there is another post below

bellezze di mamma, this just to let you know that I have posted something below so you should read what I have written there, what the hell. Just in case. So, as promised, I tell you what I did in Espain last weekend.
Basically I tried to get as tanned as possible without getting completely sunburnt. Which I somehow managed, apart from my nose that is actually peeling (shit). The best part of it was on Saturday: I woke up in this village on the coast, somewhere between Barceolona and Tarragona (don't ask me where, no clue where I was). I went to the beach at around 11, stayed there for like 4 hours grilling myself under the sun, then I decided to go away after I tried to stand up and felt my skin kind of crept, i.e. I was getting burnt. Then I decided to go try and find a place on the hills, like in Motblanc, but didn't look like a lot of fun. Then I went back to the coast and got scared about this semi-Rimini places (Salou, to quote a few), At the end I got bored and decided to use my points of the NH hoteles and ended up in Reus. At night, after a nice shower and an even nicer moisture cream, I went outside and ended up in the middle of some sort of Spanish celebration. I assume it was the night of San Juan. The best thing was going around with all sort of fireworks cracking everywhere. This was just great. There were guys going around with fireworks on a stick making big round circles of flaming sparkles. Then a dragon spitting fireowrks from nose and tail. Again, I forgot my camera so I hope I will manage to find out how to download the pics from my cell phone and upload them here.
Then on Sunday I had to come back to sunny Germany, thanks god that I put on my jeans and kept my sweater with me otherwise I would have most probably died from cold (shit).

da place

carissimi, I am at home listening to a vintage "Doves" album (well, if vintage is 7 years...)
Coming back home tonight after spending one evening having very interesting conversations with Jasmina. I could not find parking place. So I park in the middle of nowhere. Basically at the end of my street. Walking back with freaking big computer bag on my back. Heard some nice interesting music coming from a place. I go in, big computer bag and everything, long iceland ice tea docet. And I find that there is a really cool place right on my street, close to the möbel design studio, with kids dressed fancy, with nice music, and with fake cardboard guitars stuck on the wall. The prophecy happens: why should fancy people go live in fucking expensive places when they can come close to Frankfurt's fair in what is considered gallusviertel, i.e. turkish quarter, spend nothing and not having neighbours complaining about noise? There you go.
For some reason I think I think the beer got rotten in the fridge, it tastes like liquerizia. wassever. ossequi.

yes, I am alive

cari miei, this is simply to let you know that I am alive. I have just been working a bit too much this week but wait until the weekend and you will get a complete story of my weekend in spain (when it was hot and sunny, not like this completely shitty weather that we have in germany, today I came to the office with a woolen sweater).
ciaociao

Jack the Fahrer

cari miei, this morning I had to take a taxi to go to the airport. So, as usual, I call the taxi company, tell them to come under Jack's house then go there with Jean Jacques to park it because if I try to park it close to my flat the bastards of the ordnungsamt kidnap it again. So I arrive there, 5 minutes before the time, and I wait. I wait. I wait. After a while I see Jack coming out on the balcony and hear my phone ringing. It was him calling me. Apparently the taxi driver was there before I came and rang Jack; Jack, having the mental flexibility of a concrete wall (who the hell is always calling taxis to go under his house?? Mary Poppins????), sends the taxi away. So basically I had to go to the hotel that is close by and get a taxi there. Anyway, I managed to get my plane, despite Jack trying to sabotage me, so now I am in Espain in the eplant. Tomorrow and Friday I will work here and then Saturday and Sunday I hope it's sunny because I will go on the beach.
(Anyway, sorry that the guy woke you up, Jaccko)
(actually no, what the hell, I was waiting in the middle of the street like an idiot with my luggage!)

in italiano (sorry)

questa me l'ero persa. E pensate che pare abbiano speso 45 milioni per il sito e 100000 (centomila) eurini per il logo (se così si possa definire quella schifezza). Nel mentre a mia nonna, che ha le ossa così ben messe che se mette una coperta in più le si spezza la caviglia (le magie dell'osteoporosi), hanno finalmente riconosciuto euro 150 (centocinquanta) di accompagnamento dopo anni di carte, con e senza bollo, visite, rinvii e operazioni che l'hanno trasformata nella versione padovana di robocop (femori bullonati) - operazioni ovviamente, e c'è da dirlo, fatte privatamente.

generation umbrella...

I had a very similar conversation with Alina (last weekend in the car) and with Jasmina (this weekend in another car).
The generations before us had great music: Rolling Stones, Beatles (the clash, well, perhaps the Clash), punk, Jimi, Jim, Bob, Lou, David (yes, my saviour), Iggy, and trillions of others (because it's late and I'm drunk and I can't remember the first names of the guys of the bands...).
Our generation had pretty great music: our man Kurt shooting, more or less willingly, in the mouth, grunge in general, Radiohead, Brit pop, great Italian "rock" bands (ma ma ma marlene e' la migliooooore), e-fuelled bands, everything starting with "the" (most of it shit, but some nice) and trillions of others (see above).
Today's generation has an idiot singing about "standing under my umbrella" (and I am not putting any link to this shit because I would feel ashamed of myself if I did so).
Now, the real question is: should we start a revolution because we are screwing up the brains of our kids? Or was it also the case in the past that there was shit music making number 1 in the charts while decent bands were going unrecognized?

no, I don't think you can overdose on vitamins

Cari miei, yesterday Jasmina, Alessio and I went to the Rolling Stones concert. I was praying for 1 week before hoping that they wouldn't overdose or break a femour or something like that, because already last year we wanted to go see them and then they cancelled the concert because Keith Richards fell off a tree (yeah, right) and had to be operated to his head. Anyway, I understood that they opened the gates at 7, actually they opened at 4 and started at 7. Result: we missed Starsailor. Well, apparently I was the only one to know them anyway and I was hungry like a bull so screw you Starsailor I want a bratwurst. Anyway, after that, and after going around for all the stadium to find cigarettes, the concert started. At the beginning I thought I was at a Michael Jackson concert. Fireworks, videos, the guy dancing: to be honest, slightly boring. I mean, the music was good, obviously it would be better in a club and not in an open air stadium with echo and stuff, but it was good. But everyone was sitting down. Clap clap clap at the end of each song. Fuck it, it's rock & roll!! Where are the young girls flashing their tits?? (probably at a Justin Timberscheiße concert) Where are the guys doing all sort of drugs??? (apart from our hero Keith Richards who, no, is not on vitamins, according to the way he talked). Anyway, everything was fine and slightly disappointing until the guys go on a platform and this one moves to the center of the stadium. There, on this small stage, with only white normal lights and no fucking circus effects, the guys play. That was really, and I mean, REALLY, the best part of the concert. Keep it simple, rock our ass. opla'. Obviously the crowd goes crazy, everyone standing up (about time), clapping, dancing, singing. And behind the platform there was a huge inflatable rolling stones mouth. Really cool. After a while the platform goes back but by now the crowd is standing so at least it looks like a rock concert and not like a riunion of the circolo bocciofila (where old people gather to play bocce). And so, among light and fireworks and stuff like that, the concert ends.
Remarks:
- Mick Jagger for sure can run marathons and get in the first places. He's there, running, jumping, dancing, singing and I don't know what else. And he's nearly as old as my dad!!!
- Keith Richards sang a couple of songs. I don't know whether a) the guy was on heavy drugs b) the guy has been on so many drugs in his life that his brain is rotten c) the guy was bullshitting us all. But he starts saying something and his words come out super blurry, without any logical sense. I mean, a chaos. In other words, the hero of the night for the whole crowd.
- Charlie Watts, the drummer, is the only one that does not dye his hair. He's there, cool, gray hair, yellow t-shirt which he probably paid 1.5 euros in 1981 at the supermarket, doesn't give a shit, he plays. The others change shirts, jackets, dance, mimic, whatever, and he's there in his yellow t-shirt playing. You, guy, are cool.
- Ron Wood: well, if you are a guitar player in a band where 2 blurs/words of the other guitar player (Keith Richards) send the whole stadium up on their feet clapping, probably you can play it cool, sport 4 different t-shirts, dance around and collect your millions. I mean, not worse than working in a mine.
- there was a singer, the only woman on stage and pretty recognizable because she was 20cm taller than Mick Jagger and dancing like crazy the whole time. At a certain point she sings a little as main voice and, shitty bloody hell, she has a VOICE. Impressive.
- in general, I need to buy my parents a guitar and a drum, judging by tonight it can do them no harm and they stop complaining about a pain here, the blood pressure there... or perhaps it's all the personal trainers that you can afford when you have millions, don't know, but worth trying anyway. As long as my dad doesn't start deying, or to be more precise painting, his hair.

Obviously I forgot my camera at home, so I took some pictures with my cell phone. Once I figure out how to transfter them I will upload them.

I'm a bit tired...

cari miei, I spent a long weekend in Italy. First I went to Veneto, made a lot of deals, ate too much, drank waaaaay too much and definitely did not slept enough. Then I went to Milano to do some shopping and see some friends. Shopping is made (got the dress for Jack and Jasmina's wedding), did not find the shoes that I wanted (but bought another pair just in case) and, as usual, bought a shitload of books. Then yesterday night we went to the Mi Ami 2007, a kind of festival of indipendent music. I assume the music was nice, even though we went there far too late so just got the last band and then danced around a bit. I also wanted to buy a lamp but the bastard didn't sell it to me (but thanks anyway Gio' for trying). Then I left at 3 something, went home, packed my stuff, got to the airport, flew to freaking Frankfurt Hanh (Frankfurt????? you must be joking), took my Jean Jacques and drove back home. I didn't really sleep that much when I got back home, read 2 books, did 2 washing machines and now, needless to say, I am slightly tired. On top, I wanted to go out but now it started raining like shit. And it's also pretty hot, so I feel like I am in a greenhouse. Now let's see how long it takes before I collapse in bed. Ronf ronf

back from espain

cari miei, it's been a while since I wrote last time.
What happened in between:
- we went to San Sebastian for Blanca's wedding. It was a very nice wedding, for what I remember of it... I am told that I made some sort of a show in the bus coming back, of which I remember nothing at all. And please, just in case, delete or at least do not distribute videos/pics/recordings of whatever:-) I remember, after the bus, waiting on a street with Estelle and possibly Gaborno for a taxi to take me to the hotel. I don't remember the taxi, I don't remember the hotel, I remember nothing until next morning, when I woke up and found out that, despite being detonated, I had taken off my make up the night before. God knows how... Anyway, I loved the idea of the polaroid photos, I will start using it more often.
- The next day the weather did not look that promising, but we are in a new town and, shit, we go out! Never a decision was wronger. We end up in a full wind&rain storm, we then decide to go to the aquarium, end up at the end of a pier with a nice channel separating us from the entrance of the aquarium and then Estelle and I decide that enough is enough and have the bad idea of walking to the taxi stand to get a taxi to go back to the hotel. Result: we wait 1 hour, get even more completely soaked wet and then eventually manage to get to the hotel and cheer ourselves up with some Cola Cao (great invention, really). Afterwards, we go out (with the car, no more taxi experiences) and end up on the top of one of the hills that are around San Sebastian. We stroll around in the amusement park (yes, amusement park) and then go for dinner. Very nice food, I need to say.
- Next day I take Estelle close to Jack's hotel and then start my drive towards the plant. 2 minutes after I left her it starts hailing (which I found on an internet translator so probably it's wrong, what I want to say is that nice pieces of ice start falling from the sky). I feel very sorry for Estelle and even more for me because I cannot find the freaking highway. After half an hour, don't know how, I manage to get to the highway. After this nothing happens for the next 4 days, apart from me staying in the plant from 5:45 in the morning to whatever at night working. Good news is that everything went well. Not so good that I slept around 4 hours per night and now I feel like I am 85 years old. And I have 2 spots on my face, which probably means that my body reacted to the absence of sun light. So tomorrow, sun or rain, tired or not, I need to go walking around, before I start developing spots like a teenager. And since I am at it I will take my polaroid and freak out the bankers.
- Interestingly enough, I gathered further evidence that the security checks at Barcelona's airport are completely useless. Last night I bought some tomatoes and had to buy a cutter to slice them. This cutter has a nice sharp blade that is around 10cm long. Well, I forgot the cutter together with the remaining tomatoes and put the tomatoes in my cabine luggage. Result: the cutter passed the controls. They kind of saw it, then I took out my polaroid camera and they said "ah, vale vale", as if a polaroid is the same as a cutter. This is slightly scary, I must say. Now, this shouldn't surprise me, considering that I usually manage to take my lighter with me on planes. The only times where they got the lighter were in Milano (but then, after pleading, I got it back), in Mumbay and in Cincinnati (where I nearly got arrested when I explained to the security lady that anyway if I want to detonate a plane I can sit in the last row, wait for the hostess to be in the first row and then use matches - for some reason they didn't like my reasoning).
- We had local elections in Italy and the parties that support the government got beaten up badly in the North. I wonder whether any of these guys ever strolls around towns in the north and chat with people in the osterie; if they did they would have figured this out months ago and we would have saved some money. Welcome to chaos.
- On Sunday I will go to Euskirchen, then on Thursday I fly to Milano, go directly to Veneto to quarrel (because apparently the new governement has made a nice law under which they can retroactively calculate the value of your house and make you pay more taxes on it, despite the fact that I paid everything that was due at the right time - and then they wonder why they lose elections), then visit my grandma, then go back to Milano, go out with friends, go shopping with my mum and then fly back on Sunday. Then apparently no travel for a whole week (but never say never) and then Spain and Euskirchen (and perhaps the US). This reminds me of a habit that was common in Veneto (where my parents come from): the church would buy a pig, let it stroll around the village so that people feed it and then slaughter it and give it to the poors. This wandering pig was called el porzel de Sant'Antonio (the pig of St Anthony, since St Anthony is the saint of poor people). I wonder whether I should change the name of the blog.