Penis Shrinks When Wearing Tight Pants

Iran

Photo: http://picasaweb.com/lostconversation/Iran

From the world in Technicolor in India I find myself in an Iran that at first glance appears in black and white, but I will be 'glad to be contradicted a few moments.

introduction geopolitics and 'necessary, given that according to some walked into a dangerous country ...

So the first thing to say and ': turn off the TV, Iran and' a splendid country, brimming with culture and hospitality '!

all the garbage you hear on television about Iran belongs to the world of political fiction, the risiko held up by the usual hosts of world apparently with a couple of smart moves keep in check the entire empire of media, doing more 'than ever before their game.

Iran is not 'a nuclear power, not' a threat to the West and so on.

Between the two world wars there was a country called Iran, whose president had been elected, as we would say, democratically.
The CIA in 1953 began the policy of global terrorist coup aimed at overturning a government which was not favorable. Before Vietnam, Congo, Indonesia, Chile, Afghanistan, Pakistan and Iraq (to name a few) and 'touched on Iran, a country rich in resources and in a position of strategic importance, to act as guinea pigs in experiments of U.S. secret services. Americans ....

But I also stopped to condemn the U.S. for everything that has 'happened in the last 60 years, even if it' s true, and obviously I understand that the game is repeated in cycles: yesterday was the British colonial empire to act as a banker, States today and tomorrow, probably a few billion Asians with slanted eyes and a crew cut.

Anyway thanks to this nice terrorist move the Yankees have begun to divide the loot oil together with the cousins \u200b\u200band the British secretly with friends-enemies Russians, amazing eh?

Other facts, chain reactions, leading to the Islamic Revolution in 1979, where Ayatollah Khomeini established the clerical regime that Iranians living today.


Ahmadinejan President (whom I admire because 'never wears a tie) and' a piece installed by the supreme Islamic leader, who actually has so much power, but which ironically is the perfect game of the Americans, who have a enemy throwing dummies on which the media empire.

If foreign policy is a mirror for the skylarks, the Iranians suffer from the closure of the country to the rest of the world and a system that actually leaves little to the imagination, especially for women.

A good 60% of Iranians and 'totally against the president, and a good 30% know that the reins are held by Ayatollah and Ahmadinejad and that' only a pawn. Very few know the American risiko.
Being Italian I am not surprised at all the numbers, 'cause and wherefores, and especially' cause things do not change. Why
'on the top floors too so all is well,' cause real alternatives are too hidden, or perhaps unknown, or because 'life is still lived and enjoyed in some way, so deprived of the freedom' of expression c ' and 'much more beautiful to be discovered in Iran. Indeed these problems make the discoveries of treasures.


Tehran and 'a mega city of 14 million souls, a city' full of people and huge machines, traffic and pollution, but also parks and nice places to spend free time, where the subway to the north can touch the mountains and south to reach the desert.
The walls of the buildings are full of real paintings depicting nature, fantasy, Islam, and sometimes battle cries against the U.S. and Israel, as usual, and 'by the contrast that creates energy.
Life 'fast and chaotic but it is time for cinema, theater arts and outdoors.
The Iranians have strong and deep ties to the arts, especially poetry.
I ride the highways within the cities' riding motorcycle taxi improvised noting how modern and up to date and 'in reality' that Iran. Other that embargo. Some sossurrano me softly "Down Ahmadinejiad", "cruel government." Islamic guards are constantly patrol, undercover of course, not never talk about politics, and a look 'more' than enough.

Speaking with young and old because I realize that the everyday problems that we are all right, they are not 'so far from our world, and if it' s true that we know nothing of Iran, mistakenly thinking that the 'Hell, they greatly overestimate the west, looking to copy the western culture the only possible solution for the future. Problem already lived elsewhere, and I never tire of saying that the West is not 'paradise, we only other problems.
But luckily, life goes well and laughter on a daily cups of tea addolcisono problems.

75 million Iranians more 'than half are under 30 years, and women are that push the limits of legality ', that is they want to break the rules: if the strict Islamic law (Sharia) is used to expose only the face and hands in public' s true that the chador (the black cloak ghost) is increasingly left to age and become narrow and winding cloaks. Result

way to Tehran, and before my eyes I see rivers of beautiful girls in jeans, heels and handbags signed. A veil so it covers the head (otherwise you risk the jail), but blond tufts and ridges descend on Persian delicate faces full of makeup and lips stained red.
imagine an ancient Persia and Iran, a future full of life, present and 'a time bomb!

And I rejoice to see that Iranians have fun in private and to really live life!
evenings with traditional Persian music played live in the house, away from prying eyes where the veil finally falls and joking and singing in joy. We talk about poetry and freedom ', dreams and life, God and Revolution. Green and 'the color of the green revolution and I see the future, people's hearts and' green.
Verde. Green. Green. Green. Green.

The warmth, hospitality and friendship of everyone he meets on the street and 'overwhelming, I was invited to hundreds of cups of tea and relaxed picnic. Amazing Iran.
These are the Iranians by default, and added that foreign sgli has the deluxe treatment: all pressed me to understand that Iranians are not the bad guys poorly described by the media, then I'm treated like a son to me and I really feel at home. In hitchhiking

I move around the country easily and always filled with gifts, and finally I come to Persepolis, the capital of the 'Ancient Persia who stole' the heart of Alexander the Great, who in turn stole 'all the rest. For better or for worse Greek and Persian cultures blended in an evocative style that still influence the architecture and culture of East and West.
It 's great being in a history that oozes from the rocks.


Zarathustra was the philosopher who fund 'one of the first monotheistic religions of the world, the precursor, according to some sources, even Judaism. Ahura Mazda was the God to whom the rites were dedicated and revered natural elements like fire, water, earth, wind and the Persians accumulated karma, the nature of nature, from the ashes to ashes like the mythological phoenix.

In Shiraz, Yazd and Esfahan I enjoy the splendor of true Persia, from Arabia, where Islam is one 'inextricably and happily to the above described bringing a new faith, sacred and imposing, which too easily deny affinity' and positivity '.

But Allah 's only a Arabic word for God, and according to what I learned in India, there is God'. And how!
I enter a beautiful mosque in Iran and I understand everything: the walls and ceilings are completely covered with small mosaic of mirrored glass masterfully carved in perfect geometric patterns typical of Islam.
The light coming through stained glass windows is amplified by a thousand mirrors, and it becomes infinite energy.
are in a kaleidoscope of light, I see the light!
I sit barefoot on a beautiful Persian carpets, close my eyes and listen to the prayers and chants of 'Imam who moved the litany goes on in a voice sometimes choked with tears caused by the depth' of the words of the Koran, whose strength touches the right keys and can move mountains.
no coincidence that he moves a lot Mohammed.

Behind me a man and 'so in prayer crying and sobbing, in a trance.
The power of the divine descends into casts and those who are open to him.
The faces of the faithful are at once serious, deep, serene and happy, I see in them what 'I've seen elsewhere in temples and monasteries around Asia: Divine consciousness.


This is 'the basic concept of each original religion taught by enlightened masters, people like Jesus', Buddha or Mohammed, the private sphere. Unfortunately, once made public, dogmizzata the whole thing becomes policy, the only side that I knew before and with whom we grew up. I hate politics, politics sucks.

Outside the mosque, some stop to talk to me in great sympathy for Italy, football and food, then you go to religious matters and the question: "What is your religion?" I simply quote what dettomi in Burma (strongly Buddhist country) by a Muslim Imam: 'God and' one, if you know God no matter what name you call it, religion and 'a'.
Some smile and shakes my hand, puzzled others are taken aback by my observation.
With 'Allah'o Akhbar' I put all agree and some I need a good hot tea with three lumps of sugar. They are part of the crew!


Esfahan and 'splendid pearl of the Islamic world, comparable to our Florence. Artisans working in ceramics, silver and old Caravanserai at least a millennium and still intact. Some artists are teenagers, some with blue brush drawing nonchalantly beautiful patterns on vases and frames. Two men in a shop carpets cuciscono blacks with inscriptions from the Koran gold, yellow and green fluorescent.
Oro. Gold. Gold. Gold. Gold.
Yellow. Yellow. Yellow. Yellow. Yellow.
Verde. Green. Green. Green. Green.
Fatima, the daughter of Muhammad, I am given a piece of cloth. Thank you confident.

The Silk Road passed through here, a long caravan full of spices and homemade wares united east and west and the cultural exchange was mutual. Now it's my turn to continue the exchange while maintaining the 'balance intact. A responsibility 'to accept head on.

At sunset climb the terraces and drinking tea and smoking hookah 'you watch the sun going down on these little towns in the middle of the desert surrounded by mountains. Everything is' orange.
Orange. Orange. Orange. Orange. Orange.

Peace.

is apparent as a black and white colors I could find in Iran.
Certainly not as explosive in India, but here the whole experience and 'was like a treasure hunt, slowly. Following footsteps already 'drawn, leaving my tire in the air, reading, studying, being helped by people being confused by the people, and trying to ride. Feel alive again.

Amazing Iran.

Photo: http://picasaweb.com/lostconversation/Iran

Problems With Danskos Squeaking

Photo: http://picasaweb.com/lostconversation/NorthIndia

The world is divided into two kinds of people: those who are 'state in India and who does not.

I never gave importance to this sentence dictates from someone who knows' where, but after vistitato Bombay, Calcutta, Varanasi and in general this amazing sub-continent and I have no doubt I fully endorse.

Travel and 'per se' an incredible experience, and each country 's great, but India, gentlemen, all the beats.

Welcome to Calcutta the city 'of joy.
Calcutta 'a city' with your heart and with soul.
The arrival in late afternoon and after a storm 'was yet another socio-cultural experience, the kind that only in Asia you can' try, and each and 'more' intense the other, more 'live, more' real .

The smell of humanity 'and' permeated the air, at all levels, from open sewers - or nonexistent, the clouds that accompany the swarms of people which adds non-stop at the station, in an apparent chaos hides the essence of Indianness'. Each
and 'busy in something and everybody has a role in creating the framework in which Expressionist assist you with all my senses active as possible.

I do not mind even the porters carrying loads that are serious and hard-earned abnormal in every shape and size on the cariolini rusted and decrepit, which Sgambati in traffic between old yellow taxis - everything's Ambassador in shape - and insipid new cars, including motorcycles and rickshaw Hand-drawn runners from doth and vest that slender and nimble in traffic, bringing a whole family run to a few wealthy home with bags full of herbs and spices for dinner and flowers and decorations to honor the many gods' Hindu protect every home, every street, every single soul.

through a fine steel bridge, which gives the city metropolitan atmosphere, streams flow in human intertwined in all directions in silence, or rather covered by the incessant noise of traffic congestion, endless horn, whistles and calls of the police, baton in hand, seek to supplement their income with some bribe, and hawkers of everything that abundant try to foist their wares that lie scattered on the dusty sidewalks.
Arrival at the flower market, next to a temple whose steps lead into the river where the faithful bathe purified.

The market seems to be the battlefield of a war in the mud, huge necklaces of yellow and orange flowers such as anacondas lie dormant from the bustle, dark figures moving quickly filling sheets of paper with colored powders, heaps of which form a colorful chain of mountains in a world in which the disposal by color.
The street business and its laws prevalicano much about driving rules, security and civilian, already 'at the end of the day and then expect' some success.
But they go forward in their shirts and light trousers incredibly clean, make the mirror happy shoe leather wearing feet of office men who comb their hair while they prove safe and proud men all in one piece and the fact that they know them.
Pleasant chat with these gentlemen, reveal his goodness' and attitude positive, a rare commodity in the world markets of the far west.
From them I learn the 3 fundamental maxims on India: "In India you can find all colors," "Always remember India is No. 1" and, most of all "EVERYTHING IS MAXIMUM IN INDIA."

liters of hot chai are enjoyed at intersections. Each chai and 'a sweet intense experience, that the soul departs from the state and pushes up land, where the peace of home. But with five rupees will not go away and after 2 minutes and it 'again in limbo human sgom looking for spaces.
Groups of boys happily wash with water wells in the street, pumped by hand by children playing a good example. Countless examples
human sleep anywhere and at any time, not disturbed by the life that rushes to his side. A man uses the sidewalk as a pillow.

known then that the streets are wide and are made in the wall street of Calcutta, the first capital of British colonial India. Buildings become Victorian, sometimes impressive, symbolizing a certain feeling between the British, Indians and this city '.
for India in fact the center of Calcutta has developed a sense of civic duty: I note with pleasure, that's incredible, the rubbish bins along the way!

Signs of shops and shopkeepers themselves seem there from the beginning, the first and second vintage dusty drive out the dust that settled like a mosquito, that 'no respect.
paints and lettering hand-painted on the walls are more barrels of color and artistic expression with respect to the use of modern digital prints fade and flatten the atmosphere.
Every wall and 'a perfect photo shoot, every face and every time a model good plot for a movie. Without paying any ticket
witness, chai in hand, the scenes that take place in Sudder street between Indians and tourists, the first in normal mode 'and the second day as I was fascinated by the bizarre occurring casually in their eyes: makeshift barbers next to pots of cooked food to children on the sidewalks, beams that move in the ether, motion with 5 passengers that pass in the eye of needle, swarms of flies that sometimes compact a glimpse of candy stand in them, groups of cows, goats and dogs if they are banging and the blessed their business grazing between the clogged roads.

A group of Japanese worried about a work of modern art notes that traveling is repeated every 20 meters, hundreds of electricity cables' twisted relentlessly, miraculously clinging to lamp posts helpless and distressed, giving energy to the whole City '.
Will be wondering why nothing, 'even jumped in the air, thinking of a plan suitable to India shot me another smile and chai, toasting to the spontaneity' of India.

And in the evening you play drums in the streets, bonfires burn 'and is celebrated every day,' a festival, what a life! And this is where I am and 'too big one: Holi, the festival of colors!

Shbaaaaaaang an explosion of colors in the land of color perception in papillle tilt and maximum enjoyment for eyes, ears nose, hands and feet. The maximum
learned shortly before 3 are brightly painted on the faces of all, today there are no rules and men and women interact extensively upon application and water colors on the half-naked bodies. My shirt is punctured
fed into the flames of the bonfire 'and dancing barefoot in eternal brotherhood. A
Woodstock was not there but unfortunately these scenes are in Technicolor gloss acid: we are all hippies, Jimmy Hendrix and 'reincarnated in India!

A deaf-mute boy, renamed FriendFinder, really speaks 'the language of all, the gestures, and it' the centerpiece of life in Sudder street where, how would Jovanotti, the rules do not exist there are only exceptions.
In many remain in effect the most beneficial of Calcutta 'as long as possible 'cause the energy released and' objectively palpable. Oh my Dear Kolky! With a heart full

leave the city 'of joy and I allow myself a few days in the Himalayan foothills, between Sikkim and Darjeeling, submerged deep Tibetan Buddhism, prayer flags that thanks to the wind brought the words of Buddha in all directions and prayer wheels turning accumulating good karma. It 's always nice to be up in the mountains, breathing nature and energy.

Sutra and Mantra lead me to Bodhgaya, under the famous tree where Siddhartha Gautama, a disaffected Hindu nobleman in search of answers about why 'of suffering, becoming Buddha attained enlightenment while meditating, whose teachings love and compassion were a solid foundation on which the culture of the entire continent and is' developed.

and finally came to the cradle of life, Varanasi, the city 'eternal.
The waters of the Ganges River to bathe the steps of the Ghat where many thousands of faithful make ablutions purificative for the sprite.
Lord Shiva's fire burns under Manikarnika, where for 2500 years every day hundreds of bodies are burnt offering Mokhsa , liberation, to the souls of those whose ashes they enter the sacred Ganges.
This' maximum target for a Hindu: exit from the cycle of reincarnations, Samsara, which relegates the soul to earthly life. Once Mokhsa soul gets eternal salvation, thus interrupting the uncomfortable manifestation of life in human form, too tied to the material constraints that prevent a pure spirituality '. The
Sadhu Baba, in a Hindu holy men who live in (theoretical) complete detachment from material life, we look forward, one step away from the end, living the last moments smoking charas and prepare to exit this life.

be there and see what's true there 'in these rituals and' substantial acquisition of consciousness: the death is not 'the end of life, and receiving and fear', in background, from uncultivated.
This is learned in the East, and especially in India.

In the West our extreme fear of death - an entirely Christian concept - it leaves us breathless 'explanations when this tragic happens, as if we did not know that our cycle' that start and end.
earthly experience and 'just a moment of the life cycle.
The sadness and anger that assails us when we lose loved ones and 'also a form of energy that must be monitored and addressed, and teaches us that this life we \u200b\u200bmust make the most personal. The next I do not know.
are always lessons more 'hard to make us grow.

That 's for you Glenda, and for those who leave us permaturamente: do not be afraid, do not be sad.
each end and 'only the beginning of something new.

From my watch from a rooftop in the west part of the ancient Benares, in the midst of the sacred river, and the other to the east the valley of death, where life goes ritually, while ironically the sun rising every morning from the east brings new life. Neverending Samsara.
My guru (Shiv from Woodstock!) And 'the interpretative key of this city' in which life has a completely different value than elsewhere, where you can live for a moment into the past 2000 years or even stop the very concept of time, where life and death are two sides of the same coin. The

Tourism has partly influenced the City 'eternal, however, used for millennia to receive pilgrims, devotees. But the aura of respect for Varanasi and 'too powerful and no one can' scalfiggerla. Looking
Ghat in the silence of the night or at dawn, walking through the narrow alleys redolent of divinity 'super tangible and respected by all, seeing magical pooja where Brahmins play with fire and talk with God by following precise and mysterious rituals, something moves inside and one has the impression of reaching a higher state of human understanding.
It 's not easy to watch over Maya, reality' apparent, but the strength is all within each individual soul, Atman ; the challenge and 'control energy.
Each of us can 'fly, if he really wants. The magic and 'just a change of thought. Too much charas?
Varanasi and 'the perfect synthesis of spirituality' of India, something that the Western eye, seem 'too long, incomprehensible and meaningless', but that really brings the signs of something that we have lost forever and that man again, as said, must get back to not blow it in the cow. Soul
my friend, Where's our soul?

With the soul in your pocket within the Taj Mahal in Agra, which is a beautiful vision that live outperforms photos and posters. A game of perspectives makes incalculable space between me and the Taj, I can touch it, now it 'a mile away. I like to see the interactions between rich tour group of 50 to 50 age group accused western super tourist with cameras hanging around his neck and a group of pilgrims from Rajasthan, with turbans and earrings that graze barefoot through the crowd, followed by their wives wrapped in colorful saris and jewels craft. Beautiful.
distant worlds that are touching, sharing humanity '. Rajasthan

In fact the scene is repeated with turbans and saris that fill the streets of fortified cities that form the backdrop to the postcards more 'typical of India.
But I have little time for the Raj 'cause Haridwar is a mega event to call me: Kumbh Mela, one of the most 'major religious festivals on the planet.

On April 14, lucky date for astrologers, was among the 5 million Muslims in a single day is bathed in the icy waters of the Ganges, rushing from the Himalayas to the plains of India.
E 'the festival of Baba and pure. The theory that Baba gave up all material ties with the planet are to be revered and filled with offers from too many people flocked from all corners of the sub-continent. Religion and cash always find ways to cooperate in human history, and this festival becomes the piggy bank for the Baba, who make spirituality 'their portfolios and wisdom of their business.

I am in Delhi just before leaving India, to reflect on what this experience is one of those pillars that will include personal only to those who have experienced the same feelings and saw the same things, and for a moment he touched the 'untouchable.

But the city remains, as always, spiritually personal matter, and even though New Delhi has a decidedly more 'modern and civilized that happens in one night in Paharganj, the way that welcomes all tourists and pilgrims arriving in the capital, c 'is the collective delirium.
The agenda of the government 'to demolish all illegal constructions and decrepit to make way for a new road to new hotel with clean and worthy of the new India.
And the way to make things work in India and 'foolish to give orders to keep people in motion, so the whole street is destroyed in one night, with people hanging from balconies and bulldozers pulling down walls with hammers and torches.
looks like the end of an era, the end of the old India that must somehow keep up with modern times. How impossible and 'everything'!

What will happen 'if and when the Indians will accept the pact with the devil in modern? The animation will be 'sold off?

If the Amazon forest, and ' the lungs of the planet, India and its' soul.
We are destroying the lungs and at the same time masked the soul with a new dress and clearly out of place, right or wrong, and 'this is the direction in which we are going.

But okay, let's stop complaining anyway.
positive and negative energy will continue to weave in an endless loop.
Everything 's perfect in its imperfection.
I'm not afraid, 'cause as Buddha said before leaving the planet: "We have all the lessons that we need, now we fight for our personal salvation."

Of the two types of people described in the beginning, not the first to have some more tools' to understand and accept the present human condition, in a global and spiritual. For the second
might not matter so much, and rightly so.

For those who survive 'Apocalypse 2012, will we all be in 2013 at the Maha Kumbh Mela in Allahabad, to open a new chapter in human history.

Meanwhile, there remains a handful of months to enjoy the planet, enjoy!

bureaucratic reasons prevent me from across Pakistan, which flies in Iran!

Goodbye, Unbelievable India.

Photo: http://picasaweb.com/lostconversation/NorthIndia

Good Companies To Work For In Dubai

I was distracted ...

[The school in the snow, March 8, 2010, photos of Georgina Carbó?]

Suddenly we are in May.

I do not know what I got distracted ... I think I'm asleep at the end of September, that the commencement of classes (new faces, faces already known, a bustle of smiles, c IAO, you have a moment for me?, listen, I , ...) and now that I wake up we are in May and is finishing the school year, which is my year, my time since I was five years old and I have finally came to school I'd had enough, at home, I was an only child, alone with my mother and grandmother-... is finishing the school year and then all those reports from which it is interwoven with everyday life, classes, pupils, disappear for me and me for them.

Meanwhile we believe to be, we , helping to learn a language-and-be there to learn it (the pupils, the pupils, their ), something else, life? is circulating among us. We spend hours and hours together, to fight with the lyrics, with sheets in hand, moving chairs (never well placed to my taste), the gossip image quality of the video, then attaching documents via the Internet, providing explanations, ... their : I am not able to come yesterday ... I do check the book on Wednesday? - This?, us , No, in a fortnight ...

I'll see us more hours than we see children, friends or companions-in-law, mothers, ... It turns out that, of the students, pupils, we know that most of their companions, daughters and fathers:

who underwent surgery, who has finally found work, who are already nine months of unemployment by one the died the mother, the other his wife became ill. About has the dog, who adopted a cat, who disappeared because they must follow the child during the afternoon at home, who is preparing a long journey, someone who has very special sister, who is being separated, those who know how to cook the kitchen is not we have in the new house, the writer, who began a course of natural medicine ... Who is a graduate who has a brother and accompanies him to school, who does homework in the kitchen ...

All these and other things we know and intuit the others, we believe we know how that time there was a class higher than the other word, a speech talking ara en català perquè tots m'entengueu ... Yeah, that other Once you have reached the no of all time and when you said you rather work alone ...

And suddenly, in May, and each party on its way. And we welcome more students next year, and you other things (maybe once an Italian course) because you have to change in life and never stop, and all this is already preparing now, we're just at May 2 , and I know, will, as always, I do not know really, I do not know what I was distracted ...

Painful Bump On My Pinky Finger

"Dema" it's raining!

heard on the Diagonal metro station, the green line. "Dema rains," clearly in the mouth of a tourist? Italian who wanted to use the local language, or was reading the newspaper, or heard him on the radio. Well if you thought he was speaking the local language, ie, English (!) Fine if he had chosen the local language, that is, Catalan.

In fact, tomorrow is, today, it rained. Happy May 1st workers, of workers.