Flashback Friday: Trip to Verona (Italy)

One of the best things about living in Italy was the ability to travel. I wish that I had taken advantage of it more. Maybe later in life, I'll go back to some of these places. Verona was a nice place. Not too touristy. It's also the town where Romeo and Juliet took place.

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Okay, so I've been in for around half an hour, and I am still shivering from my trip to Verona. It was not a bad trip, but sweet Jesus, was it cold. There's an organization called Information, Tours, and Registration (ITR) that runs trips for military personnel, to different places. For all of you that don't know, Verona is the place where the historic story of Romeo and Juliet took place. More on that later.

First off, here are some random pictures of the things that I saw. These really came with no explanation to me, so I'm giving no explanation to you, because I'm too cold to make stuff up.

Okay, so enough random pictures. Now for ones that I can say at least a few words about:

Okay, so it's not historical or anything, but I just had to get a picture. I mean, it's baby yogurt. Probably made from the finest babies available. Soylent Green has nothing on this.

This was just some statue that was around. The guy looked pretty pimped, so I took a picture. Pimping ain't easy.

Okay, these are pictures of the Square and the Coliseum. This coliseum is the fourth largest in Italy, the largest one being the one in Rome, and was constructed in the first century A.D. They hold an annual concert here in the summer. Like the coliseum in Rome, it was designed with an outer wall that surrounded the inner wall, but most of it collapsed due to an earthquake in 1117. Rather than clean it up, the rocks were left there, and it became a quarry for the town, which is why there are no stones there now. The design of the coliseums is such that even if people are screaming and cheering inside, there is almost no noise that can be heard in the Square, which is right outside.

This is the clock tower in Verona. It is the largest tower in the city. It's also pretty close to where Romeo lived. I would have taken a picture of his place, but because of the angles and tight places, all that I could get was his door, and it was a damn big door.

Okay, now for the Juliet stuff.

This is Juliet's balcony. Actually, it is a recreation of the balcony, due to the fact that the actual balcony had been destroyed. This balcony was taken from a similar building and used in the restoration. The girl in the picture on the left was just there.

This is interesting. People come here and stick small love letters and notes up on the wall. Unfortunately, they do it using bubblegum. So it's kind of romantic, kind of unsightly. There's going to be another restoration, where I guess that they will remove all of the gum and stuff.

These are close up picture of two of the letters. The one on the left is sweet, but the one on the right says "Spud, I want your rear." How loving.

This is a side by side shot. On the left, you see a woman writing a note on the wall, along with a bunch of other notes that people have written. On the right, you see a painter, painting the opposite wall white. It was just so funny to see. I mean, I don't know who should feel that their efforts are more futile.

Closeups.

Okay, last but not least, in the courtyard, there is a statue of Juliet. Now the statue's right breast is extremely shiny compared to the rest of the statue. This is because they say that your are supposed to rub it, and it will make you lucky in love, or if you are married, it will strengthen your marriage. Yeah, nothing strengthens a marriage more than rubbing a statue's breast. I assume that it makes single people luckier in love because they now have to justify copping a feel on a statue. And so, it's time for teh gorping pictures:

And that concludes my trip to Verona. Maybe I'll do it again when it's warmer.

Wayback Wednesday: Circle concept

This post originally appeared on December 10, 2004. The main idea of the post revolves around how hard it is to take care of things if certain base needs aren't met.


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The circle concept

Imagine a series of concentric circles, each one pertaining to an aspect of your life. There is no limit to how many circles can exist in the example, as the possibilities for what can technically be tied to “you” are limitless. In theory, we could create one that had levels spanning out until you had a circle that stood for the universe. Unfortunately, for our purpose, doing this would be useless, as you cannot see your effect on the entire universe, nor does the universe technically need you.

The innermost circle represents you and everything that you have direct control of. This includes things like what clothing you wear, what you have for lunch, what color sheets you have for your bed, and so forth. The next circle out contains things that you do not have absolute control over, but have some direct effect on. This would include things like your workplace, your girlfriend’s or wife’s life, etc. The circles continue outward from there, and can be as specific or as general as you deem fit. Non-related items can share the same circle if need be, due to their similar level of control or importance. Another method of thinking would be to classify each circle by its effect on you. The inner circle holds what has the most effect on you, such as eating, and the outermost circle could be what has the least effect on you, such as the fact that Pluto’s orbit makes it the eight planet from the sun for part of its cycle.

For every individual, that inner circle is the most important, because what exists in that circle is what you control, and what affects you directly. Imagine that the inner circle can be directly related to Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs. You directly control if and when you eat (most of the time), and not satisfying that need directly affects you in the form of hunger. Effects in this circle will eventually reverberate outward, affecting the other circles. Hunger may cause you to be more easily irritated, causing you to become impatient with your girlfriend. Hunger will lower your productivity and ability to think, or the argument with your girlfriend will lead to you sleeping on the couch, which will move into the next outer circle, causing you to be tired at work, and so forth.

Every individual works to satisfy as much of their inner circle as they can. It would be impossible to satisfy everything in this circle, especially while there are other circles that need attendance. You have a job to do, and that circle steals time away from your innermost circle. However, this does not mean that it has no effect on that circle. If you don't do your job, you will not get paid, and you won't eat. See how easily things come back to that inner circle. So, when you're at your desk pumping out the end of the fiscal year financial reports, you can't deal with what you need to with your inner circle, such cleaning your house.

Every individual will spend a lot of time unknowingly moving between circles, never truly separating the tasks, and grouping them under the catch-all category of “Life.” The job and their personal life are not separate in their mind. It’s just one large series of tasks. Other will begin the categorization of tasks, and separate them depending on importance, and what circle it reside in. When they are at work, their effort is exerted in the “Work” circle, but as soon as work is done, their mind drifts to some circle that is closer to their center. Still, it may not be the most inner circle. Maybe it’s the girlfriend circle, or the house circle. This becomes more complicated depending on the individual, and how they decide to separate their circles, and what they place the most importance on. In the diagram on the right, we have a rather general example. A diagram that would be more specialized may break “Things in your life” into such categories as the house, the girlfriend, the car, and place those depending of what that person feels is more important. Does he love his car or his girlfriend more? If he fails to take care of the car, will that eventually hurt his ability to deal with his girlfriend (placing the car in closer than the girlfriend)? If the car blows up, would that have absolutely no effect on his relationship (allowing the girlfriend to reside on a circle closer to his center than the circle in which his car resides).

Wayback Wednesday: National Strike Day & the new apartment in Italy

This post originally appeared on November 30, 2004. It was my introduction to the lazy life of the Italian in Italy. I mean, this is just the tip of the iceberg, because over the next 3 years, I would suffer to many more mildly inconveniences. This also contains the first pictures of my apartment.

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After a workout that enhanced both my abs and my abs, I went to the chow hall to get some breakfast, and found that only paper plates and plastic utensils were being used today. Why? Because the Italians are taking a day off for, (stop drinking anything) NATIONAL STRIKE DAY!!! I have yet to visit a lazier country than Italy. Seriously, this country should have a national Go do your damn job day, in which work actually gets done. In case you missed an earlier post, let me enlighten you. The typical Italian business opens at 1000, and stays open until 1200. From 1200 until 1500 (that’s 3 hours or 300 hours for you military people), most businesses are closed, except for restaurants. That’s because the Italians like to take their time for lunch. I mean, you have to since every meal is required to have a minimum of 4 courses, plus wine. So the store reopens at 1500 and stays open until 1800. That means these people have a 5 hour workday (unless you work in a restaurant, in which case, you stay open for long periods, because people take forever to eat). Also, never count on a business being open on a Sunday. Lastly, businesses are required to be closed for one day of the week, which varies from business to business. So that comes out to being open for 5 days a week, 5 hours a day, for a 25-hour work week. I think this country needs a National “We lost World War 2, so we should speak English” day.

Okay, so then it rains all day. Surprisingly, this is also the day where I have to do a lot of walking outside. You feel kind of bad when you have to walk to a place in sideways falling rain, and notice that one half of your uniform is a lot wetter than another side. However, you feel better when you realize that it will all even out when you walk back in the other direction. Damn Infantry. I'm a man, who can't wear rain gear because of my branch. Most people in the Infantry don't acknowledge that it exists, unless you have to spend a long period standing in the rain. Also, if it’s just YOU that have to be in the rain, you don't wear the wet weather gear, or you'll be called various 4 and 5-letter words, mostly in jest.

I was promoted today to First Lieutenant (1LT). Technically, my date of rank is 1 December (and so is Eddie's, Heather). It just means that I get a pay raise ($343.40 per month, plus the 3% pay raise at the start of the year thanks to cost of living) to spend money on new rank, and that I've been commissioned for 18 months. No real changes. 6 months until my next pay raise (2 years in the army means another raise of 362.40 a month, or $705.80 more than I currently make). Combat will mean that I'll have to pay no income taxes for a year.

Lastly, I had to go out to my apartment to have it inspected before I move in, so I took some pictures while I was there:

This is my Kitchen area. Note that the stove is kind of small. That’s just how it is in Italy. I have no idea why, especially when they cook such large meals. The fridge hides away, looking like a cabinet and tricking hungry thieves into thinking that I have no leftovers. The last picture is the view from the Kitchen.

This is my large bathroom, and the shower. I didn't include a view from the bathroom, because no one really looks out of the bathroom window. Maybe I should have checked to see is there might be someone looking in. Maybe I could charge for shows.

This is the small bathroom. And,... um,... yeah.

This is the small bedroom. It is where other will be sleeping, unless there is some reason they want to share the large bed (lightning, etc.). The last pic is the view (in case your perspective is off, that is not a wall behind the trees. It's an open field or something. Look at the distance on that view.

This is the big bedroom, aka My Room. That is my bed, and a picture of me taking a picture. Once again, the view. There's a third room, but there was nothing in it, so I took now pictures of it.

This is half of the living room. I forgot to take a picture of the other half of it, which is where the couch and two comfort seats (I think that's what you call them) are. Finally, this is the view from the window. The first pic is what's to the left, the second is straight ahead, and the last is what's to the right. Now you may be asking, "How much does this cost?" 850 euro a month, which is a little over $1,000. Now, guess how much the Army give me for rent, ON TOP OF my paycheck: 850 euro (non-taxable income). Can you say free housing? I know I can.

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Flashback Friday

This was originally posted on November 14, 2004. For some reason, I decided to tackle dating and profession at the same time. Efficiency of blogging? Who knows. My original blog at blog.com has disappeared, so don't bother trying to go to it. The digital war links still work, but I have no idea what was at the Benning site. Might have been for the Roy P. Benavidez MOH citation.

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So in my infinite reading and web surfing, I stumbled across this comic: http://www.digitalwar.co.uk/d/20040423.html. The series is actually pretty good. Unless you're a Lord of the Rings fan. In that case, you will find that this is a parody that has gone on way too long and should be a fan site to www.bobandgeorge.com.

Anyway, I find this particular comic interesting because it tackles a subject that has long sat in my brain, mostly because I have this weird way of running across the situation over and over and over.... well, you get the idea.

The last girl that I dated was someone that I hadn't known and become friends with first. Things just kind of developed into a relationship over time. It went from "someone I could talk to" and was "hanging out with" to "dating" over the course of 3 months. Then you back date the whole thing to when you met, and call that your dating period. So that relationship lasted a total of 7 months (it also ended 7 months ago). Strangely enough, when the relationship ended as abruptly as it did (refer to the first entry at http://black6.blog.com) there were few "lost friend" repercussions.

You then need to contrast this with the fact that I tend to keep few female friends. It's not really by choice. I just happen to be in a section of professions where there are not very many women (Army Infantryman), and the fact that my previous environments were West Point (14% female) and an all boys high school. I think in that High School part, I had maybe between 1 and 3 (I can only guarantee 1) women that I talked to regularly that were my age and not part of my martial arts training.

So a lot of the women that I end up friends with fall into the category of "I'd date you, but I'd rather not screw up this friendship, because then I'd only have the guys at work, and I can only take so much grunting on a daily basis" or "I was trying to date you, but then I took a wrong turn somewhere, or some reason of higher morality stopped me." Once they leave that second category (i.e. they become available), the are almost immediately shuttled into the first category, mostly because I'm an ass, and you'd really have to put up with constant joking sarcasm (which a lot of women are attracted to, surprisingly enough). and an extreme amount of logic based thinking that overrides emotion (which some think is me just playing hard to get). In any case, I wouldn't be a good friend if I put a friend through that while we were dating. So, if anyone knows any aggressive women, direct them my way. It'll make both our lives a lot less painful.

The next comic in the series is this one: http://www.digitalwar.co.uk/d/20040425.html. Ignore the first half, and go down to the part about saving someone. I've actually put as much thought into this subject as I have the other one over the past couple of years. In my line of work, and just about every line of work that I've ever considered, from police officer, to volunteer firefighter, to government agent, to SWAT, you come to grips with the reality of your own probable death, and the lives of other being in danger. At some point in my mind, I began to realize that it was best to suppress the thoughts of saving someone, because in doing so, you're at the same time hoping that someone else's life is in so much danger that YOU must step in. Essentially in wishing for your own heroic moment, you're wishing for someone else's tragedy.

There is actually a slight difference in this when it comes to certain professions. Such as being a firefighter. You generally KNOW the job you are walking into. Force of nature, threatens the lives of people. Even if it's an empty building, the spread of the fire could endanger others, and compound, should a gas main be hit or something. If you're only aspiration is to pull beautiful women from burning buildings with your huge arms, you've got some thinking to do.

Strangely, in my profession, there is little room for "heroics" because that usually means that something has gone horribly wrong, and your "heroics" are necessary to save the lives of those around you. Such heroics can by found by reading through Medal of Honor citations and seeing things such as "jumped on a grenade" or by reading this one http://www.benning.army.mil/whinsec/NCOA.asp?id=211. There is no way someone could have wished for a situation like this. One can only hope to be this brave should something like this happen. But first, one should hope that this never happens to begin with.

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Flashback: Inprocessing in Italy

Like I said last time, I would be reposting some of the best stuff from my old blog. I'm going to make this on Monday's (Memory Mondays?). Honestly, the day of the week that this will happen will be based on what say I believe will give the best name (e.g. Time Machine Tuesdays, Wayback Wednesdays, Flashback Fridays). I'm actually trying to figure out which day is the most boring. Ok, I've decided. Once a week, in the middle somewhere, with one of those names (also Time Machine Thursdays).

This was originally posted on November 8, 2004, and was around the time that I arrived at my first duty station in Italy. After 3 years there, I can't say that my perception changed much. However, if you got away from the base, you could partake of some fun stuff.

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Holy crap, I'm tired. And it's only 1355 (that's 1:55 PM for you civilians). The jet lag must be hitting me pretty damn hard. Either that, or it could be because I didn't go to bed until 0130, and then woke up at 0525. Maybe it's because I had that Grande Soft Taco from Taco Bell, and my body doesn't know how to deal with that much food.

Today was pretty interesting. We started it off by having a health and welfare inspection for knives. Apparently a soldier went downtown with a huge knife on him, and there was some kind of incident. So all of the leadership had to go and search all of the rooms for knives, which would then be tagged and stored in out arms room. Can you believe it? Thy're taking knives away from the Infantry. It's funny because my platoon alone is issued 40mm grenade launchers (imagine a machine gun that shoots grenades), 50 caliber machine guns, 7.62 M240B machine guns (7.62 or .308 for you civilians), Squat Automatic Wapons, and enough ammunition to level a small town.

BUT, we can't have knives. I mean you should see the stuff that some soldiers had. There were a couple of tomahawks, switchblades, and my favorite, knives with blades 8 inches and larger. Hell, I heard one guy in Iraq basically carried around a katana on his back.
On a lighter note, today started the first day of official inprocessing. This is a huge part of why I'm sleepy. Some of the classes are interesting. I've learned that in Italy

1. Recycling is part of the law, and the fine is HUGE.
2. Italy is about one-third the size of Florida, yet has a population of 60 million, and it's very packed.
3. The Pope is apparently mad with Northern Italy for having lots of sex for purposes other than procreation.
4. Apparently, this place is the "World capital of fashion", which is supposed to explain why the guys dress like they're gay, and the women refuse to wear anything except pointy shoes with heels (apparently some refuse to wear a pair of tennis shoes).
5. It's not uncommon to see women walking around holding hands, or walking arm in arm. Apparently. the Italians are very physical, and have no idea about what personal space is. Apparently, it's not uncommen to see a father-son combo walking with arms linked, either. This seems to go "hand in hand" with the way that they dress.
6. Italian drivers SUCK. Seriously. Imagine the worse driving you have ever seen. No imagine a whole country drives like that. Welcome to Italy. There are almost no lights for crossing the streets. Pedistrians just eventually cross when the chances of death are minimized.

If there's one thing that I have definately learned at these briefings, it's that if you're married, you have a whole assload of paperword to do. This has led me to a couple of conclusions about a few choices in life:

1. While in Italy, don't get married to someone in the US who will want to come over to Italy and live with you.
2. Don't marry a native Italian woman, because that will only lead to more paperwork.
3. If you are married and your family stays in the US, you can bank off pretty well on the fact that the army will pay you to compensate for rent back in the states where your family is, AND what your housing costs here.

Lastly, I learned not to make a Voltron reference when the Company Commander is talking about Brigade Combat Teams and says "and it's all modular, so you can combine them and they form together," all while making some kind of combining motion with his hands.