Here you load a · the Sibil, Greetings!
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Friday, November 27, 2009
How To Make A Sugar Paste Cat
Merry Christmas memory of the living
For a fortunate event, that is, thanks to the student to the school who works at a publishing house, we received the news in three languages, including Italian, and so I could read books I never found myself. One of these, memory of the living, of such Rosella Milone, Naples, just forty or so in three long stories that fascinated me, and that from the first page. I am happy to read it and add it to my writers 'family', those that doctors and care and neither does the doctor or the doctor-of-mutual.
I see a way of writing, which is not only a style, but a glimpse of reality, things that happen or not happen, different ... That's quick to say it is not easy to explain, but these young writers for me look at reality with new eyes, because they live in a different way, because the reality has changed dramatically, and they may give witness more than their male colleagues. I think of Parrella and I think our Moure, including a bond at an unconscious level. Some looked at other women writers of our generation or earlier, our mothers and our grandmothers. Hard to explain in a post but I feel like that and if I can explain its should do so. I really enjoyed reading the words.
For a fortunate event, that is, thanks to the student to the school who works at a publishing house, we received the news in three languages, including Italian, and so I could read books I never found myself. One of these, memory of the living, of such Rosella Milone, Naples, just forty or so in three long stories that fascinated me, and that from the first page. I am happy to read it and add it to my writers 'family', those that doctors and care and neither does the doctor or the doctor-of-mutual. I see a way of writing, which is not only a style, but a glimpse of reality, things that happen or not happen, different ... That's quick to say it is not easy to explain, but these young writers for me look at reality with new eyes, because they live in a different way, because the reality has changed dramatically, and they may give witness more than their male colleagues. I think of Parrella and I think our Moure, including a bond at an unconscious level. Some looked at other women writers of our generation or earlier, our mothers and our grandmothers. Hard to explain in a post but I feel like that and if I can explain its should do so. I really enjoyed reading the words.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Thick Brown Gooey Discharge
Photo: http://picasaweb.com/lostconversation/Seoul
The South Korea and 'a perfect summary of Asia: there are a bit 'of rudeness and zozzume Chinese, a little' education and aseptic Japanese, a propensity to alcohol Siberia, a language more 'unpronounceable of Mongolian, good food and iperpiccante typical of Southeast Asia.
add a good number of religions that live together and the fact that it 'a country divided in two for reasons of political-military and get a bundle to be interesting spluciare and study quietly.
's idea to get me to Seoul - Pyongyang hitch fascinated me terribly, but unfortunately access to North Korea and I' was denied ... the ranks of Kim Il Sung in fact not keen to see nobody, so I am had to settle for a tour on the border in the paradoxical DMZ or demilitarized zone, in true American style, full of Yankee soldiers who manage the delicate situation of playing race of looks with the military North Koreans on the other side of the border, trying to avoid diplomatic incidents that could cause World War III.
Full of pride, however, I set foot in North Korea, a large meters from the border, I think. This
'that is said about North Korea and' the poor civilians are not only kept in line with a whisk, constantly bombarded by propaganda, brainwashing that starts from birth and is aimed at deizzazione of 'eternal leader Kim Il-sung and his son Kim Jong-Il. Very often this
pantomime becomes horrible massacres and torture of prisoners and rebels of the population to famine conditions, however, that, at least, something to believe. In the few positive cases rather
the party and 'open, notorious in the Mass Games, huge parades in which the best athletes in the country creating spectacular choreography synchronized in pure socialist. One way to thank their leaders. A pity not to have taken part. I also wanted to tell an ironic Thanks Kim for keeping the world a bit 'on edge with some nuclear Razzett here and there'. He and that 'a real no-global.
Returning from that tour to the border I was wondering what kind of brainwashing instead we live, perhaps a more 'bigger,' color, and apparently more 'free.
Seoul and certainly not 'Tokyo, alas,' but here I was here that day and I pressed the pause button.
Break trip, break from life, for two months.
I put the backpack under his bed and sat at a table, I opened negotiations with dear friends such as Photoshop and all the cheerful suites are returned to the inner circle that I was a bit 'anesthetized, and after having slept a little' I've thrown up in India!
Hehe! Please leave your
East Asia, so that gave me a pearl of China, enjoy:
And just to close a substantial blogged I allow myself a music playlist, to taste with inner calm laffuori while the fog surrounds us (special thanks to David and Asya!):
- http://ochremusic.com/music/
- http://www.myspace.com/ulrichschnauss
- http://www.myspace.com/movingmountainsmusic
- http://www.myspace.com/cliffordgilbertocollection
- http://www.myspace.com/tycho
- http://www.myspace.com/dntel
- http://www.myspace.com/mumtheband
- http://www.myspace.com/shogunkunitoki
- http://www.myspace.com/rovoofficial
- http://www.myspace.com/hudsonmo
- http://www.myspace.com/djkentaro
- http://www.myspace.com/hammockmusic
- http://www.myspace.com/tommyguerrero
- http://www.myspace.com/thenational
- http://www.myspace.com/m83
- http://www.myspace.com/uptheroyals
Yes yes punk-rock attitude remains, but the music becomes more 'soft and electrified music of the soul. See you in Bombay
brothers!
Monday, November 16, 2009
Places In Bangor To Get Dresses
whole life ahead of the autumn forest
I saw yesterday whole life ahead .
None that I had said a word, why? I had heard of ' Il Divo and Gomorrah things like that, I see for professional discipline, and almost always without pleasure. Instead, I loved this movie: practical, critical, humorous, beautiful, radical, funny, not inflated ... I highly recommend it. It does not pretend to explain "the last two decades of Italian history" like many of whom I hear such a thing ... and instead can do it!
None that I had said a word, why? I had heard of ' Il Divo and Gomorrah things like that, I see for professional discipline, and almost always without pleasure. Instead, I loved this movie: practical, critical, humorous, beautiful, radical, funny, not inflated ... I highly recommend it. It does not pretend to explain "the last two decades of Italian history" like many of whom I hear such a thing ... and instead can do it!
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Can You Exercise With An Enlarged Spleen
[my photos on Montseny, 11:10:09]
Friday coming home from school in the car listening to a radio program entitled The Power of forest in autumn. This is CatRadio that from 21 to 21 and 30 or beyond, are a mix of psychologists, gurus, many listeners, as they reflect aloud on various issues of internal life.
The interventions Friday it was clear that everyone agreed on the viability of energy that provides the wood, mushrooms aside, this season, and at the same time on the difficulty of adjustment in terms of physical change temperature, light, and I would add, physical rhythm of the previous season, the summer, when everything seems easier and we are full of energy and strength ...
Today, Sunday, I went to a party with the birthday and the inauguration of the apartment of old friends. The day was sunny, mild, and the terrace of the house of friends overflowing with flowers and green plants, plenty of food and many guests. Some of us we had not seen for three or four years. In some cases we have found it hard to recognize ... After a while
'jackets took up reading, scarves and sweaters, the sun was declining while that we recounted the changes at work, accidents, health- and other unforeseen events are not always pleasant, children, projects ... We
Anadi away with the bitter-sweet in the mouth: the power of the forest in autumn? the power of autumn in us? and the desire not to let so much time pass before we meet again ...
The interventions Friday it was clear that everyone agreed on the viability of energy that provides the wood, mushrooms aside, this season, and at the same time on the difficulty of adjustment in terms of physical change temperature, light, and I would add, physical rhythm of the previous season, the summer, when everything seems easier and we are full of energy and strength ...
Today, Sunday, I went to a party with the birthday and the inauguration of the apartment of old friends. The day was sunny, mild, and the terrace of the house of friends overflowing with flowers and green plants, plenty of food and many guests. Some of us we had not seen for three or four years. In some cases we have found it hard to recognize ... After a while
'jackets took up reading, scarves and sweaters, the sun was declining while that we recounted the changes at work, accidents, health- and other unforeseen events are not always pleasant, children, projects ... We
Anadi away with the bitter-sweet in the mouth: the power of the forest in autumn? the power of autumn in us? and the desire not to let so much time pass before we meet again ...
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Stomach Ache, Hurts To Touch
first day of school
Every year there is a first day of school. For a long time last night I dreamed :
Is that better, thanks, but what would be a start of course without the emotion of the first day, when you do not think that you're not going to make it capable of almost anything that you can not, you'd disappear which charity to save someone having to come into this hall blessed ...
The remaining 138 hours will get better, I hope!
A whole life to be seen to be a teacher for so small! Good thing the students do not have the slightest idea ... And we will continue to rest in front of them.
Every year there is a first day of school. For a long time last night I dreamed :
a) I fell asleep and could not hear the alarm,
b) that the students, tired of waiting, went away
c) lost all my papers, books, materials prepared for the first lesson, and stay ahead in the classroom with hands in pockets ... and return option b)
d) was wrong now, classroom, and
) that something was preventing me from getting to school,
f) that came this time, yes, I was informed that my class, geography, or mathematics, or physics, all matters for which I had not prepared ...
b) that the students, tired of waiting, went away
c) lost all my papers, books, materials prepared for the first lesson, and stay ahead in the classroom with hands in pockets ... and return option b)
d) was wrong now, classroom, and
) that something was preventing me from getting to school,
f) that came this time, yes, I was informed that my class, geography, or mathematics, or physics, all matters for which I had not prepared ...
Is that better, thanks, but what would be a start of course without the emotion of the first day, when you do not think that you're not going to make it capable of almost anything that you can not, you'd disappear which charity to save someone having to come into this hall blessed ...
The remaining 138 hours will get better, I hope!
A whole life to be seen to be a teacher for so small! Good thing the students do not have the slightest idea ... And we will continue to rest in front of them.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
What Do Spaniards Look Like
Japan Korea
Photo: http://picasaweb.com/lostconversation/Japan
shade of a bonsai mentally I review the Japanese adventure and I rub my eyes to see if they are awake or dream ...
dream experience, fabula underground. They had to be quick and painless 2 weeks and instead I spent a month and a half in this enchanted world.
Land of samurai, geisha, ninja, sumo wrestlers, Zen Buddhism, yakuza and videogames, I love Japan, I rediscovered the value of 'friendship and brotherhood, I reversed night and day I left Tokyo I do not know the 'cause, a bit like' I'm leaving you because I love you too ... '
Expectations were high that I had on Japan, have been largely filled in and went even further, in this journey into the future now and' hard to go back to the present time .
The thing that most 'fascinated me so far and Asia' contrastro between the rich and poor in Japan the axis and 'moved to the new-old dichotomy, somehow maintaining the delicate balance of stable mind and matter.
Capable of terrible atrocities 'in East Asia during World War II, Japanese kamikaze at home are good, gentle and measured, and the atmosphere' costatnte a Truman Show-style: you always feel like everything is too calm and something has to happen, the old ladies peeing dog with poignant calm and kindness reigns playing a trap for the stranger ... are more comfortable talking to robots that human beings, but in both cases the speaker faced with courtesy and respect: two thousand endless bows and greetings to each meeting, that's why I now find myself with a sore back!
The human-robot leads to several problems of identity and self-awareness among themselves and to the rest of the terrestrial world, but in recent years, these strange humans evolved a lot, while being difficult to understand what goes on in those brains, the Japanese seem have found a harmonious balance between their brains and gigabytes.
Cease talking with bidet and heated cup built in 5-speed '; bus and vending machines equipped with blood; machines that do everything, and a little like every car has a 3 Daitan Japanese at home and manipulates it, rejoice and suffer with her for good or bad business. Every Japanese and in turn 'an android: programmed to avoid mistakes, maximum efficiency. Jap-Matryoshka.
approach to life and 'Final Fantasy-style, so much so' that the distinction between real life / game and 'very, very blurred:' s goal in general and 'the next level, whatever it is, of whichever world it is. Work hard, get drunk and aseptically cancel pachinko halls - slot machines - almost following a monotonous ritual, dreams, and buy all sorts of services, from love hotels to the hostess bar there are no taboo, rather a complicated system of relationships in order to maintain the 'honor clean and tidy.
Telling and Japan ' difficult 'cause you end up out of the usual stereotypes, all true, what we've learned watching Holly and Benji, m'arrabbio uncle, Ken Shiro, Daitan 3 and never say Banzai: unlike TV football fields come to an end , the rice balls are delicious and the end of the world and 'neighbor' but not 'come yet. Mai dire Banzai
instead and 'equal to reality'.
To tell something different then I open the paper door sliding by barefoot in the restaurant of wood, pulled back the curtains at eye level, I sit in front of the chef with a towel tied on the forehead and eyes closed ready to speed 'supersonic sushi, sashimi, tempura and teppanyaki, I put on board a sbadilata wasabi dish and toast in Sake and beer Suntori (the Boss of Them All) to the history of music in Japan:
"At World's End there is' an island, the island where the sun rises, Nippon.
this remote island and ' been untouched for centuries, and traditions are so ingrained that when the future Targa West has reached the coasts as a Kamikaze no one knows what happened in the minds of these people, the Japanese are able to take the best incumbent influences, shaping them to their liking, they were able to take the future from the outside and make it right, make it Japanese.
In this' island the future speaks Japanese, the music speaks Japanese.
was alien technology, they have taken and taken. In
21st century traction and future walk hand in hand, complementing each other.
It 's not strange to see in Tokyo, the city' more 'traffic of the world, a beautiful Japanese walk among the people immersed in her beautiful kimono with the traditional doll-face, the hair on the head, some winding down on the clump neck and huge headphones over his ears pushing electronic music, giving her time and stamina in this chaotic and fascinating world.
It 's not showing off, not' fashion, music and 'an integral part the Japanese ', and the technology and' the means by which fills the spirit of the metropolis.
When you enter one of hundreds of meters six stations digital welcome to a beautiful melody with a lot of birds whistling, a techno festival feel the rhythm out of the floor and you see people dancing light and delicate. Walk through the crowd, find your space to dance and realize quickly that you are part of all, you are building the atmosphere along with thousands of young men who really believe in what they dance, really believe in music. And when the DJ
greets the audience with a thumbs down and a beam of light that illuminates the audience shouts and whistles you your office, we like the beat, and the DJ can 'push over a little.
still walk, see crazy people, colors, shapes and see clearly how everything makes sense, and 'beautiful and powerful, and you're proud to be one of them for a moment, you feel Japanese, speak the same language, are the same thing.
The track 'enormous and see from the center of light shot from distance up to your eyes and you're dreaming, you're an alien landed on a beautiful planet, inhabited by beautiful people.
not you stop dreaming, you want to last forever. Then the music is chilled, watching a clock and see that the 6am, adrenaline and 'the 12-hour ago, thank the DJ and this atmosphere, and you feel so lucky to be Japanese for a moment.
Then talk to someone and suddenly you wake up: do not speak your language, you are not one of them. But they still smiling and bowing to show respect, respect that you earned in the mix with foreigners and making them feel at peace around the world, uniting races and Fazzi.
In Japan, you learn that the differences make the difference, and the Japanese are immersed in a world of music, the Japanese are my brothers.
It's beautiful, I call it the power of music. "
from the outside seems madness, but from within and 'nice to see that everything makes sense and indeed could not be otherwise. San Marco has learned to interact with robots and tried to grasp the human side, and in the end we made it, he realized that these Nipponese are not so different from us: love life and seek to continually improve, they need outbursts and physical and mental experience emotions ... perhaps after all the Japanese are a step forward in human-robotic evolution, next level, human 2.0.
Me and my business partner David we passed an endless series of events and people, building a puzzle caught between reality 'dream. A blast.
The adventure 'started in Osaka, where together with local friends we ingress into the night life, then the friends became brothers and we have moved out of the city, enjoying a festival of electronic music hyppieggiante traditional (?) in the middle of a forest lost in the mountains, between eaters and synthesizers, and sinuous dancers chitarrone electric, yo!
Hospitality 'Japanese' great, in the end I found myself full of friends and a bit 'in debt to them, but people like me who speaks Japanese people with my own dreams, vices and virtues, just like brothers just like my brother!
Tokyo 'was the apotheosis Shibuyaaaaa, Shibuyaaaaaa!
Tokyo is a huge village: take the skyscrapers of Hong Kong and Shanghai and cover it with asphalt, sdraiali horizontally and get Tokyo, where each day lasts 48 hours .
You can find the quiet of a tiny alley in Rubiera, turn the corner and be the center of World, the epicenter to be exact.
We were photographers, models, writers, journalists, philosophers, and fuck, and the worldliness 'of Tokyo enclosed in my palm and some silk kimono made me head spin, I have almost cried roots, so that all' not now know what the hell am I doing in Korea ...
I look at the calendar, I see that I made and I've spent 27 years 1 month in Tokyo and a bit 'too much money, the situation is getting out of hand ...
A Monday morning while his friends were still sleeping we escaped from the center of the world, fearful of being swallowed up and headed south, hitchhiking nell'autostrada wipeout mad-style as two cities.
arrive at the foot of Mt Fuji noble a warm afternoon, and like two idiots inziamo to climb it as if it were a walk in the park. I'll find 'evening at 10 to lag like an elephant trying to reach the station at an altitude of 3000 meters where to spend the night. It seems impossible, ask them to change the lungs after the savage urban 'and your legs tremble, two idiots with no water to climb a volcano!
I'm fainting, but the right music on headphones gives me the final charge and exhausted and my heart in my throat I reach the top, where I discovered that if I had one I made was the tenth tourist to die on Fuji in 2009! The next day I enjoy the beautiful sunrise and descent and 'a fun sand boarding in the moments where a few hours before we left the Pellacchia, yo!
Then I did the man in the Kyoto Protocol, and two photos of the temples of the ancient capital of Japan, have paid tribute to Hiroshima atomic bomb disaster, I realized that the end of the world is not 'so far and anyway I have done my part and in the end we are part of this planet and our ashes will be the basis for a new form of life, we deserve this, life and 'made up of cycles.
A sigh and a last hitchhiking with a madman who took us to the 2000 Fukuoka per hour along the highway that winds like a dragon videogame hallucinating. The mother of this crazy and 'pleased to make us spend the night in their humble home and prepares us for the best breakfast of history with rice, fish, eggs, vegetables, sea vegetables, sausages, bread, butter, jam and fruit, we just needed the paper, damn!
No time to say thank you and we are like magic on a ship towards Korea, South Korea.
next level, Japan's mission accomplished!
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
When you want someone to stop time when you had him deceive yourself then you turn around and discover that she's' gone, ah, with what diligence and frugality the time play with destiny and soggiuoca, and even fleeting animal Codest cowardly man who mistreated him oblivious to the consecuenzia is committed to win it, oh I never will stop time ', ah ahhhhhhhhhh!
Photo: http://picasaweb.com/lostconversation/Japan
Monday, August 31, 2009
Fotos De Mujlheres Nuas
borders
This post really could have been alternately titled mazes, smoke, south, land, cold, obsession, legs. I chose to name it after but in this way to represent a distressing feeling of lived in that land of the Maghreb. It is true that the last ten days are the exact opposite of the style that I wanted to travel and could find (I had already discussed): a slow travel, time with a more gentle and understanding - at least ideally - more profound.
The approaching return of the border, the final deadline, he returned to a hungry visionary, there is no time to stop, you must fill your eyes with sensations, colors, sounds, smells. Every hour of day and night is precious because it is the only moment in which something might happen, for there is always time to sleep and die.
And so inevitably proved wrong.
Let me explain.
Foreword, Fes and Marrakech are wonderful cities in the sense that evoke wonder, they leave you speechless.
Fes with a maze of alleys ncudduliati (best word that comes to describe a snake coiled on itself), tangled, claustrophobically equal to each other and at the same time every time.
Only after two days of walking I began to grope to grasp the structure, but how many dead ends, how many returns on their passi.E without a square (this is the real claustrophobia), without an open space to breathe. Down, down, deeper and deeper in what I defined as a Sardinian descent into hell.
Where do you think it's over you open a new door
stone and polyp extends with its many tentacles of grocers, cobblers,
tanners, dyers, Ferraioli,
dates, gold, silver, bronze, pellettai, cinturai, butchers, chicken coops, manufacturers of bandages and drums and darbuka.
Marrakech, the legendary Red City, is more air, like maze of streets and side roads that fortunately more often widen to shady squares where you can expand your lungs.
Unlike in Fes you can also wander through the corridors silently listening to the beat of shoes on the cobbles.
A Fes is the only one to enter a mosque or madrasa , to put the muffler and get drunk with light.
course then we are not sure how many souks, markets, again return to the pleasant atmosphere of the oriental bazaar.
And at the heart of all that, the square Djamee al Fna.
An anonymous and immense open space where, however, at nightfall, anything goes.
People gather around the tables where they serve couscous and tagine, cow's legs, kebabs and sandwiches. The smoke from the grill permeates the air scatter the light bulbs like white village festival.
And a few yards away they found gnawa musicians ,
storytellers, snake charmers,
street artists, women who paint henna tattoos,
oud players , bendir in contempt, banjo, dancing.
A truly wonderful place, you say. Indeed
filtering after a few days it is.
But there is an insurmountable border.
The presence of hordes of tourists means that any foreigner it is (not that I consider myself something special). So - in the words of a Brazilian friend - we carteras with patas , wallets with legs.
Frontier is why all that distance, with very few exceptions, those I have spoken to have done so with an interest in mind: draw me into their shop and sell their products, take me somewhere and ask me a tip, take me to the shop of his brother so he could sell his product, visit a taxi, show me the place in exchange for a tip. A nice lady met in a square, after a couple of minutes to chat invites me to a house which offers me tea. Begins to tell me that being familiar with the medical herbs, and then my wife has a set of spices from which I can buy souvenirs to take home.
A cute boy who lives in Milan takes me for a walk in the country, pleasant chat in the evening. Then when I come back at night I do find the little woman at the hotel Berber ready to sell your product.
And all, all is said, or in front of my waste or even directly, have tried to sell me smoke.
The dynamic is that, you were expecting? I agree, but what bothered me is the extreme aggression.
The haunting obsession, the haunting refrain, hola, bonjour, Italian, hello, smoke hashish, 'enter just to see, hashish', good price, hashish ', no obligation, hashish', ladies a few coins, hashish ' , taxi, hashish, 'the square there, hashish,' hashish ', hashish'.
Aggressiveness means that you answer sciukran laa, no thanks, not goods, no gracias and make you the parrot laa sciukran, laaaaa that makes you want to turn around and give him a hit it.
forgot, Ramadan! It is right, I spout Ramadan in Turkey, Morocco Ribecco me.
Only in Turkey are soooooo vague. Ramadan in Morocco do it all, even those who normally are not very religious, or point. Because it is a bit 'as we have for Christmas, you go home, you find yourself in the family, see friends.
For tourists there should be no problems, but I was a little 'bad put me to drink and eat in the street.
result, very little food (also because the fucking 'hot!) Just a little' grapes macerate for hidden leaks in the alleys darkest to drink a bit 'of water.
Ramadan also makes people nervous, especially those who smoke as Turks (ahahaha) nervosiiiiisssssimi! On the first day
only four fights in the street outside the hotel, with broken bottles, shouting, girls who they kill Chianelli, which pull hair. On the third day the bus will stop for a break after an hour has not yet started. Under a scorching sun. I'm just in time to see the driver being taken away by ambulance along with the ticket.
Frontier is also the fact that I have often prevented from entering a mosque. Ramadan? I do not think, I think the desire not to see more pain in the ass even in their spaces. Fortunately, there
Casablanca.
There he finally found a healthy indifference, walking the white lanes of the medina through the shops, mosques overlooking the sea, Rick's Café, where day and night, Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman are in love passionately on a black and white screen.
hammam anyone asks me if I want a massage, a sprinkling with soap. And make me pay the right.
stalls for me the bread costs the same as for others, a slice of fish, small fish fried to give them to me taste them.
A boy smiles at me in silence just looking at me with a wandering backpacker's girlfriend an internet café allows me to check the mail for free, so there are only five minutes, the children pass me the ball, a boy in the hostel gave me the gloves for the shower.
For this we must return, because it is a country with immense human potential.
For now, only to jump on the future of the signals.
Borders are all what I have in the past one year.
By sea and by land.
O through the tunnel.
borders that bring me back home.
k 
This post really could have been alternately titled mazes, smoke, south, land, cold, obsession, legs. I chose to name it after but in this way to represent a distressing feeling of lived in that land of the Maghreb. It is true that the last ten days are the exact opposite of the style that I wanted to travel and could find (I had already discussed): a slow travel, time with a more gentle and understanding - at least ideally - more profound.
The approaching return of the border, the final deadline, he returned to a hungry visionary, there is no time to stop, you must fill your eyes with sensations, colors, sounds, smells. Every hour of day and night is precious because it is the only moment in which something might happen, for there is always time to sleep and die.
And so inevitably proved wrong.
Let me explain.
Foreword, Fes and Marrakech are wonderful cities in the sense that evoke wonder, they leave you speechless.
Fes with a maze of alleys ncudduliati (best word that comes to describe a snake coiled on itself), tangled, claustrophobically equal to each other and at the same time every time.
Only after two days of walking I began to grope to grasp the structure, but how many dead ends, how many returns on their passi.E without a square (this is the real claustrophobia), without an open space to breathe. Down, down, deeper and deeper in what I defined as a Sardinian descent into hell.
Where do you think it's over you open a new door
stone and polyp extends with its many tentacles of grocers, cobblers,
tanners, dyers, Ferraioli,
dates, gold, silver, bronze, pellettai, cinturai, butchers, chicken coops, manufacturers of bandages and drums and darbuka.
Marrakech, the legendary Red City, is more air, like maze of streets and side roads that fortunately more often widen to shady squares where you can expand your lungs.
Unlike in Fes you can also wander through the corridors silently listening to the beat of shoes on the cobbles.
A Fes is the only one to enter a mosque or madrasa , to put the muffler and get drunk with light.
course then we are not sure how many souks, markets, again return to the pleasant atmosphere of the oriental bazaar.
And at the heart of all that, the square Djamee al Fna.
An anonymous and immense open space where, however, at nightfall, anything goes.
People gather around the tables where they serve couscous and tagine, cow's legs, kebabs and sandwiches. The smoke from the grill permeates the air scatter the light bulbs like white village festival.
And a few yards away they found gnawa musicians ,
storytellers, snake charmers,
street artists, women who paint henna tattoos,
oud players , bendir in contempt, banjo, dancing.
A truly wonderful place, you say. Indeed
filtering after a few days it is.
But there is an insurmountable border.
The presence of hordes of tourists means that any foreigner it is (not that I consider myself something special). So - in the words of a Brazilian friend - we carteras with patas , wallets with legs.
Frontier is why all that distance, with very few exceptions, those I have spoken to have done so with an interest in mind: draw me into their shop and sell their products, take me somewhere and ask me a tip, take me to the shop of his brother so he could sell his product, visit a taxi, show me the place in exchange for a tip. A nice lady met in a square, after a couple of minutes to chat invites me to a house which offers me tea. Begins to tell me that being familiar with the medical herbs, and then my wife has a set of spices from which I can buy souvenirs to take home.
A cute boy who lives in Milan takes me for a walk in the country, pleasant chat in the evening. Then when I come back at night I do find the little woman at the hotel Berber ready to sell your product.
And all, all is said, or in front of my waste or even directly, have tried to sell me smoke.
The dynamic is that, you were expecting? I agree, but what bothered me is the extreme aggression.
The haunting obsession, the haunting refrain, hola, bonjour, Italian, hello, smoke hashish, 'enter just to see, hashish', good price, hashish ', no obligation, hashish', ladies a few coins, hashish ' , taxi, hashish, 'the square there, hashish,' hashish ', hashish'.
Aggressiveness means that you answer sciukran laa, no thanks, not goods, no gracias and make you the parrot laa sciukran, laaaaa that makes you want to turn around and give him a hit it.
forgot, Ramadan! It is right, I spout Ramadan in Turkey, Morocco Ribecco me.
Only in Turkey are soooooo vague. Ramadan in Morocco do it all, even those who normally are not very religious, or point. Because it is a bit 'as we have for Christmas, you go home, you find yourself in the family, see friends.
For tourists there should be no problems, but I was a little 'bad put me to drink and eat in the street.
result, very little food (also because the fucking 'hot!) Just a little' grapes macerate for hidden leaks in the alleys darkest to drink a bit 'of water.
Ramadan also makes people nervous, especially those who smoke as Turks (ahahaha) nervosiiiiisssssimi! On the first day
only four fights in the street outside the hotel, with broken bottles, shouting, girls who they kill Chianelli, which pull hair. On the third day the bus will stop for a break after an hour has not yet started. Under a scorching sun. I'm just in time to see the driver being taken away by ambulance along with the ticket.
Frontier is also the fact that I have often prevented from entering a mosque. Ramadan? I do not think, I think the desire not to see more pain in the ass even in their spaces. Fortunately, there
Casablanca.
There he finally found a healthy indifference, walking the white lanes of the medina through the shops, mosques overlooking the sea, Rick's Café, where day and night, Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman are in love passionately on a black and white screen.
hammam anyone asks me if I want a massage, a sprinkling with soap. And make me pay the right.
stalls for me the bread costs the same as for others, a slice of fish, small fish fried to give them to me taste them.
A boy smiles at me in silence just looking at me with a wandering backpacker's girlfriend an internet café allows me to check the mail for free, so there are only five minutes, the children pass me the ball, a boy in the hostel gave me the gloves for the shower.
For this we must return, because it is a country with immense human potential.
For now, only to jump on the future of the signals.
Borders are all what I have in the past one year.
By sea and by land.
O through the tunnel.
borders that bring me back home.
k
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Platelet Proliferation
Mediterranean
Only in this way 'you can' account for the substantial unity 'in the Mediterranean. Finding familiar landscapes in the countryside Andalusia or in the cities' such as Seville, the Giralda in which appears on every corner, 
Cadiz, a small fortress jutting into the ocean showing strong signs of the Arab presence.
Gibraltar Even in its absurdity 'of being English (use the £ !!!!!!), full of guns and macaques.
Tarifa, the latest offshoot of mainland Europe as well as' Italian colony where 'but can' meet even some English.
In fact one of the things I missed was the Italian tourist. Or better yet met a compatriot taken by both share a mutual exchange of greetings, how are you? where are you? around that you did? how long? But you want to go? salaams words worthy of the best tradition. Rapidly descending the Iberian Peninsula is felt with a growing presence of the holiday to the point of abandoning the customary blending it into an installation, and then straining his ears fintospagnola curious to hear the comments in the native vernacular.
Coming back to the original unity 'of the Mediterranean with its major cities'.
Narrow alleys and shady to shelter when the temperature reaches 45 degrees. White color of the houses, which reflects light and color of the sea. The same sea that is 'more of a blue' can not be blue '. 
At this point the pace and 'short. So short that lasted just 35 minutes.
Ladies and Gentlemen: Morocco, Africa!
seems not to have moved an inch, Tangier and landscapes 'purely a city' Mediterranean.
The real difference is perceived in the people or the best way to experience the city '.
Tarifa city 'of holidays, the streets are full of tourists sitting in cafes' and restaurants, shouting, walking to shops etnochic.
Tangier City 'of the sea, the streets are crammed with local sitting at the cafe' and restaurants, shouting, inviting tourists to enter the ethnic shops. Not chic.
for charity ', nothing to say on the European model holiday that we all know well.
Someone wrote in the last commentary that tourism and 'the motor current era. On the side of the tourist lives his life full of people only know that tourism to the presence of this visitor. And then tries to exploit 'other question, but the level of liveliness' mental' definitely different. However
Tangier and 'Mediterranean too, the curiosity' goes further 'in the 'in this last leg of travel, the desire to taste different flavors and still' strong.
Chefchaouen, the closest 'blue, clinging to a mountain flavor of the campaign Agrigento, olives, almonds, wheat and other plants a bit' more 'exotic.
But not enough for me. More and more 'to south, the goal line marked by the desert. Now and tomorrow
Fes ...
k
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