living abroad: the proof

miei cari, yesterday night we went to Carlo and Mariella's place to watch the final of the Festival di Sanremo. You might wonder (especially if you are not Italian): what the hell is the Festival di Sanremo? Well, it is supposed to be this song competition where the "best" Italian singers/authors go and perform. Sometimes there are very good songs; most of the time, though, the songs are painfully shitty. In general, the chances that you can find a good tune are around 15%; so the question arises: why the hell do you watch it? And here comes the sad truth: if we (meaning myself and the other Italians that were there in front of the tv yesterday night) were still living in Italy, most likely we would rather prefer to be raped in the ass by Rocco Siffredi tripping on acid than watch the festival. However, when you live abroad you seem to develop a sort of nostalgia for all sort of crap that comes from your home country, like the Festival di Sanremo, Porta a Porta (a shitty TV program) and so on. Well, anyway, the winner was a completely shitty duet; second place was a girl that is around 20 years old and looks like my grandma. Third place I don't even remember. There were a couple of good songs that obviously didn't even make it in the first 5. And the highlight of the whole Festival was Elio e Le Storie Tese: they are great musicians and completely idiot. During the final they went on stage dressed like people from the 18th C and sang a piece from the Barbiere di Siviglia. Fantastic. And they made a great show in the days before making fun of all the shitty songs (and singers) of the Festival. Simply great (Tatangelo; Tiromancino; Meneguzzi; Tricarico).
That said, last week was pretty good. As you know I was in Paris last weekend. It was very nice, we went around, had food from Benin cooked by a friend of OStè, went around in the sun around the National Library and overall enjoyed a lot. The only that I really did not like is the trip in the train. Last time I took the train I was in Italy: you get in and after 15 minutes you know all the people sitting near you; after 2 hours you are good friends; after 4 hours you start sharing all sort of advice and crap. This time I get on the train in Frankfurt, find my place and say hello, as simple hello, to the lady sitting close to me and she looked at me as if I was Jack the Reaper. And then, since people hardly breathe not to disturb the neighbour, I started listining to music and I was just moving my head along the songs and I noticed that people started staring at me really badly. After that I mummified myself in my seat. In simple words: that was booooooooooooooooring.
Then on Tuesday we went to watch a Espanish movie, Tapas, which was pretty nice; only bad thing is that I cried like a veal. I am becoming a sissy.
And I really start to believe that I am an idiot. Enough said. Update: I am at Jack and Jasmina's place and they confirm that I am an idiot. Porca di quella puttana stratroia.