An American in Milan

Last weekend a friend of mine called and asked if I wanted to go with her to the grocery store. Now, this might not sound to you like an exciting invitation, but I can assure you it definitely was for me because she was going by car.

I live fairly close to the city center in Milan and I don’t have a car. Haven’t ever had one here. When I calculate the cost – car itself, insurance (quite expensive for relatively low coverage when you consider the net amount you would be reimbursed in case of a claim), gas (which costs around 3 or 4 times what it does in the US, taking into account the exchange rate), and parking (I would have to rent a space or a “box” – a space in a parking garage to park it near my house, and “near” is a relative term – it would be at least a few minutes walk since my building has none, available or not), it adds up very quickly.

Public transportation is very convenient for me – I live within a block or two of 4 bus lines and 3 trolley lines and with the metro (subway) a short walk or a couple of tram stops away. And with all the money I’m not spending on a car, I have no problem forking out for a taxi a couple of times a month when I’m running late or the weather is too awful. So no car for me.
But the opportunity to go to the supermarket in a car? Sign me up! Our destination was a very large (by Milan standards) store a bit more on the outskirts that I wouldn’t go to otherwise. And of course I could buy whatever I wanted without regards to weight – a consideration when shopping on foot.

This store had a new-fangled option where you could check out a scanner that you carried with you as you shopped. When you placed each item in your cart, you would scan it. At check-out (in a special line only for the scanner-carrying shoppers, so shorter than all the rest), the cashier would just accept your payment and send you on your way. Except she re-scanned all of our purchases. It seems we had been randomly chosen for an audit to verify that we had scanned all of the goods in our cart. We passed the audit and so my friend was given a voucher to claim extra points at the customer service desk.

It took me a minute to get my head around the fact that we were being rewarded for not stealing.

If it’s December, it must be nearly Christmas. Here it’s a given that nothing can be counted on to proceed normally.

If something typically takes 2 weeks, it goes without saying (although it will be stated, and probably more than once, during the conversation) that there are the holidays to take into account, so it most likely will take longer. The suppliers won’t be open, the deliveries will be delayed, the traffic will be horrendous or the weather won’t cooperate or a combination of all of the above.

When planning an event, nobody will have time in their schedule to attend, since everyone has a calendar full of work parties, spouses’/significant others’ work parties, family parties, get-togethers with friends to exchange seasons’ greetings, children’s school pageants, charity dinners, professional association cocktails.

Don’t expect to find anyone working regular office hours since there are children to be attended to, specialty food items to be chased down, gifts to be purchased, goodies to be delivered. Starting times inch later, lunch times run over, coffee breaks last a bit longer and the end of the day comes a bit earlier. And of course, during the hours actually present, purchases must be discussed, errands completed or gone tragically awry due to long lines or absent staff (the nerve!) must be described , and of course all of the details of everyone’s plans for the almost-upon-us holidays must be shared.

And of course, things can’t start officially getting back to normal until the day after the final holiday date of Beffana (January 6, officially called the Feast of the Epiphany), which of course marks the start of the recounting of the holidays: gifts received, family visits, New Year’s adventures.

Then life gets back to normal since there are 3 whole months before preparations begin for Easter.

Thanksgiving is almost upon us. How do I know this? It’s dark at 5.30 pm (or 17.30, as we call it here) and everyone’s talking about their plans for Christmas (here in the land of the Vatican, it is Christmas, none of that pc “holiday” business). But for me, turkey day is just around the corner because the monthly business networking lunch that I organize – American Business Group Milan – has Thanksgiving as its theme each November. Which means that I and my American partners have once again been explaining the recipes for traditional dishes to the Italian chef of the restaurant where it will be held. Turkey, of course, plus stuffing, orange sweet potatoes (the white ones are easy to find – the orange “American” ones take a bit more dedication to locate) and some sort of green vegetable (Brussel sprouts is our pick this year). In years past, we’ve tried to explain how to make pumpkin pie, but it always came out so far from the ideal that we’ve learned to just request apple pie and make all of our lives easier. We don’t want any shockers when the kitchen doors open – the interpretations are always a bit different from what we thought we’d communicated.

This is our most popular lunch of the year – it seems everyone, Italians, Brits, Norwegians, – you name them – all want to witness how we Americans celebrate our famous eating fest. Although it’s never quite what we’re used to at home, we pretend it’s identical to our grandmothers’ cooking so that they feel they’ve had the authentic experience. And we’re far from the only ones. Various restaurants and associations are hawking their Thanksgiving dinners to expat Americans and everyone else so much that it’s possible to eat the same dishes most of the week, should you so choose.

For me, the food is less interesting than the community. The mood of this lunch is more festive than our usual affairs. We’re still looking to meet new people or reconnect with those we’ve met before, but it feels more informal.