and lucky with such a tremendous Dad even if surely a little counseling could do no harm?
And how is our First Lady doing? Mar’s ok. Not great, not horrible either, just ok. Last week, her progress was stunted because of massive stomach cramps. She could hardly eat. The doctors ran tests but couldn’t find anything so she just had to go through it. Her eyebrows were set into a fixed V and it was impossible through my clownish behavior to “turn that frown upside down”. She feels better this week although still unnaturally tired and so she sleeps. She did tell me yet another funny anecdote about the hospital which I couldn’t resist to repeat! In the ‘Day Hospital’ Mara generally shares a room with another patient while she receives treatment. One morning, young Venezuelan Pedro was her room mate. The doctors did their usual rounds, enquiring after each patient. They started with Mara, asking her how she felt, what she was eating, wether she was exercizing, etc…Nothing unusual. Then they moved on to Pedro and asked him the same questions…Shouting: “PEDRO! HOW DO YOU FEEL? WHAT ARE YOU EATING?” And as she told the story I immediately burst out laughing. You see, just because Pedrito isn’t Italian, doesn’t mean he’s deaf…Yet these lovely Doctors fall into the most common of cultural traps: that by shouting in their language, one would immediately understand.
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