Robot checkout

Hey all,

Opera singer and I bonded last night over a love of Allegri's Miserere Mei – possibly the most beautiful and moving single piece of music ever created – certainly that I have heard – how I would imagine angels must sound when mourning. Psalm 51 if you ever hear it and want to know what the Latin says. Really interesting to talk to him about music as he actually knows what he is talking about – I don't – I enjoy one thing, or the other, but basically don't have a clue apart from that. Must be just amazing to live in that world full time and make a living doing so. He gave me a lovely version of it – what he said was the best – which is fantastic, because I have been looking for the perfect version of it for a while. Some of the music he has is just stunning. Speaking of which, there is another opera singer at the school – was singing something along with the grand piano just before lunch. Three floors down I could still hear him clearly through the window over the buzz of crowds and tourists.

Went out tonight for dinner with a German girl from school – one of those jolly types – and a thin and serious Australian girl who used to be a sub-editor for a newspaper up north somewhere back home. We discussed how difficult it is to learn a language – the thin and serious subbie turned to me and said, quite seriously, “I think that you would probably learn more easily on 'The Street.'” I am not entirely sure what they think I am doing learning Italian here – working for the mob, expanding into the white slave trade, maybe just keepin' it real and takin' it to the Man. But they both went out of their way not to ask me what I do for a living so I guess they thought it was something pretty awful. In their defence I did get my head shaved today, my beard trimmed a bit, so was looking more than usually evil, but still. The hair cut was an experience in itself – the only hair salon I could find was an up-market place and they seemed to think it pretty funny when I explained in sign language that I wanted a number zero buzz-cut. Shampoo first? they wanted to know – no, just cut it off I explained. They thought that was funny too. But when the hair-dresser had finished shaving off my hair she looked at me thoughtfully and insisted – firmly – that she wash what was left of it....

On the way home from dinner I wandered into the baptistery near the huge church that dominates the skyline – no queue at all – it is a huge building itself but overwhelmed by the church and dome next to it. Inside, however, it is just stunning – can't possibly get it in a photo, but I did my best – a beautiful place to be inside, unlike “il Duomo” that towers over it and has internal walls so bare it may as well be Protestant. Then bumped into a Greek girl from my new class and some Russian chick who were meeting up with the Texan designer and two Austrian girls, also from the new class – went to some club somewhere with them before wandering home – there is only so much of “OMG! How hot is that bar-tender!!!” that I can take at my age.

One funny thing did happen – between dinner and the baptistery I was looking at two cops, a man and a woman, standing on the street, looking imposing in their flamboyant Italian uniforms. A strange and unexpected moment of recognition. I wandered over and said hello. “Ciao, B,” said the female of the two – who is also my new teacher in the new class. The two Austrian girls from my class: they always arrive late because they are always out on the gas all night, and they gossip about things like trying to score weed and so on. I told them about bumping into our teacher (who is fluent in German) and discovering that she is also a cop. Pensive looks. Silence.

Photos – inside the baptistery, from the floor straight up, another shot, then Jesus Christ, then the devil. All taken without the flash while trying to keep the camera still on the floor or a shelf or whatever. Might have to get one of those little flexible tripod things. Finally a scan and pay for your own groceries self-service register machine at the supermarket – you can either queue up for ages for a human checkout, or do it yourself: scan, bag, pay, collect change and receipt. Have been trying to get a photo of one for three days but it was always crowded up till today and I felt like a bit of goose taking a photo in a supermarket of what is, after all, a cash register. The reason I wanted a photo is that Opera singer attempted to use one last week – on my recommendation: “Skip the queue!” I told him, “So quick! So easy!” Given his difficulties locating the buttons on a remote control this did not go at all well – quickly led to a minor Teutonic panic attack (never a good thing when a German wigs out): the computerised Italian voice speaking in stern tones about mistakes being made, the repeated warnings, the increasingly frantic German. Eventually the machine booted him off and locked the screen, insisting on the intervention of the staff. He was hurriedly moved on to the queue for a human teller by a terrified attendant. “In Germany we have: no such things!” he later explained. I said we have no such things in Australia either – that a mere two hundred years ago (in continental terms, “yesterday”) the British Empire turned the entire country into a big open-air jail for all their criminals and consequently the notion of getting Australians to add up and pay for their own groceries was unlikely to catch on any time soon. This cheered him up – which was a relief. I was worried he was going to ask me why I had recommended the self-service cash register to him in the first place – and the answer to that question doesn't do me much credit: “For the sheer joy of the inevitable.” He is sick again, after getting better, and I really did feel for him, lying in bed again most of the day. There is little worse that being sick and far from home. He seems to cope with it all in this kind of stoic German way – apart from the occasional mournful note hummed so deep I can feel it through the floor.

Cheers, B.

PS - fior di panna. That's the mother of all ice-cream flavours. According to Google Translate this is literally "flowers cream," which can't be quite right, but does capture something of the flavour in a weird cryptic way. Sometimes just panna. Whatever it's called it is fantastic.