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It seems to me that the front-loading washing machine is (has always been) broken, because after it finishes a load of laundry, it then refills with water, drains the water, refills with water, drains the water, indefinitely until we turn off the power. For the time being, we set an alarm so that we are in the room when the wash cycle completes, and can cut the power immediately after the final centrifuge but before the water refills, then wait the two minutes it takes for the door to unlock after it's lost power. It is possible that we have misunderstood how to use the washing machine, which is nothing like our American washing machine, although we have both read the manual, with the occasional help of Google Translate, and it seems unlikely we are using the washing machine improperly. We will ask our landlord.
It seems to me that our apartment door is (has always been) broken, because we can lock it from the outside but not from the inside, and if one of us is inside and the other one locks it from the outside, the one inside can't unlock it. It is possible we have misunderstood how to use the door lock, which is nothing like our American door lock. It is a door lock that throws no fewer than 5 deadbolts and which has an interior keyhole instead of a thumb turn. It seems unlikely that anyone would intentionally build a door which couldn't be locked or unlocked from the inside and then put an interior keyhole in it decoratively. We will ask our landlord.
I'm beginning to be resigned to the idea that I'll have to make my own stationery. I have ascertained that stationery is sold at tobacconists', and this has been confirmed by several paper store owners, booksellers, gift store propriters, and at least one paper crafts artist. Paper for writing letters to send in the mail: only at tobacconists'. However, I have only found any at one tobacconist's, and it was in an unlit corner behind a lottery machine, covered in dust. And the clerk would not sell me a set of it; she instead opened it and sold it to me by the sheet, one sheet plus one envelope for one euro, and seemed kind of upset by the idea that I might want to send a letter that's more than a page long.
In general when I have asked about stationery there has been a tone of either disgust or else delight at my exotic whimsy. I can only compare to being a Japanese person in America trying to find someone who sells horsemeat. Pescara is pretty damn literate - bookstores everywhere, notebooks and diaries for sale everywhere, newspapers that run essays by Umberto Eco, people who finger-type novel-length WhatsApp messages - so I'm currently working from the ethnographic theory (based on no research) that non-local mail service was extremely unreliable until very recently (and perhaps even now), which stopped epistolary culture from developing.
It is also possible that I have repeatedly, repeatedly misunderstood and been misunderstood, or am accidentally sending out some kind of underworld signal (where this specific category of papergoods function similarly to colored bandanas). I don't think my landlord would be able to help and frankly don't want to risk asking given that this seems to be fraught emotional territory.
Was in the middle-grade-reader section of a bookstore (approximately my Italian comprehension level, although with a dictionary to hand) and found two pretty great illustrated guides to the Italian constitution and also an overview of the mafia. That was pretty much the civics section. I haven't bought any of the books but obviously want them. Currently reading The Goldfinch, and was pleased to note the author hails from Greenwood, Mississippi, land of my forefathers (specifically the father of my father; also his father) and therefore has almost certainly visited Cottonlandia, the only thing to do when you are a child visiting Greenwood, Mississippi. (Just visited their website, which says "Since our museum is about so much more than cotton, [it really isn't] our Board of Directors made the decision to change our name from 'Cottonlandia Museum' to 'The Museum of the Mississippi Delta'!" Cottonlandia forever I will never forget.)
It seems to me that our apartment door is (has always been) broken, because we can lock it from the outside but not from the inside, and if one of us is inside and the other one locks it from the outside, the one inside can't unlock it. It is possible we have misunderstood how to use the door lock, which is nothing like our American door lock. It is a door lock that throws no fewer than 5 deadbolts and which has an interior keyhole instead of a thumb turn. It seems unlikely that anyone would intentionally build a door which couldn't be locked or unlocked from the inside and then put an interior keyhole in it decoratively. We will ask our landlord.
I'm beginning to be resigned to the idea that I'll have to make my own stationery. I have ascertained that stationery is sold at tobacconists', and this has been confirmed by several paper store owners, booksellers, gift store propriters, and at least one paper crafts artist. Paper for writing letters to send in the mail: only at tobacconists'. However, I have only found any at one tobacconist's, and it was in an unlit corner behind a lottery machine, covered in dust. And the clerk would not sell me a set of it; she instead opened it and sold it to me by the sheet, one sheet plus one envelope for one euro, and seemed kind of upset by the idea that I might want to send a letter that's more than a page long.
In general when I have asked about stationery there has been a tone of either disgust or else delight at my exotic whimsy. I can only compare to being a Japanese person in America trying to find someone who sells horsemeat. Pescara is pretty damn literate - bookstores everywhere, notebooks and diaries for sale everywhere, newspapers that run essays by Umberto Eco, people who finger-type novel-length WhatsApp messages - so I'm currently working from the ethnographic theory (based on no research) that non-local mail service was extremely unreliable until very recently (and perhaps even now), which stopped epistolary culture from developing.
It is also possible that I have repeatedly, repeatedly misunderstood and been misunderstood, or am accidentally sending out some kind of underworld signal (where this specific category of papergoods function similarly to colored bandanas). I don't think my landlord would be able to help and frankly don't want to risk asking given that this seems to be fraught emotional territory.
Was in the middle-grade-reader section of a bookstore (approximately my Italian comprehension level, although with a dictionary to hand) and found two pretty great illustrated guides to the Italian constitution and also an overview of the mafia. That was pretty much the civics section. I haven't bought any of the books but obviously want them. Currently reading The Goldfinch, and was pleased to note the author hails from Greenwood, Mississippi, land of my forefathers (specifically the father of my father; also his father) and therefore has almost certainly visited Cottonlandia, the only thing to do when you are a child visiting Greenwood, Mississippi. (Just visited their website, which says "Since our museum is about so much more than cotton, [it really isn't] our Board of Directors made the decision to change our name from 'Cottonlandia Museum' to 'The Museum of the Mississippi Delta'!" Cottonlandia forever I will never forget.)
