The Seven Dwarves are Alive and Well and Living in Trieste

I have seen them on a number of occasions working in different gardens around town. How did they get residence papers? Are they here on a working visa? I hear those are really hard to get. Then again, they are originally French, I think ("La Belle au bois dormant", n'est-ce pas?!), and France IS part of the European Union, so that probably made it easier. Anyway, in case you're looking for them, they are here. Snow white is harder to find, however. She may be supervising several gardens at once and going back and forth between them. I will let you know about that.

Joyce smelled it, too

I was on my way to the Italian-American Association this morning, which I tend to think of in its Italian form: "Associazione Italo-Americana" or ASSITAM for short, when I came across the life-size bronze statue of James Joyce on the canal bridge in Via Roma. He's got his head tilted just so, he's wearing those funny round glasses and hat, his hands are in his pockets like he's in no hurry to get to work, which was at the Berlitz school (now defunct) to teach English. He lived in Trieste for ten years, I've heard, and spoke the Triestino dialect fluently. He said it was "easy on the tongue," while he preferred to write in English. His daughter's first language was Triestino, by the way, and the family went on to speak it together even after they left Trieste.

Right now I happen to be reading the book Trieste and the Meaning of Nowhere by Jan Morris (I have it checked out from the library. You can read it when I'm done), and she has this great quote from Joyce talking about going to see the Opera in the cheap seats at the Teatro Verdi (a place to see, by the way, same architect as the Scala in Milan, so just like it, only smaller).

"The business families of Trieste were fervent opera-goers. When Joyce went to a performance, to sit among the 'sour reek of armpits' and 'phosphorescent farts' of the upper balcony, he often saw in the stalls and boxes below bourgeois pupils of his, following the music with extreme attention..."

And that's all I have to say about that.

Except for this. That statue of Joyce is about 5 years old now. A lot of people must pat him on the back as they pass him on that bridge because his left shoulder has become the color that parts of statues get when you rub them for good luck.

The Number 21 Bus today smelled like a farm

I really meant to run downtown this afternoon but I just couldn't make it work. So I took the number 21 bus in via Flavia all the way to Piazza Oberdan. Takes about 20 minutes.

The bus was really full, and it was hot. At some point, though, I realized that it also smelled like a farm. And because I had 20 minutes to think about it, I started asking myself, "Well, what kind of farm does it smell like? What kind of animals are on this farm? Do I smell, say, a chicken coop? A barn with cows? Isolate that smell, give that smell a name!" But I couldn't say for sure exactly what kind of farm it would be.

And then I tried to figure out what the source of the smell could be. A person? Well, it was about 150 degrees celsius (that's a gazillion degrees Fahrenheit), and sweat was rolling down the small of my back for no reason (although this time, I assure you, it was not me). So the possibility was there.

Gorgonzola. That's what it smelled like. Gorgonzola.

Which reminded me of a time my American friend came to visit me from France. He had this odd smell about him. A lot like the smell on the bus today. Sour. Ripe. From the second I saw him. I didn't say anything.

When we got home, I took my coat off to hang it up on the coat tree. Just as I was thinking about how he didn't look as dirty as he smelled, he pulled a container out of his coat pocket. It was a plastic tub like you buy ice cream in here. He opened it with a face that said TA-DAH! and thereby UNLEASHED THE SMELL. It was a glorious hunk of cheese, and that was enough to put a new perspective on that nasty smell. It was the kind of cheese that makes your eyes water but TASTES SOOOO GOOOD!

So that made me think differently about the smell on the bus. Some nice person must be bringing some other very nice person a piece of delicious cheese. Yes, that is what that smell is!

Mystery at Sant'Anna

Well my run downtown was a success. It was so good, in fact, that I forgot to take pictures. Well, I did take one. As I was passing the cemetary parking lot (I usually tell people I live near the stadium, but the truth is, I live closer to the cemetary) I noticed areas where perfectly square pieces of concrete had been removed and surrounded with red tape that warned "Don't fall in here." What are those holes for? Is the cemetary running out of room? From across the street they did look oddly rectangualar, those holes. I wondered this out loud to Sweety this morning who quickly pointed out that you could also plant a tree in each one and eventually provide a little shade in that wide open unprotected lot.

Fair enough. I'll keep you updated on this one.

*UPDATE* Sweetie was right! They planted a whole bunch of trees in those holes, and cut down the big tree that was hanging over the street. How about that? Parking Lot Landscaping! I'm all for it.

How long does it take to lose the parking guilt?

I said I would tell you the story of what it's like to live in Trieste if you're not from here. So that is what I'm going to do today. My mission is to run from my house by the stadium to Via Roma 15 where an intensive English class is starting tonight at six. I want to be there to make sure everything goes smoothly. I was hoping to be there by four, but I think it's best to give myself a little extra time-- usually it takes me about half an hour to run there, but I want to take a couple of pictures, and make sure I have time to towel off before people start coming in... Yeah, I'm one of those crazy people who prefers running to work, rather than taking the bus, or, the worst, driving there.

Because a lot of the Trieste I see is on running feet, I feel more comfortable not driving here unless I have to. Yesterday, I made an exception.

Since I had to be at the Association early to learn how to help people sign up for classes, check out books, etc. and because I was planning a nice meet and greet for new students, I let my husband talk me into driving downtown. Big mistake. I drove around in circles for what semeed like hours! There was NO PARKING ANYWHERE IN THE ENTIRE CITY that you didn't have to pay for, and I really hate paying to park.

So what did I do? I found a street lined with illegally parked cars up by St. Giusto--that's the area by the Cathedral and castle up on the hill where Triestini like my husband park because until recently it was ALL FREE. Of course, you have to make the killer walk back up again to find your car when it's time to go home, but, hey, 80 euro cents an hour saved is 80 euro cents earned, right? I saw an opening there, slowed down, and (gulp) drove up onto the curb first with my left front tire, then eased up the left rear tire and parked with two wheels on the sidewalk. Just like the Italians do.

I got out, locked the car, and started making my way down the street, passing the NO PARKING, TOW AWAY ZONE 24-HOURS sign on the way down and tried to ignore it. No big deal.

I got to the office.
Then the panic set in.
My car is going to get towed. I am going to get a ticket. I will definitely get caught.
Evil thoughts of how this parking job was going to ruin my life circled through my head.
So I skyped Cristian and told him about my situation.
"Do you have time to go move it?"
"No. There's no parking. I'm afraid. Come take it away... PUH-LEEEEEEASE!!"

So that's what he did. After he finished work, he ran and found the car with our dog, Luna. It was the ONLY car there parked illegally on the sidewalk by that time. Apparently there is some kind of time limit for these types of things. He took the car home and played tennis for an hour.

When I was finished, he came and picked me up in the car, Luna in the back. Thankfully, besides not being towed or ticketed, I didn't have to climb back up that hill to St. Giusto either. It turned out okay after all.

But I am not taking any more chances. Today I am going to sweat it out on foot and get a 3-mile round trip (correction, it's 3 miles one way so it's a 6 mile round trip) out of it. Maybe even take a few pictures.