A story full of holes .....

Finally the torrential downpours we experienced a few weeks ago have left for other shores, although even now we are still getting the sudden unexpected deluge.  However these tend to be short and sharp rather than day-long concerted efforts at making our lives miserable.  As a result repair crews have attacked several of the local major roads with gusto.  Resurfacing has been carried out on the very worst and most lethal offenders, and although sometimes still a bumpy ride, driving is now nothing like as bad as it was a few weeks ago on the main roads at least.  However in the back streets it's a different story.  The crews seem to have been concentrating, quite rightly, on the main routes in and out of the city, which were truly dire and of course caused problems for far more people.  Meanwhile B roads and back streets appeared to have been forgotten, or so I thought.  

Road outside my house before repair

 Imagine my surprise then one morning early this week when stepping out onto the road outside our house I no longer found this, but this.

Road outside my house after repair

 This is what I call “teaspoon treatment”.  A spoonful of tarmac is dropped into a hole, smoothed over, and that’s it.  

Cutting edge technology is not required for this, and probably not much expense either.

Cutting edge technology is not required

Presumably this patching up of holes in the road is to prevent more claims from disgrntled drivers. Provided you call in the metropolitan police to witness it, damage done to tyres by badly damaged roads here can being charged back to the local authority.  I should imagine recently they’ve been inundated with claims, and so this is a stopgap solution to prevent more broken tyres.  At least I hope it’s a stopgap solution and not a permanent one! 

Here's another large crack repaired this week

Here’s another large crack “repaired” this week.  It’s been raining quite heavily here this weekend. 

Anyone want to lay bets on how long this will last?

  Anyone want to lay bets on how long the repair lasts?

Goodbye Bignè :(

Here is picture of the last two for this year.  Now with St. Joseph's Day over and done with (it was celebrated yesterday), there will be no more bignè until the end of January next year :( :( :(

  Just as well - I'm getting the size of a barge!!

Sigh .......

I give up!!!!!!!

The Scent of a Woman - Tanti Auguri!!!

International Women’s Day is held on March 8^th every year.  International it may be, but to be honest I’d never heard of it before arriving in Italy and spending my first March 8^th here.  I remember going to the little supermarket round the corner from where we lived in Rome (same place as I’d mistakenly asked for 50 rolls at Xmas), and being greeted enthusiastically by the cheerful shop manager.   He gabbled on merrily about something to do with women (I’d no idea what) and picked a little box off a pile beside him and pressed it into the palm of my hand. I thought at first he was trying to sell me something but he began curling my fingers round the box indicating it was for me to keep while nodding encouragingly. 

I noticed other women being given these boxes too, and as no one called the police as I left the shop, I assumed it was safe to take it back home. On opening it I found a small china blue and white duck.  Having no idea at all of the significance of the gift, I called Vito, who was equally surprised.  Not that I had received a gift, which according to Vito was totally in order.  It was the fact it was a blue and white duck that surprised him.  He told me Mimosa

 is what women are traditionally given, and they also wear a sprig on their lapel on that day.

It is also customary in Italy for women to go out together in the evening to celebrate their day.  Well I’d certainly be happy to receive Mimosa whenever anyone wanted to give me any, never mind on March 8th.  Mimosa has always been one of my favourite flowers, even when in the UK.

Every year I used to buy myself some in springtime even though the delicate flowers fell almost as soon as I got them home.  Not only that but the bunch, if you could call it that as it usually only consisted of three small twigs, cost an exorbitant amount of money too.  However the scent made it worth the extravagance as far as I was concerned.  I love the scent of Mimosa.  One major pleasant surprise on coming to Rome was the realization that Mimosa grew on huge trees of all shapes and sizes

Mimosa trees come in all shapes

and sizes

 that are covered in tiny canary yellow furry baubles grouped on proper branches, and not as I’d always believed on flimsy twigs.  Not only that the flowers last for the best part of a week or two before dropping to the ground.
There were plenty of the trees growing round about, and if you didn’t happen to have a tree growing anywhere near you from which you could cut some flowers, you didn’t need to take out a second mortgage to buy some.  I remember treating myself at a local flower stall for 20,000 lira (that’s around 10 Euro today) to huge bunches that filled my two biggest vases (which are by no means small), as well as a couple of buckets commandeered in for the same service.   The smell in the house for over a week was simply divine.  Just as bignè mark the first period after Christmas here for me, so too do the mimosa trees bursting into flower.   The strange thing about the mimosa is that during the rest of the year, the trees are so terribly nondescript.  Downright boring in their ordinariness, you never notice them until February when the flowers start to open on warm sunny days, and suddenly you find yourself needing sunglasses in some areas, so bright are the blooms.  Places are suddenly transformed,

Building sites are transformed

building sites unexpectedly start to smell like perfumeries and not oil depots, and places you’ve never noticed before suddenly become highlighted.    Hidden castles appear out of the blue, rising

Hidden castles suddenly emerge

out of 100-year sleeping forests, and forests some of them truly are.

Forests of mimosa

To feel the warm sun on your face and breathe in the wonderful fragrance wafting on the air, to see thousands of delicate downy,

Delicate downy flowers

fuzzy, sunny flowers in front of you is for me, one of life’s greatest pleasures.  So as a present for all the lovely women in my life, especially if they are not familiar with the magnificent Mimosa tree, as well as any other ladies who happen to be reading this, I thought I'd take some photos for you all for International Women's Day so you can enjoy it too. For each and every one of you who has spent time with me, taken time to smile at me, encourage me, laugh with me, commiserate with me, celebrate with me, dance on life’s huge dance floor with me, whether for seconds or over the course of years, and not least of all those who have loved me and still do, these pictures which I've taken over the past few weeks are to say thank you to all of you.  Here’s to you ladies, on our special day.

 May you enjoy mimosa in all its forms, floral or liquid  J and "tango on” J 

 “To us”, ladies!  Tanti Auguri!!!!!!!

It's that time of year again!

Once the fuss of Christmas is over and done with, every Friday in January finds me at the counter of our local bar demanding of the owner “are they in yet?”  He knows what I mean.   Every time Vito mentions he is going to the bar at the weekend, I ask him to ask the same thing and warn him not to dare return home without any if they are there.  Vito always laughs at me, and sometimes pretends he forgot or didn’t buy any just to tease.  What are “they”?  They are these, “Bignè di San Giuseppe” as they are known in Rome.

Are they in yet?

In other parts of Italy they are called differently.  These cakes are made in two ways.  They are either baked in the oven, or there is a much greasier, richer, fatter and in no-way-low-on-calories fried version, which of course make the latter without a doubt the tastier option!  Believe me, to die for, and in my humble opinion, worth dying for!  Traditionally made to celebrate the feast of St. Joseph (he of carpenter fame), which falls on March 19^th, these cakes are not made at any other time of the year.  Thankfully celebrations seem to start earlier each year and certainly local bars and patisseries begin to stock their bignè by the end of January.  Our local bar sells them at the weekends, and this is what keeps me going during the flat stint after Christmas until spring arrives.  They are our weekend treat. 

They are our weekend treat

The bar owner orders the cakes from a baker in Albano, which has a well-deserved reputation for his wares.  Some places serve them with fillings that are too dense, or too rich or sweet, or the cakes themselves too greasy or even too dry.  However to quote Goldilocks, these “are just right”, (and believe me I’ve tried plenty).  The fact they cannot be bought after the festival ends does a lot to assuage the guilt of overdoing the calories.  I mean you can’t get them after 19^th March, so might as well have one (or maybe two) now.  Can’t have them later can you?  Not as if you are eating them all year round is it? (In which case I’d probably be all round too). 

Can't have them all year round

Oh and one other use I found for them the other day apart from eating them which ended up with us laughing hysterically in the street outside the patisserie in Rome where we bought them while waiting for my dentist appointment.  Vito had been teasing me mercilessly while he happened to be eating a bignè.  I don’t know what made me do it, but my hand moved upwards.  Folks they also make wonderful custard pies!  Smash one in someone’s face and they find they are covered in thick yellow custard. 

They make wonderful custard pies too!!

 Vito will, I’m sure, back me up on this as he was the one who got covered (yessssssss!!!!!!!)  Except of course now he’s threatening revenge L 

It never rains but it pours

The car wheel hit a hole in the road one evening, and Vito, who was driving at the time, said the tyre “literally exploded”. 

The borrowed tyre

It transpired not only the tyre but also the wheel had been damaged beyond repair, so the tyre shop kindly lent us another while we waiting for the replacement to come in.  Two days later the same thing happened to the borrowed wheel, causing me to miss a lesson. What caused these tyres to explode?  Roads like this,

Roads like this

and holes like this. 

Holes like this

The entire area is a disgrace, and that was before the floods began on Friday L  Friday was an M.O.T. day for me.  You know the kind of thing, eye test in the morning, and dentist in the afternoon etc.  Vito took the day off to be my chauffeur (otherwise I’d still be circling Rome looking for a place to park), and warned me that our first port of call, was best described as “the back of beyond” in terms of distance to our place, and we’d have to leave really early.  So 7.30 Friday morning found us steering through driving rain, a solid grey mass of sky stationed menacingly above us.  The fields we passed had become reservoirs, and the roads were literally awash.  Vito, still fuming over the unexpected expense of a new wheel this week, had plenty to say about the roads. “Look, look, they how they made this road.  There’s no drainage, none! 

Water sloshing back and forth

Look, can you see how all the water goes to the centre barrier and not to the outside and off the road?  How can they build a road like that, where the water flows back to the central barrier and not to the outside edge of the road?”  He was right too; water sloshed back and forth across what was left of the tarmac with nowhere to escape.  At one point the heavy traffic drew to a stop and Vito looking ahead, noticed a vast lorry driving in the opposite direction in the lane by the central barrier. “Wait for this” he warned.  I looked up.  The lorry was hurtling down the road, spewing up water from its heavy tyres as it went.  There was a wall of water higher even than the lorry itself, working its way along the barrier a bit like a Mexican wave.  As the lorry thundered by, the car got hit with an avalanche of water, slamming onto our car and making me giggle with almost childish delight.  Don’t think I’d have found it so funny if I’d been outside the safety of the car though.  Then on reaching an area near Spinacetto, Vito took a detour from the blocked main route (he knows Rome like the back of his hand and we dip and dive all over the place, but rarely sit in traffic jams) and I suddenly heard him yell, “Look!!!”  I followed his pointing finger to our right. 

A waterfall

Literally a waterfall cascaded down the bank on the side of the road and then over it.  And yes, we did have to drive though it. 

We drove through it

 It took us nearly two hours to reach our destination. That appointment duly dealt with, and with a good few hours before the next, we made our way firstly to Marconi to pop into a shop there.  By this time the streets were heavily under water.  The cars were parked in the middle of the road as getting out at the kerbside required wearing flippers and a wet suit. 

Needed flippers at the kerbside

As we picked our way through the water to try and find some dry patches Vito was muttering, “welcome to the Lake District, more like Cumbria every minute”.  Then we moved on to Via Ostiense stopping at one of our favourite Chinese restaurants for lunch.  Usually this place, situated across the road from the university is packed at lunchtime, but the torrential rain had obviously put people off that day.  This meant we could actually get a table by the outside wall that looks over the Tevere (or river Tiber to us).  Looking out I couldn’t believe how high the river was, trees were literally up to their necks (?) in water,

Trees up to their "necks"

and a steady stream of flotsam and jetsam flowed down the centre of the fast moving, filthy river. 

Flotsam and jetsam

Under the window of the restaurant was a pile of debris,

Debris under the restaurant window

 which our waiter assured us, hadn’t been there a couple of hours before.   We even saw, what the waiter reckoned was a motorbike being swept down towards the sea.  Later in the afternoon, having visited the dentist we began what almost felt like a swim home.  On reaching Tor De Cenci we found the water had now risen really high in the road, and easily reached the doors of the car as we ploughed through. 

Water almost up to the car doors

 We were glad to finally get home to the warm and dry.   Since then the media has been full of tales and pictures of the far worse damage than mine show done by the water to the roads everywhere, and as a consequence also to a lot of cars.  I wish everyone reading this safe driving J