What Fills My Plate

The sun removes the mist, the Venetian fog is cleared and I can see clearly the hills just beyond our home.  The view seems more colorful today, but it is not due to the sun or the weather.  The reason can be found in my wallet, a pinkish piece of plastic that has  my name and personal information.  On the reverse side there is a statement that says this person has the right to drive in Italy for 5 years. While not as easy as an Indian dancing through hoops, I have squeezed through the testing hoops, and now a great weight has dropped from my shoulders.  I feel peace again.  Very important, that feeling of peace, when you are old. First Hoop With over 7,000 questions developed the computer randomly chose 40 for me to answer.   Allowed to miss 4 out of the 40, I failed by a question on one test and two questions on another.  I repaid the expensive fee and passed on the third try.  What did I learn?  These motor vehicle empl...

Open Spaces of Colorado Rockies In a few days I will be tested behind the wheel to complete my driving exam.  I will drive for at least 20 nervous minutes in the school car.  I have been informed that at any time the esaminatore (guy with clipboard) can stop the exam and I must exit the car ashamed to have failed the test.  Many do. The drive will be in the center of Padova, known for its busy one way streets,  lanes where cars are excluded open only to buses, or open only to residents of that area, multiple roundabouts, pedestrian walkways, and street lights that operate separate lanes only.  Because I am a right sided brained thinker and visually see all parts without much distinction (I know that is not a great description, but means my brain gets overloaded with lots of “stuff” in view), I have to really concentrate.  My driving instructor thinks I am very nervous, and he nailed that one on the head!  Also what makes me nervous is that I...

    ZZzzzzz!!       ZZZZZzzzzzz!   The buzzer at our gate announces that we either have a visitor or a package waiting.  We buzz the gate open and we hear approaching  footsteps.  An older gentleman looking a bit like an Italian version of Bernie Sanders approaches and discloses that he is a Medico Fiscale, otherwise known here as the Sick Leave Policeman.   My wife has had a week of bad migraines, she has been to the local hospital, seen by two doctors and one  neurologist and tomorrow she is scheduled for a MRI  to see if they can determine what is the problem.   The owner of the factory, where she works as the IT person,  has sent the sick leave police to check on her.  It is not enough for her boss to see the paperwork from the hospital and doctors.  It is not enough that her  doctor has written and submitted  the paperwork allowing her to take some sick leave.   ...

From the Staten Island Ferry Still recovering from jet lag. I am sitting here mulling over conversations we had with Americans during our two week trip to the states.   The questions discussed were enlightening. Several people mentioned to us that they know that most all Italians make their own wine, and for that reason don’t they drink a lot of wine? During my 7 years in Italy I have known only two people who make their own wine, and one of them owns a agritourismo.  Most people do not have the space in their home for winemaking, nor would be interested in trying.   2.  Isn’t it more crowded over there?    Evidently these persons have never been to New York, Los Angeles, or Chicago.     3.  What side of the road do you drive on?    This is a fair question from anyone who has never seen a movie involving Italy.  Probably they would also be dumbfounded by the question, what is the capital of E...