104 days in Italy

You would think that living in a different country means that I’m trying out enough new things. But yesterday I tried one more. I’m very glad that we’ve been able to bring Gabrieli with us, as she’s been a great way to talk to people on the streets. It seems she is the only standard poodle in Florence and as such attracts a great deal of attention from locals and visitors alike. Of course, it means that if we walk down the street without her, we are completely anonymous, but with her we’ve met some of our neighbours in this busy part of central Florence.

However, after I decided that I could successfully wield the scissors on her haircut, she will be attracting fewer ‘che bella’ exclamations as we walk around. Those of you who know me, know that I am not good with things, anythings at all. One of the reasons that Robin does all the cooking is because he finds it painful to watch me splatting the food around when I’m trying to stir it. And so, quite honestly, I should have known better – particularly as the razor cuts short and the scissors are sharp.

It started well, the tail doesn’t look any odder than normal. The first back leg is also alright, but I’d clearly gained too much confidence on the second leg, just like the second performance of a play. Legs 3 & 4 sport yet more varied lengths. The head was going fine, until she moved. I decided to leave the ears to Robin!

Language learning has been a bit like that. You gain confidence, think that it is going well, and then fall foul of the next grammar rule. Some days I can gabble away and everyone seems to understand, the next day pronouncation doesn’t work, grammar becomes nonsensical, and nothing makes sense. Then there are the days when words I had forgotten in French become like a cracked record in my memory and I stutter onwards speaking a kind of franglaistalino. It is both amusing, and frustrating.

I make a living with words: I try in sermons to be interesting, in conversation to be attentive. But in another language, you fall back on the set expressions, you struggle to follow the basics, and completely miss the nuances. It is possible to find yourself nodding and smiling away, before realising that the story has become deeply sad and moving. It is normal to think that you understand everything, right up until the moment when a question is posed and you need to offer a coherent answer.

However, the largest blessing is that the Italians don’t seem to mind that I am mauling their bella lingua. People take time whilst you find the right words, and manage to understand even if (when) you don’t. They smile as they correct your grammar or pronounciation, and offer you some time for a chat, even when you’re making no sense whatsoever. There is no arrogance about good Italian or bad Italian, there is only a desire to communicate. This is probably because Italians talk a lot. But then again, so do I. In fact, I feel right at home.

Working out who's who

I'm been puzzling once again this evening over my church's address list. It is normal here for a woman to keep her maiden name. But some women it seems add their husband's name when they become a widow. And so begins a difficult pastoral situation - should I write "Famiglia so-and-so" on the envelope, if in fact there is only 1 person at the address. And how is it that women with different surnames seem to be living at the same address - are they sisters? are they widows? are they in fact at different addresses, and the one we have is wrong?

Those people in the UK who have a different surname to their husband/partner, how do you like mail to be addressed when it is for both of you? and could I really offend someone I haven't met by getting this wrong?!

Anyhow, this is just preamble to me suggesting that you take a look here http://www.methodist.org.uk/index.cfm?fuseaction=churchlife.content&cmid=1697
at a funny bit of methodist graphics for your mobile phone. I will be downloading it, once I've worked out how!

Destination: Italy

It seems like more than 3 months ago that we bid a very sad farewell to Potters Bar, to a lovely house and 3 even better churches. Closing the door for a final time was an emotional moment, but it was lovely to spend a few days at my sister's, with my family before we crossed the channel. It surprised us to find that the actual moment of leaving old Blighty was also difficult, but then we opened the pictures drawn so carefully by number 1 nephew and so decorated Hilde (the camper van) for our 2 week epic adventure!

The beauty of the camper is the freedom to travel when and where you choose. Which was just as well, because in the final moments of packing, I'd placed all the official van documents safely in a box to be sent to Florence. Which I thought was fine, but Robin proceeded to explain that we were supposed to carry them in the van to be able to show them if necessary. So we didn't drive through Switzerland, as you need to produce documents at the border.

I like France, and it was good to drive back around the Champagne and Alsace region (avoiding eye contact with any traffic police!). We stayed for another fabulous night at "Bollenberg" http://www.bollenberg.com/, enjoying great good, a spot more winetasting and buying a small supply for Christmas. Clinking slightly, we visited only a few wine producers this time, conscious that we were, after all, moving to the Chianti region! But we have tucked away a couple of bottles of cremant for Christmas.

The temperature rose steadily as we headed south, so it was beautiful relief to spend a night at altitude as we drove over the mountains into Italy, using Col du Mont Cenis. We joined about 40 other campers of all shapes and sizes parked up above the reservoir. As we dropped down and took the motorway past Torino, the heat became impractical. Humans in the front were ok, but poodle in the back was suffering, so we tended to drive for about an hour, before parking up and trying to wait out the worst of the day. En route to Firenze, we admired a few Italian cities (Pavia, Padova, Modena), chiefly staying the shade of the loggias, and enjoying gelato and ice-cream.

And to end for today, a quick note about coffee: the French cafès couldn't make a decent cup, and the prices were ridiculous. What a relief to live in Italy!

Tomorrow: Italy, the first 84 days!

except a stick!

I've just started to look at next weeks Bible readings, including Mark 6: 1-13. Jesus sends out the 12 disciples for the first time and instructs them "take nothing for the journey except a stick - no bread, no pack, no money in their belts. They might wear sandals, but not a second coat." [Revised English Bible]
The poodle might think these instructions are adequate - after all, life is best when chasing a stick - but me?!
On Saturday we took several items to the rubbish tip and far more to the charity shop (thank you Oxfam!). We are considering taking less, because Ikea is cheap and close, so we don't need to pack our crockery and can safely store it until our return. But I don't think that is quite what Jesus had in mind because he instructs the disciples to leave behind their money, making them completely dependent on hospitality.
What do we need in order to live? can we trust strangers to provide for us? should we? do we provide for our friends?
What do we need in order to share our faith? the stick is only there to help you walk further and do more, it seems that we already have all we need to witness to Jesus.

If only it was as simple as not taking the second coat! It's the shoes, jumpers, books, music, dog toys and more books that are also troubling me. Oh yes, and next week's sermon.

Shredding & letting go

I finally came to terms with my top-shelf today! It was over-loaded with notes from my under-grad and post-grad degrees, and ministerial training. I have looked at them occasionally over the past decade or so, but I cannot justify putting them all into storage for 3 years. And so I've only glanced at them as I've piled high the recycling box. Shredding took place as I realised I've carried names and addresses with me from my placement churches, which is probably forbidden by the Data Protection regulations. I only hope the recycling collectors won't mind so many extra carrier bags on their rounds tomorrow.

It was strange to look back on those studies and it almost felt like a betrayal of some very excellent teachers when you finally throw out all that you tried to learn. I still have many of the books that I bought at university and those are truthfully more useful compared to unreadable scribbles taken down in lectures. Now weighing on my mind are 4 boxes of memoribilia that are stashed in the loft, perhaps it's time to tackle those as well.

The itinerant ministry is an unusual life, but ministers are not alone in needing to clear out the debris and the memories from time to time. To travel freely you need to travel light. I remember the words that Tim Clifford shared with Northwood Methodist Church about his walking pilgrimage to Santiago dell Compostela "I found as I walked that I didn't need the things that I had packed and thought were essential. All I needed I carried in my mind and in my heart." I think that I have remembered all I need from my days at university - most of that was never written down in the first place. And if I realise that I need to remember exactly what Barth or Bultmann or Moltmann thought, then there still remains the world of books; I would rather travel with their actual words and then mull over once again what I think, I don't need to read what I thought in the past because I either know it, or it is time to change my mind!

Long time no blog

It's been a long time, because I've just wanted to settle down and enjoy my time with Potters Bar, Shenley & Radlett. And I have been, a great deal! But people keep asking "You're going soon, aren't you?" and yes, it's only 3 months and 2 days until my last service, and then we move out.

Before that there is a lot more work and a lot more packing.
Italian lessons - studio italiano, mas e lente!

Looking forward - the apartment in Italy needs a bit of finishing off, so we just hope that there will be a bed and a sofa by the time we arrive. The kitchen is also in need of repair, and there are bare wires in a couple of places where there should be lights. Our house here in Potters Bar is so comfortable, with such a gorgeous garden (that Gabrieli is particularly relishing in this warmer weather), so I'm sure we will miss green England. But we have a terrace, which looks perfect for growing tomatoes and peppers, and a courtyard that needs to be colonised by flowers and a BBQ, and the flat will be lovely and cool during the hot summers.

I did send an email to ask how things are going in Italy after the earthquake (terremoto), but I haven't heard back, so we continue to pray for the re-building and the important work of pastoral care in those communities and for all those affected. My mum was a bit concerned about the possibility of earthquakes, but I assured her that floods were more likely!