Getting things done is more important than rules

I thought I would share with you a recent report about my goings on in the land of the unregulated.

Velletri is the nearest big town (11 km away along one of those beautifully narrow, picturesque, winding and undulating country roads). It is the birthplace of Caesar Augustus, the first Emperor of Rome (his reign followed the assassination of Julius Caesar), and the one time residence of Giuseppe Garibaldi, Italy’s unifier.

Velletri dates back to 1,000 BC. That’s 600 years BEFORE the birth of Rome. They have uncovered three layers of civilization in parts of Velletri.

Teresa is my “nearly 80 year old” dear (and tireless) friend and current resident of Velletri. She (and her husband Pietro) were my hosts during my pleasurable week’s holiday in the south of Spain – the subject of a previous resoconto.

I had nothing to report until Teresa rang me at 4:30 and asked if I wanted to go to the library to check out my posters for teaching English. I hopped in the macchina, picked her up and she took me for a drive through ancient Velletri - the storico on the very top of the hill. I had gotten lost there previously when driving but Teresa thought she was taking me on a breathtakingly new experience - her as navigator and guide and me as chauffer. Well it was hair raising but not so terrifying as I had previous experience and I had taken myself through the same exercise in ancient Cori which is nine kilometres from Giulianello in the opposite direction.

Apart from the joy ride it was the usual exhausting experience keeping up with Teresa. It started at the municipio where I parked illegally in front of the main door while she raced off to a neighbouring building to get a certificate from her dottore. I made instant friends with the lovely and attractive young lady who wanted one of the two carparks that I was occupying. She was so appreciative that I accommodated her request to move so that we could each have a park. She was especially thankful seeing that I obviously wasn't Italiano but I seemed to understand precisely what she wanted.

Well Teresa came out with her certificato and proceeded to hop into some stranger's car which was double parked outside the municipio. The guy was obviously "parked" for a real quick getaway while his accomplices were raiding the till in the municipio and he didn't want to get stuck Bonnie & Clyde style by getting a regular park. Besides there weren't any spares available seeing as some inconsiderate prick, probably a bloody foreigner, who didn't understand the local custom of double parking, had taken up not one but two regular parking spots!

Anyhow, as soon as she realised that she was about to become an accessory after the fact Teresa politely alighted from the purring vehicle after telling the driver that should he want to improve his English he was most welcome to attend our We Speak English classes 4pm Thursdays at Chiesa San Giovanni Baptista.

I ran out and rescued her and we set off on the downhill section of the journey otherwise known as the escape route. The bloke in the getaway vehicle did it a lot faster than me. These super narrow cobble stoned laneways were built for horses and chariots and now they were filled with pedestrians, parked Fiats and Smart cars and al fresco bar tables, chairs and patrons. I could easily have been apprehended by donkey mounted polizia locale.

We punctuated our downhill getaway with another illegal stop right across the front door of the big public library in the vicinity of the municipio. Teresa negotiated with the motor mechanics next door for the right to park there. They were really helpful. They recommended against parking in the vacant park designated for card holders entitling drivers to use parks for the disabled and suggested it would be much safer to park in front of the entry which was not designated as a parking spot for anybody. You have to love the sensible and completely compassionate way the Italiani interpret municipio regulations!

Having secured our parking spot with the blessing of the motor mechanic we proceeded to take a Cook's tour of the library which was a converted nunnery. It is a truly magnificent building. They simply don't build places any more with such majesty and charm and such beauty. They don't make them anywhere near as solid either. There are state-of-the-art tiered lecture theatres, chamber music rooms equipped with the finest instruments, a huge super modern, beautifully appointed reading room, a cloistered quadrangle full of 20 year old students huddled in groups of 4s and 5s all studying a variety of subjects, arts students sketching nude women and a tiny bar selling 80c caffes and 50c slices of cake where English is spoken fluently by most of the young students. Not one of the males in the whole place was under 6 feet tall. I should know because they were all taller than me. The women weren't quite as tall but they were all well worth a look. I was completely absorbed in the place. I wished I knew of its existence 50 years ago - but that's a subject for another time.

We had gone there at Teresa's insistence to ascertain why my phone had not been running hot with enquiries about wanting English lessons from a mother tongue teacher from Australia and we soon found out the reason. Someone had removed my posters advertising my services!

Teresa collared the people in charge of the notice boards and so very nicely achieved their promise to resurrect the notices once supplied by us.

Then having finished our caffe and cake we made our adieus via the huge mosaic tiled displays and ancient fresci to the uscita marked by the Peugeot station wagon parked in front.

Lo and behold a repeat performance of the prior parking scenario at the front door of the municipio!

The proud owner of a card for the disabled had parked across - rather than in - the designated car park for her vehicle. Presumably because it was a bit easier to park that way but also possibly because the Peugeot was taking up about a third of that entitlement. Anyhow the issue was that, parked in that configuration, it was impossible to extract the Peugeot without doing fairly serious damage to both vehicles. If it was simply a matter of some superficial damage to the paintwork or minor dents to the rear panels it might have been worth a try but it was obvious that the outcome was not going to be that acceptable. Superficial damage to vehicles in Italy is a perfectly well accepted reality.

[NOTE: The only vehicles free of minor external damage are the chauffer driven black Mercedes seen around the Quirinale and the administrative offices housing the ministerial departments in Rome or brand new vehicles coming from the dealer. Even these often arrive at their destinations in slightly accelerated depreciated condition.]

Anyhow - back to the story. Teresa immediately set upon the motor mechanic. How could he have allowed the lady to park in such an awkward manner? The thought had crossed my mind that maybe he had a business to run and he had his head buried under a bonnet when the incident occurred but the mechanic did NOT share my view! He took the view that, having given Teresa gratuitous advice about the parking of the Peugeot he had some shared responsibility to see that the vehicle could be extracted without major damage so he joined Teresa in scouring the facility's 200 or 300 occupants to ascertain which was the card holder for the park for the disabled near the entry. I suggested to Teresa that it probably wasn't one of the young students. They most likely had bus and train six month passes and couldn't afford the sort of vehicle which was the subject of our survey. That narrowed the subjects considerably - to about ten. We found a group of five in the chamber music studio and, strike me pink, we struck pay dirt! One of the young thirty-year olds owned up immediately, was extremely apologetic and moved her car forthwith. No harm done, no cause for damage, everybody ends up happy! Now that's how things get sorted out in this country.

A few would say that Italy needs more regulation. That, if the traffic wardens were viciously prosecuting parking violators I would have been spared the ordeal of hunting out the illegal parker. Maybe but I prefer that to the alternative which would have been to park two blocks away with the prospect of finding a parking ticket machine, feeding it with 70c to get a dashboard ticket, returning to the vehicle and placing the ticket then embarking on an exhausting climb up a very steep hill to my destination OR parking where I did and returning to find a sticker under my wipers and spending another day expiating the fine and (if we were to adopt Adelaide standards of expiation) parting with the equivalent of $260 in expiation fees! I have to tell you, I much prefer this way less regulated system.

Some bright spark once said that the government has no place in the bedrooms of the nation and I agree and I would go further and extend that territory to the streets. People in this country do a darn site better job of regulating traffic than any government sponsored agency I have discovered in any part of the globe. Thinking that regulations improve the quality of life is utter bullshit.

Back to the story again - as always I had a most interesting outing with Teresa. It's always entertaining and jam packed with adventure and exhilaration - and tiring. She asked if I wanted "to come up" when I dropped her home. Not bloody likely! I delicately declined. I was intent on getting home as quickly as possible to have a lie down, take a Nurofen 400mg to steady my swirling head and do my best to recover.

I love her to bits but I always have to schedule recuperation time immediately following a session together.