The telephone started ringing in our flat in Pavia. It was Giorgio, sounding rather sheepish. At first, he confessed, he had been in doubt whether to call us, but there was no alternative, because there was a problem. He found it really embarrassing having to do this, and he even considered not ringing us at all. In the end, he had decided that it was better to talk to us about this issue, but now he had doubts. “Come on, just spill the beans!” we insisted like Dutch foreigners, not appreciating the delicacy of this Italian embarrassment. Well, he had counted the first rent that we had paid, and it was a hundred euros less than expected. We were amused by all this hesitation from this timid Italian who had got himself in a fix because he didn’t want to offend us and as a result he had nearly lost out on a hundred euros. We invited him to come over; we could pay the outstanding amount immediately. “No, no, it can wait, it’s not a problem,” he was evading our invitation. But we insisted on paying him now, so that we would avoid months of awkwardness and avoiding each other.
Giorgio arrived together with his brother Franco and decided to take this opportunity to connect us to the Internet. We had a telephone, an ADSL-router, and our laptop was ready. The only thing missing was the Alice software that the Italian internet provider Telecom Italia used. This publicly owned company is not famous for its user-friendly software, and rumours regularly surface of Telecom’s bureaucracy, whispered about with barely veiled contempt in bars and cafés by unlucky victims. The first problem in our case was not with the software but with the electric cables: we needed an extension lead. We could construct a temporary set-up just for installation purposes, but in the long- term, we needed a permanent solution. “Ce l’ho a casa,” said Franco. “I have one at home.” But his wise words fell on deaf ears. Giorgio and I were already completely lost in the Alice software, and we stopped responding to outside conversation. We quickly started to feel like we were trapped in Alice in Wonderland. It was such a mess! Franco repeated that he had an extension lead and he could go and get it. But, again, he got no reply.
“Per continuare si deve installare il nostro software potente,” announced Alice happily. “Now you need to install our powerful software.” I glanced at Giorgio with some disbelief. He understood immediately and said in an ironic tone: “Well? Do you want that powerful software from Telecom Italia on your PC?” “È proprio la parola potente che mi fa paura,” I grinned. “It’s the powerful bit that I am worried about.” But we had no other choice and with my eyes firmly shut I pressed ‘Installazione’. Beyond all expectations, everything went smoothly and the software got installed. In the meantime, Franco repeated two more times that he had an extension lead and he could go and get it. By this point he was pacing nervously up and down the room. “What’s the matter?” asked Giorgio. “I can get the extension lead, give me the car keys, I will be back in a minute,” answered Franco grumpily. Giorgio did as he was told.
Franco was away for over an hour with Giorgio’s car, who was therefore stranded in our flat. Have a drink then, a bit of Bols, the genuine Dutch grappa. “No, no, maybe just a sip,” said Giorgio. They became several sips whilst we were waiting for the extension lead. In the end, we heard Franco outside, parking the car. Downstairs the hall door slammed. He burst in in a fit of anger and frustration. He couldn’t find the lead anywhere. He had turned the whole shed upside down because it had to be there somewhere. A couple of days ago he had it in his hands. “And now it was nowhere to be seen, porca miseria!” We comforted him with a shot of special Dutch grappa. Nothing bad could befall us now: our software was potente!