Just a very good bureaucrat

I've several friends who have started their own businesses. I think they're tremendously clever... like my ethical PR chum Trine, and the tremendously gifted science whizz turned graphic designer, Kerry. Then there's my dad, who's committed to 'moving people forward', and my crafty sister in law Amy who I can't wait to order some groovy I SPY hats from.

There was a time when I wanted to set the world on fire by coming up with a genius idea and seeking my fortune in the world of business. After all, I am strong and clever, my nose is pretty... Sadly,I lack the courage and the nerves of steel that a business requires. I am fundamentally risk averse. I would obsess about the need to build the business while secretly procrastinating cold calling because I loathe it. I would be far more likely to end up like some other friends, whose businesses are sadly no more.

And if life has taught me anything, it's to play to your strengths. Mine, I fear, are an obsession with detail, a geeky determination to nut out the most convoluted bits of nonsense, and an innate determination to provide frank and fearless advice in the service of the greater good. Oh, and sometimes I'm an absolute academic snob.

In short, I'm just a very good bureaucrat. Thank goodness they let me in at the UN.

(It don't get more bureaucratic than here...)

Birthday adventures in Rome

I turned 36 this week, and I have to say I'm rather chuffed.

My year got off to a flying start - I had the day off. (One of the advantages of my new improved contract. I get holidays!) Minor sleep in, wee bit of cooking, then off to the train station to meet the lovely Ms Heather, freshly arrived from London. There was shopping, in which I cheerfully told the checkout chum (in proper Aussie style) that it was m

y birthday so I didn't have to work today and my friend had arrived from England so I was very happy. Oh, and no thanks, I don't need a bag for my groceries. Heather was flabbergasted - you don' chat to shop staff in England. Especially not in Italian. (I was a bit chuffed. I remembered nearly all the words).

So, home, champagne, scrambled eggs, smoked salmon - the most perfect special occasion breakfast ever. Lots of chit chat. Phonecalls from teh folks. Walking adventure into town to prove that we really DO live right near the Colusseum, followed by coffee and cake. More walking, eating, drinking. (Heather is here for 5 days - there will be lots of that.) We found performers at the Spanish Steps and the Piazza Del Popolo... I felt like a circus had been turned on specially just for me!

Of course, this being Rome and Monday being my birthday, it all would have been a bit incomplete without a big ol steak dinner. And best of all, the weekend is nearly here... and then the celebrations will really begin!

Astrid returns...

It's been one of those weekends where you just can't wipe the smile off your face. Thursday saw the jubilant return of Astrid, one of my first friends in Rome (alongside her housemate Rachel. Two women less alike you could not meet: one tall, Danish and as liberal as they come, the other petite, Scottish and Presbyterian in all but name. What they share, of course, is fiersome intellect, utter gorgeousness and... they are friends with me!). So there was much rejoicing and there may have been a wine or two involved. Perhaps even chocolate shots.

Friday we trooped down to the Druids Den to see Ants play with his new group, the Coff Drops. Before you know it I'd been roped in too and suddenly there were half price drinks all night for performers. Saturday brought another gig, for both of us, this time at the packed and higher profile Finnegan's. There were more friends from work - Ash and a gaggle of girls (how does he do it, and yet stay single?) and my friend Antje with her husband and friends, to celebrate her birthday. The prosecco flowed, the crowd (about a hundred of them!) cheered, and we left there floating. We haven't shared our musical side with work friends here in Rome before, so the whole night had that slightly crazy chaotic air of worlds colliding, leaving me dizzy.

It was hard work to get on my bike the next day, but I'd promised Kate that if my house guest had other plans, I would go. Astrid was off to go catch up with a friend, and left looking very glam in a dress and high heels. I arrived at the meeting point and Kate said... we're waiting for some other firends,... Astrid and Geoff are coming too, do you know them?? We nearly wet ourselves laughing when we saw each other... the Rome expat community really isn't that big after all!

Anyway, it was a cracking ride up along the Tevere, and my wee legs felt well tested by the time we trundled home in the dark, still smiling!

Haiti - a tough job getting aid in

Once again I am in awe of my colleagues. WFP had 225 staff in Haiti on January 12 when the earthquake struck.

Virtually all of them are now homeless.

More than 90% have lost a member of their immediate family.

But the day after the quake, they were virtually all back at work (our country office has relocated to an awning in the middle of a cleared space, because the building itself is too damaged to use), trying to find out which of our warehouses are okay, what roads are passable, and putting in place plans that will ultimately see us providing food to 2 million people a month, for the next 6-12 months at least.

But it's not an easy job. This article from The Age gives a hugely accurate picture of why food and other support is only slowly getting in there.

My boss is over there now, and some of our engineers. There is no running water, no showers. You take in everything you will need: water purification tablets, tent, sleeping bag, wetwipes, loo roll. And, with the rainy season closing in fast, a shovel and mozzie repellent.

Port au Prince, a city of 3 million, is devastated. Many of the country's leaders, heads of government service departments and emergency services, lost their lives. A city already the capital of the poorest country in the region did not need fate to deal a hand like this.

And yet, people are starting to put things in place, and the world is responding on a massive scale. This is what the UN is for - to bring nations together in support of one another. And it's global responses like these that remind us of the power of our humanity.

Aussie Day bbq

Our New Years trip to Bristol contained something of a discovery... an importer of Kangaroo Burgers just outside of town (I could live where these guys are based, its really pretty). Australia day was just around the corner, so what else could a girl do, really, but host an Aussie day bbq with all the expats from work.

Okay, so it was January, and we were just days away from snow (for the first time in 20 years, apparently). And Ants and I have no bbq, so we were indoors, and cooking in a pan. And half our guests turned out to be vego, so more for us, but that meant prawns and a growing range of hot and cold salads were called for.

But Cold Chisel, the Waifs, the Whitlams and the Cat Empire made it onto the stereo, and all the gang who had brought treats back from visits home at Christmas - real twisties, tim tams even minties! It was a bit like a midnight feast out of an Enid Blyton (no, wait - Mary Grant Bruce!) novel. We ate and drank and talked til far too late for a school night and Ants graciously volunteered to do all the washing up the next day.

I'm just getting to know this mob, but I like em all so far :-)

...bikes!!...

It's been on our minds for some weeks to brave Rome's madcap traffic and get ourselves on two wheels. Ideally we want scooters, but Ants lacks the requisite licence, and swears blind he'll never ride behind a girl (not even me), so it's pedal power all the way. We're both after something a bit retro, but not too classy cos it will just get nicked in this part of the world (Rome's rate of bike crime would put even Oxford to shame). So one saturday, armed with some very vague directions from a colleague and accompanied by the intrepid Kate-from-Albury (who has recently arrived in Rome via WFP's operations in China, North Korea and the Philippines... so has serious field cred), we set out one morning on foot...

...and returned on two wheels! Check out these babies... perfect for rattling over cobblestones and sitting tall as we pass Roman cafes bathed in winter sunlight, although with only 6 gears, their ability up a hill is yet to be tested.

They were sold to us by an elderly chap whose shop-in-a-shed in an alleyway of bikesellers halfway up a hill (along with his charming promises of free maintenance) captured our hearts as surely as our new wheels have. And yes, they all match (although Anthony swears his is "completely different" to ours... yeah. right.

And there was an innate sense of freedom as we headed down the road to home, remembering to keep right (most of the time)making up the roadrules as we went along (in Rome, they're not so much rules as guidelines, anyway).

We can't wait for our first freewheeling adventure, although today has been a pretty good start!

Prague!

Our friend Lissy from Oslo has, for the last 3 months, been Lissy from Prague, courtesy of a work placement offered by her company. We left it to nearly the last minute, but we couldn't let her leave without going up to say hello.

We flew Wizz Air, and I would do it again, any time. Punctual, polite and the sort of service you expect to pay a lot more for. And the coolest inflights snacky service - little trays of finger food that make you feel like you're at some kind of sit down cocktail party. Wizz indeed!!

It was nothing compared to our excitement onlanding in Prague, driving through fairytale streets blanketed with snow, catching glimpses of castles and spires, and then seeing Lissy, who had laid on a spread and even found ciders, which were a welcome sight indeed after months in Rome where the pubs serve nothing but Bulmers, Magners and vino. (There's no pleasing some people. In England I bemoaned the lack of decent wine at any price.) Much nattering was had.

Next morning we set out to explore, trudging through icy streets, up the funicular, stopping for a snow fight and hot wine, sliding down paths and laughing at tobogganing kids.

Past churches and pretty streets, up to the castle and down past the absinthe shope and one very brave busker, fiddling in the snow, and off in search of a monster lunch. We found it.

More meandering, more eating and drinking, and then back on Sunday to see the market on the Charles bridge (above, which is gorgeous and charming in its own right), then to explore the castle properly and watch the weather really close in on the way home.

More hot wine, although none of it as warming as seeing our friend happy and at home in Prague, but looking forward to her move back to Norway :-)

Monday we'd taken a long weekend, so we bid Lis a fond farewell, thanked her for being hostess with the mostest and headed out exploring the old fort near her place, complete with statue of Good King Wenceslaus.

There is nothing as beautiful, nor as muffled silent, as a city blanketed in snow.

We left longing to come back and see it all in summer, sad that our friend and tourguide won't be there to share it with us, but excited too about the prospect of a trip to Norway while the sun is shining...

Folky goodness a Roma

We've been looking for them for months, searching countless websites that promised live music every Monday, Thursday or whatever, only to find that they don't, spending some gawdawful evenings in crowded touristy pubs , trying in vain to find "where the good sessions are".

It's taken near half a year, but finally we've found them. Fridays at Cork's Inn, altnerate Fridays at the Druid's Den, monthly at Flann O'Briens and the occasional get together at the Abbey Road Theatre Granted, the tunes are all trad Irish, and cater to a more mainstream set of tastes than the English pieces we've known. But real sessions, packed with Italians who speak badly broken english but sing with accents of pure scots, or soaring lilting Irish. Their fingers fly across fiddles and whistles and their welcome for new musicians like us has been heartwarming. Ants is even starting to swing the occasional offer of a paid gig.

They've proved once and or all that music knows no barriers, reaching out across countries and cultures, hangups and hesitations.

For me, Rome's folkie folks are my first Italian friends in italy, and I suddenly feel more at home.

(ta Marzio for the pic...)

We wish you a merry Christmas and a happy New Year

Where did the last six months go? Our first 'tour of duty' in Italy has flown by, and as Christmas approaches, we find ourselves preparing to head back to Britain for the festive season, armed with tasty treats and adventurous anecdotes, but craving time with familiar faces and traditions.

Looking back at the Pollyanna cascade of posts in this blog, I have to confess it hasn't all been as easy as we might've made it sound (although lets face it, who REALLY wants to read about the hard stuff, or hear us crying poor about the downside of lweekends in Tuscany or Umbria).

Nevertheless, some things ought to be acknowledged.

I am endebted to my husband for bravely following me from a place where he was comfortable and happy to a place where his days have often been quiet, even lonely, and where everything, even daily basics like buying a coffee or tobacco, catching the train or booking a haircut, have required far more effort than normal. Granted, there are benefits, and we've been able to afford things we couldnt have otherwise. But for him, working here hasn't yet proved possible and Rome's smelly, crooked chaos hasn't entirely won him over.

And yet, when I was offered contract for another 5 months (before a mandatory break after 11 months' service), he was the first to say I should take it. Now that's a brave man indeed. I count myself lucky to have won such devotion.

For both of us, Rome at Christmas doesn't quite feel like Christmas. The traditions here are still a mystery to us, and while we love the fact that Christmas decorations don't go anywhere until the first week of December, the absence of mulled wine, christmas markets and other things we've come to associate with a European Christmas, leave us feeling a little flat.

So it was with great excitement that we raided the commissary and various stores for panfortes and other gifts, packed our bags and met up on the train that connects our flat, my office and the airport, bound for Oxford and Witney and our brilliantly generous friends Anya and Simon, whose texts and details of shopping exploits over the past week have left our mouths watering. Cider, mince pies, goose for roasting...

And Christmas doesn't disappoint. From gifts of 'slipper socks' on arrival, to the dressing gowns hanging on our bedroom door, from first cider to last port, and every cheery hug and greeting in between, we have had an amazing time. It's been so good to see friends and realise that six months away is not so very long after all, and that the people who came to mean so much to us in our three years here have indeed become the sort of friends that will stand the tests of time and distance.

All too soon my four days are up and its back to Rome for me for three days, before committing a big ol greenhouse nasty and jetting back to Bristol, where Ants has relocated himself for new year's, and four days punctuated by shopping, a housewarming and lots of hugs.

After six solid months, it's just the pick me up I needed. I'm ready to go back now, and start my second tour, although I know a stack of hard work awaits. But I have an Anthony at my side, and no girl could ask for more.

Here's to a bold and bright 2010... buon anno a tutti, and may all your new years dreams come true!

More roman conundra

It's now six months since touchdown on the continent and the longer I am here, the more I find myself saying that living in Rome is a whole lot of things (many of which don't smell very nice), but living in Italy is just breathtaking....

That said, Rome has a lot to offer the patient adventurer, (as long as that adventurer is also very careful about where they put their feet). The food markets at Testaccio, with blueberry honey, and the "tomato man", who won't sell you a thing until you tell him exactly which dish you are planning to make with his tomaties... then he selects just the right variety from the dozen or so on his stand. There's a horse-meat stall, and loads that sell fresh fruit and veg - all seasonal of course - cured meats, varying strengths of cheeses, massive cuts of meat that they slice to your requirements, and sweet biscuits and pastries that are just lovely after a big lunch...

Nothing in Rome is entirely wholesome though, and word about the office is 'don't buy the fish there, it's all sold by the mafia', and there are a couple of really annoying little guys who come up and pester you to buy bags of whole garlic bulbs. They don't like taking no for an answer, although once you tell them to fuck off a couple of times, they seem to get the message... sometimes they get halfway to approaching you when recognition hits and they back away again... lol

Back on the upside, there's the aroma of cornetti coming up from the deli as I descend into the subway at the train station - always welcoming after the stench of the street and lending an air of 'warm and cosy' to even the nippiest winter mornings.

And now that tourist season is over and the streets aren't so clogged with badly dressed 'stranieri', I've been getting out and about in search of pretty scenic things. Rome may be badly maintained and crumbling at both her heart and her edges, but there are jewels to be found tucked away here...

I've just confirmation my contract will be renewed, and I am so very pleased to know that I will have more time to seek them out.

I really can't say I yet share the view of my Belgian colleague, who declares she hates Rome". "I've left 3 times" she says... "but look"(with a shrug), "still you see me standing here".

I think that point will be quite some way off yet.

copENHAGEN

I was a late inclusion in our official delegation to the world climate conference earlier this month. Three days of mayhem - although my experience was not a patch on that of friends who work at NGOs who were desperately trying to influence negotiations and find out, amid 30,000 delegates worth of rumour and speculation, what the devil was going on.

For my part, I got to enjoy being not one of the important people: my job was to attend seminars on shipping emissions, and renewable energy, and other geeky topics, and to support the launch of the UN-wide first ever carbon footprint.

In between times, I managed to take in a wind energy industry cocktail party in an 18thC Danish palace (complete with anti-Vestas protesters), got escorted through the picket lines on the big day of protest, and generally felt weird being on the "UN observer, right this way please ma'am" side of the fence, instead of being on the "loud but outta the loop" faction.

I also caught up with my Danish chum Astrid, who was an intern with us over the summer and one of my 'new in Rome' chums. And she instantly endeared me to our Copenhagen office by offering me a bed, saving them hours on the phone trying to find a non-existent hotel room. (And no wonder - turns out that although the conference centre only holds 15,000, the COP organisers took more than 30,000 registrations. Getting in was a nightmare for thousands of people... but not me, and that felt VERY weird). Anyway, Astrid welcomed me with a dinner of christmas sausage, rye bread, and creamed cabbage (do nøt laugh, it's the best cabbage dish ever, by far) a bottle of red and endless catchup chatter.

And Copenhagen was properly cold - snowing even - which just emphasised that Copenhagen is a city built for enjoying life. The streets are wide and clean and even, cyclists have dedicated lanes on every major road, as do buses. And why not - 40% of people cycle to work, even in winter. The metro is clean, quiet, reliable and even attractive, somehow making the trip home uplifting rather than exhausting. It's the very model of a well planned city and no wonder Scandies are the envy of the developed world!

All the experience, networking and good times aside, the non-result of the COP after two weeks of negotiations was disappointing. I got more out of my 3 days of workshops than the world got from that fortnight. What a cop-out.

... and Bracciano

I've waited weeks to see Bracciano and finally, in the last days before Christmas, I made it onto a sleepy Sunday train for the hour long journey north of Rome. I found a christmas market, churches complete with huge precepi, a hilltop castle with views of a breathtaking lake... and Jazz playing Santas, a christmas train running through the main streets, and my first glass of quite ordinary Italian wine. Oh, and two of my colleagues, who commute in every day from here... now there's a thought!

...Brian and bagpipes...

It took 5 days and £400, but we got Ants back by Friday, just one day after our mate Brian from Melbourne. Brian is a musician by trade and a teacher by profession. I used to go hear him play every Wednesday at the Dan, just on the off chance that he'd sing a song called Pallet on your Floor, which I love, and am now working on a version of for recording. Ants and I got to know him when he ran the Dan's Sunday session, and famously prophesised when we got together that "it's not love, you're in lust, it'll never last". Ha.


Brian is now teaching in Kuwait, and arrived with three of his teacher chums: Amelia and Debbbie from South Africa and Maureen from Queensland. The girls turned up begging for directions to the nearest bar and, after 2 months in staunchly Muslim Kuwait, demanding sausage, bacon and beer! Brian and I had dinner at ours and pointedly noted somewhere into the second bottle of wine that "this would never be allowed in Q8"... what he meant was that never in a million years would he be allowed to visit a married woman while her husband was out, and, once it was known he'd stayed overnight (even on the couch), "They'd be out the front waiting with pebbles for you in the morning". It's another reminder of how far women still have to come in many parts the world. (Or rather, how much MEN still have to learn!)


Brian also brought cheerful confirmation that we are indeed the only english speakers in our street and perhaps the whole block. "I stopped at the cafe up the road and said I was staying with some friends who live here, and the lady said oh, the tall blond man and his wife'..."


Friday night brought session-ey goodness with the Irish music Italians we are getting to know at a pub in town. Surprise surprise, Brian was a hit. We filled the weekend with food and wine and music and chatter and wandering around a stack of old stuff - Ants and I are getting quite good at this tour guide thing. All too soon ,it was time for them to head back to the middle east. But we cant wait to see them again.





The following weekend we kicked off the festive season a little early, with the St Andrew's Day ball of the Caledonian Society of Rome (who knew Rome even had such a thing!?), run by a colleague of mine who happens to have been the president for the past five years. Only at the UN, surely. It was a cracking good night - I'd dragged along our new Aussie chum Kate (recently out of WFP North Korea), and she brought one of her interns. We all looked gorgeous and danced lashings of ceilidh. And it was pretty exciting to have new friends to share our adventures, because despite the pipers, there were plenty of reminders that we weren't still in Kansas, Toto... The food was italian, and the drink of choice was prosecco. On the upside, there was enough of the Water of Life to ensure that the local Presbyterian minister was far too pissed to drive us all home. We all piled into his Tarago anyway, accepting his assurances that God would look after him in this holiest of cities...although I did seriously consider getting out when he drove the wrong way up the offramp for the motorway.


Next morning - erm. okay, it was afternoon - we hauled ourselves down to meet a former London colleague of mine, and his lovely partner, who is a Kiwi. It was worth every scrap of early post-prosecco agony. We had a lovely time with Keith and Yvonne, meandering through the Christmas market at Piazza Navona, the Campo dei Fiori, and I finally remembered where the bus goes from that takes you up to the top of the Janiculum Hill and the Garibaldi monument. Then we went for dinner in Trastevere, in a restaurant with enormous steaks and huge slabs of seafood on ice in the windows and front display cabinets. Maybe not the classiest invitation to dinner, but the meal was memorable, as was the company. Keith was one of my earliest mentors when I was first promoted back in the day, and this plain spoken big bear of a man has a heart of gold. It was good to be able to both brag a little at how much I'm enjoying the job, and living "abroad", while acknowledging the hard stuff - the challenges of playing backstop for Ants, who is still finding his feet, the complexities of paperwork and the uncertainty around contract renewals. For his part, Keith readily supplied all the best of the office gossip from the last 5 months, and told us the story of Keith and Yvonne. I love it when two people with some years more living than we do, discover each other - its totally romantic. We headed off into the night with embraces and seasons greetings and it really does feel as though the festive season has already begun. Roll on.