Fear Not Poste Italiane

Prior to moving to Arenzano, Trofie Wife was warned repeatedly about the unreliability of the Italian postal service. With this advice at hand, I expected little in the way of mail pouring in or out and expected that whatever was delivered to me—if it arrived at all—would be chewed up/pilfered through, and anything that I sent to the States would actually end up in Nova Scotia. Thus imagine the pleasant surprise when mail started arriving seemingly rapidly and word came back that what I had placed in the little red boxes had turned up across the Atlantic, in the right Zip code! Perhaps our good fortune is due to our positioning in Northern, and not Southern, Italy, where things are still a bit rough around the edges and not as interconnected with other Northern European commercial centers. Whatever the reason, I will happily accept it!

This week has been an especially good one for mail, with care packages of magazines (thanks, Mom!) and Lactaid (thanks, Keith and Amy!) finding their way to our box. An added bonus was that the Lactaid package was actually delivered via Poste Italiane courier, so Trofie Wife finally figured out what the downstairs buzzer sounded like and discovered how to let in guests!

The most recent get was especially exciting, not only for what arrived, but in that it allowed Trofie Wife’s determination to triumph over Martello’s cynicism. Prior to leaving, Trofie Wife created a lengthy agenda of necessary address and billing changes. As high a priority as ensuring that her final Brooklyn bills would be paid and banking and credit card statements redirected, was making sure that her New York magazines would continue to arrive. Yes, Trofie Wife realizes that presently she does not live in New York. But how can you expect me to keep up the RobynZagat if I don’t get all the information regarding restaurant openings? The good folks in charge of delivery told me that I would be able to have it forwarded to our new home at no additional cost for the lifetime of this subscription (basically, our entire time in Italy). Martello was certain that either a fee would show up and/or the magazines never would. I trusted that the people who so deliciously comment on the goings on in my favorite city would be certain to keep me in the loop. Low and behold, on my way out of the apartment this morning, a glossy plastic package beckoned from our box. What was it? The November 17 issue of New York magazine! (Yes, they might be a little far behind, but they’re still arriving!) My mother just sent me November 3, and I’m almost certain that November 10 ended up in Brooklyn and will somehow make its way to New Jersey and eventually Italy. (Note: midway through writing this post the November 24 issue arrived. Two in one week! Oh happy day!) Martello is not happy with this turn of events, as he believes New York magazine and the NYC-centric view of the world it proffers belongs somewhere in between the 3^rd and 6^th rings of the Inferno. He, of course, neglects to remember that many a fun birthday dinner or weekend outing sprang forth from those pages…

Speaking of Martello, I’m sure that readers are thrilled that he finally provided his promised disquisition on Venice. However, he has sadly determined that it will likely not be possible for him to be a regular correspondent due to his super-long work days. He will thus make guest appearances as opposed to being a regular player. Either way, stay tuned.

Baci e gelato,

Martello e Trofie Wife