The habits of highly effective people...

Recently I attended a time management course. My employer, who has seen his fair share of employment gaffes identified that it was needed. Time management and goal setting isn't easy; it's the habit of highly effective people; I'm not one of them. Forward planning is reserved for those who aren't like me. Reserved for those who unlike me, understand the importance of where they want to be and what they want to do.

My trainer for the day was Mike, unsurprisingly had an interesting philosophy on time management and goal setting. Imagine yourself being transported five years into the future (scary right?), and you end up meeting your future self. Lets leave aside that every science fiction film talks about the negative consequences of this happening, how the space time continuum could be drastically changed, and lets focus on the question to hand; "What have you achieved in these last five years?" 

Highly effective people it seems plan ahead. They know that in five years they would have overcome the goals to get them where they wanted to be, they identify, they analyse, they re-evaluate and tick off lists. They are always thinking ahead, believing that their actions, their positivity to overcome any obstacle will get them achieving their goal. They are probably right. 

So after 60 days since an Italian election, can you imagine anyone having foreseen the outcome. A parliament which remains hung, although the nephew of Berlusconi's right hand man, Gianna Letta is now leading an exploratory request of parties to get a government formed. How Enrico Letta is in for a tough time admitting "the sense of responsibility is greater than my shoulders can carry", as comforting as having an airline pilot admit to forgetting how to fly a plane on take off. 

Pier-Luigi Bersani, the man who still thinks to this day that he won the election has resigned. His attempts to get both Marini and Prodi elected as President of the Republic were duly usurped both internally by his own party as well as the no vote from the Five Star Movement and unsurprisingly the right wing coalition of Berlusoni in the later candidates request. 

We thought that Giorgio Napolitano retired, in fact so did he, but the procrastination and political bickering took its toll; he duly accepted to be re-confirmed as President of the Republic. At 87 its worrying to think that he may have been the only suitable choice, although Stefano Rodota, seven years his enfant terrible would have adequately bridged the gap between the PD and the Five Star Movement of Beppe Grillo; Grillo proposing "approve Rodota, and we'll support your government to lead"; they refused. 

And what about Berlusconi I hear you all scream? Amidst the betrayal of Bersani proposing Prodi (the only man to beat Berlusconi twice in 20 years) and his own three court cases, he can be found in Texas bathing in the Bush Jnr presidential library biding his time until the left wing implodes, until Renzi becomes less popular, until Grillo gets portrayed as the man who blocked Italy and until a new election is called. 

Highly effective people, they set their goals, they bide their time, they adapt. My my, how effective is Berlusconi looking these days. 

Italy: a civilised country where Communists and Capitalists can both enjoy a glass of lightly-chilled white wine and some olives

Francesco Bassano the Younger (1549–1592),
"Charles VIII recieving the crown of Napoli"
('No fighting occurred during the actual capture of Napoli')
 via Wikimedia Commons)

Living in Italy has massively changed the way I think about work, society, money – the whole kaboosh, in fact. As soon as you arrive in this country you start to get the feeling that things are really organised very differently here. Yes, Italy is a European country, but sometimes it feels much more like living in an Asian / pre-1989 Soviet state: the “base” is still there. Unions decide when and if your train will run. Real Communists with red flags march past palatial banks where sharp-suited bankers stare out of the windows – and yet their kids can attend the same schools. The South is supposed to be permanently collapsing and threatening to disappear completely as the weight of poverty, corruption and organised crime threaten to drag Italy to the bottom of the Mediterranean. And yet, everyone I know from the South has cupboards stuffed full of homegrown (i.e. their own family home) fruit and veg, jerrycans of locally-produced olive oil, huge hunks of delicious ham from pigs they could name, etc. i.e. the South is virtually self-sufficient – and the Puglia region is increasingly where hordes of British expats from the City and the Bar are choosing to find their Italian idyll (Tuscany is still a bit pricey).

And, of course, Italian firms don’t (really) need to compete – at least, not with each other. Consumers in Italy enjoy the same rights and privileges as those in pre-Esther Rantzen 1960s Britain (i.e. none). Mergers and takeovers are virtually unheard of. And a dense thicket of family-owned businesses, cast-iron job contracts and enterprise-strangling red-tape effectively protect the money-making bit of Italian industry from any external threats.

Italy is in a permanent state of crisis – and yet Italians still stop for their caffe and chat in their favourite bars on their way home from work; flick through the heavily-subsidised newspapers; look forward to the next extended holiday (or “bridge"); and basically enjoy life – or at least give the appearance of doing so. Of course, people are looking over their shoulder – there is unemployment and the prospect of economic ruin: the difference between Italy and a “real” capitalist country is that since the market has effectively been emasculated and subtracted from the equation what remains is essentially a social carve-up; an argument over who gets which meaty bits of the carcass; and the all-important “recommendation” factor. Essentially, all decisions in Italy, from who gets which job, subsidised flat, public contract, etc depend almost 100% on who you know.

As an outsider (and a Brit to boot), Italian economic, political and business discussions usually seem like family or tribal feuds (and often are, literally, because so many of the main players are related to each other). Despite having produced at least one of the two big extremist ideologies in the 20^th century (fascism) and having done a huge amount of  intellectual spadework on the other (communism), public debate in Italy is virtually devoid of interest in ideology – or even of ideas. It’s an angry, vicious, personal spat over who gets what – usually conducted without the least pretence of hope or belief in big ideas. (Maybe Italy has had too many of those in the past.)

And yet, in the very darkest depths of despair and gnashing of teeth – it’s always time for a party! This, after all, is a country where any argument in the street quickly blows over and often ends with people laughing and slapping shoulders. There aren’t packs of teenagers in hoodies armed with knives (actually, there are packs of teenage hoodies – but they’re generally armed with iPhones and spend a lot of time shaking hands and kissing each other when they meet). You don’t feel – as I increasingly do when I get back to the UK and wander around – that you are living in a high-tech police state where doing subversive things like taking photos in public places could land you in court on charges relating to the preparation or instigation of terrorism. And in Italy if someone walked into a department store with a dog in a shoulder bag the security guard – who might actually be armed – would probably rub noses with the canine accessory in question and mention that they also have a Chihuahua, rather than call reinforcements on their radio and take down the offender as recently happened at Harvey Nichols.

Basically, Italy is just a very, very nice place to live – yes, with a lot of problems and it may even drag Europe into the economic abyss with its towering, teetering stacks of debt. But the main thing is it’s a people place. It’s all about people (usually Italians – immigrants like myself don’t get much of a look in). It’s not about ideas, the vision thing, the Big Society or even Change We Can Believe In. It really is social in a way that only my parents’ generation – or the pre-Thatcher post-war baby boomers – can remember. Italians have lived through many terrible experiences in history – wars, poverty, terrorist campaigns (both against the state and state-sponsored) – and they have come out on the other side still smiling and still incredibly pleasant people to know.

I think there’s a lesson there for the rest of Europe and the world: just because you are facing financial ruin and economic (and political) catastrophe doesn’t mean you can’t open a bottle of prosecco and have a chat about nothing at all really with whoever’s around – and some tasty appetisers. And even a song.

Viva Italia!

Robert Dennis

A Do-It-Yourself Aperitivo from frugaltopia.com,
the blog that 'helps you get off the earn-to-spend treadmill
 into a simpler, happier, and more sustainable life'.
I'll drink to that!

Who's laughing now?

"If Grillo wants to talk politics, then he should start his own party, present himself to the elections and lets see how many votes he gets! After all why shouldn't he." That was a then secretary for the Democratic Party, Piero Fassino who, after blocking any attempt for Grillo to run as a candidate for party leader, taunted the comedian to stand up and be counted. (2009) 

Communist, racist, idiot. (Nouns) "I see a dictatorship."(Observation) "He just grunts" (impolite) "I see a whore going man with a tiny penis" (Artistic license to insult).* 

And yet over the last seven years, they've said a lot worse about the man The Economist has epitomised as one of the two clowns of Italian politics; the other of course is, Silvio. But why should the The Economist change the habit of a lifetime? Little are The Economist to realise, that's not the way into Italian hearts. 

"The web doesn't exist" (Living in a cave syndrome) "He reminds me of a fascist, no, more like a Nazi, he has the verbal violence of Goebels. A fascist-communist" (history confounding rhetoric) "He's struggling" (Opinion polls count for nothing) "Il Duce Beppe"* (they really love their fascism)  The list goes on, and on. 

Grillo, just kept going. His insults back to the political class were, of equal weight you could say. "Psycho-dwarf", "a 74 year old with no prostate", "He's been in liquid Nitrogen for 10 years" (Berlusconi). "A walking zombie", "The nearly dead", "He's not a fascist just someone who has no balls" (Bersani). "Problems living with her real life partner is probably something she's never had to worry about" (Rosy Bindi). "The Princess on the penis" (Elsa Fornero). You name a politician, Grillo has probably insulted them. 

The political class just sat there. They didn't, couldn't take the Clown seriously. His first party election, 8% of the vote in Emilia Romagna, a centre-left stronghold. His second one was in Piedmont, 4%. A movement born only a year before hand, and still, "Grillini, cockroaches with rare faeces". (Right wing journalism) 

The movement went to Parma, Pizzarotti, an ex IT engineer would win mayorship and with it a public administration debt crisis. There were those who doubted the young mayor could really do anything; after all, he's just an IT engineer. They of course would be tested on their comments. 

Sicily was next. There i Grillini would go onto become the third party of the island, a right wing stronghold. In return, the new assessors would each "give back €8000 of our wages so that we can use it as a microcredit to small businesses that need to start up and survive". 

And still, "the clown that laughs, instead he should be crying" & "Grillo is losing consensus". Well, not quite... 

"We're prepared to talk, let's hear what he has to say" (PD leader Bersani) "It's our obligation to now talk to Grillo" (Sel Leader Vendola) "For the good of the nation we need to talk to Grillo" (Bersani... again)

Elections it seems change things. Berlusconi looks like he did well, he lost over 8 million votes from the previous election result. Bersani and the democratic party actually lost 4 million. Grillo, the troublemaker, the clown, from 0 won the over 8 million votes, they are the most popular party in Italy.  

They now all want to be his friend; not bad for a "crazy, communist, fascist, racist, dictator, violent, faecal cockroach". 

Grillo reminds me of the saying, "He who laughs last, laughs longest". 

Gino De Blasio

*(Courtesy of the brilliant Marco Travaglio for piecing together this re-assumption of character) 

Nobody knows nothing: there’s life in the old dog yet...

Restuitiro - an action of giving something back from the verb, Restituire. (to Return)

Within days, this verb has become a hashtag, a facebook meme, a political satirist's dream; restuitiro. This is arguably the first real digital campaign of Italian elections, and unknowingly, at the behest of a few, it’s giving even more attention to the man at the centre of it.

In the space of one week, Silvio Berlusconi has promised to “give back the Italian property tax”, “allow a mass tax amnesty” and “create 4 million new jobs for young people”. If a week is a long time in politics, as Harold Wilson attested to, Berlusconi is making brisk work of it.

And yet there’s something very irksome about all of this. An economic position which few economists can actually agree on, to the salesman pitch of a second hand car dealer, the promise to give things back is, well, working.

He’s adopted a dog, got a new squeeze, discovered Twitter and purchased Balotelli. He’s turned political campaigning on its head. From the political abyss of twelve months ago, to the theatrical “here to save Italy” re-emergence; he’s gone from being without a cat in hell’s chance of winning to now a whisker away. OK - I promise, no more feline puns.

Since his re-introduction to the main political stage, he’s classed the office of president as “lame duck” and claimed that he doesn’t want to be president; well, he has had four stabs at it now. Whatever he does, whatever he says, tongues will wag, people will write and it has it’s desired effect. From less than a twenty-four percent chance of winning twelve weeks ago, down to four percent today, even Lazarus would be impressed by this turnaround. 

In short he is the antithesis of Cicero’s political warning, “Nothing is more unreliable than the populace, nothing more obscure than human intentions, nothing more deceptive than the whole electoral system.”

His political resurrection has been founded on making a promise of giving something back, he’s the Arthur Daley of politics - and if he wins, he’ll have to be the Father Christmas of it as well.

Gino De Blasio

Read mylittlevespa, Gino's humorous and affectionate blog about all things Italian.

Hey, good lookin' - what (or rather who) you got cookin'?

Roasted: The Perfect Italian Barbecue with Giordano Bruno

Benvenuto! – or Welcome! if you prefer. My name is Giordano Bruno – and this is my Perfect Italian Barbecue. 
(Actually that's not my name and I'm not even one person, but two (currently) and maybe more to follow - but chi se ne frega?)

Visited the Bel Paese at least twice? Tried out all the recipes from Nigellissima and watched every episode of Montalbano? Confident that you can appreciate the difference between a macchiato and a marocchino when you’re ordering your morning coffee?

Think you know Italy?

Think again.

In this irreverent – and, frankly, heretical – blog, English-speaking know-it-alls who have been there, seen it all and got la maglia show you another side of the boot-shaped country that you never imagined existed. We debunk popular myths and trample all over carefully-constructed misconceptions in our 1953 horsebit Gucci loafers. But we also giving you some handy tips and trade secrets on how to savour the most delicious ironies of Italian life, love, food – and, of course, politics.

No Italian feast would be complete without a barely-credible shaggy dog story, outrageous flirting,  a feud, endless toasts – and, of course, an enormous dollop of sentimentality topped off with a maraschino cherry of wit. We promise the lot – but with a refreshingly acerbic Anglo-Saxon take guaranteed to leave a bad taste in your mouth.

If you like The Perfect Italian Barbecue with Giordano Bruno, then please tell your friends. If you don’t, then… vattene scemo! Maleducato inglese che no sa cucinare un ca**o !

You have been warned…

Robert Dennis
Gino De Blasio