Siena: a tale of hunger for culture and not only.

(Click on the pictures to see enlarged versions) Susanne is in Rome, which usually means being quite more busy and usually much less domestic than usual and this week-end made no exception to the general rule. To make good of a promise I had made more than one year ago, I finally decided to take her to Siena from where I was myself absent since 2001 and of which I had quite nice memories when it came to think about them.

Some forewords are necessary anyway. Siena is today almost universally known for the wines produced on its hills and the landscape those very hills provide and only after for it's artistic and architectural masterpieces. Fact is, Siena had two blesses: it has been awesomely rich for the past 1.000 years (usually by lending money at high interest rates to anyone needing that) while being politically insignificant for the last 500, sparing her from most of the wars that ravaged Italy and making the demolishing of old buildings to build new ones a pointless task.

The same two blesses turned into a curse when it came to logistic: Siena is not connected to the rest of the country neither by a highway nor by a train line placed on the north-south backbones of the rail system, but only by a secondary line.

Another thing about Siena and its countryside is that it is indeed one of the best places in Italy (which, obviously, means of the world) for wine and food.

That said , we embarked in this journey and selected the train as the transport of choice, mainly to avoid having to drive after what I expected to be a major banquet of Chianti and local hams.
Of course, we woke up at 6 am on a saturday to take the first train. Obviously, the train departing from Rome was one hour and a quarter late. It goes without saying that we missed the connection to the train heading to Siena which eventually caused us to arrive in Siena well past noon which, in turn, would had devastating consequences over the rest of the day.

In the meanwhile, on the train taking us to Siena (a new one, paid probably by the city of Siena and looking like the interior of a Star Trek shuttle) the funny moment was brought about by a couple of young americans in their early twenties who boarded the train without waiting for their parents and, obviously, did lack the reflex of jumping down as the train started leaving the platform before they had got reunited. It followed a funny exchange between the two that ended with our offer of helping them in the remote hypothesis that a ticket controlled had came about (which, obviously, didn't happen).

By noon, as said, we were in Siena and we headed straight to the main square of the city, Piazza del Campo, and, for the first time in my life, up its 84 meters (and 400 something steps) tall bell tower, called "La Torre del Mangia" from where we enjoyed an impressive view of the city and witnessed a japanese tourist looking down and then collapsing out of vertigoes. To be noted that at the beginning of the ascension there is this large sign saying that the place isn't suggested for people suffering of heart problems, giddiness, claustrophobia and similar niceties. The sign is not to be taken lightly, as indeed the height is impressive and the steps taking to the top platform are steep and running into such narrow corridors with such low ceiling that even I, despite my far from gigantic height, had some problems. The view from above is, however, truly magnificent.

Once climbed down from the tower, we headed for the palace, famous especially for the XIV centuries frescoes that, unlike many other operas of the same period which were over painted as the stylistic fashion changed over the centuries, here remained at their place.

By the time we had managed to finish the visit it was already 2 pm. Having arrived so late in Siena we took a decision that, by insight, turned out to be dramatically wrong: we decided to head for the cathedral by the way of a long sweep of the Eastern side of the city and only afterwards heading for a restaurant.

Not like the cathedral of Siena is not worth a visit as it is actually a majestic example of italian gothic. Originally thought to be only the right transect of the real cathedral (which, map at hand, should had taken almost one third of the whole city), the cathedral remained what it is now due the black death and the consequent economic crisis. Still, it's immense for such a relatively small city and contains incredibly works of art, among which the Piccolomini Library, the pulpit, not to mention those you would actually walk over if they hadn't fenced them: some incredible marble tarsias and mosaics, some dating back to the mid of the XIV century. Also the baptistery is commendable and, from the external, would look like a separate church by itself.

The problem was that, unknown to us poor tourists, the restaurants of Siena, and I mean every single one to them to the very last, close inexorably at 2.30 pm to open again to the public (but quite sadistically, at times, leaving the door open to raise the hopes of the hungry passer by, to crush them right after) only at 7.00 pm, not a minute earlier.

So it was that, after having walked for more than a hour in the desperate search of food in one of the shrines of italian tastes, we had to give up and resolved to just have an icecream, much to my desperation, which we ended up consuming in a typical Sienese fashion: sitting down on the brick floor of Piazza del Campo. The good side of this misadventure - one has always to find a good side - was that, in the quest for a place, we actually got to see many corners of the city that one would normally not even imagine the existence of.

The long search and the icecream pretty much ended the trip, as another short walk around brought us close to the time for our chosen train back home. At least the trip back went as planned, with trains being reasonably in line with their schedule and eventually making it back around 11 pm.

The hunger for culture and art was satisfied, the stomach's one, well... maybe next time.

A month in a post... Again

Lately, it seems that if I get to my blog it is only to make long reviews of my previous weeks for my friends who have heard little or nothing from me. Actually, it doesn't seem like that, it is precisely like that.

At my partial excuse I could say that, on one side, work is keeping me much more busy than it used to, basically impeding me from writing from work (which, I suppose, is good), while on the other side I've spent 2 of the last 4 weeks in Germany. Truth is, to be honest, that at least partially I've been lazy. If over the last days my hours at work have reached the 8.20-19-30, while in Germany, at least the second time, I got to spend many hours on my own while Susanne was in class... so what? Possibly, I might be feeling the spring. Or perhaps a lack of inspiration. I do not know really.

Sure I'm busy. Work, as said, is crazy, especially these days that my CEO is bound to face a senatorial commission and, in a few days, a parliamentary inquiry commission. I can honestly say that over the last three months, since I change department, I've worked probably 10 times more than the whole three previous years. And they have been months of discoveries and excitement, just as much as frustration and dismay.

To compensate these bursts of activity, I gladly seized the chance offered by a favourable connection of dates and holidays (not to mention the obligation I had to finish my days off for 2006 withing the 30 of April) and spent the second week of April, the Easter's monday one, in Germany, most notably getting the second and worst ever case of drunkenness of my life for which I still have to understand the reasons behind, having consequently to renounce to an already paid for trip to Metz. Also notable was Susanne and me starting an interesting joint project: the vase. We basically chose and planted some seeds together and we take care of the vase together when I'm over there... and something started growing already. I got to see my football team irremediably smashed by Manchester United in the European Football Champions' League (we lost 7 to 1 in out worst defeat in European history) and the day after Susanne's team also getting eliminated. Oh, and I bought myself a bicycle on Germany, at a second-hand market, a nice yellow mountain-bike which I had, thanks to Susanne's impressive haggling skills, for 25 €.

The first week in Germany was important also for another reason: I went and checked the possibility for studying over there. It happens that, after having thought about it for years now, I've decided to try the study abroad experience and my choice fell on 2 programs. The first, and more promising, is a Master of Science program by the London South Bank University which is taught in English and, for a semester, in Mainz. The second is a LLM in financial law in Frankfurt. I had a nice talk with the administrator of the first program and got the impression I would be in if I only applied and eventually I decided to. The second one is an higher level one, more expensive and definitely harder to get into, but I will send my application anyway. What will happen should either of them accept me is still to be seen, given I'd have to discuss with the HR department of my office for a one year leave, something definitely not easy to get.

The second week in Germany was more low-profile in a way as I had a lot of time by myself. Besides a second visit to the FH schule of Mainz, the week-end was particularly intense with hours of disco (and a "over 30" party at that, gee if I felt old... but at least music was good) on Friday and 90 KMs of biking on Sunday along the Rhine river, going from Mainz to Bingen and back, with a nice little picnic in the meanwhile (and, for me, a little nap...). The result was a bit of a tan on my arms and two very sort legs (and something else) on Monday morning as my totally untrained body did cope with the day before. To be said I was lured into it, as they shoul dhad been "only" 60 kms!

It's strange as April has gone so fast that, even being so close, it's blurry already. There has been another VCN Ethnic dinner, which I quite shamefully haven't put up yet, and there has been the first time in years I've been at the cinema with my parents (The Good Shepard). There were also the celebrations for the 2760th anniversary of the foundation of Rome which was the reason for a national meeting of Nova Roma started with a visit to the newly discovered imperial insigna at Museo Massimo, a visit, I must say, full of atmosphere.

And a new month has started, with plans and projects and expectations and much more...

Carnival and new experiences

After 5 weeks since my last visit to the city and just as long since I had seen my girlfriend, this past week-end I've been in Germany again, bringing with me, as a present both for the missed Valentine day and a particular anniversary we had the 15th, the result of my artistic inspiration of the past week-end, the two venetian-style masks on the left.

uniforms of Right, because Mainz is famous (well, relatively so, I had no clue until Susanne told me) for its Carnival and I must say that, although I could see only a bit of it, the spirit of the period can be found everywhere, included people of all ages going around masked as just about anything, from Prussian Frederick the Great (very popular and much envied by me) time to... a flower in a vase.

Susanne, the poor thing, is swamped in studying for her exams and, while I think I managed to have her forgetting about the coming onslaught and relax a bit, I sure didn't help her with her studying schedule. I feel guilty, actually.

Anyway, to celebrate the above mentioned "special days", we headed out for dinner, finding our favourite restaurant once again closed and looking as it had been so since our previous visit and making us believe it could be closed for good. We found a suitable, even if less atmospheric, alternative and had a pleasant meal, the proceeded to head out and have a little walk in an unusually busy and colorful Mainz (only at Christmas I had seen so many people around, whereas the general feeling is the one of a militarily imposed curfew at 19.30). More dye the curiosity of the moment than anything planned, we entered one of the several big tents raised in the main square and alleys around the cathedral, finding ourselves in an improvised disco where, again, people of all ages (I've seen kids of perhaps 12 together with mature couples in their fifties) were enjoying the disco music, the occasional beer and dancing. So it happened that we danced without interruption (except for drinking a beer and avoiding a brawl suddenly exploded and quickly extinguished just a few steps from us) from 9 until 2 am.

Sunday passed, as always when in Mainz, in talks of impressive depth (this time, about the objectivity or subjectivity of a system of ethics and moral values), dozing off (at least for me, considering that I had slept less than 9 hours in the previous two nights) and glances full of hate to the (three) clocks of the room and, as usual, way too soon it was time to head to the station and get the bus back to the airport and then the flight home, during which I finished the disappointing or, rather, dull "Romanitas".

Today, I'm back to my new work, only slightly less frenetic than it has been the last week (one of my missed colleagues made it back, considerably relieving a bit of the pressure) and with an unannounced news: in 20 minutes I'll be heading off (with a taxi paid by the firm) to some ministry as part of a delegation to I have no clue which authority for I do not know which business: another new experience.

The week-end and the coming week

So, yes, I did the TOEFL and yes, I managed to get to Germany.

The TOEFL was worse than I thought it would had been. First of all, despite I should had known, I hadn't fully realized that the test would had taken 4 and a half hour of constant attention, which left me somewhat exhausted in the end. Secondly, while I think I managed well the reading and writing part, as I wrote replying to a comment in the previous post I have doubts about the listening and spoken part, the first made harder by the background noise produced by another dozen or so of test-taking people the second by the strange feeling produce by having to talk in a microphone knowing you have less than minute to say something meaningful. Anyway, in three weeks I should have the score and I'll move from it, deciding if it's good enough or if I'll have to take it again.

In the evening, I was not still sure whether my flight would had left to Germany or not, considering the hurricane that had stormed Germany and most then norther Europe the day before, causing billions of euros in damages and about 50 casualties. Turned out, flights going to west Germany were on schedule, while the ones to east Germany or Sweden, due a wide detour they were forced to avoid the storm at the time over Poland, had from 2 to 6 hours of delay.

Taking off on time didn't help me much anyway. Already tired from the test, I had the misfortune of finding myself right behind a family with two hyperactive kids who basically yelled and cried for the whole two hours, despite the attempts of the parents and of the cabin crew of distracting them. Once at Hahn, I found out that, if the storm was over, the wind was still strong and cold and the last of my energies were drained by the waiting for the bus to Mainz. I was so utterly exhausted that I didn't even bother arguing with the taxi driver who took me from Mainz train station to Susanne's house and who failed to give me back the exact change for the ride.

Saturday was a quiet day, not surprisingly comprising a lot of sleep, studying on Susanne's part and reading and computer playing for me, until we decided to head to Frankfurt for a movie. It should had been "Casino Royal" (Susanne is a Bond girl of sort) yet, due mostly to the slowest MacDonald's employ of history, we ended up missing a fateful train and arriving at the theatre when the tickets for our show had been sold out. It turned out to be a good thing anyway as, given we couldn't go to see "The pursuit of Happyness" due the fact I'm going to see that with Liesbeth on wednesday, we decided to see "Babel" and that turned out to be an impressive, if distress-producing, movie (on the left, part of the cast).

Parenthesis about the theatre, the Turm. Never in my life, at least for seeing a recent movie, I had been in such a small, cramped, totally irrational (with the middle seat row being higher than the one behind it) place with such a small projection screen (that could had just as well been a larger than usual flat screen for how small it was) and who sported at times a bright vertical green line at the sides of the picture. It's really a testament to the movie that we left the cinema without being upset about all of that, but rather discussing about the meaning of the story or its inconsistencies.

Oh, we ended up with a James Bond movie anyway as, once back home, we put on the DVD of Goldfinger from Susanne's collection.... well, "we" might be a bit too much as I think I managed to see maybe one third of it, sleeping in and out of it.

And sunday came and as all sundays it went away much too soon, with the added stress that it will be one month and a painful surgery before I'll see Susanne again. Oh, and I got on the way back the same happy family that made such a wonderful event the first flight, and again they happened to be right next to me, behind rather than in front, with the added joy of being patted on the head from time to time by one of the over-exuberant kids.

And now, this week, which will be quite a full one too, it seems. VCN Ethnic dinner tuesday (which will be odd, my last list sees 16 girls and 4 guys), movie with Liesbeth on wednesday, Tandem happy hour with the Arcadia University of Thursday, probably an evening out with friends I have not seen for months now (between Being constantly in Germany and Christams time) on friday, a week-end out of Rome with Nova Romans and on monday... Bah, don't want to think about it.

Have a nice start of the week everyone.

There and back again

In so many, for now only announced, changes, I got back to the usual week-end migration. Friday evening at the usual time I got to my usual airport, boarded the usual flight and made the usual travel to Germany. Something unusual happened then, when I met Laura, another of the "sentimental travellers" I did write about a while ago and I was offered a ride to Mainz rather than having to get a bus.

Only thing was, I couldn't give precise directions so, eventually, I made them stop at a place that looked more or less familiar and then, for about half a hour, i tried to orientate myself in Susanne's neighborhood, too stubborn and proud to call for help. Maybe as a form of premonition, tho, I had taken with me a little map of Mainz and eventually, despite the scarce light, I made sense of the tiny characters and made it home, finding a Susanne jumping for my arrival (which is something I honestly adore, when she literally jumps around... it's a bit childish, but lovable).

What followed was a very relaxing and unfortunately short week-end including restaurant (unfortunately our favorite one turned out to be closed for unknown reasons), cocktails (and there I was reminded that german cocktails are twice as big and twice as strong as their italian counterparts), grocery shopping, italian studies (for her, with me as corrector) and all the niceties of an established, yet none the less enthusiastic, couple. Indeed, Susanne and me turn 18 months right today and a month from now we'll become each other's longest relationship, right on Saint Valentine day, go figure.

Anyway, the week here has opened in a mixed way. My weight is still way over the warning line despite strict diet and 2 kms of daily swimming. To be precise, I lowered it to 71.6 (for the new electronic scale we got today), down from the 72.5 of right after the Christmas holidays but still far away from the minimal BMI (68) and another universe form the sought after 65. On better news, my soon to be manager invited me to a play five-a-side with him.

Oh, and struck by the delusion that the artistic gene that was in my grandfather (a quite good painter, in my opinion) could be awaken in me if only I tried long enough, I got myself a graphic tablet... we'll see if I'll manage to draw something even vaguely unable to produce nausea in the observes.

One thousands steps and more

Ok, last post about new year's vacations, both because it has been almost a week now and because after last wednesday, nothing much of interest has happened. All the pictures following can be clicked upon to get an enlarged version.

Wednesday the 3rd was the last full day of Susanne staying here and we decided to have a little day trip. After having evaluated Siena and Viterbo, both turned down because too complicated or too long to reach, the choice fell on a little, ancient and fascinating city in Umbria, Orvieto, which I happened to visit two or three times in the past, even because some relatives of mine live there.

So it was that we found yourself under my office early in the morning. There I parked the scooter and hoped to get the tickets at the travel agency right next to my firm's entrance, but that revealed to be a vain hope, as I actually should had imagined, given that the agency was closed. The line at the station's ticket office was better than I expected anyway and so, after little more than a hour of train in a freezing car (we discovered almost as we arrived in Orvieto that our car was the only one in the train with the heaters broken) surrounded by americans, we reached our goal.

Out of the station, a cableway took us up the steep hill Orvieto is built upon and from there, a bus rode directly to the Cathedral's square, right in front of the tourist information office where we could easily get a card allowing us to visit the most interesting things, with the exception of Saint Patrick's well. Our first stop was, obviously, the Cathedral (on the right, picture taken from the Moor's tower) and the famous San Brizio's chapel and its Signorelli's frescoes, which I always loved. After having given a look to the rest of the cathedral, we moved outside and we spent a few moments taking pictures over its steps.

Ah, the steps. The steps turned out to be the protagonists of our visit, the beginning, the end and the in between, above and under the ground. As we had booked a tour of the underground of the city (Orvieto is built over an immense number of artificial grottoes dug in the volcanic ground) and we had a bit of time, we decided to check the Moor's Tower, the highest point of the city from where one can truly enjoy a breathtaking panorama. If only the breath hadn't been already taken from him by the 240 steep steps needed to reach the top (left), which making the way back become 480. The view was truly magnificent anyway and we happened to be there at noon, which meant being deafened by the tower bell.

After those 480, it was the turn of the 200 or so of underground steps as we went visiting the quite interesting grottoes under the city, excavated for almost 3.000 years, since Etruscans time and until late XIX century, and used along the millenia as wells, mills (right), pigeons' farm (left), cellars, smuggling heavens and even bomb-shelters during WWII. And after those 200, the 240 of the not particularly interesting civic museum followed. At that point, it was finally time to eat something and, after having wandered a bit, we finally settled down in a nice restaurant where I had a language incident. It is common in Rome to ask for "two" of something indicating "a small portion of". Apparently, and for the first time ever, I found a place where this way of speaking isn't properly understood and in fact after I asked for "two potatoes" I was actually presented with two full portions of them, much to my puzzlement and Susanne's merriment.


Anyway, as it often happens, time ran fast as we sat at the table and enjoyed our meal and so, while paying the bill, we found out it was almost time to leave. But a visit to Orvieto couldn't possibly be finished without paying a visit to Orvieto's architectural wonder: Saint Patrick's well... and it's 248 (496 if we count both ways) steps. So we walked all the way there, we easily went down to the bottom (right, click to enlarge), which is incredibly suggestive and still water filled... but I must admit I heavily struggled my way back up. And so it was that we made it back to the station and the trip was over. Not really surprisingly, we ended up staying home that evening...

A few more pictures from Orvieto (as usual, click to enlarge):

The last famous words

"I'll have a long week-end in Germany, hoping I shall not have to spend it confined in bed." which is, obviously, precisely what happened. No going out, no Christmas Markets, no secret day trip projected by Susanne (she even refused to tell me where and what after it was obvious I couldn't walk out the door, never mind staying out the whole day), no anything. Even now, I'm at home with the posthumous of whatever it was that got me, if a very ironical outcome of a flu shot or something else.

Yet, one must look for positive things even in the disasters and so: I can at least say that Susanne makes a great, even if at times dictatorial, nurse; that I lost 2 kilos in 3 days; that I finally really seriously started reading the Figes's book about the russian revolution I've been toying with for months now.

The Sentimental Travellers and tired, tired, tired

The week-end was the nicest in a while. For once, not a single incident of note, not a screw up, just relax and a new experience. And quite a new one.

The funny thing is, after a month that I go up to Mainz every week-end, I'm starting to recognize a small group of people who, like me, seem to be doing the trip every week-end or two... we should form a club and call ourselves the Sentimental Travellers. So it happened that I spent the flight to Mainz chatting with a Laura, whose boyfriend lives somewhere near Mainz as well and who I'm sure I must have seen at least a couple of times already (and she said the same), while on the way back I spent my time chatting with a Luca and a Michele, with whom I had talked on the way back to Rome last week as well, who have their significant others in Frankfurt and Koblenz. With all of them, the parting line was an "Ok, see you at the next flight!".

To be said, we are indeed a strange category of people, very different in everything except in one thing: only hand baggage and online check in to sit in front of the plane and be the first to run out of it and towards the bus.

As for the week-end, as I got out of the terminal (5 minutes after landing) I managed to get on a bus which drove so fast and in such a thick fog that I arrived 15 minutes ahead of planned time without having had any chance to realize we were being early. That meant that I ended up waiting at the bus stop for 15 minutes before Susanne arrived right at the time I had told her I would had been there.

For the rest, on saturday the new experience was spending 3 hours at the meeting of the Young Socialists of Mainz on saturday, hearing people talking politics in germane with everything closed by everybody singing "the International"... not just the first stanza, the whole thing! Me! Listening to a song that in Italy (not in the rest of the world tho) is hopelessly and exclusively linked to the communist party, rather than to the reformist socialism. Anyway, it was an interesting experience, which funnily reminded me of my ELSA days for how the meeting and the votes were handled.

After that, a visit to Mainz's main Weihnachtsmarkt, meaning the Christmas Market, where I couldn't help buying food, candies, chocolate (mostly for Susanne, and ten to find out she decided to give up candies for a while... women...) but abstained from the Glühwein, the hot spicy wine they drink in Germany. I must say, it looked nicer and bigger than the one I had been in Freiburg two years ago, but the one in Gendarmenmarkt in Berlin was by far more lively and interesting (even if not more crowded). Home soon (was -3 degrees) for a good movie (I brought the DVD of "Scent of a Woman" from home) and sunday came too soon and the flight back home with it. A relaxing week-end, as I said, which left me pleasantly tired by sunday night.

And monday came and I woke up even more tired, as funnily enough a queen size bed when alone can be much more uncomfortable than a single bed shared with someone and sleep didn't come easy. And today was one of those day that makes Garfield utters the famous "I hate mondays".

For three years I've been severely under-utilized at work and now that supposedly I'm about to leave that office, I'm suddenly submerged with things and assigned tasks and duties. And, finally, I started with a specific programme at the pool. There are several for the people like me who go there on their own without relying on instructors, in escalating level of difficulty. 8 easy, 8 medium, 6 hard. After 3 months of constant, almost daily, swimming, I started with the 7th level of the medium programmes... and didn't even find it so terrible. If I wasn't so exhausted that it took me 2 hours to write this simple entry and Susanne's net wasn't still dead, I'd be cheerful and even vaguely proud.

A snake bites his tail and a heavy monday

As it happens lately, the week-end was bittersweet. I arrived at Frankfurt on time, but as I got out of the terminal I was surprised by the mass of people waiting for the bus. I joined the first queue, I arrived to the bus' door and as only two people were standing in front of me, the driver announced that there were no places left. My belief in the story that germans are second only to english people in keeping a row had already been shaken over the last year, but crumbled totally as I found myself from third to one in the middle of the new queue. I mad ethe queue againa nd again, as only 3 people wer standing in front of me, the bus turned out to be full. The third bus was the good one, but the point is, I ended up staying 45 minutes in the freezing cold before I managed to jump on a bus.

Then I arrived in Mainz, after having duly warned Susanne I was arriving, getting no reply, and found myself alone at the bus station. I waited. And waited. As my waiting reached 15 minutes and I had till got no news I dropped her a message saying I was walking home and so I did. Eventually, I got a message, to which I probably didn't reply too nicely, and we met somewhere midway, but I was fuming and she was upset and so we walked home in a silence that reminded me awfully of something happened the fist time we had been in Mainz and that was broken only a hour or more later.

To be noted, my friends who read my blog and who know me better than the casual reader, that on sunday I finally discovered she had been at a club with the colombian guy she's seeing (on friendly terms, on her part, and ofthat I'm sure) and who had teh guts of acting jealous when she disengaged from him to come at the bus station. Now, what would you think of that, if you were me? And if you really know me, as a few of you do...

Anyway, the rest of the week-end was very nice, even if the plans we had to go to a party out of town were frustrated by the lack of available transports and the ones of going downtown by the furious rain that started falling on saturday evening. I cooked again, something asian this time (rise with pistachios and vegetables with curry and frittellas), which came out tasty, but not perfect. We talked, an talked, and watched a movie (Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind) which we liked in its weirdness and brought us some more discussions where we agreed that we'd rather keep our bad memories than erase them, because even if they are about bad experiences, they contributed to make us what we are. And also, something I absolutely adore, we did read laying together, which I consider one of the most nicely intimate things ever.

On sunday, the day proceeded quietly until we had to go out as Susanne was going at her first party meeting in a while. I know that was important for her, she's a politics animal who has been away from that for too long, so I didn't complain a bit, even if that means missing two full hours with her. We did walk a bit together, which gave me the chance to see the preparations being made in Mainz for Christmas, and eventually I left her at the party's building, avoiding to get inside (a political discussion of a political side to which I do not belong and in a language I do not understand didn't appeal to me at all) and moved to the bus station where the week-end ended as it had started, alone near the bus. A bus that had most obese driver of the world, I think, who was panting just for the effort of stepping down the bus to open the luggage doors and step back up. I wondered for a moment if he could had had a heart attack on the way and the answer I got was "yes, it's actually probable".

Today, the atmosphere at the office was heavy. Actually, heavy is an understatement. After that friday I warned my boss about my official request of being transferred, the news arrived at my superior who, despite having repeatedly invited me to leave in a as courteous way as a "You have to get the fuck out of here", funnily took it personal that I didn't talk with him about my moves. How rational is that? Anyway, if my transfer eventually doesn't work out I'm going o be in a very, very, bad situation.

In the meanwhile, I finished Follet's "Hammer of Eden" and, being the serial reader that I am, I started (and almost finished by now) another Follet's book: "The Key to Rebecca".

Monday once again

Another week end is past, another monday is here. The week-end was nice, even if it started in a not so encouraging way. Arrived at Frankfurt Hahn with a little delay (as usual), I ran out of the terminal to catch, totally out of breath, the bus to Mainz which, late itself, was already moving. I arrived in Mainz under the rain... and was alone in front of the station. True, I had forgot to ring as I approached the city, but I had sent a message from the terminal saying I would had arrived in a hour, which was precisely what happened. So I dropped another message and waited with only my gloomy thoughts to keep me company for a good half a hour (and when my thoughts are gloomy it means they are really bad ones) until Susanne arrived running, and things got quite better.

The week-end itself was eventless, partly due the rain that was a constant during saturday and sunday, partly due the two weeks that had passed since last meeting and the internet breakdown that had left us without communication for ten days leaving us with quite some things to talk about. The only time we got out was for a bit of grocery shopping on saturday and the evening saw my pretty successful cheese lasagna (lasagna with tomato sauce, mozzarella, ricotta, parmigiano) together with some barely adequate roasted potatoes (I definitely thought those would had been easy, and I was wrong), accompanied by a Nero d'Avola (a sicilian wine) which proved to be a pretty bad one and basically knocked me out with only three glasses... beware bad wine!

All along, talk, talks, Susanne studying and me reading and, finally, on sunday morning the return of the signal of her internet which hopefully will make it easier for us in the coming days. Projects for new year's eve, projects for march and the thought at the back of my mind that we are too much by ourselves and we should go out with other people and that at the same time we have too little time to be by ourselves.

In the meanwhile, I started and finished Pomepii by Robert Harris and appreciated it quite a bit, only afterwards realizing he's the same author of Fatherland, I read a good fourth of "Hammer of Eden" by Ken Follet (discovering he's one of Susanne's favourite authors just as one of mine), I had a nice talk with Virginie. Wonder what will this week bring.

Oh, and this is my 150th post, even if actually I got to this number splitting some of the old posts when I added labels... is it blog-cheating?

Sooner or later...

...it had to happen. It's just a statistical thing, sooner or later (almost) every man has to pass this kind of event and taste the sweet or sour results of his own actions. Most make it with more or less tasteful outcomes, a few unfortunate ones die, usually for bad choice of self-procured means for the end, but anyway, almost everyone has to do it and last saturday it simply was my turn. No one to blame, I choose my fate.

I cooked.

Yes, I cooked, stop staring at the monitor in disbelief, I did. And I do not mean the "take pre-cooked food and slam that in the microwave/paddle/water" kind of cooking, nor preparing coffee (altho both are fine example of cooking by my standards). No, I mean take a recipe, buy the fresh ingredients, clean them, cut them and cook them, attending to the various stages of checking the salt, adding the spices, turning everything with a spoon and stuff.

And the funny thing is, the results was a pretty good vegetables stew ( I think that's the correct term, "minestrone" in italian) made of tomatoes, potatoes, zucchini, beans, peas, carrots, onion, garlic, basil, parsley, celery, black pepper, salt. All in all, three hours of work: one to buy and clean the ingredients and two of cooking. To be said that in Germany everything goes by kilograms: you want two carrots? Buy a kilo. 2 zucchini? A kilo for you. Potatoes? No less than a kilo. So, eventually it was the most expensive vegetable stew of all time and left Susanne's fridge full for at least a week.

That's the big highlight of the week-end. The rest was a nice 2 days with some heated discussions about a couple of points that had been raised over the past two weeks (and that left everything exactly in the position they were), putting Susanne's new curtains in place (with all the possible classic little incidents that such house works can produce), dinner in what has became my favourite german restaurant (the Altdeutsche Weinstube) and all the rest. As usual, time flew too fast and we didn't go dancing, as I had half planned to do, but all in all was a nice time.

Back in Rome, the news I am expecting at work since two weeks now haven't arrived yet, my practice TOEFL score for the listening part is 30/30 and I'm organizing a VCN eritrean dinner for tomorrow. Today I should meet my brother at the pool as he started to go as well, but, unlike me, taking lessons rather than going by himself. The funny thing is that when he came back home after the trial class, last friday (only 30 minutes), he looked as he had made the crossing of the Atlantic Ocean so I'm curious how he will be this evening after a full hour with an instructor yelling at him to move and not to float around...

Mainz - The past week-end and the new week

Passing from Berlin to Mainz has the gravitational centre in Germany has been definitely an experience and I am unable, despite her attempts at explaining, to fully imagine how it must have been for Susanne. Anyway, the week-end has been as intense and pleasant as exhausting.

Having been out until late on thursday didn't help either. Despite giving up swimming for the day on friday, I was definitely tired by the time I reached Ciampino for my flight at 10 pm, which turned out to be 30 minutes late. Considering that the last bus to leave Frankfurth Hahn directed to Mainz is at 0.30 am, some 30 minutes after the expected landing time of my plane, the delay brought an intense wave of nervousism that accompanied me all along the flight. And since things come in waves, as I sat in the plane thinking I would had to dash out of the cabin a second after the touch down (good thing I only have hand luggage with me), the two chairs next to me were occupied by one of the fattest individuals I've ever seen, which eventually meant I was one of the last persons leaving the plane. Note for next friday: despite hating it, sit on the corridor side next time.

Anyway, I managed to take the last coach at the airport and ,despite dozing off now and then, I noticed when we were entering the city and sent a sms to Susanne which turned out to be pointless given she was indeed already on her way. So it happened that I arrived at the main station of Mainz exactly as Susanne was dismounting from her bike. It was 1.40 am and about 40 minutes later, after a 3 kms walk in the night, we were home or, rather, in Susanne's home. It's actually incredible how quickly she managed to turn what had been a nice, but pretty anonymous, place just 2 weeks ago in a homely, cozy apartment with such a definite personal flavor.

Saturday was spent mostly home (I had to recover from the days before) and we ended up going out only for dinner, in this very typical restaurant just behind the cathedral, and then for a couple of drinks at the very nice place where we had dined at on our very first time in Mainz (and that had seen a pretty mighty discussion between the two of us too...). Another 4 kilometers march home, added to the intoxicating effects of a single mojito (I'm allergic to menthol, I know it, but it has never before been so strong on me when on the natural form of a few mint leaves), closed the day.

And it came sunday and the time to head back home. A kebab on the way, the coach at 5.30, the plane at 8, the discovery of having printed the wrong ticket (having 7 tickets with the same destination makes mistakes easy, after all) and the even more surprising discovery that it makes absolutely no difference for Ryanair, despite what they say, if your confirmation number is there or not, the landing in Rome, the drive home, sleep, work on monday, a new confrontation with my present superior because I insist on do things in the legal way over his 20 years old praxis, swimming pool, home, the usual longing feeling when seeing Susanne over the webcam rather than in front, or even better, next to me...

The new week, tho, may bring some news as I've been offered to move to a different office than the one I'm in right now. It's not the new job I'm seeking, but it could be a beginning or at least an interesting intermezzo. We'll see, I've a talk with the one who could be my new superior after lunch...

Travel Chronicles VIII - Winter - From Ferrara back to Rome

Sunday 13th - Ferrara - Water, water everywhere...

Sunday the bad weather reached its highest level of the whole week. We woke up with an intense rain that accompanied us all along while we were preparing our backpacks (which we left in our room during the day), paused briefly during the search for the breakfast and then came back in full force during the whole day.

Maybe it was the 2 days of rain, maybe the tiredness of the whole week, fact is that the morning of Ferrara was characterized by a major disagreement between Susanne and me. It happened that, as we got out of the hotel, we bumped, right in front of the cathedral (right), in music and a crowd cheering. As it turned out, was the Bersaglieri's (the second oldest corp of the italian army) day. Now, it happens that I tend to be slightly nationalistic (in the "I love my country" not aggressive form) with, among others, a penchant for the italian military elite forces and navy. Susanne, on the other hand, was raised in the classic "any form of nationalism is bad, the armed forces are bad and everything related to them is bad as well" german way, which is even understandable, but still...

At some point, Susann'e had a line sounding like "Those people cheering and applauding for something there's nothing to be proud of get on my nerves" which I took as a personal attack (which it was, even if just indirectly and it was not meant to, obviously). That brought an exchange of definitely unpleasant comments on both sides which had as consequence a bad feeling cloud adding to the already thick rain ones and hovering over us for the whole breakfast, our visit to the cathedral and the beginning of the visit to the castle (left), until a strange kind of "peace-talks" along the various rooms of the castle's first floor brought an end to the incident.

Anyway, Ferrara's cathedral was briefly (there was a service going on) visited and I must admit I remembered it differently and more magnificent. Then we moved to the castle where I had never been and that has been arranged in a way to explain, along the various room, the history of the city, of the Este family, rulers of Ferrara during the end middle age and the whole renaissance and of the life of the period. A very nicely done work, I think. Also interesting was the use of mirrors in the main rooms allowing the visitors to admire the roofs' frescoes without having to stress their necks (not to mention, at some point they multiplied my girlfriend for three...). We were also sort of fascinated by the castle's dungeons (where, among others, a member of the Este family had been kept for 52 years straight).

As we went out, the rain had turned in a real tropical storm. We simply ran to the closer arcade that happened to host a MacDonald and there we had lunch. At the end of it, Susanne had the unwise idea of picking up a leaflet which listed the calories of the various MacDonald's entries. It turned out, I had consumed over 1600 calories in a single meal and Susanne's "salad and nothing" else had already a worrying amount of them as well. The ending line is: NEVER get a MacTasty menu, ever.

So bad was the rain that I called home for them to get on the net and looked for an alternative train for us to return home earlier, but that turned out to be impossible. As we got out of the Mac, we tried to wandered around a bit walking under the arcades, but eventually we were so soaking wet that it made no difference and we started playing around with the water. As the hour came, we got back to the hotel, took our stuff and marched to the station, again under the rain. It turned out, the large backpack I was carrying wasn't so much waterproof and the travelling guides got wet and partially ruined.

Sunday 13th - Rome - The end of the journey

The travel back home was, luckily unadventurous and the arrival more or less on time. At the Termini station we even found my brother waiting for us which, considering the general exhaustion level we had reached, was indeed a very good thing. As we got home (and found my whole family there) we didn't even try to unpack before crashing to bed. The journey was over.

Travel Chronicles VII - Winter - From Ferrara to Ravenna and back

Saturday 12th - Ferrara - Italian drivers

Saturday we got up relatively late for our standards, finding an ever greyer sky than the day before and a slightly chilly air. We got out of the bed and headed out looking for breakfast that, I had found out the evening before, wasn't provided by the hotel. We fell back on the typical italian breakfast (cappuccino and croissant or equivalent) which, I'm afraid, left Susanne deeply unsatisfied.

We made it to the station at a much quicker pace than the evening before and found out an unpleasant surprise. Despite the fact of having purchased all the train tickets in advance in a travel agency, we discovered that the Ferrara-Ravenna rail line was out of business due of maintenance works for the whole month of August and until Sunday 13th september, the day after (our usual luck). As an alternative means of transportation, a couch, stopping in every little station, so to make a 50 minutes train trip a 2 hours drive.

Having no other choice, we boarded the couch and we unwisely choose the very first places, right behind the driver, so that we could be overly pleased to see the driver answering his mobile phone and driving with a single hand for 4 times, one of which while passing a dangerous crossing and another while making a hard turn. As I disembarked I was really tempted to go to the police.

Saturday 12th - Ravenna - Rain and the miraculous drive back

As we disembarked in front of Ravenna's station rain started to fall thickly on us. After a moment of loss of directions (it happened surprisingly often to me during the week, which is somewhat surprising to me as I had always had a very good orientation sense), we headed towards the north-east part of the city, towards one of the most peculiar monuments of Ravenna, Theodoric's Mausoleum, the first of eight locations in Ravenna (probably a record for such a small city) in the UNESCO's world heritage list. What I didn't know before this visit and left me with quite some awe is that the roof of the mausoleum is made with a single stone of 10 meters of diameter weighting 300 tons and I still wonder how did they raised there (it seems that as they dropped it, its weight created a fissure in the rock). The body of the barbaric king did lay in a porphyry (regarded by romans as the "imperial" stone) tub, originally from some roman baths, which is still there today.

Once finished there, we started walking towards the city and it's many byzantine, mosaic ornate, churches, but a particularly intense rain forced us to seek refuge under the remains of the city's castle, Rocca Brancaleone. As we could move again, we headed towards the San Vitale / Galla Placidia's mausoleum complex, famous for its magnificent mosaics showing Emperor Justinian and his wife Theodora. Still under heavy rain, we moved out and entered the first place providing food and there, as a miracle, the rain stopped to start again as soon as we moved towards the Neonian Baptistery and the, unimpressive, city Dome. Moving to the archbishop's palace, we found out that the famous Archiepiscopal Chapel was closed, but the
museum, on the other hand, was open and presented two unusual objects, the "Ivory seat", the bishop's throne all covered with ivory bas-reliefs, and an universal Easter calendar on stone.

As we moved out from the Dome the rain, if possible, increased even more and was somewhat hard to reach the next objective, the basilica of Saint Apollinare Nuovo, famous for its "political" mosaics and its tower bell (on the right, taken from the church's cloister).

Moving out of Saint Apollinare I tried to locate the burial place of Dante, which, unknown by many, is in Ravenna, near the church of San Francesco. The monument itself is nothing impressing, but the story of the relics of the italian most important poet is novel material with attempts by Florence (from where he was exiled and could never return) of taking it back, the bones being hidden, lost, recovered, hidden and lost again and finally resting in peace. The church itself is interesting, with its crypt flooded by water in which fishes happily swimming among columns and mosaics (left).

After Dante's burial place, the rain won and we gave up the idea of reaching San Apollinare in Classe. We moved towards the train station and sat at a bar for a warm cappuccino to recover our strengths or at least a bit of warmth. Then, an inspiration fell on me and I decided I had to play the lotto with Susanne, so we looked for a bar where they could take the bet (for the chronicles, we got 2 numbers out of 6).

And here starts the odyssey of our return. We reached the train station under heavy rain (as indicated by Susanne in the picture) and there two coaches were waiting, one stopping at every station and another that would had stopped only in the major ones. We boarded, obviously, the second and in the whole 62 places bus there were only 3 people, Susanne, me and another girl. The driver was a new one, but with the same habit of the old one, as he started speaking on his mobile while driving but, surprisingly, at some point he asked us if we did mind switching over a minivan. We agreed, even because it would had been faster, and at the next station our coach drive became a taxi drive as the other girl disembarked. A nightmarish taxi drive, as the driver sped, surpassed on a straight line street which was far from being in good shape and without much light at all. Eventually, Susanne and me were holding our hands tight, sending each other looks of anxiety and wondering if we would had made it alive. We obviously did and the driver was even nice enough to deliver us at the castle rather than at the station, which spared us 2 kms of walks under what had became a real storm.

Saturday 12th - Ferrara - The quiet after the storm

Even if dropped at a few hundreds meters from the hotel, we arrived totally drenched. Quite obviously, by the time we were ready to go out again to have dinner, the rain was over. Yet, we were exhausted and we headed straight to the restaurant right under the hotel, called "La gatta sul tetto". I had suspects about the place (bad experiences taught me never to trust a restaurant without a menu where checking the prices), but eventually I was pleasantly surprised as we had the best dinner of the whole travel and the prices were reasonable. Too tired to explore Ferrara at night, we called it a night. A night without toothpaste, obviously.