Until I visited the island of Burano I had never felt like a tourist in Venice. In Venice itself I have always managed to feel apart from the hordes of tourists that infest the narrow city streets. I never take any photos, I do my best not to gawk, and I am privy to some of the best culinary secrets on offer. These locations are not known to tourists. When I enter with the good wife we immediately act to put the locals at ease that we are not about to begin asking them to pose for pictures. The best way to manage this is to order some wine and perhaps a few tidbits to eat, and then seat yourself in a corner and shut the fuck up. That I am able to do this in fluent Italian is also somewhat of a help. But still; Italians come to Venice as tourists as well. You see them wandering around the streets in large family groups, complaining that the food is not the same as it is back in Calabria or wherever the hell they’re from. So just speaking Italian isn’t going to do much for you if you can’t blend in.
Month: January 2017 Page 2 of 3
I’m in Holland. It’s very cold and I’m staying with the in-laws. Worse than that I have no purpose. In Italy we were on holiday. Here we are “catching up” with family. There is only so much catching up that I can do. At a certain point I am all caught out. Unfortunately that point tends to arrive more quickly than I originally gave credit for when I booked my return flight back home. So we are keeping ourselves as busy as possible while drinking lots of tea, eating lots of bread, and having lots of discussions.
One thing I like about the Dutch is that they say it like it is. Or rather, they say it as they see it. I’ve had some good discussions in the last few days and I’ve been surprised at the openness with which my ideas and thoughts on current topics have been accepted. Yes, my resolution not to talk about politics is out the window, but that was only ever for the Italians who need to live in a world of semi-fantasy in order to survive. The Dutch are different.
Now that the good wife and I are safely away I can reveal that our winter skiing interlude was spent at the lovely Italian resort town of Madonna di Campiglio. With some of the best skiing in Italy, it is located just over the hill from the valley where we used to live. The town is very chic and an evening walk around the center in one’s best clothes is de rigueur for any serious skiing acolyte. Although the snow has been scarce this year, the slopes were excellently groomed, although there was one day where the two of us negotiated just two slopes and then gave it up as being far too icy and terrifying.
It snowed in Venice the day before we arrived by train. The same snow that I enjoyed on my snowboard high up in the mountains. It was great boarding but if I could have chosen I would have taken snow falling in Venice in January. After checking out of our mountain hotel we caught the train down through the Adige valley and out onto the Veneto plain. We passed through Verona and Padova before finally arriving in my favorite town in the world.
I have had several acquaintances complain to me about Venice in the past. Specifically they complained about the food. To me on the one hand this is perfectly understandable, while on the other it is simply astonishing. For if I think back to all the great dining experiences of my life, the best of all have one thing in common:
They were all in Venice.
Another day on the Italian slopes. There isn’t any snow but the artificial snow makers have been pumping it out faster than that Italian chick who’s decided to give blow jobs to something like a dozen Italian cities. Actually she’ll be in Verona when we’re passing through. Just saying …
Anyhoo, the snow quality is surprisingly good. We’ve been having a fine time between bouts of malingering in the hotel spa and stuffing our faces with glorious Italian haute cusine and all of it washed down with simply gallons of Italian red wine. No silly ‘no alcohol January’ crap for us. What moron thought up that piece of brilliance anyway? There’s nothing more depressing than another January; another reminder that another year has whizzed by and pretty soon people will be calling me sir and standing up to give me their seat on the train. That’s what alcohol is for, people. Dulling and washing away the pain and agony of our miserable and futile existence on this wretched planet.
Dalrock has an excellent post about the so-called scarcity of marriageable men that does not align with women’s behavior. To put it simply, women behave as if there is an abundance of marriageable men while complaining that there are no good guys out there. Which is true?
I am of the opinion that there are many more men who are quietly getting on with earning their daily bread and going about their business in a dutiful way than is recognized. Of course, this attempted shaming tactic by women for men to “man up” by getting married is ridiculous. You don’t “man up” by doing what a woman wants you to do. Making a woman the center of your existence is a recipe for disaster.
I find that people’s new year resolutions usually are a good indication of where their lives are going to spiral into disaster and decay. If someone says that they intend to lose weight as their resolution then it’s a sure bet that they’re going to turn into a gigantic fatty that inspires literal terror as they shuffle sideways down a narrow aircraft aisle. Or perhaps a girl informs you that her resolution is to find a good man and get married. Place a few dollars on her being a single mother by the end of the year and living in abject poverty while she contemplates whether or not to become a heroin addict.
Usually I am a sucker for the internet. My routine consists of getting a coffee first thing in the morning and then plonking myself in front of the computer for an hour of perusings across a multitude of blogs, sites, podcasts, and cat youtube videos. But since arriving in Italy for my little holiday I have had a strange disinclination to look at anything at all. I am ignorant as to the happenings around the world for the last five days. The most I can tell you is that Meryl Streep’s visage is everywhere so I assume she has either died, said something stupid, or made good on her promise to move to Canada.
Another post while I’m on the road, or in the air as it may be. Here is what caught my eye before I trotted off to Europe. Hopefully it catches your eye as well. Or both of them. If you have two eyes. If you don’t, did I just make you feel uncomfortable? Victimized perhaps? Perhaps you now feel bad about yourself.
Awww …. The power I wield!!!!!
One of the Left’s big bugbears is discrimination. This is of course a blatant smokescreen to hide their ever-growing lust for power. If we remove discrimination then we remove choice, and if we remove choice then we will have no power. The only ones with the power will be the Left who were manipulating us into accepting their “diversity targets” all along. Funny that. Want a better example?