Travel Chronicles II - Summer - From Montagnana to Verona and back

Monday 9th - Montagnana - The flood

On monday, the day started almost as early as the day before, at a quarter to seven, as the connections to Verona from Montagnana are somewhat strange, giving you a chance in the very early morning and another in the very late morning, with nothing in between. That also meant that we didn't have time to have breakfast before boarding the train, but what was even worse was that, as I tried to get a shower, I realized the water was not being drained out of the small shower-cabin and, being that it had just a simply tent to divide it with the rest of the bathroom, the consequence was a flood.

Now, if it did ever happen to you to be half soaped up and having to stop everything, you will understand my feelings. If then you had to stop a flood at 7.00 am, with just a few hours of sleep on your back and a train, the only train you can get, leaving in 40 minutes, you have a general idea of the situation. If that never happened to you, i can tell you it's bad. I called the landlord (who was living just above us) and I evidently woke her up, I explained her the situation and that i couldn't wait for her to come down and we moved out.

Along the way and even more at the station I was surprised by the number of kids around, then I realized that day was the first school day of the year, meaning kids everywhere but without books with them. We did catch the train and even successfully switched train in this small station I forgot the name of and by 9 we were in Verona.

Monday 9th - Verona- The "under work" city

Verona is a wonderful city laying along the Adige river, mostly known abroad for Shakespeare's play "Romeo and Juliet" and, less so, "The two gentlemen from Verona" and, among opera opera maniacs, for the majestic roman Arena. As many of the medieval cities of Italy, it was also the stage for the story of a noble family, the Della Scala or "Scaligers" in this case, with its own intrigues, loves, struggles for power, murders and, most important for the ones living today, monuments and the works of art they commissioned. Verona was also the city of Catullus. Plinius, Emilius Macro, Vitruvius and Cornelius Nepos.

Our first stop was, passing through Porta Nuova (New gate) and Piazza Bra (the largest square of Verona, next to the Arena), at Castelvecchio, the city castle, famous for its bridge crossing the Adige (which was blown up by the retreating germans at the end of the WWII and rebuilt with the original bricks, recovered from the water one by one). Having quickly visited the courtyard and crossed the bridge, we moved along the river which we crossed again at the next bridge (from where the picture on the right was taken).

From there we moved again towards the city's centre and we walked under the Porta dei Borsari (The gate of the men of the purses, from the men who collected the tolls for entering the city there), the original roman main access to the city. Passed the gate, we quickly reached Piazza delle Erbe (the medieval market square). To be noted that almost every city that has been at some point under the power of Venice have and generally almost every city in Italy's North-east has a square called in exactly the same way.

Here, we saw that the most interesting of the palaces of Verona, il Palazzo della Ragione (The Reason's Palace) was totally covered for restoration works, included its high tower. Passing under an arcade surmounted by the rib of a whale, thought to be once upon a time the rib of a giant or of an angel, we got to the most characteristic of the city square, Piazza Dante, with its arcades and typically medieval facades... which were mostly covered, being under restoration. While we were giving a look around, a guided tour arrived and we mingled once again (the fact that Susanne and me, when together, speaking in english and looking so different, are often mistaken for americans helps a lot in mingling with touristic groups).

There, the guide started to explain the difference between the two typical kind of battlements you can find in most of central and northern Italy medieval defensive works, the square and the "swallow tails" ones. Far from being a merely esthetical detail, the two different styles were a sign of the political siding of the city in the struggles between the Holy Roman Empire and the Papacy. So far, so good... if only the guide hadn't indicated as the reason for Verona to side with the Empire the being closer to Austria, clearly mixing the Holy Roman Empire with the Austro-Hungarian empire. We then moved on to Santa Maria Antica, the Scaligeri's own church and where their magnificent arks are... finding the most important one totally under cover as well and the whole area closed (right). The throne on the left is inside the church.

From Santa Maria Antica we decided to skip the alleged (and foul smelling, considering the habit people have taken to leave messages sticking them to the wall using chewing gum) "Juliet's house" and we headed towards Saint Anastasio, the largest city's church... which obviously we found with its whole right side under work as well, but at least with the most interesting parts visible, included the famous Pisanello's frescoes showing Saint George and the princess.

Unfortunately the city's cathedral was closed due some taping that was going on inside, but we still took the chance of visiting its precious cloister and admiring the roman mosaics that have been found under the middle age buildings and taken to the light. After that, following the example of some people who arrived slightly after us, we decided to have our lunch there too, in the total silence of the place.

Now, if love has to be proved somehow, I can say that, after having rested a bit in the cloister, I did my fine share. Susanne wanted to see the roman theatre of Verona, which is on the side of a lovely hill (left), more or less at the mid of it. When, around two years ago, I was in Verona for the first time I simply refused to climb there. This time, not only I reached the place (which was closed) but I actually went the whole way up to the top of the hill where an austro-hungarian barracks stay guarding the city, at the time an important piece of the imperial fences in Italy. I must say that there was a great view from there, not to mention an hyper-classy-cool bar hidden away behind the barracks.

Having descended the hill, we moved towards San Fermo, an interesting church that is actually two churches in one (an upper one and a much more ancient lower-level one beneath the first) displaying a perfect wooden ceiling "a carena" ("keel-like" because it looks vaguely as the keel of a ship) and then it was time to visit the Arena, which I had seen totally empty the first time and that today I could see in her summer version, when it is used for the Opera (left). And here, after having walked up and down the tribunes and galleries, my sportive girlfriend got cramps, worrying me no little.

Having rested, we started to move back towards the station, visiting the peculiar (and hidden) church of San Lorenzo along the way, the triumph Arch of the Gavii and there I stopped again in the courtyard of the castle and drunk from a fountain, causing the harsh reaction of Susanne who thinks I'm crazy of drinking like that from fountains where it' s not specifically written the water is potable. Funny thing, this has been our first argument in italian (she's learning at an amazing pace which put my attempts to learn german to shame).

We got on the train and moved on and we did even managed to disembark at the right stop, which was quite a success. It should be known that there are two general rules that apply to little train station in Italy: first, their clock is generally broken and second, the signs with the name are either absent, unreadable or covered by vegetation. Montagnana station falls in both category and most specifically its clock is broken and the sign with the name is covered by a very nice tree so, being dark by the time we reached the station, it took a bit to understand we had indeed arrived.

Monday 9th - Montagnana - The search for food

Once disembarked, three were the main goals of the day: grocery shop for the morning after, which was duly done, finding an internet cafè, which was a failure, and having dinner. This proved to be more complicated than expected. if the night before we had seen several places open, we hadn't considered that monday evening is something totally different than sunday evening and in fact, by the time we hit the road in search for food, the city was a dark desert.

After having walked the whole city, which didn't take more than half a hour anyway), eventually, we settled for a kebab place, but the adventure was not over as we had quite some problems in having the owner of the place understand we needed a vegetarian kebab (in his defence, who does ever ask for a vegetarian kebab?) and eventually the result was slightly confused, with my own kebab having inside more vegetables than Susanne's one. Once home again (with the shower repaired and in order) and having finished eating, a yell resounded in the quiet of Montagnana: "HELL!!! We forgot to buy the toothpaste!" followed by a soothing reply: "Oh, well, we'll buy it tomorrow first thing in the morning". And the day was over.

Note about yesterday in Rome

Speaking of love tokens, yesterday Susanne wanted to do sports. Having been unable to find a badminton court and unsure about basketball, I eventually gave up and went jogging with her. My first attempt at jogging after years, after 2 months of scarce exercise (except the kilometers of marches of the previous week) and foolishly trying to keep her pace ended up with a dying me after just 20 minutes. In the evening, in the mid of yet another heavy lightining storm, we went to a Cameroon-style dinner following an invitation from someone I had, once upon a time, helped over the VCN mailing list. The dinner turned out to be quite interesting, both in regards of the food and the people attending.

Travel Chronicles I - Summer - From Rome to Montagnana via Bologna

And so I'm back, the travelling week having passed, quite unsurprisingly, very quickly. Here is the chronicles of the travel for you, my friends, who are curious about it and if you are wondering about the title, stay with me and read on, and you will understand. I think I will go on the whole week describing the travel, as there is really so much to say. As for the pictures, some are the ones we did take, some (you aren't allowed to take pictures in almost every museum and church in Italy, with or without flash) from the net, when I could find them. As usual, click to enlarge. Oh, and given Susanne is here these days, she will have her own (short) comments here... written in red. I just love red :)

Prequel - The White Night in Rome

Saturday the 9th of september was celebrated in Rome the 5th "White Night", a night of celebrations, exhibitions and happenings that since 2001 (when from White the night became Black as a major black-out hit the whole country leaving all 58.000.000 italians without power for 24 to 48 hours). That can only happen in Italy... Susanne and me knew we would had to wake up early the morning after so we opted for a very little thing near home, a little classical music concert held at the artificial lake of the EUR neighborhood with Mozart's music, fireworks and light games.

Turned out to be a magnificent show, even if the fireworks noise often covered the music and totally muted a young soprano trying to sing a piece from the "Magical Flute", so much that as the fireworks died, the cheering crowd was gifted with a bis of the piece. We returned home early, dodging the massive traffic jam that was at that point mounting and that would had paralyzed the city for hours, wondering idly if the taxi I had booked for the morning after for the house-train station leg would had arrived.

Sunday 8th - Rome - The journey begins

At 6.00 the alarm clock rung (or should I say sung, considering my alarm clock is a roster's yell that Susanne wholeheartedly despises? YES) and, truth to be said, despite my worries we were lucky with the taxi. The driver arrived even 5 minutes earlier than booked for, took the shortest route to the Tiburtina station (the secondary train station of Rome) and didn't try to add any surcharge (that I noticed, at least). Tiburtina station at 7.00 of a sunday is an un-patrolled no-man's land that even the boldest hearts tend to avoid and I was somewhat displeased to find out that our train was 30 minutes late, forcing us on the wharf at the track's side in less than pleasant company. If the good day can be said by the morning, I thought, that was definitely not a good sign.

Anyway, the train arrived (the 30 mins delay had became 35 by then) and we embarked finally on the trip, slightly too sleepy yet, at least in my case, to feel the typical "start of the journey"'s excitement. 4 hours and something later we stopped at the first of our planned stops, Bologna.

Sunday 8th - Bologna - The closed churches city

When we disembarked from the train we found ourselves in full summer. Sun, 30 plus centigrades, no wind. Of the 8 cities we would had touched in the coming week, Bologna was sadly the only one I had never visited, outside of the station at least. It was thus with more than a bit of curiosity that, after having left the backpack at the luggage depot of the station, I looked around the streets.

We immediately moved towards Piazza Maggiore, the main square of the city, passing along the way in front of one of the churches I wanted to visit, the one of S. Peter. It was closed. On a sunday, at half past midday, the third largest church of Bologna was closed for lunch. Ok, I said to myself, the people from Bologna are not exactly famous for their sense of religion (Bologna is the city where the 3 Italian communist parties and the Trotskist party are the strongest in Italy), it's almost understandable that this important, but after all so close to the city's cathedral to make it maybe redundant, church is closed.

We moved on, reached the square and from there we visited what could be seen of the "Palazzo Comunale", the political centre of the city since middle age. Not surprisingly, the courtyard was full of people taking part to civil weddings that are celebrated there by the mayor. Here I was confirmed that God protects the drunken people and the kids (and the United States, used to say Bismark) as a half dozen of them (kids, not drunkards) kept running up and down the main internal stairway, already treacherous by the way it is build ("a cordonata") and made even more so by the abundant quantity of rice laying on the floor (we throw it as a good omen to the newly wed couples as they get out of the churches or, as in this case, the communal house). Well, while Susanne and me (especially - no, only :P - me) had our troubles not falling down walking, they didn't even have a moment of hesitation in running head on down the flight of stairs. Its always surprising how much life kids can give to a place. Moving to the "Stanza Farnese" we had a nice view of the whole square from above, with the city cathedral on the right.

We descended, headed to the cathedral of the city, S. Petronio, personally eager to check it out due something that has happened in Italy a few years ago (I'll tell you later) and... it was closed. The cathedral on lunch break until 3.00 pm, on a sunday. Slightly disconcerted at this point, we sat down on its steps and had a quick break with fruits and then we stood and walked around the former jewish ghetto of the city, surprisingly bordering what was the bishop's palace and building. Okey, it might be more exhausting but if you really want to get an impression of a city, you just have to walk as well in areas outside of the crowded tourist trails.

We crossed a few towers, some of them incredibly pending (Bologna is famous for them, together with having been the first university of Europe and, consequently, quite probably, of the world) - wow, it's so strange to stand next to them... they are really above you at some point - , and a bunch of churches, inexorably closed. In our folly, we headed for S. Stephen, a complex of several churches ideally build in a way to represent the holy sepulcher of Jerusalem and, guess what? What?? It was closed as well... lunch break until 3.30 pm. At that point we had got the message and we sat down in a bar to have the classic "piadina bolognese" (me, and no, mine was far from being so thick as the picture's one) and a salad (Susanne, obviously). Hmmm... salad. And no, it's not rabbit food! At least not only. Anyway...

At around 3, we moved again towards the Cathedral and finally we managed to get into it, after having had our backpack checked carefully. In fact, in june 2002 a plot by an islamic cell was discovered to blow up this church and most specifically one of its side chapels where, in a final judgement painted a fresco at the beginning of the XV century, the prophet Mohamed is depicted as being tortured by devils in hell following the narration by Dante in the Divine Comedy (the only picture I could find is on the right, Mohamed is the figure lying on the right, with its name written next to it). The story had a large impact on the public opinion at the time with the usual corollary of "We will not be intimidated" statements of the various italian political figures. Fact is, I discovered by entering the church that the whole left navel is covered and allegedly "under restoration" since august 2002 and, even more interestingly, without an extimated date for the end of the works. Any comment is superfluous. Ehhh... but if I have a comment? Okey, considering that this could start a huge discussion between the two of us, as usual, I just want to add that Guido is sometimes slightly pessimistic.

Pretty disgruntled (me), we moved then towards S. Domenico, the church where the body of the founder of the Dominican order (the one which supplied the greatest number of men to the inquisition) lies in a wonderful ark (right) where also Michelangelo worked. We were also lucky in this circumstance as we arrived at the church together with a large "official" guided tour. Mingling with them, we were able to access the usually closed to the public wooden chorus behind the main altar, an incredible work of wood inlay of the 1330 and on which, something I had never done before, I was even allowed to sit. I can only agree. It was really great.

After San Domenico, we finally visited Saint Stephen's complex, this time open, finding it extremely interesting, with its intricate spaces and the three churches connected with a number of cloisters and peculiar rooms. Particularly interesting where the "Holy Sepulcrum" (left) and the "Pilates' Courtyard".

By this point, it was time to go back to the station. We walked the whole way back to Piazza Maggiore and passed in front of Saint Peter's church again, giving a brief look inside but nothing more, as the service (amazingly!) was going on. At the station, another surprise to show how little the world is, as I crossed Alessandra Brunello, a friend of mine from ELSA (Treviso, in her case) who, together with her sister, was heading back home after a month spent in and around Naples and who was coincidentally catching the same train. Probably to Susanne's desperation - Actually, not at all! I enjoy listening to italian - , the two hours trip to Montagnana was spent in ELSA reveries and gossiping. Reached Monselice, we parted as we had to change train which, slightly but acceptably late, took us to Montagnana, our camp base for the next few days.

Sunday 8th - Montagnana - The first night

Now, as I had the chance to say a while ago, Montagnana is a little gem almost intact inside its late middle age/early renaissance walls. We arrived at the station around 9.00 pm and quickly walked the short distance between the station and the house which would had hosted us, where the owner was still kindly waiting for us, delaying her own dinner (in the restaurant that we would had later used as well, following her suggestion). The apartment was small but nice, with a little kitchen hidden as a normal pantry and a sofa-bed, nothing exactly new. We dropped our stuff and we went to have dinner... with the quite strong feeling that everyone's was staring at us, which was probably the truth as it's quite probable everyone knows anyone in Montagnana and we definitely were kind of alien to the environment.

As we got back after a nice, but painfully long dinner (another rule in Italy in general and small places in particular: if you are not known, you get served after the known customers), a sentence that would had accompanied us for the whole wee resounded in the air "Damn, we forgot the toothpaste!" - he really hates to brush his teeth without toothpaste - followed by a soothing "it's ok, we'll buy it tomorrow". And the first day was over.

New York and Venice

About me: all is well, Susanne and are having a good time and today is my last day of work before a 10 days break (two week-ends and everything in between taken has days off) and today I've a half idea of taking her to Castel Gandolfo (the Pope's summer residence overlooking the Albano's lake) before joining the VCN people for the first post-summer happy hour.

Other news: at 5 years from 9/11 the final plan for the new World Trade Center was unveiled (left - click to enlarge) and I must say, even if I did like more a couple of the other projects which were running to win, the final one looks, at least in part, great. The Freedom tower (the first on the left) looks futuristic enough, but the new tower right next to it looks great. Ok, of course it's just a drawing made specifically to have everything look cool, but it is indeed cool. It's like Blade Runner without the rain, fog and everything. It's a pity that the rest looks pretty much anonymous. In theory, everything should be ready by 2012 and considering it's americans we are talking about, it's probably going to be like that... I just wonder if I'll manage to go to New York by then or right then. Or ever?

Vaguely related to it, as I'm preparing to take the TOEFL exam I've started fiddling with the official book edited by ETS to prepare for Internet based version of the test. Well, in the three attempts I've done so far about the reading section I got a 13 out of 13, 13 out of 13 and 12 out of 13. Encouraging.

Also, I do not know if I'll be writing anything in the coming days. Sunday morning I'm leaving for the much anticipated travel and the final plan see us going to Bologna for about 8 hours, then moving to Montagnana (right, click to enlarge), a delightful and fully preserved middle age city, and using a small apartment I did rent there make excursions to Verona, Mantova and Padova. From there, Venice for two days and one night and then Ferrara for 2 days, one of which spent to visit Ravenna.

Pray for good weather for me.

A second summer

It's September, but for the weather we had in the past few days, it might very well be late May. Sunny, warm, I just hope it will keep like this for another 10 days as Venice under the rain might even be romantic, but it's definitely unpractical.

Anyway, days are going on. Having breakfast and grocery shopping with Susanne is becoming a very nice (and addicting, I must say) routine while having lunch together has been a sort of adventure the last two days. Of the new world record for the office-home-office trip I've already said. Yesterday my brother (my brother!!!) took the car and brought her to the nearest metro station and she somehow managed to find again my office. Today a step forward, she should get to the metro by bus... hope she will not get hopelessly lost. Thank the Almighty for mobile phones.

For the rest, monday evening we should had gone to a concert of a Renato Zero tribute band (Him being a quite peculiar and locally famous singer), but we ended up staying home instead. Yesterday I took her to one of the most peculiar (and scarcely known) museums of Rome, the one hosted in the former power plant "Montemartini" where the odd contrast between the roman sculptures and the massive, mid XIX century, machinery creates a very intriguing atmosphere.

In the evening, despite my belly being in a riot (has it unfortunately has been for several days now, since the unwisely overfed week-end) I accepted a plead of help of one of the managers of my firm who needed a five-a-side goalkeeper. I must confess, the idea was showing my skill to Susanne most than anything else, but my plan was disrupted as she took a book with her, sat down in the sport center lobby and spent all the time reading. No cheering and pon-pon girls for me.

Running Post

I've no time. Week-end was great, sunny (to the sun-burnt limit) as an early september can be, icy (in the water) as an early september can be, overfed (italian moms are something, italian moms with a guest are something else, italian moms with a guest who is their firstborn's gf are too much) and sleepy.

Morning spent in an absolutely pointless internal course, lunch-break with a new all time record: office-home-office in 40 minutes included 5 minutes waiting for Susanne to come down from my apartment (only to discover she wanted me to come up). Light salad, heavy reprise of the internal course and now that the course is over I'm waiting for the few minutes dividing me from the 16:06, the earliest time I can get out of here and join Susanne who is currently reading somewhere around my office. Hopefully, still.

Improvised plans for the rest of the week.

100

100. One hundred. This is the hundredth post since the 21st of febraury, the day I started keeping a blog. It makes 100 posts in 192 days, less than I meant to, but probably more than I really expected. In these 100 posts there have been a dozen books, a few movies, several happenings, a dozen travels (half of which to Berlin), the three main capitals of Europe (London, Berlin and Paris), the meeting with a couple of new friends and a few of the old ones, a new government for my country, a new war and the same old news from the middle east and, even worse, the same old news from Iran, someone died, no one was born.

Some interesting six months, I'd say, which I hope will be the prelude to something new. Well, something new will surely come with the switch from Berlin to Mainz as main city of interest in Europe. Something new would be nice to happen in the working department, as it has been stalling for way too long and in the meanwhile in mid october I'll betaking the TOEFL exam, because you never now. And something new might come from the family front now that my bro has graduated and might be close to starting working himself.

But while I wait for new things, my friends, I will gladly deal with the present which promises to be particularly nice in the next three weeks. At 8 I'll be picking up Susanne from the airport and we'll spend almost a month together, a week of which travelling all around the italian North-East (Venice included). If we'd just manage to keep our debating sides at bay...

Have a good week-end, everyone.

21

Yesterday evening, by chance, I spotted the beginning of a movie in TV. Considering the absolute vacuum that usually is on tv during the summer, so perfect that you could have physics experiments done in it, I followed, at first distractedly, then completely caught in the story narrated in a very strange ways, with continuous flashbacks following three different lines of a plot that obviously converges at a given point.

The movie was "21 grams" and I must admit I was wrong to skip it a few years ago, when it came out in the cinemas, just because the main star is Sean Penn, at the time also the leading character in "Dead Man Walking". "21 grams" is an astounding movie and Sean Penn should had got the Oscar for playing in it (he got it, instead, that year for the other movie) and Benicio del Toro, who, sadly, afterwards appeared only in the disappointing "Sin City", should had followed suit.

Totally unrelated to the movie, today I had another funny case of a catalyzed chain reaction the seeds of which had been laid way in the past:

* years ago, I had my best friend joining my students association, ELSA. With this student association he met, among others, a spanish guy, named Carlos and a croatian/german girl called Milka. Thanks to Alessandro and Carlos, years later, I met Susanne.

* years ago, with my association, I met Beatrix, my hungarian ex, and due to her Hungary had always a special place in my heart. Because of her, 2 years ago, I visited Budapest again with the excuse of an ELSA seminar and met or re-strengthened my links with several members of ELSA Budapest, among whom Dalma.

* this year, Susanne decided to study in Mainz. Milka is from Mainz and I asked her some help and directions, besides taking the opportunity to see her when we were in Mainz looking for an apartment. When we met in Mainz, she happened to mention that she was going to Budapest in September and would had liked some help. So it happened that I called Dalma who gladly offered her help and at the same time was just about to call me as she has a friend coming to study in Rome and needed some help. Now, if this friend would happen to be able to do something to help Alessandro for something, the chain would be closed.

Boring days

Playing a bit with the words of a Bruce Springsteen's song I used to like a lot once upon a time (when it had a special meaning for me, I could say:

Boring days well they'll pass you by
Boring days in the wink of a young girl's eye
Boring days, Boring days

Indeed not much noteworthy is happening. The week-end was uneventful, I managed to enjoy a day at the beach, but sunday was raining and so my total days spent at the beach for this year has stopped at the grand number of two. Two! Ah, the summers I used to spend months at our little seaside house... Anyway, at least I managed to read a lot, finishing Shogun and starting Gai-jin.

Monday and now tuesday rolled away quietly, with me carrying on with a job that I like less and less with the passing weeks and months and in the meanwhile trying to fix some things in the house.

Let's face the truth, I'm just waiting for friday when S. will be over for a whole 24 days, twice as much as the longest period we ever have been next to each other. If she will manage to catch her plane this time, obviously...

The rest of the week

And it's friday already, a stormy friday until 2 hours ago when for the first time I saw two walls of clouds coming from exactly opposite directions and crashing heads on, if so can be said of clouds, one against the other with massive lightnings and hail, but a full summer friday now, how and humid.

The week has been mostly uneventful on a personal level. I had the pleasure of hosting for an evening my best friend, returned from the States the same day I returned from Berlin, with whom I spent time eating, drinking (possibly too much) and narrating each other of the respective girlfriends only to stop at some point and stating with some sort of annoyance how soft the years made us, just to start again after some minutes. A pleasant evening, truly.

Then was the time of an happy hour with Liesbeth, who's once again facing the expiration of her "possibly but not certainly, and maybe not probably" renewable three-months contract with the international agency of the time, and once again wondering what to do, but with more optimism than usual. I think she'll get a renewal, again, but I can't but be disgusted by this way of hiring people that all the UN agencies have and that produces the effect of having a few people with incredible salaries and a wide array of fringe benefits and most of the work being done by volunteers and consultants paid nothing or close to nothing.

On another evening I had a long and pleasant talk with Bea who did show me her new website were she puts some of her artistic works on display. I hope she will not mind me placing the link here and showing, as my personal sign of admiration, a few of her works in this entry as well (click to enlarge). I also promised to go back looking among my stuff and the boxes still unopened after the move of last may for a nice watercolor of my seaside house. She painted that one a few years ago, when we were a couple, and I saved it so carefully to avoid it being damaged that obviously I can't find it anymore.

Anyway, the international situation is the same as usual, actually worse, I'm more and more disgusted at my government and my foreign minister above all of them and to forget about it all, and see my parents, who I haven't seen in weeks, I'm heading to the seaside house mentioned above for the week-end trying, after having read Caldwell's Tai Pan while in Germany, to finish Shogun now and then proceed with Gai-jin.

Have a good one everyone.

Ich bin ein Berliner... nicht mehr.

Laziness. There's really no excuse but laziness on my part and the fact that blogging is like keeping a diary or going with a strict routine in training, if you skip a day or a week, then is very hard to get back on track. So that's why this entry, which should had written 3 hours after my "back home" note is actually coming out three day after. Ah, well.

So, where to start, where to start? A day by day account of the last two weeks would be boring and too long, so I will just give a few flashes, helped by a handful of pictures (which, as usual, you can click upon to enlarge) like the one left. What is it, you wonder? Well, Susanne and me celebrated one year together in mid July, while she was in the States and that was the sweet, in every way, surprise I got on my arrival in Berlin, a "1" cake prepared by her :) And I must say, it was very good... so much that at some point her dad got to it (when we already had eaten half of it and the "1" was gone) and the cake disappeared. Speaking of breakfast, I was once again reminded how different breakfasts are in Italy and in the rest of the world, especially the nordic countries (picture right).

While weather didn't really help much, Berlin was the city full of life it always has been when I've been there. After months I finally got back to the cinema to see "The Lake House" (good one) at the Sony Center after a debate about that and the last X-men which I hadn't managed to see last season. The debate was actually moot as on the way we stopped, got two tickets and got back to see that one as well which, in its own way, was pretty good as well.

The center point of my (always too short) vacation was solving Susanne's university problem. Due the extremely chaotic (and so un-german) system they have in applying to University, until the every last moment Freiburg and Mainz could had possibly be possible choices (to be noted, S. was also accepted by nearly every single university she had applied to, a couple of dozens). Eventually, after much reasoning, Mainz got the upper hand (and was a good thing, as we later found out) and so it was that on monday I did rent a car from Hertz and drove the 600 and something kilometers between Berlin and this nice city near Frankfurt.

The first priority was finding a place to live there, and I must say luck assisted us. The first place we saw supposedly should had been a student house, but was actually open also to some dubious characters, and consisted of micro-rooms with a kitchen corner and minuscule bathrooms. Honestly, I was a tad worried, especially by the kind of persons who could had been living there, and started wondering if all places we would had seen over the three days we had planned to stay in Mainz would had been like that one.

But I was pleasantly surprised. at the second attempt, almost by mistake, we found the perfect place in this "suburb" of Mainz, which is actually at a walking distance from the main train station of the city and the university and which looks as time had stopped in late XVIII century (cars apart). There, in a very peculiar "house", which was more like a series of small building laid around a spacious internal courtyard, we saw this small (but still twice the size of the previous one) single room apartment, with an independent entrance (if you exclude the shared courtyard), neatly divided in a "day" zone and a little, very nice, kitchen.

It seemed actually too good to be true, or so it seemed (enlarge and notice the expression of S.' face in the picture at the left) and in fact, as she went to ask the price, it sounded "expensive" to her. Now, "expensive" in this case meant that the whole thing costs less than a bed in a shared room in an apartment in Rome. So, while she kept talking with the people showing the house (an apparently very nice couple with a couple of kids and an immense dog, a schnauzer I think, called Faustus), looking around and taking picture, I took a meter and laid down the measures for the whole house for further reference. Later on, having left the house, we talked of the pro and con (with me, obviously, in favor of the place), a quick call home, and by the evening the whole thing had been settled.

The quick and fortunate solution of the housing problem left us with two days for walking around the city, visiting the university and the law faculty (housed in a somewhat anonymous modern building inside the campus and where I dropped an hello note in the mailbox of the local ELSA board), settling all the documents for S.' enrollment and all in a relaxed way, at least for our standards, which means at the end of it I was tired, but not exhausted. We even met Milka, an ELSA friend of mine who was born, studied law and now is working in Mainz, so that she could give her a bearing. Unfortunately, due a series of circumstances, we arrived almost half a hour late, with my supreme shame, but she was fantastic (and my karma punished me, as a waitress managed to spill a violet juice, cranberry maybe, over my brand new white blouse *sigh*).

Later that day, the last in Mainz, a jazz concert in the square behind the Cathedral of Mainz (a very interesting one, and catholic too, as the archbishop of Mainz was one of the elector princes of the Holy Roman Empire and some sort of plenipotentiary for the Pope on that side of the Alps) and a dinner in this very fashionable restaurant (another think I have to thank Milka for) in what was, in the middle age, the city's Lazaret. Here, the argumentative sides of Susanne and me, helped by a generous dose of wine and a couple of cocktails, got the better of us and we had a mighty discussion which was probably the worst we ever had and that was solved with the nicest walk I ever had in my life and that I will call from now on "the 10 steps walk". And no, I'm not going to give details on here.

The ride back to Berlin took almost a day, as I wasn't so much fit for driving another 600 kms and so we opted for a bus, which was leaving from Frankfurt very early in the morning, which means we had to wake up at dawn to take a regional train, deal with the most incompetent and confused concierge I ever faced at check out and the worst breakfast I ever had in a hotel.

The last couple of days were spent walking around Berlin and revisiting some of the places we had been the very first time I was in Berlin, almost exactly a year before, and redoing some of the things we had done that time, like lying in the grass along the Spree river. I also had the chance of doing some new things, like walking in the Holocaust memorial near the Brandenburg's door, and do something I had meant to do for a while, like visiting the Egyptian Museum (while the Pergamon was one of the very first things I did in Berlin the year before), which unfortunately turned out to be sort of disappointing, with the exception of the world famous Nefertiti's bust and a couple other things.

Given this was probably the last time in Berlin, at least for a long while, on saturday I carried out another of the things I always had meant to do when in Berlin and, for a reason or another, had never been able to, which was visiting Postdam and the prussian version of Versailles: Sains Souci. Now, I must say, I was unlucky, as the whole place that day was scheduled to close at 2 pm rather than the usual 6 due a series of events planned for the night in what is called "the night of the Castles" (when we asked how to take part of it, the guard smiled and said tickets had been sold out already last December...). Even like that, I at least managed to visit the whole main residence and found it... well, no offense, but the "we would had like to have Versailles, but money was what it was...). The incredible things was the tomb of Frederick the Great which I would had expected as a triumph of marbles and gold commemorating the extraordinary life of this king and that instead consist in the most simple marble tombstone, with just "Friedrich der Große" written on it, laid on the front side of Sans Souci, next to the burial places of his beloved greyhounds.

Quite surprisingly, is not the main residence to be the nicest building, at least for my taste. In the afternoon, in fact, not knowing what to do, we did walk around and found out that some areas of the park were still open. So It happened that i got to see the Orangerie , which I found, at least externally, much superior to the main "schloss" and the immensely picturesque path to the nice "Belvedere" (the one on the bottom-right). On the way from one to the other, we stopped at the very nice cafe' house inside the "Dragon House", a small pagoda-like building built in that period of the XVIII century when everything chinese was fancy.

And with that, the visit to Sans Souci was over and we got back to Berlin and prepared for the last evening that saw us walking around the Hackescher Markt and the courtyards full of restaurants and pubs of that area and eating first at this very nice place in one of those courtyards and then again in a restaurant doing its best to look like an american restaurants of the 50s/60s. Sunday was the day I had to come back and also the day of my first long talk with Susanne's father which was interesting, indeed. And so, after one of the worst flights I ever had, I was back in Rome where a taxi ride, which should had been of 17 euros and ended up costing 19 as "I've only one euro of change, I'm sorry" (yeah, right), took me home. What has all of this to do with the last picture? nothing, but isn't she cute? And mind you, she is gonna hate me for having published that, like any other picture with her inside... ah, women.

There and Back again

And so, I'm back. Have been 10 short days, full of things, new cities, new experiences, a book and much more and have been short, but that I said already. It has also been the last time I've been in Berlin, at least for a long while.

More to come later or tomorrow, as I settle down again in Rome.

The ordinary madness

There is nothing better than hear about a global plot to explode ten or so planes mid-air the day before you have to take a plane yourself. Really, it's so relaxing. Especially when your own father, a man usually level headed and absolutely impermeable to mass hysteria, calls you in the office wondering if you are really sure about wanting to take a plane the day after, that the day after it's the 11th (recurrent date for terrorist attacks) and that if there were some side cells around Europe, now that their plan has been discovered, they'd probably divert on secondary, probably less tightly controlled, airports like the one I'm departing from.

Madness. Which is becoming so usual, as I remember my mom's fear last year when my brother did fly to Egypt a few days after a devastating series of bombs at Sharm el Sheik and the reccomendations of my friends to be careful in London's subway months after the bombs of last July.

Then, you get emails from a mailing list where supposedly the majority of people are intelligent international professional working for UN agencies and where someone, from the country which suffered those metro bombs and that would had probably had more than 2.000 innocent civilian casualties within the coming hours had the police hadn't done its work, wrote, in order to condemn the operate of Americans (and I suppose Israelis too):

"The great allied leaders of the fight against fascism in World War II understood that success in the war effort also required success in winning the confidence and trust of the world. Franklin Delano Roosevelt led the United States into World War II on the basis of defending four freedoms, not just the freedom from fear, but also the freedoms of speech and belief and, crucially, the freedom from want. His stirring words resonate today:

In the future days, we seek to make secure, we look forward to a world founded upon four essential human freedoms. The first is freedom of speech and expression - everywhere in the world.

The second is freedom of every person to worship God in his own way - everywhere in the world.

The third is freedom from want, which, translated into world terms, means economic understandings, which will secure to every nation a healthy peacetime life for its inhabitants - everywhere in the world.

The fourth is freedom from fear, which, trasnslated into world terms, means a worldwide reduction of armaments to such a point and in such a thorough fashion that no nation will be in a position to commit an act of physical aggression against any neighbor - anywhere in the world."

Madness, again. And so ordinary, as it comes more and more often that the thoughts of the past are quoted to demonstrate exactly the oposite point those thoughts were expressed for.

The funny thing, in fact, is that the writer sees these words as a prophetic condemn of the american/english commitment in middle east, while if you actually read it, they sound more like a posthumous endorsement of Bush's policy to bring such freedoms in places where they were definitely unheard of (Iraq and Afghanistan), even using force if necessary, exactly as Roosevelt did, after having pronounced those words, to Germany, Italy and Japan.

In fact, those words were pronounced in January 1941, one year before the americans got involved in WWII and forcefully brought democracy to Italy, Germany and Japan. I think Roosevelt would turn in his tomb to hear such words used to basically endorse a police of appeasement with the undemocratic regimes of today's' world, regimes were most, if not all, those freedoms are denied to the very root.

Anyway, supposing my plane will not explode mid-air on the way to Berlin or back, I will be leaving tomorrow and will be back in 10 days.

Now, given that, somehow, I doubt I shall have the chance of writing while there, to all my friends and casual or accidental reader one heatfelt wish: have some nice summer days!

Bias

Today, quite unexpectedly I must say, the discussion rose again over the VCN Discussions list about the Middle East crisis.

It started on an almost inoffensive way, with a post criticizing the MEMRI, developed in a discussion about bias in information and devolved once again to pretty uncivil behaviour, but at least it made me think of something: is it really important if the news are biased?

Probably as a logical consequence of my standing expressed here and here, I came to the conclusion that it is not, as long as the bias is known and advertised and the reader/watcher/listener is given the chance of balancing the new against the obvious position of the reporter and make a judgment call on it. What I find unacceptable and dangerous is media that present themselves as neutral while being far from it and thus denying the audience the freedom of a fair judgement. It's not the herald well dressed in a cause' colors to be dangerous, is the grey backstabber.

Another interesting point was raised by another participant (who in the past said "I am just sickened by any suggestion that the IDF has tried to do anything less than bomb Lebanon back to the Stone Age") who quoted the Cambridge Advanced Learner's Dictionary on line to suggest that "being biased means showing an unreasonable like or dislike for a person (or thing, I suppose), while a bias is a tendency to support someone or something in an unfair way, rather than by recourse to sound judgment".

But the point is: who decides what is unreasonable? What is unfair or what is sound judgment? I feel that while the problem on the actual field are of various and of complex nature, the problem of the ones trying to discuss on the situation from apart is the unwillingness or the inability of agreeing on a common set of values and rules. Actually, the unwillingness of many of exposing what they believe into and in an order of importance. Without such common framework, every behaviour, action and fact can be totally reasonable for one, and barbarous for the other and discussions end up in a sterile confrontations of thesis and antithesis, with a synthesis being impossible.

Goulash and other things

Ok, I've had a soft spot for goulash since I was a kid and my father, from time to time, took us to the "Albrecht", a restourant in Rome that proudly labels itself "austro-hungarian", run by the third or fourth generation of Albrechts, a family that, if I got it right, got in Rome more than a century ago from Vienna.

Then, it happened that my path crossed the one of Beatrix (from Hungary, on the right) and they ran parallel for one year and a half, and she happened to be the first girl to ever cook something for me and I still remember her goulash, which actually is called Porklot in Hungary, as something absolutely great, so much that I even did learn (and now forgot) how to cook it, even if with way worse results. I actually pretended that was because I couldn't have Szeged paprikas for cooking that properly in Rome... then she gave me a little sack of it, and my goulash didn't improve a bit.

Anyway, today it happened that going to have lunch with a couple of colleagues, we headed towards an Irish pub close to the office and on the menu I did spot the goulash. After a bit of internal debate (goulash in an Irish pub? How realistic is that?) I eventually decided to give it a try and that turned out to be a great decision as it was not as good as Bea's, not even as good as Albrecht's, but it was a pretty good one nevertheless.

On another matter, my swimming afternoons are coming to an end as the pool will close at the end of the week and open again in September, but only with scheduled lessons which I'm not going to take, as my time will probably be taken by more german classes. Pity, I had gotten to swim 1.5 kms in about 50 minutes, with pauses becoming less and less necessary.

And it's just 2 days now until my flight to Berlin, for a good 10 days...

Chronicles of a long anticipated week-end

Einstein should had gone a bit further on than just enunciating the theory of the relativity with its corollary of famous examples: he should had solved the problems related to it. After 5 weeks that felt like 5 months I finally managed to be with meine kleine freundin, but the 3 days we managed to spend together flew away like 3 hours. There's something really wrong with it.

Truthfully, it's already something we did manage to meet. With typical german precision and punctuality, in fact, she managed to miss her flight to Rome. now, getting out of the shower at 7.30 and, after having waited for more than 840 hours, finding an sms on your mobile simply saying "I missed my flight. :-((" gives a whole new meaning to the expression "feeling the sky crashing upon you". Luckily, God intervened in the form of a mom filled of pity for her daughter and so it was she managed to board the AirBerlin flight of the evening, reaching Rome 12 hours after the original planned hour and at a different airport, but almost making it up for it coming out of the baggage claiming area (10 seconds after her flight had officially been declared as "landed", my girl is a sprinter it seems) in a literally breathtaking red dress.

The week-end saw us dancing at a very nice international party organized on the Celio hill (one of Aziz's parties, which are becoming a fixture of the international community in Rome), driving 100 kms on a scooter (covered in little more than 90 minutes) to get to the seaside and have a bath (allowing me to enjoy what I shall call from now on the "sparkling effect") in a sea of Sabaudia, under the watching tower placed there against the turkish pirates and yesterday overlooking a sea with quite some waves followed by a nice family barbecue and then a visit to the top of the mountain towering over the Circeo's bay and then to the lighthouse at the tip of the Circeo promontory.

Both would had been extremely romantic moments if the neapolitan curse hadn't fallen upon us. In the first case it took the shape of 2 couples busy, in a nice secluded spot overlooking the sea at night with the stars' beams mirrored by the valley's lights and an almost full moon reigning over the peaceful landscape, watching the recordings made by one of them on her mobile phone at some rock concert, the poor device blasting a distorted sound at its maximum capacity, with the occasional, absolutely mangled, comment.

In the second, in a scenery very similar to the other but with the sound of the waves crashing against a rocky environment under the slightly ghostly lights of the lighthouse, by a band of guys who, communicating more with verses than actual words, were trying to woe some unfortunate girls to join them.

The morning after, sunday, the weather didn't help us much (truth to be said, the day started quite late) and the second going to the beach was called out, as it was thought wise to leave for the return ride in which we were lucky enough, as it seems rain had just preceded us along the way, but didn't actually find us. Dinner at our usual restaurant organized at the last minute (Highlight comment by Susanne: "Now we look like a couple who has been together for a while" "why?" "Because only those go out eating in such a casual way"... I don't know, but I liked that) and walk along the Tiberine island, where I would had liked to take her the first time I met her, but was unable to due the late hour.

And so the week-end had gone away and this morning I took her to the airport before going to work, the usual separation's gloom only partly mitigated by the knoweledge that I will see her again this coming friday in Berlin, this time for ten whole days. And now... I'd so much like to sleep.

Le déjeuner sur l'herbe

Ok, it wasn't exactly like the picture, most especially we didn't have the nude participant, but yesterday, after sunset, we did have a white wine evening in Villa Borghese which turned out to be extremely pleasant.

Born as an idea during the last VCN barbecue, it saw a half dozen people (2 french girls, a swiss couple and myself at the beginning, joined later by an italo/croation guy and another italian) gathering at the main entrance of Villa Borghese at 8 and then trying to find a nice spot, possibly with fresh water nearby to keep the wine cool. It took a bit and in the meanwhile I found myself, once again, noticing the desperate need of cleaning that our streets and parks would need.

Anyway, after having turned down the Turtles' fountain in front of the Modern Art National gallery, which would had made a great scenery, but had the downside of not offering much as sitting places (while being a favourite spot, it seems, of tiger-mosquitoes) and given that the lake area was going to be closed soon, we settled near the "Fontana della Pescheria". Once there, we did light a couple of the citronella lamps I had brought with me, opened the first bottle, took out some snacks, and started chatting along about various issues.

Time went by, the first bottle went with it, and it was the turn of an excellent "Pinot Gris" brought over by Vanessa (the co-author of the evening) and then of an agreeable, even if not comparable with the previous wine, Falanghina. It's interesting how three hours and three bottles could had passed so quickly, and yet they were and being the closing of a working day which would had been followed by another working day, we called it over at about 11, soon after the latest arrivals had shown up.

In the end, something to try again, maybe somewhere else.

Relativity (Israel and Lebanon)

It's that subject again. After a relative lull, today the discussion over the VCN-list about the crisis in Middle East has started again in full force, with even stronger, bitter, rancorous statements. While I keep refusing to discuss politics on a list theoretically devoted in providing help to newcomers in Rome to get settled in and blend in the social texture of the city (and in this optic I find no way to justify political discussions of such kind) I can't but stop and wonder at the relativity of things.

I undoubtedly and clearly have a position on the issue which I repeatedly stated on this blog and on the side list I created (VCN-Rome-Discussions) trying to channel the debate out of the main list. I think it's just a matter of integrity to declare your standing when engaging a discussion of such kind, so that the others will know where you come from and can decide if what you say is indeed objective (as much as possible) or biased. It's a risk of course, as then most people will give less attention to your words and will prejudicially decide that, having taken a side, you can't but be irreparably biased, and yet I prefer it that way.

What I do not understand, and I find hard to tolerate, is people pretending to be neutral while throwing statements that even moderate supporters of a side would find exaggerated. For instance, how can someone writing:

ANOTHER JEWISH PROPAGANDA TO COVER THE DEATHS OF SO MANY INNOCENT VICTIMS BY ISRAELI RANDOM FIRING.........

or

The Age of Remorse is well abused by the Jews

or

Let's see the facts that if Israel wanted to kill the Hezbollah they could have sent special forces to do the job.. but NO.. Israel wants to publicise the massacre to put FEAR in the Arab world... obviously, it is NOT WORKING !!!!

or

the rest is... PROPAGANDA by Israel.... (Not to mention by the rabid allies the US) !!!

pretend not to have taken a side on the issue?

or someone who writes:

it seems to me some people out there have to do a bit of homework to discover that way back the U.N. had the final word on giving the majority Palestinian land to the minority Israelis and hence the consequences...

Who of us would not put up a fight if intruders moved into our "back garden" and refused to leave? This has been going on...what for... near 50 years?

If we had to live as the Palestinians do...under curfew sometimes lasting up to 90 days...at times without running water or electricity; trying to visit elderly relatives in "off limits" zones; shop for goods unobtainable due to the impossibility to deliver or the natural human instinct to stockpile in times of hardship; children unable to have a decent and continuous education; routine/daily duties becoming a long and arduous task of showing identification and being kept waiting eternally at check points under extreme temperatures...

And people wonder why they become suicide bombers....killing and maiming innocents?

I am sorry that Israeli soldiers have been kidnapped but I am even sorrier that the Israelis have again aggressively "gone in" and bombed Beirut.

(and yes, sadly this has been the average level of discussion so far, with a few notable examples)?

My question is, and moving from the particular VCN field to the most general world: do people really believe they are neutral when they so disproportionately take one side in a dispute, do they in good faith believe they are in fact taking a fair stance, or do they just pretend to be in order for their words to have an easier access to people's minds, without the filter they'd have to pass thro if they'd openly admit their siding?

The week of broken plans - part II

As it had begun, so it kept going. As it had happened on wednesday and thursday, also on friday and sunday the original plans went down the drain and had to be re-arranged on the spot. It's a good thing that in Italy we learn to be flexible and improvise since we are kids, as it came useful today.

After the failed blitz on Florence on thursday, the plan called for a Romanian friend of mine to arrive in Rome in the late afternoon of friday, dinner out and then, possibly, party on the beach organized by another VCNer, Aziz (Aziz's parties, which are fundraising events for various causes in the under-developed countries, have became sort of widely anticipated events in the community). Fact is, a series of incidents delayed her arrival once, twice, three times over the day so much that at 9 I found myself at the last VCN Happy Hour of the season in the coolest (both as posh and fresh - picture at the right) place we ever had it, the lounge bar of the Rose Garden Palace Hotel near the american embassy.

At midnight, as the Happy Hour closed with half the people moving to the party and the other half dispersing, I went back home, waiting for news, which didn't arrive until 4 am, when my friend, obviously too exhausted to do anything, finally arrived in Rome. We reconvened for the day after.

Saturday, finally, the original plans were sort of respected. Muesi Capitolini in the morning, my favourite italian restaurant (Hosteria del Moro in Vicolo del Cinque) for lunch, so she could finally try italian lasagna, at my place during the afternoon to see "the Sixth Sense" with the air conditioned (and good thing I called my brother, or we would had probably surprised him in his usual "home alone without parents" attire), out again for shopping and finally Eritrean restaurant, something I had meant to do for the last 4 weeks.

Then, after having taken her back to her hotel, I joined the "usual friends" at Campo dei Fiori for the last drink together before vacations (for them) would had divided us until september. There, following an old game we have been playing for years, finding ourselves in 4 boys next a table of 4 girls, we sent the most uninterested of the lot (following the old rule that the least interested you are in girls, the most sucesful you are), which in this case was obviously me, to establish a contact, which was done in the best style and successfully and then, no more than 5 minutes later, having accomplished my mission for my friends, I parted ways and headed home.

Sunday I should had seen my Romanian friend again, but once again technical difficulties arose and plans were cancelled, so I ended up staying home, watched Ferrari winning the Hockenaheim Grand Prix, caught up with the (awful, I must say) news from the world I hadn't been following. Then, the night was troubled by a definitely annoying dream regarding a given someone far far away which awoke me at around 2 am, without any chance of falling asleep again.

And so here I am, on a monday morning, slightly zombie-like, a new week which, at least, should led to a much, very much, awfully much wished meeting... with the same given someone of above.

The week of broken plans

"Mortals plan and the Gods laugh" is a recurring sentence in my blog, but it's something that I firmly believe into and this week was made to make me an even firmer believer into one of the basic lines of any classical tragedy.

Not that my own case was so tragic, anyway. On wednesday, the plan was to meet with a new VCNer and go to see a Movie, "The Lake House" after months that I do not enter a cinema. It didn't come to happen due a series of incidents and eventually I joined the IFN's happy hour in Campo dei Fiori, ending up leaving at about eleven. Oh, IFN stands for International Friends' Network, which is something similar, on a smaller scale and a higher average age, than VCN.

Yesterday, the plan was a quick blitz on Florence to meet a friend coming from abroad for a night. The plan called for getting out of office early, take a train, spend the evening there, sleep a few hours at a little hotel near the station, take the first train back in the morning in order to be at work today. Train tickets taken, hotel room booked, 20 minutes before departure everything was called off due a technical problem. Money of bookings was mostly lost, which is annoying but not a tragedy, and in rebellion against fate I decided that I wouldn't had stayed home and went to the happy hour of the french sub-group of VCN, "pasdeblabla", where I tried to put to use my scarce french.

Then, I had the very unhappy idea of going to the board meeting of my students association, ELSA, and went away nauseous noticing how badly and deep it has fallen over the last two years, with people quarreling about who to assign the position in the next year's board rather than on what to practically do. The spirit is gone, definitely.

Today another friend from Romania should arrive in Rome and I pledged myself to the customary hosting/touring duties, but if the trend keeps like this, her coach will probably be hijacked or something...

Technical trials of immortality

It has been said that you have grown old the day you realize that you are not immortal and you are, sooner or later, going to die. If so, I'm pleased to announce that I'm still a kid at heart.

Yesterday evening, while on the city was falling one of the most intense thunderstorms I've ever seen, I, together with another 20 people, was happily playing volleyball on the top of a roof of a building placed on a top of a hill, possibly without a lightning rod, and with a metallic net all around (yes, the "sky court").

And it's not like we didn't realize that supposedly those are the best conditions ever to have a close encounter with a lightning (even if someone, quite wisely, was talking about a Faraday cage effect being in place due the metallic net all around us, but theory is one thing, practice...), as we indeed even joked about the chances of being incinerated and the joy of having lightning spikes.

I didn't play very well, truly, and the fact I had been swimming right before starting playing could have something to do with it. To that point, I must say that, at least, while at the beginning it took me over one hour and a half for swimming my customary 1,25 kms, now it takes me 45 minutes. The show of lightnings in the sky was amazing anyway, especially one that at some point seemed to cover the whole sky (and made me miss setting a ball completely).

Anyway, I'm trying to keep busy. While most of my writing time is taken by the ongoing Middle east discussion over the VCN-discussions list (and, apparently and maybe not surprisingly, my post of a few days ago, sent over the list, created quite some commotion), on monday I went swimming, tuesday swimming and volleyball, today swimming and possibly going to see a movie with some VCNers. What will tomorrow bring?