Keep on Truckin'! Your Daily Updates Here

See Apocalypse Now blog below:

The Final Count as reported in City daily paper:
Well, they're saying that we Italians will be spending about 20 euro more for things due to the transport strike, above and beyond all the other holiday price increases. And don't expect to wait for those after-holiday sales, either! They don't have them here.

It looks like, while the transporters were striking, and the global warming people were meeting in Bali, well, this strike actually did its bit for global warming: during the few days of the strike, small-particle dust and other bits and things went wayyyy down! Just to prove that old Italian saying, "not all illnesses cause disease".

But, here's a brief rundown city by city of some of the problems caused by the transport strike. We'll go from South to North.
BARI-hospitals can't change the linens, planes without gas That's funny, when my aunt was in the hospital, I had to change the linens anyway!

NAPOLI-Hospitals without oxygen (both literally & figuratively speaking), Garbage Trucks without gas, Traffic piled up. Garbage in the streets & traffic? They call this news?

ROMA-Police escorts for gas shipments to a select few people, I'm sure. Privilege prevails.

BOLOGNA-Gas alla go-go at the Motorshow. Now how'd that happen?

GENOVA-Exodus over to France to purchase gas. Now, when their truckers strike, there'd be no way you'd be crossing that border!


MILANO-Taxis get informed as to where to find the gas, Ambulances secured with gas. Two hours to fill up. Efficient as usual.

TORINO-It's here where the real action is. Supposedly the agricultural industry lost 10 million euro per day. Fiat had 17,000 people stay home throughout.

DAY 5: Things like they're back to normal, with only a slightly hire-than-average number of cars crowding into the gas stations. So, now what?

DAY 4: Okay. The papers have all announced that the strike is off...so, why are the gas stations still closed for business? Two theories: 1) They already ran out due to the run on gas from pent-up demand, or 2) They all decided to take this opportunity to get some Christmas shopping done.
In all this confusion, I just wonder if we won't see a little blip in birthrates come next September.
In the very least, we will notice higher rates of spending this holiday season on the part of all those (now fairly wealthy) whores who work the country's highways! Talk about pent-up demand...

DAY 3: Strike has been halted for talks, but now all the cars "lining up" are blocking all traffic, since the pumps went ON, and so the end effect is about the same.

DAY 2: Cars lining up to get their gas before it's out. No fruits & veggies at the supermarkets, much to the satisfaction of the myriad farmer's markets around town. Streets appear a bit quieter.

DAY 1: of SCIOPERO: People taken by surprise, highways start to be blocked.

Apocalypse Now

Yesterday, I walked out my front door and thought the apocalypse was upon us. Kilometer-long (and wide, after all, we’re in Italy) lines were forming in front of all the gas stations, even the one that sees only four cars in a week. Not having yet read the paper, I debated rushing to the grocery store to stock up on cans of pork&beans, but quickly changed my mind when I realized they don’t sell them here, and I’d probably end up with the Italian version of Spam instead.

So this 1970s end-day scenario was not due to OPEC suddenly turning off the spouts, nor was it that China decided to stock up on reserves ultimately garnering all the oil left on the entire planet. No, this was about a strike – but not of the gas station attendants. As they posted up their signs saying. “Tutto Esaurito”, they seemed to be still on duty. The truckers were on strike, alá francais, but here in the Peninsula, a strike of this caliber can cripple the country literally overnight. [After all, peninsula in Italian is penisola, isola or island providing the most accurate depiction].

But, playing out like a scene from The Sopranos, this strike took a strange twist not even screenwriters (when they’re not on strike) could think up: turns out the truckers were protesting to have more State controls, better safety requirements, and, even places to pull over for a quick pee, (although I doubt the latter is indicated precisely that way on their list of demands). Could this truly be the case? My Italian genes kicking in again, I knew there had to be something more to this—but what?

It would appear that what’s going on here is nothing more than an entirely modern update of an age-old tale, first brought to light by wise Old Aesop himself. It’s a case of sour grapes. The 40% of legitimate truckers are angry that the other 60% are getting away with illegal shipping, no scheduled stops, weigh-ins, and other petty inconveniences and making a few more bucks in undeclared pocket cash to boot.

So, since they can’t beat ‘em, they’re going to try and get the illegal shippers to join ‘em.

It’s true, you can drive from Trieste to Trapani and not come across a single police car. And, I’d be one driver who’d be quite pleased if they’d institute breath tests from the quantities of alcohol consumed along Italian roads, all before 7am…

Now, it remains to be seen if they bring in the Financial Police in droves and the problem gets resolved, or, if those same defenders of the law don’t simply increase their own pocket cash by turning a blind eye along the way.

Driving in Italy: Your Midnight Run

The one great thing about staying in the city thru August is the lack of traffic. What usually takes 45 mins on a good day (plus another 20 to find parking), becomes a swift 15 mins in the summer. But, while one might think that with fewer cars, driving is actually in some way better or safer, think again. Because it’s during the lonely month of summer, when everyone starts running the red lights, pulling U-turns when you least expect it, and driving at top speeds that, even if they managed to see you in their path, they wouldn’t be able to stop their vehicle in time to miss you.

So, actually, while with the heavy traffic you can be sure that people are sort of lulled into obeying the traffic rules, in August, anything goes. I make it a point (in August) of never ever running a yellow as it’s about to change -- because I know there is an entire fleet of motor scooters and cars already jumping the green on the other side.

And if that’s not enough, in an attempt to make everyone cautious, at midnight (year round), all the lights start flashing yellow. This is actually an excellent idea. Somewhere down the line, someone clued into the idea that at night, with very little traffic, people were running the reds and making the guys who innocently sped through the greens a statistic.

But, the idea would be a bit better if they were yellow on one side and perhaps flashing red on the other side. So, one knew or, in the very least, believed, that the other guy has to stop before throwing his 2000lb vehicle into oncoming traffic. And if they ran the red, at least it’d be a lot clearer to the police who was at fault for not stopping.

So, basically with both sides flashing yellow, instead of making everyone cautious, the effect turns out to be the exact opposite. No macho guy (or gal) worth his salt is going to look like the jerk who actually slowed down, of all things. Intersections turn into a free for all game of cat and mouse, except it looks a bit more like Tom&Jerry [actually, I think it’s a bit more like Wyle E. Coyote and the roadrunner—but without the Acme instant spring kit on the wheels of your car].

In short, while racing through the streets of Rome is wonderful during the day, at midnight it’s not the Werewolves you need to fear, it’s the Formula 1 Wannabees.

Baby on Board

As the Italians pile into their cars to head home from their month of repose, they all follow the same tradition: pile the luggage in the trunk, the mother-in-law in the back, and the baby, right up front in mamma’s arms. If they’re little enough, and papà's bored enough on the long drive, sometimes, as a car passes at 90mph, I look over to see baby actually standing on papà's lap, hands held firm on the steering wheel, everyone all a-smiles.

Obviously, the Italians feel (despite the statistics to the contrary) that their children are immune to decapitation-by-airbag or other atrocities that could occur in case of the most minor fender bender; in a country in which fender benders are often fatal. For them, this simply does not pose a life-threatening situation (unlike those of air currents, wet hair and bare feet in the house). Well, I’ve sort of made this my personal crusade. As mothers strap their kids in the front seats, I generally poke my head in the window (I confess: I am a ficanaso - an unrepentant busybody) and remind them of their folly.

The reactions I receive run the gamut of MYOB from a modest, ‘bug off’ to today’s insult, “may you and your dog be decapitated first.” I wanted to remind the mother that I was not the one with my head posed directly in front of a missile that will fire at 280 km/hour…but, she sped off before I could tell her as much.
Instead of seeing that they are literally playing Russian roulette with a loaded air bag, even friends who go to great lengths to put their kids in harm’s way whilst at the wheel -- while taking all kinds of precautions whilst indoors-- will inform you that you are simply being an over-protective American… This, from a society that fears a bogeyman will take their children’s lives should they even pass by an open window on a hot summer’s day.

I have finally, however, figured out the illogic (of their reaction to me, not of their action in the first place--that will forever remain a mystery): Italy, although a “Catholic” country (quotes intentional), has a populace whose beliefs sway from the superstitious to the absolute surreal. So, when someone says, “Watch Out! You may get killed or, hurt, or worse,” well, they view it as if you have just put a curse on them. Of course, rather than take the precautions to ward off precisely that threat, they just touch their balls (if they have them…the Italian version of ‘knock on wood’) and carry on. Thus the reaction of the drivers in question.

The encounters usually end with me looking at the car as it runs off, ATTENZIONE: Bebe A Bordo signs posted carefully in back – a 21st century talisman -- warning other drivers they better be careful because they have a baby in the front seat, no seatbelt. I dream of the ad campaign in which those test dummies fly around a car at top speed, and the fact that the Italians wouldn’t even have to invent the ad; they’re so good at dubbing, they could just copy it…
And the mothers with their little bundles of joy? They speed off, babies secure in their laps, but, even if the car has no A/C, windows closed tight to ward off certain death from the air currents.

Highway Robbery

Last week, they arrested a group of people who they had been tracking for the longest time: their crime? Ingeniously, they took photos of speeding cars on the highway, issued very realistic if not identical speeding tickets, and waited for the money to roll in.
Now, if people actually went ahead and paid the tickets, our criminals really would have been rolling in the dough. But instead, although their takings were fairly limited, money was still coming into their coffers.
The Italians are nothing if not ingenious and enterprising. With all the rules and regulations that abound here, well, getting around them simply takes sheer wit. And, if you ask me, there should be some sort of clemency program whereby, the more ingenious the crime, the lesser the punishment. Sort of like hackers who go in, cause trillions in damages, and end up with a fabulous new job at a major multinational corporation.
One crime demonstrated such genius, I was seriously disappointed I hadn’t thought of it myself. One night in Naples, thieves actually built an exact replica of an ATM Cash machine, signs and all. People stepped up, inserted their codes, and the card was eaten due to ‘technical difficulties’. Not an unlikely occurrence, they simply stepped away.
Later that day, the thieves would take all the cards with all the codes to a real cash machine and withdraw as much as they could. At 250 euro max withdrawal, they couldn’t take out oodles of money, but hey, I think they get an ‘A’ for effort. Absolute brilliance.
They have other more ingenious crimes which rake in much more, usually at the expense of the elderly and infirm. And for these crimes, I would never take exception: people who dress up as police or utilities people, get into the house, spray the unsuspecting victim with chloroform and take everything they have. The practice is so prevalent, they could start their own worker’s union. Or, even people who befriend the slightly dotty Signora, and then make off with her life’s savings. No, for these crimes I would throw the book at ‘em.
I myself once fell for the new rule passed one year that forced us all to install smoke detectors. Not thinking like an Italian, I decided: well, sure…I better get one – it’s the law. So, when the two guys showed up with an official document, the unit in question and asked to install it for a mere $200, hey, I was all set. Until this summer, when my sister showed up with two battery-operated units straight from the dollar store to install in her vacation home.
But, as for the rest, we oftentimes have a good laugh over the sheer chutzpah – until, of course, we fall victim ourselves.

Driver's Ed

I admit it: I've been living in Italy for over 20 years, and, although I drive like a Formula1 expert, I don't have an Italian driver's license. This is not to thumb my nose at the system, the problem actually rests with the U.S.A. They don't accept Italians' licenses in America, so, the Italians don't accept ours. Both countries, however, don't have a problem allowing drivers from countries to tear up the roadways, coming from places where they don't even have cars on their roads; so go figure. But, really, I cannot see the logic. Italians make excellent drivers. In order to race all the others like a bat outta hell just to make the red light, through roundabouts and merges, and create four lanes where there is only one, all the while talking on the cell phone and dodging dozens of motor scooters, well, in my opinion takes excellent acumen and finesse. So, it's simply not true they "drive crazy". They combine skills, speed and defensive driving all in one and we should have more drivers in America like the Italians.  As a side bonus, they also don't usually practice the American phenomenon of Road Rage (although the Pope came out on this recently - see article under 'notizie' in side bar).


So, why don't I have a license? Whereas an Italian who goes to get a license in America spends all of about 2.5 hours in which they: stand in line, take the 15 question multiple-choice test, and go for a quick drive around the block, well, in Italy it's totally another matter: Read this entry from a friend who naively or bravely embarked on the road to driving legally in Italy:

So, you think buying a house in Italy is difficult? Try getting an Italian drivers license. There are two ways of going about this: legally or illegally. Illegally is a no-brainer. Simply pay 800 euros or more to the right person and get your license (maybe). It turns out there are many con artists, so this is a risky proposition to undertake.
Legally, is the great adventure of all adventures. You can: (1) do it on your own (not recommended) or (2) take a class.


Doing it on your own requires a Sherlock Holmes type personality. Lacking this trait, I elected to enroll in a class. Along with three other expats, we hired an Italian driving instructor to give us a class on the rules and regulations for obtaining a driver's license. The cost was 350 euros each. We met twice per week, two hours per session for almost four months.


During this time, our instructor discussed many things, most of which put me to sleep. I discovered that the Italian love of expressing oneself extends to their road signs, of which there are approximately 200. There are signs underneath signs, combinations of signs, and signs that tell you to ignore the other signs.


There are also human signs, called policemen. If the policeman is higher than the road sign, his directions take precedence. However, if he is of short stature, without a box to stand on, you may ignore him with impunity (referred to as the 'height makes might' standard). If you think the above is complicated, try to understand the 'right of way rule' -- without a Phd in mathematics.


This rule states, that at a junction without a stop or yield sign, the person on your right has the right of way. Sounds simple enough. However, what happens if you enter a junction with seven roads all merging together? (In Italy, these really do exist). Option one, you get out of your car, make a diagram, and have a group discussion on who has the right of way. Option two, he who has the fastest machine goes first, e.g., 'the tortoise and the hare rule'.


After 4 months of class, we were still unprepared to take the test. What we should have studied was the Test Question Manual, consisting of 3000 questions. Unfortunately, this manual, finally in English, was only in production for two weeks.
The written exam is taken at the Office of Motorizazzione in Rome. The first time I went, the computers broke down. The second time, I forgot my identification and was sent home. The third time, after waiting four hours, I was led into a small room with 20 other hopefuls. There were two proctors making sure answers were not being read off our shirt sleeves. We had 30 minutes to answer 30 questions. Sound straight forward? Nope.
In order to pass, you must think like an Italian. Major tip: opt out of the written exam and request the oral exam, available to all expatriates. Once you pass the exam, (you have three chances), you then register for the driving test (cost 94 euros). You take the test. You pass!!! Do you receive your drivers license? No. It must be printed. When? That's still a mystery. But you are now legal.
Congratulations!
Paperwork Required: (1) Passport (2) Permesso di Soggiorno (Resident's Permit) (3) Carta d'Identità (I.D. card) (4) Driving School form (5) Eye exam (6) Bollo (or tax stamp available at some Tabacco shops) for taking test 7) 3 passport size photos


My copy of the English manual is available to the highest bidder.


Submitted by Linda Penzabene and Brian Rothbart, Albano Italy

Zebra Stripes

From where I sit, here in Bella Roma, we are undecidedly into an unprecedented phase of global warming, but, I’m not complaining. It hasn’t rained in months. Each day, you wake up to another beautiful blue sky. It’s simply gorgeous. But, I remember a few year’s back, when the mercury hit well over 100 degrees for weeks. That was the infamous summer when the French declared that 8000 people had perished prematurely due to the heat. And where, we all believed the figure to be much higher here in Italy, but nobody ever coughed up the statistic.
It was that summer, though, where an innocuous law was passed, that came in like an Arctic Breeze.
It was the law, in an attempt to protect much, if not all, of its citizenry, which dictated that cars would have to stop when pedestrians entered the crosswalk. And, as a dog-walker, well, you can imagine my elation. Visions of Swiss villages danced in my head. New worlds, new civilizations – a chance to go where no man had gone before. And, I tested it out to the max. In Milan, where pretty much drivers regard anything in motion (including other cars and even large long metal trams) as something not unsimilar to ducks in a shooting gallery, well, I would step off the curb, and cars would come screeching to a halt.
It was wonderful. Sublime. The power back to the people. After all, who came first, man or machine?
It was also far too good to be true. Like a mirage in the desert, before even the heat lifted, and as you focused your eyes, drivers realized that no one was really looking (except those lame two-legged pedestrians). And, with no cops to enforce it, well, it wasn’t long before Filipinos pushing wheelchairs, and mammas with strollers, were back at it – playing a life & death version of dodge’em cars.

Here in Rome, it’s gotten to the point where cars, in order to make their illegal left turns, actually take to driving DOWN the white lines as if they, too, were pedestrians; shaking their fists all the while at any of us who deign to challenge the maneuver. I’ve pulled my little dog out of harm’s way on countless occasions; only to look up to find insults being hurled at me from the front window.
I find it slightly amusing, and actually quite intelligent, that the crosswalk signals flash green for ‘go’, but, almost a split-second later, start flashing yellow. Basically, they’re the Italian version of the Brits' charming 'Look Left' painted on every curbside. Except here, we're being warned: cross at your own risk.

Today they repainted the crosswalks. That’s after conducting a study that found that drivers didn’t respect the crosswalks because basically, they couldn’t actually see them.
But on my busy corner, where, the newly installed cameras must have shown the atrocities being committed at every single light change, well, they determined it was better to just ‘not go there’ and repainted the crosswalk simply black.

All roads lead to...

Last week, I went to the Joe Cocker concert at Rome’s fairly new Auditorium. It was fantastic, but, more than that, it was held in what amounts to the most exceptional place in all of Rome, if not all of Italy. Rome’s Auditorium, designed by Renzo Piano, is absolutely stunning, even though we don’t get to see the moon pass by through the performance like the Ancient Romans once did from their seats in the Amphitheatre.
Their concert and activity offering is nothing short of spectacular: ice skating in their Winter Garden, Gospel, world music, symphonies, jazz, and much more. It is the solitary diamond, the crown jewel, in Italy’s infinite cultural offerings. And, people have noticed: it attracts more visitors than any other Auditorium on earth (including Sydney & the Met).

Unfortunately, you simply can’t get there.
To the untrained eye, it would seem just the opposite were true: there isn’t a corner of Rome that doesn’t have a sign (replete with an arrow, no less) beckoning, no pleading with you, that the Auditorium is just around the corner. From the very center, to miles outside the beltway. There are so many, that at first, I was convinced that Renzo Piano had converted the Colosseum into a fabulous new Auditorium, with a roof, as in days of yore…
But, that was simply wishful thinking. The Auditorium is nowhere near the centre of Rome, and pretty much, nowhere near the 10,863 (my est.) signs which inform you that the Ancients got it all wrong, in fact: all roads lead to the Auditorium.
Dave Barry once wrote a column about driving in Italy: he surmised that the locals just changed those arrows around time and again, as you circle and circle around looking for your hotel.
I believe, instead, that the workers, once they reached about a 1/2 mile radius of the place, just said (as they approached the roundabout with 7 exits, or the highway turnoff)…”Ora Basta! Oh, what the heck, they made it this far, they’re bound to know where to turn off!”. Ditched their last 58 signs in the garbage bin and went home for a siesta.
After having missed the beginning of many a concert, I discovered they now have a shuttle bus for all us poor souls, which leaves right from the center of Rome. Now if they only had a sign for the Bus Stop…