Italians

Disclaimer: the following post is in no way intended to cause offense or suggest any kind of prejudice on my part.

Chris and I recently returned from our summer holiday in Sorrento, Italy. We had a fantastic time: the sun shone; we ate good food and drank nice wine; we saw lots of interesting things; we found the locals to be friendly and welcoming. However, the overwhelming impression that I have come home with concerning the people of Sorrento is this: they are slow.

When I say 'slow', I am not suggesting that they are mentally slow or backward: rather, they are physically slow. Italians seem quite happy to dawdle along the narrow streets: they appear to be in no hurry at all or have no particular destination in mind. Additionally, they do not consider the people behind or around them: of course, fellow Italians would feel the same way: that there is no rush.

Chris and I are both fast walkers: when we have a place to get to, we see no reason to waste time by getting there at a leisurely pace. We walk with purpose. Thus, we became rather irritated by the slow-walking Italians who, consequently, forced us to constantly slow down as well.

There are reasons behind this more relaxed, slower pace, I think.

Firstly, the weather in Italy is hot: the average daytime temperature was about 30 degrees Celsius the week we were there. We often found ourselves caked in sweat; perhaps this was due to our brisker, more energetic pace. The Italians obviously cope with the heat much better: walking slower does not cause unnecessary perspiration.

Secondly, the pace at which the Italians walk appears to reflect their lifestyle and culture: everything is a little more laid back than it is here. I found there to be absolutely no sense of urgency at all. The shops are open for longer hours and later in the evening, so there is no rush to buy what you need straight after work or only on a weekend, as we would have to here. It seems to me that the British generally lead more hectic lives, as well as capitalise on more condensed opening hours: if people have limited time in which to shop, then they are more likely to take advantage of that limited time spend their money. This also rings true when it comes to dining out: I found Italian service to be somewhat slow, but this is because they take time to enjoy their dinner (and many courses of it). In Britain, service is rushed as restaurants seek to get as many people through their doors as possible before clearing them out for the next lot.

In a way, it was quite nice to slow down for a week. Chris and I both have busy, stressful jobs, and our lives outside of work are fairly full as well. However, I think it would drive me nuts to live in Italy: I like my busy, British life too much.

The Dyson

Chris and I realised that the end of term is approaching when we noticed that the standard of cleanliness/tidiness of the flat was slipping: something that generally happens when we are very tired and ready for a holiday. Rather than skirt around the clutter until the start of the holidays, we embarked upon a thorough clean up operation last night. Thus, Saturday will arrive, and we can gently ease ourselves into the holiday as opposed to wake up to a list of jobs to do.

Our vacuum cleaner had been getting progressively worse over the past few months. It had always been reluctant to clean the carpet due to its very weak suction. However, when vacuuming the carpet suddenly became a 20 minute job resulting in Chris panting and dripping with sweat, we knew it had had its day.

My mother recently bought a Henry, which meant that her Dyson was going spare. I knew that Mum had not had a lot of luck with the Dyson, but it surely had to be better than the vacuum cleaner we did have; it later transpired that Mum had always had the filter in upside down, so no wonder it didn't work so well.

So, I picked the Dyson up from Tobie's who had been using it to vacuum his loft. I was presented with something that was so thoroughly dirty itself that there was no way we could use it to clean other things; turns out--up until Tobie borrowed it--the Dyson had been sitting in my dad's garage, slowly accumulating a coating of dust and motor oil. However, we gave it a good scrub down before testing it out. Unfortunately, we learnt the hard way that vacuuming a cream rug with a Dyson that had been kept in a dirty garage for months on end and was still damp from being wiped down was not the best idea; the rug was instantly splattered with dark spots of who knows what.

Still, we did not become disheartened. After another little clean and letting it dry out, we tried again: it works a treat. 'Operation: Clean The Flat' was carried out with success before the start of the holidays. Our carpet has not looked this good for a long time, and whipping the vacuum cleaner round the flat is no longer a physical workout; I suppose that means we shall have to start exercising more frequently again, then.