“It was 20 years ago today…”

Yes, as the opening words to a rather famous song by four young lads from Liverpool once said back in 1967, “It was 20 years ago today...”, September 13, 1989, that I actually stepped foot in the Bel Paese.

And what are my thoughts on these last 20 years of Italian life? Rather mixed I must say: I`m very happy to be living in Europe, a little less though in Italy. It`s first of all a country with TOO many political parties (rather difficult for all of them to agree easily on just one thing) and with too many problems, beginning with the ever-ending problem of the mafia and how it basically infiltrates practically every facet of Italian living, not to mention appalling bureaucracy and the usual and perpetual acts of totally absurd violence in Italy`s soccer stadia (never saw violence in 30 years of sports in North America).

The labour market, as defined years ago by The Economist, is rather “archaic and Byzantine” in nature, and this is even worse as one “ages” (contrary to most “civilized” countries out there, they put age limits in Italian job ads). The work mentality, from what I`ve seen having also worked with Italians, is, well, at times less-than professional in nature. This is perhaps one of THE most astounding and contradictory things given that Italians count sooooo much on the so-called “bella figura” (the “nice impression”) and above-all on the dress code. For a country which has managed to give the world the precision and beauty of a Ferrari or an Armani shirt, it can be (literally) quite astounding to see just how unprofessional Italians can be when it comes to working (the list of the things that have happened to me in 20 years would fill several blogs, including being taken for a ride more than once when it comes to be paid for one`s work!).

Positive points? Well, for one thing, coming from perhaps THE coldest city in the entire world, Winnipeg, I certainly DON`T miss Canadian winters! In fact, one can ask my better-half Daniela that VERY rarely do I plead with her in the winter to go skiing in the Alps (in 20 years we`ve been together not ONCE have we gone skiing or in the mountains during the winter)! The weather in Italy, which in normal winter conditions doesn`t go below 0 degrees Celsius, is simply wonderful, so wonderful that all winter I can play soccer with the boys wearing shorts, something that in January in Winnipeg was completely unthinkable. Ditto for the summers, nice and hot and not terribly humid (at least not in Rome).

Culturally-speaking, well, it`s hard to beat places like Venice (my all-time favourite city anywhere in the world!), Florence, Rome and the many towns of Sicily, not to mention also places like Siena and the Udine area where I currently live. Also, it still to this day totally blows my mind that in about 2 hours I can board a plane and be on a spectacular little Greek island swimming in crystal blue water, or with a 4-hour car ride from Udine I can be standing literally in front of a crematorium at Dachau`s concentration camp near Munich (incredible the history that hits you directly in the face when you`re in one of these dreaded camps). And where did I get to go if I travelled south 100 kms from Winnipeg? Wow, to Fargo, North Dakota, where we`d actually go to buy blue jeans when the Canadian dollar used to be stronger than the American one!

And what about the food and vino (by the way, I arrived in Italy 20 years weighing about 90 kilos. Twenty years later I weigh about 100, only 5 kilos per 10 years, not a bad record if you also throw in a persisting herniated disc which has been plaguing me for about 15 years now)? I personally think that only in France does one eat better than in Italy (they say that you would have to live some 300 years or so to be able to eat ALL of the regional dishes in Italy!). And the coffees? Again, I don`t think that there`s a nation out there that knows how to make a simply GREAT cappuccino like the Italians (no offence but certainly NOT the Americans/Canadians)!

Another fine aspect of living in Italy is the concert scene. For those that know me I probably haven`t taken in so many rock concerts as in my 20 years in Italy, beginning with THE most spectacular and unique one of them all: Sir Paul McCartney INSIDE the Colosseum in May, 2003 (not to mention Oasis just a few months ago near Udine, one of the last times we`ll see Liam and Noel Gallagher together?). Sir Paul singing “Yesterday” will be forever etched in my mind (and his repeat performance the day after OUTSIDE the Colosseum in front of more than 400,000 people is also a memorable one!).

Finally, I must add some of the people I`ve met in these 20 years in Italy, beginning with me better-half, Daniela, THE only woman (after me poor and sweet mamma`) who has been able to put up with someone like me for 20 years now (and counting); my good friends Walt Bianchi who took me under his wings back in February, 1990 on a soccer pitch in Rome when I hardly knew anyone in Rome; my former colleagues at the U.S. Embassy in Rome who also took me under their wings when I was quite often totally clued out as to what to do in my new job and city (nicknamed by me the “Eternally Chaotic City”!); Bett Povoledo with whom I share great memories of growing up in Winnipeg, not to mention some 43 years of friendship now; Bill and Stephanie Hamm, the proud parents of the former great soccer player Mia, whom I met while working at the U.S. Embassy, and who thanks to them I got from Italy to take in THE Greatest sporting event of my life so far: the final of the 1999 Women`s World Cup in Los Angeles and where I also got to meet at the same event a fellow by the name of Aaron Heifetz, the press officer of the U.S. women`s national team and someone who`s given me the

best-ever compliment (“Every soccer federation should have a Mario Rimati”!); and Derek White, a fellow Crazy Canuck whom I met in less-than opportune circumstances at the Canadian Embassy in Rome many, many moons ago but who turned out to be a great friend and a person with whom I shared more than a great laugh or two (not to mention our common love for AC/DC and the Monty Python boys!). I certainly hope now that Derek is the proud father of three young lads that he shall continue to enjoy the many things we enjoyed together during his 4-year stay in Rome!

There are many others out there, but alas few as I`ve noticed—and this is obviously my own personal observation—that the average, and I say “average” Italian, unlike the average American/Canadian, has the tendency of watching out over his/her own “garden” BEFORE taking an interest in others. Is “selfish” the word I`m trying to find? Perhaps yes…

All-in-all, would I, at age 50, do this all over again knowing NOW what I (didn`t) know 20 years ago when at the ripe young age of 30 I moved from Montreal directly to Rome? Probably not, for the simple reason that I don’t think I would have any room left anymore on my head. “And why is that pray tell”, you may very well ask? Because in these 20 years I`ve bumped my head against the wall soooo many times with all the utterly crazy and zany things that I`ve seen and gone through in Italy that I don`t have any room left anymore for any other bumps!

Skiathos, Greece, August-September, 2009

Every time I go to Greece, now my third time since 2005, I always get the impression that God must have SPECIFICALLY created this country because it`s simply soooooo beautiful!

We chose Skiathos this time because like many out there, we were taken by the splendid movie, “Mamma Mia”, with a forever youthful Meryl Streep and former James Bond man Pierce Brosnan. Much of the movie was actually shot on the other nearby island, Skopelos, but Skiathos will forever be engrained in my mind as the opening scene of both Brosnan and Colin Firth both missing the boat for Streep`s B and B was actually shot on the port`s pier (one nite, with nothing to do, we went to an outdoor movie to see the movie again, the 3^rd time for me, and it was only 100 meters from that very same pier!).

And how was Skiathos? Beautiful beaches and naturally crystal-clear water. I put the town and the island though behind Karpathos (still a rather “primitive” island) and my first, true love, Milos (which I hope to go back and visit soon one day). The Greeks, at least the island folk, are laid back and very, very easy-going, a lot more than the Italians I must say. We rented the usual scooter and like a fool, I hadn`t noticed that at one point it had run out of fuel (it was new and the person who brought it in before me should have filled the tank, which he/she didn`t!). It was an 80cc engine. We got an exchange at the same price (110 euros for 6 days) but with a 125 cc engine. No questions asked! Nice folks the Greeks…

The town itself is quaint with a nice small little port where hovercrafts and ships dock, not to mention the usual magnificent and VERY expensive private yachts. At one point, I thought that David Bowie had showed up (seeing that he has a summer home in Santorini, or thereabouts) because a luxurious British yacht with the name “Duke Town” pulled into Skiathos, and Bowie`s nickname is the “White Duke”! But alas, it wasn`t him unfortunately.

One day was involved going for a boat ride to Skopolos and the tiny island where they shot the final church scene in “Mamma Mia”, the scene where Streep`s daughter after all doesn’t end up getting married (but Streep does instead). On the way there, bombarded continually by our tour guide who kept blasting in four languages over the PA system the words, “Mamma Mia”!, I managed to hear that in the area one of the islands we passed by was to have actually been purchased in the 1960s by none other than the Beatles! In fact, in my many readings on the Fab Four I do recall that it had been John, who on advice I think by their manager Brian Epstein, who had wanted to by a Greek island. The plan though never did materialize. Another island we passed by is apparently the summer home of Richard Gere. We were also told that seals and dolphins were in the area, but given probably that they weren`t paid enough to put on a show for us, they never bothered showing up! And the weather? Except for the first day when there was a very light rainfall, was tremendously hot and beautiful!

But one of the things I get the biggest kick out of going to Greece, or anywhere for that matter outside Italy, is watching the poor Italian tourists who are unable to communicate with the local folk in English. This doesn`t help at all that Italian politicians want to know promote local dialects in Italian schools!

The flight there by the way was via Slovenia`s capital Lubiana. They have chartered flights that go from Udine to Greece but via Slovenia. We drove there from Udine and flew directly to Skiathos. This is the second time we fly this way and I must say that the Slovenian part went off like a Swiss clock (or Slovenian clock seeing that many now say that Slovenia is turning into a small Switzerland!). Hopefully next year we go back to Milos and we see the nearby islands (all pics by M. Rimati).

Old Mad Dog, thanks for the memories (sort of)!

That old former Mad Dog of international terrorism (as defined in the 1980s by Ronnie Reagan), Col. Muammar Gheddafi, hit Rome the other day for a three-day state visit, his first-ever to the Bel Paese, some 40 years after his military coup in Libya.

His arrival was somewhat spectacular in that he came down the airplane steps decked out in his military regalia and with a picture on the right side of his chest. A picture you may ask? Yes, of Omar al-Mukhtar, the old “Lion of the Desert” who had been eventually hung by Italy`s General Graziani (during Italy`s less-than nice colonial occupation of Libya from 1911 to 1943. Some 100,000 Libyans died during that Fascist occupation, something that Gheddafi had not forgotten when he kicked out Libyan-born Italians shortly after he had come to power).

On the bottom of the steps to greet him was none other than our Great Leader, Silvio Berlusconi, who was all hugs and kisses with the crazy old Colonel (close-up tv shots of him showed someone who was evidently propped up with more than one amphetamine!). Berlusconi apparently was not to have been present at his arrival as he had complained of sore neck muscles (!!), but so as to not irritate even further Gheddafi (and push him to open even wider the doors of illegal migrants who wash up on Italy`s shores as they transit through Libya), the Great Leader was there full of smiles and hugs (I personally equate the picture escapade to Obama`s recent visit to Saudi Arabia: out of respect for his hosts, the U.S. President didn’t show up with a long list on his jacket lapel with the names of the 3,000 victims of 9/11, seeing that 11 out of the 15 highjackers were in fact Saudis!).

So why the memories for me? Well, one fine day back in 1982 (circa) at Winnipeg`s University of Manitoba when I was doing my French conversation course, the prof asked me if he could see me after the class. I thought that perhaps I spoke too much. Instead, he asked me if I had heard of the news that some 400 Libyan students who were to enrol in aeronautical schools in Libya were on their way to Canada to learn English. A small group would be coming to Winnipeg and my prof wanted to know if I wanted to run the English language lab and to teach these guys (all young men by the way). At the thought that in 1981 I`d be earning 10 bucks an hour, well, I naturally jumped at the idea. The 400 students had initially wanted to go to the States to study but there was NO way that Reagan, given also American public opinion, was going to allow 400 supposed “terrorists” come to the U.S. to study, so Canada got them instead (and I`m sort of glad because I earned a bucket of money trying to teach them English!). News had even slipped out that Libyan terrorists, who had arrived amongst the students, were ready to travel to Washington to assassinate Reagan. The then Canadian foreign minister (who just happened to have hailed from Winnipeg), Lloyd Axworthy, went in front of the national cameras to dispel the ridiculous news that Canada had allowed entry to some 400 terrorists (we ALL ended up knowing later that, according to the late, great Pierre Trudeau, Reagan saw communists and other subversives EVEN under his very own bed)!

The fellows? I felt that three-quarters of them were brainwashed by Gheddafi. In fact, one was such a staunch supporter of the man (as I found out when I`d poke fun at the Colonel) that another student told me that he was born in the same town as Gheddafi, and the Colonel had helped his family! Others though didn`t have the same opinion: one of them even got his hands on Larry Flynt`s “Hustler” magazine. At the last page of the porn mag, Flynt had a picture of a donkey`s ass with in the middle the picture of someone famous. The title of that page was: “Asshole of the month”! The Libyan student looked at me and in English said: “Hey Mario, who`s the asshole of the month this month”? I looked at him and said, knowing very well where he got the idea from, “Where did you find out about that”? He looked and smirked. I said I didn`t know who the asshole of the month was. Seeing that amongst the students there had also been spies from Gheddafi`s regime in order to keep an eye on these guys who for the very first time in their lives were savouring democracy, he whispered: “Gheddafi”!

And how were they as English students? Camels were actually much more intelligent! In all the years that I`ve taught English, both in Canada and in Italy, I don`t think I`ve ever come across a collection of bigger brick-heads than the Libyans! Apparently, a few had even managed to literally rape one of our female teachers, a specialist in the teaching of English as a Second Language who had come in from Toronto (I was told that back home in Libya, the sisters of many of these male students couldn`t even go downtown WITHOUT a male chaperon by their sides. Just imagine when in a place like Winnipeg they`d see women of all ages calmly walking about on campus or downtown alone. Their hormones basically went berserk)!

But the best was yet to come as 1982 would be indeed a very, very special moment for Italians all over the world, including the kids of Italian immigrants such as yours truly: the World Cup in Spain which would eventually give Italy its 3^rd World Cup title. And where`s the connection with the Libyan students? Well, most of them were actually pretty damn good soccer players and they also had a love for Italy as they`d get to pick up Italian news and Italian lifestyle via satellite (I actually got some to play for a local 1^st division soccer club in Winnipeg. It had been my very first contact with the Ramadan period: amazing, in the heat of the summer they`d play 90 minutes without touching a single drop of water either before, during or after the match! For us non-Muslims we naturally thought that it was purely nuts to try to play soccer in 35 degree-heat WITHOUT drinking any water! And it showed as in the 2<sup>nd</sup> half of the matches they`d just slowly wither away!), so when it came time to watch the two epic matches for Italy against Maradona`s Argentina and Falcao`s Brazil, here I was in a room at the U of M in front of the tv set surrounded by Libyan students who, knowing my Italian roots, were ALL out of spite (but not out of hatred as they loved everything which was associated with Italy) cheering AGAINST Italy! One can only imagine what I had to go through…

But on with Muammar`s visit to Rome. The Italian president, Napolitano, who greeted the Colonel at the Quirinale , the presidential palace, was seen to have had a rather strange look on his face as he saw the Libyan leader approach him with the strange picture on his chest. No doubt Napolitano was certainly NOT amused. Gheddafi`s entourage was comprised of some 300-400 people, including his faithful female bodyguards. The Colonel, always an eccentric fellow (very memorable was the time when in the 1980s as Arafat and his PLO combatants were holed up in the north of Lebanon as the Israelis were bombing the hell out of him, Gheddafi had given his Muslim brother the following advice when Arafat`s options of a quick exit from a rather dire situation were getting slimmer by the moment: “The best thing that you and your troops can do is that of committing suicide”! With friends like that, who indeed needs enemies (Arafat and his cronies would eventually be whisked off by ship to nearby Cyprus) ended up staying not in a downtown Roman hotel, nor at his embassy, but in a Bedouin tent in the middle of Villa Pamphili, which is Rome`s largest public park!

They say that the art of diplomacy was “born” some 2,500 years ago in the kingdom of Ebla near the Mediterranean coast in what we would call the Middle East in the kingdom of Hamazi in what is now Northern Iran. Modern diplomacy instead has its roots, coincidentally, in 15^th century Italy where permanent embassies were first established. And while the Obama administration has no doubt looked on the recent Gheddafi visit to Italy with some level of scepticism (will Obama indeed be meeting next month Gheddafi in L`Aquila during the G8 Summit seeing that Gheddafi is currently the head of the Organization of African States?), the Italians are no doubt masters of the art of getting along with former tin-pot dictators like Gheddafi, the Americans and also the Israelis: Muammar and his fellow compatriots (still) sit on loads of oil and natural gas deposits which are very, very dear to ENI, Italy`s state run petroleum company which is present in 70 countries around the world. Not only is oil and natural gas dear to the Italians and to Gheddafi`s cash registers, but the old Mad Dog also controls the taps on those thousands and thousands of illegal migrants who come up from such desperate and failed states as Sudan , Chad and other Third World countries (in a public debate, Gheddafi no doubt sent shivers down the spines of more than one politician as he asked: “Do you want 1 million, 10 million or 50 million illegal immigrants arriving in Italy”?). And as other European countries know very well, many of these poor and desperate migrants eventually use Italy (where they land on the island of Lampedusa which in 1986 saw Libya`s missiles practically land on its shores. More on that later…) as a simple springboard in order to make their way north to Germany, France or England.

On a final note, Gheddafi`s Rome visit brings back one final memory: in 1986, somewhat exasperated after Gheddafi had allegedly been behind the terrorist bombing of a disco in Germany (which killed several U.S. army personnel), Reagan decided once and for all to put the Mad Dog back in his kennel. He proceeded to bomb the hell out of Tripoli, killing along the way also one of Gheddafi`s (adopted) daughters. Well, in that very same period and moment I had just landed a job (right after my MA in Hispanic Studies at Queen`s) at the U.S. Consulate-General in Winnipeg! Yes, I still recall that we had been put on high-alert as a result of that bombing by U.S. warplanes (it now turns out many years later that the Craxi government, somewhat back-stabbing the Americans along the way, had warned Gheddafi of the imminent bombing. The missiles fired at the island of Lampedusa near Sicily weren’t in fact aimed at Italy. Apparently, back in the 80s on the island itself the Americans had positioned a very sophisticated radar station there which monitored Soviet submarine activity in the Mediterranean. This bit of somewhat intriguing news came out awhile ago by that old master himself of Italian diplomacy, seven-time Prime Minister Giulio Andreotti, who at age 90 was present during Gheddafi`s conferences in Rome). I still remember that we had had members of the RCMP patrolling outside the consulate and we had been even told to be careful when heading home after work in case we were followed by Libyan agents! It was all good stuff for the makings of a great James Bond movie (I`d go through something similar at the end of the 80s in Montreal when the U.S.S. warship Vincennes blew out of the sky an Iranian Airbus, and then again in 1991 while working at the U.S. Embassy in Rome during the first Gulf War)!

The ol` Colonel is notoriously famous for making his hosts wait endlessly for him. On one occasion, poor King Abdullah of Jordan had to wait and bake under sun and under the airplane steps 3 hours for Gheddafi to descend from his plane. Another European leader was made to wait instead a whopping 10 hours for the arrival of the Mad Dog. Well, Rome was no exception either to Gheddafi`s strange whims: Gianfranco Fini, the leader of the Parliament, after waiting uselessly 2 hours for Gheddafi to show up, said to hell with the conference (and with him) and proceeded to cancel it! Gheddafi`s excuse? That he was holed up at his embassy in holy afternoon prayers!

Yup, never one to let down an international audience that old Mad Dog of international (lunatics)!