A Visit to the Old Country (just not mine)
I've just returned from a week in Italy. While there, I happened upon many things that I considered funny enough to post. Unfortunately, I had no internet access. As such, many wildly humorous events will be lost forever into the fog of eroding memories.
However, I was able to finally unravel one mystery - why Italians are considered fashion leaders. I arrived in Milan on Sunday morning, having traveled all night. I managed to find my hotel and spent about thirty minutes scratching out the "Nauga-hide" I'd developed over the past several hours. I took a nap to overcome jet-lag and then decided to get a head start on the week by getting my clothes ironing out of the way.
Now, I am not such a novice as to dream that I would have an iron in my room. This is Europe after all. Considering that this was a (no doubt self-rated) Four Star hotel, I looked anyway. No iron or ironing board. I got dressed and put on a ball cap to head downstairs. The cap is an important accessory when traveling abroad - it insures that everyone knows you're American.
Once I arrived in the lobby, I asked for an iron, first in classic American, then in global pantomime. Once the first attendant gave up, she called in the manager for assistance. He spoke excellent English, but provided the first laugh of the trip. He explained to me that while he did have an iron and board to lend, it was not possible for him to give it to me. It seems it is illegal (no kidding) to iron on Sunday in Italy. He assured me that I was welcome to use the iron on Monday morning, but that he was not allowed to let me iron on Sunday.
I got up the next morning and decided to let them win. I was wrinkled all week and happy about it.
However, I was able to finally unravel one mystery - why Italians are considered fashion leaders. I arrived in Milan on Sunday morning, having traveled all night. I managed to find my hotel and spent about thirty minutes scratching out the "Nauga-hide" I'd developed over the past several hours. I took a nap to overcome jet-lag and then decided to get a head start on the week by getting my clothes ironing out of the way.
Now, I am not such a novice as to dream that I would have an iron in my room. This is Europe after all. Considering that this was a (no doubt self-rated) Four Star hotel, I looked anyway. No iron or ironing board. I got dressed and put on a ball cap to head downstairs. The cap is an important accessory when traveling abroad - it insures that everyone knows you're American.
Once I arrived in the lobby, I asked for an iron, first in classic American, then in global pantomime. Once the first attendant gave up, she called in the manager for assistance. He spoke excellent English, but provided the first laugh of the trip. He explained to me that while he did have an iron and board to lend, it was not possible for him to give it to me. It seems it is illegal (no kidding) to iron on Sunday in Italy. He assured me that I was welcome to use the iron on Monday morning, but that he was not allowed to let me iron on Sunday.
I got up the next morning and decided to let them win. I was wrinkled all week and happy about it.