vlogEurope 2006: A Horde of Vloggers Descends on Italy

NB: The links on this page are mostly to video, of course! There are also lots of photos. Be aware that some of the language in the videos is Not Safe for Work.

What did I do at vlogEurope? I barely participated in the conference, and didn’t film a thing – some videoblogger! But I organized, organized, and organized some more. Here’s a mini-diary:

Monday or Tuesday: Found out there would be a national transport strike on Friday, when we were expecting the bulk of our foreign guests to arrive. Had no way of knowing how airports would be affected. Public transport in Milan was expected to strike from 6 to 10 pm – right when many would be arriving from other countries. I scrambled to let everyone know and make suggestions on how they could get where they were going.

Tuesday evening, while my daughter was in theater class in Milan, met with the Nodehouse landlord to make another payment and get keys.

Wednesday: Andreas and Anders arrived on the same flight from Copenhagen and came to meet me at my office. We had lunch together, then they wandered Milan while I kept working and organizing. Questions, questions: Did we need to set up anything at the conference venue? If so, when would we do it, given the transport strike Friday evening – the only time the place would be available to us? (We decided we wouldn’t need that much setup, just go give the place a look-over and be prepared for whatever we would have to do to make it ready early Saturday.)

I called Taverna ai Poggi, the restaurant in Lecco, to confirm probable numbers for the Sunday night dinner – 26 people, as it then seemed. I also told them we’d be wanting to revise the wine list – we had had a substantial donation earmarked specifically for wine!

I worried about the weather – would it be good for our outing on Lake Como Sunday? Not that I had any control over that…

Alberto and Schlomo also arrived. They spent the night at the Nodehouse while Andreas and Anders came back to Lecco with me on the train, and had dinner with my family.

Thursday: Up at dawn to go back to Milan at my usual work time, on the 8:17 train. Everyone who was already in Milan met up at TVBLOB again and had an informal demo of (and debate about) what we’re doing, then we all ate lunch at my boss’ usual lunch place, before they all took off to drink and eat and talk all over Milan – I stayed at the office, working and organizing (more).

In the evening, Andreas and I met Arianna of TheBlogTV and Maria Giovanna of Digital Magics, our hardworking co-organizers,at IED, the conference venue. Roberta of IED showed us the spaces we’d be using and we agreed on how to set them up, including projectors for laptops, mics, etc. Being Italy, this all took a great deal more discussion than Andreas and I thought strictly necessary, especially as we were tired and hungry and wanted to meet up with the gang.

When we got out, we planned to take a taxi to the Nodehouse, but there were none to be found (as we learned later, this was because of the big motorcycle show going on elsewhere in town – attendees of the big business shows all take taxis, being unable or unwilling to figure out the local transport system).

It was getting so late that we hopped on a tram heading downtown, and got off as soon as I saw a restaurant I was familiar with. We told Anders to eat with the others and then meet us at the Porta Garibaldi train station in time for a 9:40 train, but he went there a good deal earlier, so we finished up our meal and got there ourselves by 9, then we all sat on the train and waited for it to depart. Poor Anders only had a vending machine sandwich for dinner. Enrico picked us up at the station in Lecco and drove us home. I think. It’s all rather blurry in my mind by now.

People kept piling into the Nodehouse, being willing to sleep on (hard, cold, marble) floors rather than give up the camaraderie – some nostalgia for college dorm life, I guess. (For some, that willingness only lasted one night on that floor!)

Friday: Groups of videobloggers roamed randomly in and out of my office and all over Milan. I kept in touch by phone, SMS, and email, trying to herd the cats to their respective destinations.

Alberto got up before everybody in the Nodehouse and called saying he had something to discuss with me in person. He sounded so anxious that I was afraid something dreadful had happened, some horrible cultural misunderstanding or breach of manners that I would be called upon to resolve. I couldn’t begin to imagine what it could be, or how I would fix it.

He came to the office and told me his dilemma: he had found out on Monday that he had won an award (with a nice cash prize) from the Tuscany regional government, for a short documentary he had made. He was the first-place winner, so the organizers insisted that he show up in Carrara to be feted on Saturday – the very day of the vlogEurope conference he had been so looking forward to. He was devastated, but I assured him over and over that the conference was only a small part of the experience (which was true), and he should definitely go to collect his prize!

Aske Dam arrived at TVBLOB’s offices after lunch and we were pleased to give him a long demo – he was gratifyingly excited about what we’re doing. In fact, he arrived excited (having heard about it from Andreas), which is an unusual treat for us: a lot of people don’t get it until they’ve seen it in action (and some not even then).

Duncan also arrived in the afternoon. I fed him my last banana because he hadn’t eaten all day, then sent him to join the others.

I had suggested that everyone meet at the Duomo before six, and reserved a restaurant within walking distance so that the transport strike would not keep us from our dinner. I ended up staying in the office til 7 pm myself, to help my colleague Pancrazio script and shoot the new TVBLOB demo video.

Assuming the strike had started, I walked from my office to the Duomo, in the rain, exchanging rapid-fire SMS with Jeffrey to keep updated on the status of Steve, Mark, Richard, and Miguel.

I was the first to arrive at Ristorante da Bruno, a family favorite of ours for years (most of the waiters have been there forever and remember my daughter at age three). I gossiped a bit with the owner (son of the founder, I guess), who now has two young daughters of his own.

Eventually people began arriving in clumps, some very late as they were waiting for a taxi. I felt incredibly stupid when I found out that the local transport strike had been called off at the last minute and they could have taken the metro! (Which explained why I saw people going down into the metro stations on Corso Buenos Aires – I had wondered at that, then figured that they were using the metro to cross under the street rather than wait for a light to change – that’s something I would do…)

We had a great dinner at da Bruno, though I winced at the prices, which had gone up since I was last there. I had been aiming for something less expensive; I knew some of the visitors were on tight budgets. But everyone tucked in happily – I moved back and forth between our two long tables, sorting out dietary needs and preferences. The waiter worked hard that night, and I tipped him 30 euros when we left (by American standards, this would have been low given the size of the final bill, but it was very high for Italy – he was delighted). I had some budget leeway for things like this thanks to some other donations.

Because I had anticipated trouble getting from the restaurant to the railway station Friday (due to the now-cancelled strike), I had asked my friend Antonello to come pick us up in his big van – splitting the cost between 6 or 7 people, Milan to Lecco in a taxi is almost reasonable (150 to 170 euros total, depending where in Milan). A bunch of people came back to Lecco that night; our family room began to resemble a men’s barracks. It’s a good thing I had the whole house wired for Internet a year ago – they plugged in a switch so everyone had their own wired access (our wireless doesn’t get that far from the router on the 2nd floor), and many stayed up late using it – among other things, video and text chatting with the group back at the Nodehouse.

Saturday: We all (Andreas, Anders, Bicycle Mark, Richard Hall) got up even earlier than the previous days so we could catch the bus down the hill and an earlier train into Milan, to prepare for the actual conference before it started at 10.

At the office, we packed up three TVBLOB boxes, a switch, cables, cameras, etc., then called a taxi to take us to IED. I specified a large car with room for five, but that’s not what arrived. So Mark and Richard volunteered to find their own way to the venue (and eventually did).

At IED, I set up the boxes, testing them with a small portable TV monitor while waiting for the kind folks from TheBlogTV to arrive from Rome with three TVs they were lending me for the occasion (which didn’t really make sense – I could have brought them from the office, but when IED was unable to supply them, TheBlogTV folks offered, and it saved me having to haul them back and forth across Milan).

Attendees ambled in. Some on the list never turned up, but we got some walk-ins to replace them – about 50 total attendees in the end. There were several Italian journalists, students of journalism, and bloggers, including my (now) new friend Lele.

We finally started around 10:30 with a brief introduction by Andreas before the “vortex” sessions began. There were two in Italian: a Node 101-style introduction and how-to by Fabrizio Ulisse

and one on vlogging and TV by Bruno Pellegrini of TheBlogTV.

The Italians mostly attended those, with only a few – Beatrice of Weblogart, Saverio of TheBlogTV, and Diego Bianchi (who had also come from Rome) really making the effort to mix with the international crowd (Alberto also would have, had he not gone off to Carrara to collect his prize). There had been some efforts to overcome language barriers.

Miguel, Joel, Saverio

Another Italian who mixed was Elisabetta, not (yet) a videoblogger herself, but a grad student at Milan’s Catholic university, doing research on new media for her thesis. She had heard about the conference somehow and asked Andreas and me (wholly unnecessary) permission to come gather thesis material.

above – front: Beatrice, Miguel, Anders P, Schlomo, Anders C
back: Joel, Daniel

Diego and Elisabetta

The international gang, reasonably enough not expecting to get much out of presentations in Italian, had small and very lively sessions on working under constraints, vlogging and politics, vlogging in context (more here), making money from vlogging (top secret! no filming allowed!), and Aske’s talk looked fascinating.

Richard addresses the camera

I myself didn’t get to see or hear much of any of this – there was always something else to be done, including demoing TVBLOB stuff (keeping recalcitrant beta software alive) to all and sundry. I hadn’t demoed so much since CES in January. It was mostly fun, and the demo-ees were excited by the possibilities.

The audience grew and then shrank over the day, at the end mostly the foreigners were left. We closed with a quick recap from each group of what had been accomplished, bagged up our equipment, and headed out. A few kind volunteers came back to the office with me to help carry stuff, then we went to meet the others at the Nodehouse to see what to do about dinner (Andreas and I, as usual, were very hungry – we’d been working hard all day!).

We found a place near the Nodehouse, Pizzando Grigliando (which, I now realize – and unusually for Italy – appears to be part of a chain). It had a wide enough variety of menu to satisfy everybody, at semi-reasonable prices. Alberto joined us, back from Carrara, as did Diego, to my delight, though I didn’t get to talk to him as he was at the other end of a very long table.

After dinner we went back to the Nodehouse, where Antonello met us at 11 pm with the van. Several more people decided to make the move to Lecco, including Richard Bluestein, who was delighted to take a “lesbian” bath with scented salts, foams, and candles in our master bathroom.

As Enrico and I went to bed, I remarked: “I bet all those guys downstairs are still on their computers.” As confirmed the next day, I was right.

Sunday: We took it easy in the morning. I had provided train and boat schedules so that everyone could make their own way up to Lake Como as and when they pleased. Those of us already in Lecco didn’t need to rush – it was everybody else’s turn to do the commuting (yes, I planned it that way). The weather cooperated: Sunday was partly cloudy and completely gorgeous on the lake.

While still at home, Andreas and I were interviewed by Miguel on the balcony. Eventually we rounded up the gang and walked down to town and caught the train to Varenna.

On the train ride, Mark and I talked about being TCKs, growing up “between worlds”. There are many points of common experience, even when the worlds (New Jersey and Portugal, India and Pittsburgh) are very different. He had had the classic TCK conversation the day before with Arianna:

“Where are you from?”

“Uh…”

“Don’t worry, I get it. Me, too!” (Arianna is an Italian citizen raised in the US and France.)

Elisabetta and her boyfriend Gabriele met us in Varenna, and she began interviewing everyone in sight. We all took the ferry across to Bellagio, with commentary by Madge.

One group had reached Bellagio before us; we found them lazing around drinking coffee at an outdoor table in the sun. As soon as Madge appeared, all cameras were on her– to the great confusion of everyone else in Bellagio. I overheard the following:

Wife: Ma chi e’? (“Who is that?”)

Husband: Che cazzo ne so? (“What the fuck do I know?”)

Those of us arriving from Lecco hadn’t had lunch and were hungry. We sat inside the cafe (no tables left outside) and had coffee, pastries, and sandwiches. Somebody shot footage of the locals’ reactions to Madge, but I haven’t seen that appear online yet.

We wandered around in constantly-changing groups, eventually all congregating on the lakeside spot where Madge was interviewing Schlomo.

vlogging off into the sunset

There were so many cameras pointing at each other that the other tourists and residents thought there must be somebody famous around, and gathered to watch.

This is probably what saved Steve’s camera bag. He had put it down somewhere and forgot about it when he moved on, til someone came hurrying along asking who had lost a bag. No one had touched it – when he got there, he found a large group of people gathered around staring at it, each making sure that no one else would steal it!

The light was gone, so we gathered in a small wine bar, near the photography shop with photos of famous people on a board outside, for (of course) wine.

Gabriele, Steve, Alberto

It was getting cold and dark. We all piled onto the boat back to Varenna and then the train to Lecco. At the station, I spotted two friends of my daughter – perfect subjects for a Madge interview.

As scheduled, Antonello was there with his van to run people up to the restaurant. I went in the first group so I could give last-minute instructions on food and wine, and be there to direct traffic as people arrived. After some last-minute defections (Lisa’s ride flaked on her), 21 people sat down to eat:

antipasti:
brisaola della Valchiavenna (dried salted beef, typical of this
region), coppa brianza (pork), prosciutto

first course:

  • pizzoccheri – the local specialty, buckwheat pasta boiled with
    potatoes and greens, then baked with cheese, butter, garlic, and sage
  • risotto al Sassella e luganega – rice cooked with a local wine and sausage
  • (for the vegetarians) bigoli di pasta fresca alla crema di taleggio – ravioli-type pasta,
    home-made, with sauce from a local soft cheese

second course: roast suckling pig, with side dishes of polenta and zucchine. There was a veg option but I don’t remember what it was.

dessert: choice of mostly home-made cakes – chocolate with pears, chocolate with strawberry sauce…

water,
coffee, and lots of wine!

Taverna ai Poggi did very well by us. All the food was abundant, the pig tender and sweet, and in the end they charged us only 35 euros a person, including the upgraded wines. And we got a tour of the wine cellar.

When all was eaten and done, Antonello and another driver were waiting with two vans to carry back to Milan all who were going there. Our family room in Lecco was full again, with a slightly different mix of people – all of them, again, were up late playing with their computers.

Monday: We slept late, lazed around the house, and played with the turtles. Except for Raymond and Schlomo, who took off even before I woke up – Raymond had never gone to sleep at all, so he ended up spending the day sleeping in the Nodehouse.

I was interviewed by Madge (with Mark on the camera and Andreas on lighting), we had lunch, then Richard and Bicycle Mark headed back to Milan.

Tuesday: I had to go to work. Andreas and Anders rode in with me, met up with Mark and Richard, and were naughty at the museum of La Scala (filming!). In the evening I dropped Rossella at her theater class and met Andreas and Anders and Enrico at a nearby bar for an aperitivo (the kind that comes with lots of food, though not terribly good in this case). A&A brought me a thank-you gift from Richard and Mark: “lesbian” bath goodies from the Body Shop. Ross finished theater class early, we all went home in the car listening to a strange mix CD I had made years ago.

Wednesday: A&A, our first and last houseguests for vlogEurope, accompanied me to Milan for the last time, and flew out in the evening. Anders had reached the conclusion that, at some point in his life, he needs to live in Italy. Either or both of them can certainly come back here as guests any time – they were great to have around.

Regrets

I didn’t get to talk as much as I’d have liked with a bunch of people. Hopefully next year’s event, which Joel has masochistically volunteered to organize, will give me more opportunities to interact.

There were few women at the conference, and none among the foreign contingent.

Lack of mixing between the Italian and non-Italian crowds, with a few important exceptions.

Raves

I enormously enjoyed all the people I did get to spend time with – it’s not every day I get to hang out with such an intelligent, interesting, motivated group – all at once!

Reviews

“I cannot wait for next year as this was THE new media conference of the year for me.” – Schlomo

 

^ top: my daily commutes were far more entertaining than usual!

School Cheating in Italy

School continues to be hell, not just for Rossella, but also for her parents. She scraped through her repeat second year at a new (private, Catholic) school with two academic debits (failed classes) – math and physics, as always.

Being in private school has advantages: last year she had private tutoring in math from a retired teacher with whom she got along very well, and even came close to passing a test or two towards the end of the year. Her regular math teacher was pleased with her progress, and actually in tears at losing her to another teacher this year.

This new teacher appears to be… inexperienced. While discounting for Ross’ prejudices against teachers, and especially math teachers, I do suspect there’s a real problem there. Ross’ story is that the teacher can’t keep control of the class or keep their attention; suggestions from the students on how to do so (e.g., have them do problems on the board, as their previous teacher did) were not heeded for long. So the teacher, out of some spirit of revenge, or because she thinks they should know the stuff, gives them long and complex tests which few of the class have any hope of getting through.

One group of students decided to divide up the test, each doing a part, and then swap their results. Those results were not necessarily correct, but at least they got through the whole test, which is more than most of the students toughing it out on their own were able to do.

I don’t know how they are pulling this off under the teacher’s nose – like most teachers in Italy, she seems to be blissfully unaware of (or deliberately ignoring) the massive cheating that goes on in her classroom.

This has long been a mystery to me. Every child and parent you speak to in Italy is well aware that cheating goes on. Many parents will admit to having done it themselves, and tacitly or explicitly condone their own children’s cheating. So how can the teachers not know that it’s occurring? Perhaps those who choose to become teachers were such academic swots (secchioni – big buckets – is the Italian term) in their own schooldays that they never needed or wanted to cheat, and therefore never learned the techniques, and don’t know what to look out for.

This widespread cheating is damaging in so many ways. In situations like the one with the current math teacher, Ross and others who don’t cheat will fail the test – without the cheating, according to Ross, almost all of the class would have failed that particular test. Were that to happen, the teacher and the principal would (I suppose) have to take note. I’m not a strong believer in bell curves, but if 90% of your class fails, something went wrong that you can’t just blame on the students.

However, those who cheated got higher marks than they otherwise would have, skewing the results. Were the teacher to be confronted on her unsuccessful teaching style, she could point to those kids and say: “Some of them obviously succeeded in learning from me.” They didn’t – they cheated. So the teacher can continue to believe that she’s doing a good job. And Ross, and others, will continue to struggle and fail – honestly.

Last year at this school, a girl close to graduating was discovered to have been cheating on her Greek tests for years. She was not allowed to take the maturita’ (school leaving exam), and was forced to repeat the year. But why did it take her teachers so long to catch on?

Jun 26, 2007 – The math teacher finally caught on when, on the last test of the year, 90% of the tests turned in were identical. Only Ross and one other student (out of a class of ~25) had not cheated. The teacher zeroed out the results of that test and gave another one the following week, which was to Ross’ advantage as she had not done well on the first one. But the teacher did not go back and re-evaluate what had happened on the previous tests, nor did she recalculate anyone’s final grades.

To my mind, there should have been a penalty for the cheaters. All these kids have now learned by experience that cheating is fine, as long as you can get away with it, and there are no real penalties even when you do get caught! And this in a class where the physics teacher had earlier been angry over the degree of cheating he observed on one of his tests, and warned them that if it happened again there would be consequences. But when it happened again with a different teacher, there were no consequences. Again, very poor moral lesson: if one "boss" catches you misbehaving, try it on another.

Situations like this make me just want to go and slap somebody.

Your thoughts and experiences on this?

Roman Street Signs

During the Imaging in Italy course I attended in Rome in October, 2003, I was much taken with the ancient signage I found all over – both the lettering and the language were charmingly antique.

Several were on the theme of “do not litter”, in this case “on pain of ten scudi (coins) each time”, by authority of “The President of the Streets”

street sign in Rome: No littering

– a grandiose title, in some cases further amplified with epithets like “illustrious” and “righteous”.

Rome street sign

Rome street sign

Rome street sign

Rome antique insurance sign

Rome antique insurance plaque

^ It appears that it was at some period customary to put a plate on your home indicating who insured it! Note that both of these logos are still familiar in the modern Italian insurance industry.

This plaque denotes one of the ancient quarters (rione) of the city, with its symbol, a gryphon.

Rione Parione

Pinching Italians

Recently asked on the Fodor’s travel forum: “We’ve been told it is customary and acceptable for men in Italy to pinch women’s bottoms. Is this true and, if it is, what is the customary and acceptable response?”

Over the years I’ve lived in Italy I’ve been asked this question several times. And it always makes me laugh because, while it may once have been normal behavior for Italian men, I experienced this kind of thing far more in India (where it’s called “eve teasing”) than I ever have in Italy.

When I was a teenager in India in the late 70s/early 80s, foreign women were considered “easy” and therefore worth a try (verbal or physical), though Indian women out alone were also harassed. I don’t understand what drives men to do this. How stupid do you have to be to believe that some woman whose bottom you grab or to whom you say “Hey, sexy baby” is going to swoon into your arms?

By the end of my high school years in India I had been groped and “hello darling’d” enough to know how to avoid it (as far as that was possible). When I returned for a college year abroad in Benares, I was surprised to find myself the only woman in our group who was never bothered at all. In retrospect, I think I went around that year with such a forbidding expression that no one dared come near me. (I am also taller and heavier than many Benarsi men, which may have scared them off.)

I didn’t know much about Italy when I first began travelling here, so it never occurred to me to expect such. (I was always accompanied by Enrico in any case.) And, in all these years, it’s never happened. Except once, riding in a very crowded bus in Rome, I got groped. If I could have identified the culprit I would have slapped him, but of course these slimeballs judge their situations very carefully, and I didn’t want to slap the wrong man.

An Italian colleague tells me that she’s been groped a few times in the metro in Milan. It’s called palpeggiamento, and the favored technique is the mano morta – the “dead hand” left dangling where it will brush up against something, but the culprit can claim innocence if confronted.

My colleague’s response is to step back hard onto the guy’s foot with her sharp high heel, then turn around and say sweetly, “Did I step on you? I’m soooo sorry.” This or something similar would be the response of most Italian women – who do NOT consider being fondled by strangers to be expected or tolerable behavior!

Someone else in the Fodor’s forum said that her daughter, on a study abroad year in Florence, had been warned by her university to expect verbal and physical harassment, and that the best response was simply to ignore it. She duly was hassled, and, as instructed, ignored it.

It seems to me that the administrators of these college programs are encouraging bad behavior by instructing their students to put up with it, when no one else in Italy would, and the girls themselves would not tolerate such treatment back home. So the Florentines obligingly perpetuate their grandfathers’ myth of the butt-pinching, wolf-whistling Italian man. (Perhaps if we pointed out to these young men how desperately old-fashioned this is, they would be embarrassed into stopping.)

Then there are the American women tourists who, having heard all the stories, claim to feel disappointed if they don’t get grabbed in the street – they feel they’ve missed out on a quintessential Italian experience. Umm, well, the guy who pinches your bottom is surely not one you would actually want to have sex with – it’s not exactly a smooth approach, is it? Wait for the one who hands you a good line and buys you a good dinner. Quite a few tourists have had a great vacation this way, and some have even ended up married!

(On the other hand, don’t be surprised or shocked to learn that he’s already married. Adultery is something of a national sport, and what could be easier or safer than a fling with a woman who will soon be leaving?)

Some Italian terms for seduction can be found here (along with a lot of very rude words).

So… ever been pinched in Italy?

Digital Camera Fixes: When Your Camera Jams, Try Fixing It Yourself

We now have three digital cameras in the family (not counting cellphones). The first was a Nikon Coolpix 775, purchased in New York for $500 in early 2002. I can’t remember how many megapixels it has, but certainly its capabilities are unimpressive by today’s standards. It takes a proprietary rechargeable battery, of which I’ve bought two more as the first one won’t hold much of a charge anymore.

Two Christmases ago, Ross’ uncle Bruno got her, at her request, a Canon point-and-shoot. It ended up being a fairly expensive model, in part because I had suggested getting something that used the same Compact Flash memory as my Nikon. It takes rechargeable AA cells – much cheaper to replace when needed. It also offers more megapixels, so requires larger memory cards…

A year ago October, during the day in Varenna when I shot a lot of both video and photos, my Nikon jammed with its lens out, showing “System Error” on the screen. All the basic fiddling I could think of (battery in and out, memory card in and out, on and off in all positions…) did not solve the problem. I even opened it up and took a look, but the lens assembly was not in a position I could get to without doing damage.

A Google search revealed that this model of Nikon was particularly known for the dreaded System Error, but this problem arose over time, usually after the warranty expired, so I could not have known about it when I bought the camera. Repairs were likely to cost more than the camera was worth, especially since I had bought it in the US and would have to send it back there for repair.

I sadly put the camera away in my pile of electronic junk (SCSI cables, anyone?), thinking vaguely that I might sell it for parts on eBay.

I concentrated instead on video, very occasionally borrowing Ross’ Canon, and, when desperate, using the camera in the cellphone that Ross and Enrico got me for my birthday last year – only when desperate because the quality isn’t good, and it costs me 50 cents to send a picture from my cellphone to my email. In fact, I only ever started doing so as a result of a one-month-free offer from Vodafone, but since that gave out, I have done it very rarely.

I missed having a decent still camera, and was tempted by the ever-cheaper new models available. Especially when, this summer, my videocamera also gave out. It suddenly couldn’t record or play back a tape without a lot of horizontal lines in it. I wrote to Canon USA (I had purchased it in Las Vegas) and they said it was a known manufacturing defect that entitled me to free repair. That was the good news. The bad news was that this was only possible if I shipped it back to the US. Which set me back 60 euros for FedEx, but the rest was very kindly handled by the friends in DC with whom we’d be staying when we went in July, so I could pick up the repaired camera from them and not pay shipping again. But, until I got there, I was without a camera of any kind. I felt as if my hands had been cut off.

Ross had grown so keen on photography that I had decided that I would get her a digital SLR for her birthday, which would also allow me to borrow her point-and-shoot more often. We bought the camera (also a Canon) the day after her 17 th birthday, at New York’s famous B&H Photo, with the help of Woodstocker Amal. He spent half a day with us between the store and walking around showing Ross how to use her new treasure.

She’s been learning more and more about how to use it ever since, as can be observed on her fotolog. She’s even gotten some paying gigs, photographing parties and fashion shows at discos. Her next project, as a Christmas fundraiser for the charities supported by the nuns at her school, will be to take gag photos of kids at the school (e.g., “Your photo with Santa”) and charge them for the prints. Her class will raise money for printer ink and photographic paper, and I’m about to go help her with a spreadsheet to figure out what they need to raise and charge to make the whole project profitable.

A few days after we got the new Canon, the old Canon went on strike – jammed with its lens in the out position, just like the Nikon. I was furious – this one was just 18 months old! Another Google search turned up the information that these lens assemblies are cheaply made and prone to open crookedly and then jam. There was advice to try turning the lens gently and/or pressing on whichever side seemed to be sticking out more. I tried all of this, at some point heard a little click, and the lens slid back into its housing. It took the camera a few photographs to unscramble its brains and remember its job, and it’s been fine ever since.

A month or so later, back home in Lecco, I was clearing out junk and ran across the Nikon. Remembering my success with the Canon, I applied the same techniques. Click. Whirr. The lens, after a year, went back into place. And the camera has been working since – that’s why there are so many new photos on my site lately. It’s nice to be a photographer again.

Deirdré Straughan on Italy, India, the Internet, the world, and now Australia