Current (Ok, Actually Belated) Events

(Note: Trofie Wife is about three weeks behind in blogging due to an increased work load. Ironically, lots of things worth sharing have also occurred during this period. I’m trying my best to get it all up here and up to date this week; apologies for what I fear will be information overload (a state Martello claims I am not familiar with as a “collector of information.”)

First off, we thank all of those who forwarded on the New York Times article on vending machine pizza (http://www.nytimes.com/2009/03/14/business/worldbusiness/14vend.html?pagewanted=1&hp, for those of you who haven’t seen it). We have not yet seen or even heard about these particular machines here, but I have already vouched for, on this blog, the wonders of the Italian coffee/hot drink vending machines. We’ll be sure to report back should we happen to run into one of these artificially intelligent pizza makers.

In other belated news, some of you may have heard sad reports about the roving attack dogs in Sicily (see http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/europe/7949181.stm). Trofie Wife never quite connected with the people who run the canile in Arenzano, but some of the points elucidated in this article help to reinforce why they might not have been so bullish about me serving as a volunteer without ever having owned a dog. Apparently, Italian dog kennels are drastically underfunded but sorely needed. A good portion of the animals aren’t socialized, but whereas in the States, euthanasia is carried out on dogs that just don’t seem like they’ll ever make the adopability cut, mercy killing is verboten here (and opportunities for rehabilitation rare). That makes for a bad combination—and a good reason why the dog kennel people, even in quaint Arenzano, want to know that you know your canine stuff. Alas, Trofie Wife’s search for consistent canine affection remains unrequited….(sigh).

Baci e gelato,

Martello e Trofie Wife

Stop Light (or Lack Thereof) Ruminations

Trofie Wife admits that she was still dozing at 9:35 a.m. when she received a much-awaited call from the canile (dog kennel!) organizer, who said that she will hopefully be able to arrange for me to visit the kennel (and hopefully begin volunteering) by the end of the month. Trofie Wife is a bit concerned about her credentials vis-à-vis this post, since the caller asked a few times as to whether or not I had ever owned a dog, perhaps a requirement for working with the pooches (if this doesn’t work out, it’s just one more dog (or lack thereof) -related life trauma that can be attributed to my mother…). 

Much like back home, the Christmas season is upon us, except in Italy there is no Thanksgiving to stem the Ho! Ho! holiday tides for a few weeks (and I doubt this Friday will be Black, though I doubt Black Friday in the US will look like much this year…). Decorations have begun to sprout up around Arenzano, and the supermarket’s exciting Christmas coupons have made their premiere! (I used to excitedly clip coupons in my first Brooklyn apartment until the Steve’s C-Town circulars mysteriously stopped appearing on our stoop, so it was quite a joy to pour through the discounts yet again!)

On my way to the grocery store, I came across the sad event of a funeral at the (non-pilgrim attracting) church. Incidentally, I noticed that on the telephone booth adjacent to the church, there is an ad for the town’s major funeral home. Now this phone booth just happens to be located not only near the church, but across the street from what I believe to be the most dangerous intersection in town (and if there’s a worse one, I don’t want to find it) — it’s blind in both directions (due to a hill on one side and a curve on the other) and there is no light or stop sign (actually, I don’t think “Stop” signs exist in Italy—just lights on major boulevards). A curious discovery, this sign. Since I can’t understand the Italian, the copy might very well read: “Hit an unlucky pedestrian? We do pick-ups! Just, please, no calls between 12:30 and 3:30 p.m.” (Apologies if the lunch jokes are getting old, but as a dedicated eat-at-my-desker, I just can’t get over this way of life!)

Baci e gelato,

Martello e Trofie Wife