Remember, remember the 5th of November...

So here goes the story.
On the 5th November 1605 a middle-aged man called Guy Fawkes, is hurrying himself in the cellar of Palace of Westminster, London.
It is damp, it is dark and cold. He has an important mission to accomplish: blow up the British Parliament! There are barrels of explosive lined up in the cellars, he has only to light up the fuse and probably sacrifice himself to the cause. The chances he manages to escape and rescue his life before being hurled on the walls by the explosion or trapped by the rubble are very low.
Why is he doing that? For a reason that may seem the greatest and of utmost importance to some, while for others may seems another cause for extreme violence and death. Religion!
Mr Fawkes is a Catholic. He believes in the Roman Church and it sacraments. Unfortunately he is living in difficult times: few decades earlier, Henry VIII, realising that he was not anymore in love with Catherine d’Aragona, asked the Pope for divorce. The Pope reacted to such shameless request denying it. Poor Henry! He was very irritated and sorrowful by such lack of understanding. Not long after, Henry took a decision that would write history: he decided to split from the Roman Catholic Church and start his own one, where he would be the Head of the Church and of the State at the same time. “Finally free to do what I want!”- thought Henry VIII “So now, first thing first: let’s split from Catherine and marry my true love: Anne!!” (Boleyn).
At Guy’s times, the new Church of England was persecuting the Catholics. Guy wants to fight for his right of freedom of creed but he does not see better solution than destroying the symbol of English power and its inhabitants (the king and the aristocracy). (Is it only me or someone else sees some similarities with the event of 09/11???!!)

Anyway: there he is, ready to fulfil his mission. Bad luck though crossed his way. While he was in the underground of the palace, someone betrayed him and informed the King of a possible assassination attempt against His Majesty. The King sent some guards to check the cellar and they found Guy and his 800 kilos of gunpowder. That same night, in order to celebrate the safety of the King, bonfires were alight all over London.
Mr Fawkes was tortured for days and then according to the procedure of that time, he was supposed to be hanged, drawn and quartered. Good thing is that he broke his neck when hanged.

Every year, British people remember the 5th November. I have read somewhere that there is a degree of uncertainity on whether the British people are nowadays celebrating Guy Fawkes’s execution or his attempt to blow up the government.

PS: Henry VIII married six times.. and beheaded two of his wives.

PPS: I also found recipes for the "Bonfire night". One of them is called "Treacle toffee to stick jaws shut"....

Cultural exchange - Part 2

So the following week he returned the favour and I met him at his place for lunch.
It was supposes to be an English lunch but “since you do not like sandwiches” he said (sandwiches are THE English lunch par excellence), he prepared a Mexican dish, called Vegetable curry with dark chocolate and chillies. They way he cooked the dish would frighten and terrify every single Italian even the one who has no idea how to even boil an egg. He sautéed garlic and onion with sunflower oil, cooked first the aubergines added ingredients following what seemed a quite random order, added a lot of chilli, stirred once the boiling rice (it cooked for at least 20 minutes), added the dark chocolate at the end as a final touch. The vegetable were served with insipid rice (there were enough spices and flavours in the curry), a spoonful of plain yoghurt and boiled green beans (I think he added them only to give colour to the dish).
You know what?? It was good. I did like it. I really did.
To my surprise the chocolate and chilli were well balanced and the combination of flavours&spices was unusual but very interesting.
He did not believe me when I told him I liked what he prepared.
I was expecting a dish based on the “mighty spud” (= potato) or parsnips, celeriac, butternut squash. Or some of those fampus pies, fish&chips would have been a good choice. I had instead something Mexican described with an Indian word (curry), accompanied by a glass of milk (as you would do in a good old British way).
Somehow it was a British lunch: Isnt Great Britain is a mix of cultures and flavours coming form every corner of the world?

After lunch I had a taste of real English essence: a cup of tea with milk and no sugar.
He spent some time describing how the tea can vary its taste according to type of tea used, brewing time and quantity of boiled water taken into consideration. Even the quantity of milk poured in the cup plays a part in determining the final taste of the tea. He also said that the colour of the cup influences how you perceive the taste of the tea (according to him blue isn’t at all a good colour).
I had a first sip and openly declared that I didn’t like it (I didn’t go around it, without sugar that tea had a indescribable taste.. the thought of it brings up a wince on my face).
He accepted it without losing his composure –very British!- and started philosophising while holding the cup of tea talking about that feeling of warmth and relaxation that is sooo comfortable and sooo pleasant. He believes that that is exactly what makes a cup of tea such a must in the life of every British man or woman: it is about reassurance that comes in the gesture of holding a warm, cuddling cup of tea.“More or less like a hot water bottle!” I said. I very much doubt he appreciated my comment. With few words I wiped away all the poetry he used to describe such undeniable British tradition. Sorry! ;-P

Cultural exchange - Part 1

I do not remember well why we decided to do it.. Interest in each others’ cultures? Curiosity? I believe so, they sound good enough reasons to me.
We first met at mine for a cooking lesson on the proper Italian tomato sauce. He had a terrible cold mixed with some unexpected coughing. He refused a pack of tissues, kitchen paper suited his nose best.
I started preparing the ingredients (celery, onion and carrot very finely chopped) when he innocently asked “Don’t you put some garlic with it?” “No darling, onion and garlic they never go together” “But I always do it” “Because you are English!”. He did not comment further.
He is very observant and checked, tasted and looked at most of the things I was doing (he spent the rest of the time blowing his nose). At some point he said “Mmm.. that’s true then what they say..” “About what?” I asked him. “That Italians are very meticulous about their food. That it is a real stereotype then”. I was ready to go off on a discussion about the fact that of course we are meticulous and even pedantic if the word pleases him, but that is the least you can do if you want good tasty food. You need time and care and attention. We are talking about Italian food and not quick, micro waved, processed English meals which comes in a frozen or tinned form.
I limited myself to a plain answer like “Of course, this is Italian food” and put a smile after that. (After five years in the UK I have very well learned how to address my temper towards more approachable and still explanatory manners. Sometimes I still cannot credit myself for such a change).Anyways the lunch went well and although he was “not that hungry” he ate all the pasta, finished off some feta&roasted pepper dip that I had prepared for the previous evening, he had an apple and a slice of lemon cake.

And again..

A text message. A sour pill that whether I like it or not, I have to swallow down. A couple of hours later that pill is still half way, it feels like it is stuck in my throat, I am not strong enough to push it down. Not today.
A word. “but”. Probably the word I hate the most. It always implies something, it always carries decisions or statements. Most of the times I disagree with them.
I heard or read it too many times, I am tired of it.

I needed to get out of my room. “You know you cannot stay in here.. This room will never be able to contain all your thoughts”. It is raining out there, I don’t care. I walked for an hour and a half, holding a broken umbrella, following nothing but my feet. There was no destination to reach. Funny enough my feet took me to Southpark. There was no one. Who would ever walk in a park under the rain on a Sunday morning? Out of the traffic and it unpleasant sounds, the rain drummed on my umbrella with more insistence. I was getting wetter and wetter. Who cares about it.
I kept on walking, hoping to find an answer to my questions. I did not find it. I suppose I already know that answer, it is that pill I cannot imbide completely.
Up the hill, there was a big top. The circus is here. No music was coming from it, you could only hear voices talking to each other, they were getting ready for the afternoon show.

Is life just a big circus? Right now I would reply : “Yes it is”. It makes you laugh, it makes you cry, it teases you, it surprises you, it startles you, it stuns you and it confuses you. And at the end of the show, it will leave you alone.
I want this day to be over as soon as possible. I know I will smoke more than the usual today.

Day four: How to throw a party - The Spanish way

1. Choose a summer night, with a serene sky, light refreshing breeze and a sunset that lingers on until 10pm.
2. In the garden set up few tables and scatter all around candles of various colours.
3. One hour before the party starts, prepare one of the tables to welcome your guests with starters and aperitifs. Make sure there is choice between: black&green olives (different in size and quality), nuts – pistachios, almonds and peanuts- sandwiches, guacamole + tortillas, crisps, chorizo and salami, cheese. The choice of drinks should follow the types of food offered. In this specific case: beer, caipirihna, Pimms (!!!!), wine, soft drinks.
4. Once your guests have enjoyed the starters (it will take them half an hour or so), ask them to sit down at the main table. Let them wait for 20 minutes before serving the feast of fish and meat you have been preparing for two days. Always make sure that the amount of food can feed twice the people you have invited.
As an extra courtesy to your guest, you should check that the wine glass is always full and if any of the guest complains because of a lack of the nectar of Gods, surprise them with a very special bottle.
5. Let your guest eat at their pleasure. Don’t forget that the offer of a slice of cake and coffee will never be declined.
6. Let your guests drink, eat, smoke, chat as long as they wish. They should never go home before 2am.

Day three

“Morning”!! “Hola que tal mi reina?” said my friend’s mom. “Muy muy bien gracias!” I had fully recovered! I was feeling very good, ready to go! My friend was still sleeping though and he would have not woken up until past midday. Her mom asked me if I wanted to go to the village with her “Sure!”. I spent the rest of the morning walking around Valverde del camino, taking few pictures, being introduced to anyone Mariangeles would meet on the street and following her in her shopping for the party on Saturday. Just before lunch, my blood pressure dropped without forewarn and had to stay at home for the rest of the day. No beach and no Sevilla! I was very disappointed, I so wanted to go out and visit this part of Spain.. But health comes first.

Day two: "Golpe de calor"

That was my friend’s mom sentence once she was told what happened to me the previous night. I could not stand, let alone walk. I had no energy. My stomach set it out clear that it did not want to have something to do with food for a while. I only wanted to sleep. I spent my second day of holidays being fed with pills, lying on the sofa, sleeping, being forced to drink some kind of vitamins and mineral salts enriched water.
That evening I went to sleep quite early and did not wake up until the following morning. I slept like a log.

Night One

We had dinner outside on the terrace around 11.30 pm. My friend’s mom prepared another fine dinner. I was very tired though, I just wanted to go to sleep, I was not hungry at all. I had dinner with them anyways, the food looked and smelled so good, it would have been a shame not eating it.
It would have been better to leave the food in the dish. Right after dinner I felt like my digestion was not working properly. I was feeling sick because of all the food I had.I had an herbal tea but it did not improve the situation. So I went to bed. I was very tired, maybe some sleep could be of use. Few hours later, I woke up, my stomach still working on what seemed to be an impossible digestion. My body refused to process the dinner and after hours of attempts, it went for the only possible solution: get rid of it. I vomited four times. I rinsed my mouth, tried to brush my teeth and back to sleep. All of a sudden I felt very thirsty. I started drinking water, the more I was drinking the thirstier I was. I managed to fall asleep. A couple of hours later I woke up again. My body did not like the water either! I threw up again! And –last but not least- I spent some time sitting on the toilet… By the end of that awful night, there was not trace of the dinner in my body.. not at all!

Day One

I woke up around 10 am, I could not sleep more, it was already very warm in my room. When I opened the door a bright sun and its friend heat greeted me that morning. Aim of the day: go to the beach!
There are quite a few to choose from and my friend decided for a place called “Torre del Loro”. We left around midday, drove past olive tree groves, peach orchards and Palos, the famous town which saw in the 15th century three sailing ships- called Nina, Pinta and Santa Maria, the three caravels, leaving its harbour fitted out with bravery and curiosity. Their Captain was Cristopher Columbus. My Spanish friend attempted a discussion on the nationality of Columbus (Spanish people believe he is from Spain!) but I stopped him even before he could say anything: “There is no discussion, Columbus is Italian. If you are convinced of the opposite, then it means that you need to take you history exam again”. He laughed at my strong reaction and he didn’t take the discussion further. After all, he knew I was right.
I had a great time at the beach: swimming, sunbathing, eating, more sunbathing, walking along the coast, staring at the horizon thinking of Africa. I took lots of pictures, -of course!- the ancient and crumbled tower was a very fascinating subject. Seagulls were flying above our heads, their shadows running along the cliffs.
We stayed at the beach until the sunset and then drove back home. On our left the colours of a fulfilled sunset: pink, deep red, purple glinding into blue. On our right, the darkness of a nocturnal, limpid sky.

Ready?Steady?Go!

So everything was ready. Suitcase, flight tickets, passport, credit card, flipflops, bikini. I arrived at the airport on time, everything went smoothly until… I had just boarded on the plane. I had found my seat and made myself comfortable. I was feeling quite impatient, I was definitely ready to leave the English cold and its darkness. I could not wait any longer. And then... "Surprise!": the captain announced that due to “technical problems with the central computer at the terminal”, the plane could not take off “until further notice”. I could not believe it. I so wanted to leave the country. This delay meant a delay on my holidays! Adjectives like “frustrated”, “discouraged”, “irritated” can help explaining how I felt. After the first five minutes of anger/despair I realised that there wasn’t much I could do really.
I took a couple of deep breaths and thought that it was better to keep the bad karma away. I took out my book from the bag and started reading it.
An hour later the crew started explaining the safety procedures. “In case of loss of pressure a mask will drop from above your head..” “.. to open it, lift the buckle..” and then “.. a red light is positioned on the back of the jacket, to attract further attention”.
We were ready to go! “Hope you will enjoy your flight”. All that I could think of was “Let’s go! Let’s go!”
I will never forget the colours of the sunset half an hour before landing in Sevilla. And the heat I felt when getting off the plane. And the happiness that came with it.

Spanish holidays

Since I moved to GB I have realised that there is a time during the year where the need for sun and light becomes pressing. It develops into a need that when not satisfied, can bring to anger with a hint of exasperation, at least in my case.
As a Mediterranean woman, I cannot live without feeling the sun on my skin while sunbathing on a bright beach. That must happen at least once a year.

I had already been back home in August, enjoying the sun and getting a light tan. But, I needed more, I always do.
I have few friends distributed here and there around the world and I decided to check their availability to host a funny, intelligent, beautiful friend of them. Me!! ;P
In a couple of days I had my final answer and my next destination: Spain, Sevilla.
At times I really cannot believe my luck!Booking the flight was quick and easy, as it was preparing the suitcase. I just had to wait until the first week of September. Why time cannot run faster when you are waiting??

A quote

"We are all born mad. Some remain so."
Samuel Beckett

You are right my friend and you are there with me.
Thank you for surprising me today.

Part-time work

Up to a week ago, I used to spend at least a couple of hours everyday looking for jobs.
My two favourites “toys” (my camera and my computer) needed- and still need, to be replaced. The digital settings of my camera have become a complete waste of time: pictures and colours are blurred, no details, no focus. I can still work with the manual settings, but pictures are “alright” and I want them to be good. Plus, when I am going out on one of my photographic afternoons (or evenings or mornings) I like to switch between the two types of settings. It is more fun!
And my computer..
Well, it is time for it to retire. It does work, somehow, but I need a notebook, something smaller that I can carry around, that is handy and I can surf with it from any Wi-Fi system.
I have been checking various websites and various job offers.
I just needed few hours a day, or maybe weekend, just to save up some money for my new “toys”.

After scrolling internet pages and clicking on all sort of ads, I read this one: “Female needed for part time work, good pay, work your own hours.”
That was all. Not much information I would say. But it does not cost a thing to send an email and ask for “further details”. And so I did. I clicked on the link just below the ad, filled in the form and then another click on “send email”.
The following day I received a reply:

Thank you for replying to our recent advert.

We are seeking ladies in the area aged 18-50 - max dress size is 12, who would like to earn £400-£1000 per week being a female companion. You must be openminded and un-inhibited.

Please reply with your name and area you are located in. If you have a recent photo please include one.

This is a very serious money making opportunity for the right people. The enjoyment of sex is a very important factor.

Petra

Well.. what to say.. I am open minded and uninhibited, but i don't think the working experiences listed on my CV could be appropriate for this position.
As far as it seems, it may take longer than what I expected before buying a new PC.

I’d better train on the manual settings of my camera.

Dirty Havana Trilogy

This is the book I'm reading at the moment.

It is rough, cruel, violent, sexual, real. Cuba, 1994.

The American embargo has left room only for self-help: prostitution, art of smuggle and theft. Anything can be sold, better dollars that pesos. Rum and sex help relieving the protagonist of the sordidness of his life.

I have not more that few pages left to read and only a couple of days ago I have realised that I am bookmarking it with a one dollar bill.

I found it sardonic and derisive considering context and what the note symbolizes.

Good thing is that to me the one dollar bill is just a green piece of paper.

Past comes back at times

It just happened.
I believe boredom had something to do with it.
I was at work, not much to do and from my window, I had a look at the green and the park surrounding the building where -I know, I am somehow just making a living rather than a career. But it does not matter, my future is elsewhere it is only a question of time.

So there I was watching black crows flying around, when my mind suddenly stepped in to a name that made my heart jump. ENZO.
I met him years ago, when I was enjoying my university life with lots of friends and parties. He stayed at mine for few days, he was holding conferences in one of the universities in the region. He has been and he still is –somehow, the most interesting and clever man I have ever met in my life.
Remembering him made me smile and nostalgia of those days came along.
I’m sure I still have his letters in one of the boxes where I packed everything that had to do with my university years. We had each other’s email addresses and phone numbers but we wrote each other letters instead. I will never forget his handwriting.
Nor his words.

So I googled his name. There was no other way I could find him.
A long list of websites appeared on my computer screen, and all had something to do with him. I managed to find one of his email addresses. I sent him an email.
I’m not sure he will reply, it has been years and years since we last spoke. God knows if he remembers me. Well, I gave it a try and that’s what counts.

Another short story

I have been looking at her all night. She wasn’t the prettiest girl in the room but she had something that I could not resist.
My eyes kept on searching for her, they needed her attention. We spent most of the time apart, I was talking to strangers, and she was laughing with friends. She knew almost everyone in the room. I made sure my glass of wine never abandoned me.
I wasn’t feeling uncomfortable – I don’t mind sitting on my own watching what is going on around me – but, again, I needed and wanted her attention.

And then eventually, she sat next to me. Quite unexpected I have to say.
I looked at her and I looked at her soft breast. I couldn’t really look away from it: she was wearing a dress with a plunging neckline and the bra underneath was shaping beautifully those plenty, enticing boobs.
She looked at me straight in the eyes and said “What is it in your mind?”.. I wasn’t sure I wanted to answer that question. Right at that time and in that situation she was very attractive and my mind was busy dealing with all sorts of thoughts.
I hesitated a bit before answering. I let the music and the people around us filling our silence: someone was looking for another drink, someone else was spilling red wine over the table, a guy was looking for a different cd to play. Some people on one of the corners of the room were laughing. Two young, tipsy, merry women went in the garden to smoke a cigarette.
It had been a good party. Lots of people, lots of food. Our host fed us for the whole night. Since I got there she kept on bringing out from the kitchen an incredible amount of vegetarian dishes, meat, chips and crisps, sauces, cakes. And wine, of course.
When I turned back my head to her, she was still there, still looking at me. She didn’t change position she was staring at me, waiting for an answer. I smiled and tried to play for time, I need a diversionary, I did not want to answer.
I started to feel a bit embarrassed. I knew I had to surrender. She is never the one that gives up first. “Well…” – “.. I was just thinking that I will miss your voice”. Considering the labyrinth of images and words that was going on in my head, that was a very good answer. And that was one of the best lies I ever told in my life too. No, not lies, let’s say half-truths. I will miss her voice – she a good singer- but that was not quite what I was thinking about.

Early July: home. The place to be.

The dark green of the mountains. The trees look like cotton wads. Breathing fresh, clean air.

My nephew running towards me with his arms wide open. His eyes smiling at me.

My nephew with my camera in his hands, taking random pictures.

My mom's flowers all over the garden and around the house. Tasty ripe veggies and fruits: the first tomatoes and aubergines, the first figs. Cucumbers, green beans, lettuce, peppers. The potato flowers, the last strawberries, plums - called "golden drops".. so sweet! Plenty of courgettes. The basil is growing, parsley is everywhere. Fennels, onions, pumpkins. Young, green, raw grapes. Red and white currants. Black, soft blackcurrants. Thundery showers, clear hot sun, equatorial weather. Sunday afternoon sunbathing. Saturday evening drinks, laughs and dinner with an old, irreplaceable friend.

Avebury: notes

The druid (well, the old man who was playing the role of the druid) had a long white, wise beard, was wearing a pale tunic and had a feather on his hat. Unfortunately the tunic was a bit too short for him, covering his legs only until the knees.. and like all druids of ancient time, he was wearing jeans underneath!!

Number of alarm clocks that went on in order to wake us up for the greeting to the sun: 5. And all were regularly switched off.

There is a board on one of the gates that asks to those who are entering the stone circle for respect and devotion. The area is considered sacred.
What baffled me were the two roads which crisscross the henge.
Someone has to explain to me what kind of form of respect those roads represent..

The stone circle at Avebury is part of the UNESCO World Heritage.

"Happy Summer Solstice sister.." Avebury 5am 21.06.09

It was a last minute decision. I was meant to go to work on Saturday morning. I called in sick instead and joined my flatmate on his trip to Avebury, a small countryside village in the county of Wiltshire.
Avebury does not count more than few hundreds inhabitants. There is a pretty Norman church, a school and a pub, stretched along the main road. The horizon is made of fields and scattered trees here and there.
What made me travel to Avebury? Its amazing stone circle and those pagan rituals of the summer solstice. And the need for a change of scenery, even just for one night.
Being an improvised decision, I spent the day trying to get ready for it. With no planning ahead, I did not have much of an idea of what I was meant to bring with me.
Tent, sleeping bag, food, drinks, toothbrush, warm clothes&socks, wellies (you never know, it may rain!).. what else.. yes paracetamol!! There is always the chance of a headache, especially when you have been drinking all night long, waiting for the dawn! Ok, I was sorted, at least with what i considered the essential to my survival.

We hit the road mid afternoon that same day. Once the tent was up in the campsite, we went to the pub were I met some of my flatmate’s friends. All around us there were drums and guitars playing, voices singing (some of them already quite drunk), people dancing and waiting for the sunset, when the first ritual took place.
We all gathered around one of the inner circles of the henge. Masks, fire, music, dances and dancers performed the circle of life. As the darkness fell over Avebury and the stone circle, the light of the fires gave us a taste of antiquity and primitive age.
And then we waited for the dawn. It has been a long, cold, damp, drunk, funny night.

4.55 am: back to the stone circle. We all waited for the sunrise.. but no sun popped out from the cloudy morning. The druid greeted anyways the dawn and the four elements, thanking them for having been benevolent and asking them to come back to us so that we could live.
We were all in a circle, turning our backs facing the cardinal points four times, one for each element.

While walking along the henge and passing by those huge rocks, I considered how pagan rituals have been long discredited and set aside in order to let various Gods lead the way. Water, air, earth and fire are probably all we need to survive. Without them there would be no life and we would not be here.
May be those are the only gods we should worship.

On hold

That’s probably the best way of describing how I feel.
On hold and restless.
I spent some time in the back garden this afternoon. Sunbathing helps me relaxing. Not today though. My brain does not want to switch off.
There is a lot of pressure around me, haunting me day and night. I cannot sleep more that 6 hours per night, it does not matter how tired I may be.
There is a lot of disappointment too. I am disappointed with myself and with quite a few things that happened in the past weeks.
The only thing I am sure about is that I need to start all over again.I need changes, better if drastic. I need a different life from the one I am living now.

A month later

Where was I in the last few weeks?
What happened to me in the last few weeks?
I disappeared from my blog and I wish I could have disappeared from my life too.
No good news on this side of the world. No good news for me.
Since my birthday, I realised that I need to come to terms with quite a few things about my life and my future.
Things that I somehow left aside for a long time. Now I cannot afford anymore to simply remove them from my sight and say “I’ll think of it later”.
I’ve been given many advices one on all is a straightforward “Take it easy”. I know this is just another phase of life, where at some point you have to decide what to do with your future. I know very well that working few months here and few months there wont do any good to me, my bank account and my self esteem.
Where is the solution? In a word that I do not like pronouncing, writing thinking. That word is “home”. Home as back to where I come from, back to a life style that does not belong to me anymore. Back to a country that every single person that I may talk to, describes as “beautiful”.
I cannot see that beauty. There is a huge difference between living and visiting a country. It is difficult to explain, but I somehow feel defeated.

A short story - His words

We met years ago. We were both at university, studying the same course, living 10 minutes walk one from the other. Over the years (more than five), we took different paths, started opposite careers. She left the country, I found a job close to my parents' place. We always kept in touch. Not many emails, but we always managed to meet every time she came back to visit her family. I know few things about her: she talks a lot and she can make me laugh.

During one of her visits back home, she decided to come and meet me in my town. "Why not?" - she said, "I have never been there!". She is a curious woman and - at times, quite stubborn. She took the train and I went to pick her up at the station. She was colourful: jeans, turquoise coat, light pink trainers and a bright purple bag under her arm. She smiled at me and gave me a hug. She had a new haircut, it suited her.

That night we went out with my friends, and had a few drinks. Back home, she wanted to drink the rest of the bottle of red wine we opened at dinner. I could only agree. She kept on talking, she was a bit drunk. I hugged her and she hugged me. And we cuddled each other on the sofa, her whispered voice was a pleasant, soothing sound.

It was time to sleep, I wanted to go in my room. "C'mon, stay with me tonight!". She said it twice, she wanted me to spend the night with her.

The morning after, although Saturday, I woke up at quater to eight, like a normal working day. She was lying next to me, her bare shoulders coming out from the big duvet. She was asleep. I looked at her, at her face, her lips, her eyes, her hair. I kissed her smooth skin. She woke up and with a sleepy voice she said: "Are you already awake...?" " I cannot sleep anymore." "You just have a to close your eyes and rest your head on the pillow.. it is easy, look at me.." The ingenuity of her words made me smile. She turned her body towards mine and huddled up on my chest. The morning light, coming through the window and filtered by the Venetian blinds and the curtains, was lighting up the room shyly.

In that half-light, I followed the lines of her peaceful face and quiet body.

I kissed her front, her cheek, her lips. I hugged her and felt her skin, her warmth, her breathing.

Easter Break - Part Three

Sunday.
When we woke up the sun was up and bright in the sky. We took our time in that lat morning (or early afternoon?).
Once we were all ready, we headed south, to explore the coast. After an hour drive or so, we stopped at one of the beaches we could see from the road. We spent there a few hours enojoying the sun and the beautiful weather. I just realxed. That's all I ask and I need from my time at the beach. The sound of waves, the wind, the smell of iodine.. let me lay down, close my eyes and relax... I could do with a walk or a swim, but in my own time (the water was unbereably cold that day!). We left the beach at some point after 5pm. We drove again along the coast, passing by charming villages, surprised by the very narrow street we had to drive through.
Next destination: Hope and its cliffs. The sun over the sea was a spectacular show. The cliffs, falling straight into the sea, were an exciting danger. We walked along the cliffs, stared at the view, took some pictures and rested on a bench overlooking the Channel. We could not stay for the sunset, we had more to do for that day.
Brixham was our last stop: a fishermen' village and its quaint streets.
Images: an ancient vessel hauled into the dock, sorrounded by smaller boats. Green and pink lights lighting up the sides of the dock. A seagull, sitting on the head of the statue of William D'Orange. Boats resting in the bay at sunset. The stars above the bay: thousands of gleaming dots.
The feeling that it would not be so bad living there, and leave this crazy world outside, far away from the ordinary life.

Monday.

Another day of walks through the park , in search of waterfalls. Disappointment was what I felt once we got there: the waterfalls were simply a creek running downhill and jumping over some big rocks. During the final hours of our trip, we had a look at Wells Cathedral (magnificient and beautiful) and then back to the road and back to Oxford.

I did not want to go back.

I wanted to keep my travel mates for a bit longer and find another destination to live together. And then another one. And another one again. If I could, I would have stopped the time. Life though, is in constant motion and and memories are the only way we can freeze time.

Now, I find myself smiling every time something that happened during this trip comes to my mind.

Easter Break - Part Two

We dropped our bags at the hostel and started driving through the park. We were surrounded by smooth hills, the horizon being a perpetual, wavy line. Enormous clouds were above our heads. I had the feeling that if I raised my arm to the sky and stretched my fingers, I could have touched them.
Not long after, we stopped on the side of the road: wild ponies were just few meters away from us! They came very close, one of them pushing his big muzzle into the car (one of the front windows was wide open). They did not show fear, not at all. Maybe they just wanted to check how come that six weird animals (they walk using only two of their legs!) decided to squeeze themselves in a black box when there was plenty of space around.
Anyways, after this close encounter and after having lunch by a torrent, we drove to a place called “Two bridges” – literally two bridges crossing the same creek but from different angles, and a pub.. nothing else – and we went for our first walk. We kept a slow pace. From hill to hill, we kept on walking through the English moor. A herd of wild ponies was resting further down one of the hills.
Dark clouds brought by a cold and persistent wind were approaching quickly. On our way back to the car, a rainbow appeared in the distance, joining sky and earth together.
Back to the car and back to the road! We stopped in Buckfast, had a look at the abbey and went for a pint (well.. two). One of us volunteered and went to buy some wine for the evening. He came back with six bottles of Buckfast wine. “One each!” he said. We were hungry but the Abbey Inn did not serve food anymore (a very nice pub, on the side of a river, with a huge fireplace, soft lights, dark wood all over and serving a very good ale). Back to the car, our mission was to find a place were to eat. We found it in another village but soon after we sat down we realised that one after the other, the clients were leaving the place. Could it be because we were too loud?? There is a thing about continental people: they cannot whisper. Not me for sure!! We were having such a good time and good laughs!
Once back to the village where we booked the hostel, we joined a karaoke night in the only pub still open (locals can be quite funny characters with a microphone in their hands). When that was over and lights went on in the pub, we started our own night in the parking lot. We had all that was necessary: music, Buckfast wine and the boot of the car! One of the best nights of my life.

Easter Break - Part One

Saturday, Sunday and Monday: 3 days out of our habitual life. One of us chose the place: Dartmoor National Park, Devonshire. Nature, long walks and relax: that was meant to be the broad theme of our Easter break.
It was fine by me, I just needed to get out of Oxford and recharge my batteries.
A week before leaving everything was settled: the hostel was booked (a 14-beds, eco friendly hostel, somewhere in the eastern part of the park), the rented car was waiting for us, and I bought and cooked all the necessary to survive for at least the first two days.
Saturday morning the six of us hit the road and almost four hours later (traffic jam!) we arrived at our destination. The hostel was right on the main road of the village. It was an old farmer’s house, where the barn had been refurbished and transformed into a 14-beds dormitory. It was cozy and clean. Downstairs there was a colourful kitchen with heavy wooden beams crossing the low, white ceiling. The furniture was essential: two tables, a cooker, a sink, few chairs (all of them with different patterns and colours), a light blue kitchen cabinet and a brown chester drawer. The finishing touch was a clear glass with fresh daffodils right at the centre of one of the tables.
We were welcomed by the owner’s young son and his healthy, happy face. We met the owner few minutes later, her hands brown with soil and a bit out of breath (at the time of our arrival she was busy with her allotment).
It was all very informal.
I spotted bits of a beehive on the ground. She said she had to take them off, they were infected and they could have damaged the rest of the hive. She then entertained us with some pills on the life of male bees. “They spend their life flying around, getting fed by female bees and waiting to mate with the Queen bee”. And I said “They remind me of another species, where the male behaves more or less the same way..” She laughed and added: “The thing is that once the male bee is done with the Queen bee, the Queen bee rips off the male bee’s genitals!” And she enjoyed a satisfied laugh. And I thought “There is always something new to learn every day!”.

The sexuality of a fried French toast

I have always been told about the relationship between food and sex.
Things like feeding your partner or play with him/her with the food, licking fingers, spreading jam/cream/chocolate (yours is the choice) on your partner’s body.. quite a “physical” relationship between the two subjects in question.
But these are far too common examples. The human mind has plenty of potential and can find all sorts of ways to make sure that sex and food get along together.

I could read and wonder about this intense link but I never really felt it. Food for me means survival and I find it relaxing rather than exciting.
Yesterday afternoon I completely changed my mind.

I went to meet a friend at her place. She had and old friend from University over for the weekend and he decided to delight us with a proper French toast.
He took milk, sugar, eggs, butter, cinnamon and bread and started preparing the batter. I just stood there looking at him, I never cooked French toast and I wanted to “watch and learn”.
I found myself following him in every move he was making, from whisking eggs and milk, cleaning the tips of his fingers on a kitchen towel, adding the cinnamon with a light and refined touch, warming up the frying pan, taking a slice of bread and dip it into the batter.
He had an elegance in his movements, he knew what he was doing and he was doing it well. He teased me and made me laugh a lot while preparing this French classic.

I was relaxed, curious and what he cooked was tasty.
And I realised that he was tasty too. French accent – although he was much more sexy when he was speaking in his mother tongue- good looking, funny.“I would not mind having a bite of you and leave the French toast for later..” I thought.

Weakness of a human being

There is something about life and about myself that I still did not get used to. That is called “expectations”.
Although I have learnt long ago that expectations are a synonymous for disappointment, I still get sidetracked at times.
On one side I know I am a woman with a positive attitude, able to judge conscientiously. On the other though, I am a dreamer. And here is the starting point of my expectations.
The good thing is that I do not have much time for this “dreaming - positive thinking”.. It happens only when I can find some time to relax and detach from my fully booked days.
Few days ago, on a Sunday night, while walking back home, I found some time for myself. “I am a lucky woman,” I thought, “I have few complains to make but nothing to worry too much”. I was happy with that conclusion. Few seconds later another “BUT” came up bringing questions, doubts, uncertainties, unfulfilled expectations, wished and thoughts that vanish immediately when compared with reality.
A feeling of void crept into myself.
That feeling kept on lingering for days, like a smell that you are not able to get rid of. It is not you, but it is around you, persistent and somehow underhand.

Disposable as a toothpick

Those words are not mine. I have a good friend who put them into a song long time ago. I have listened to it so many times that I know the lyrics by heart. It is a song on temporary workers and it always made me smile. Until one morning.

I have been looking for jobs for quite a while now. I spend my days searching websites, typing “admin” and realising that out of 60 job opportunities, I can apply only for 5 of them.
One morning I receive a call from my recruitment agency: “We have work for you, are you available to start at 12?”. She called at 10 am. The job is pretty boring (technical translations), the rate of pay quite low (and includes your holiday pay), plus it is only for one week. Proper temporary work. I said yes though, I have bills and rent to pay!

The consultant asked me to pop around her office before starting the assignment; she had some papers to give to me. And so I did.
While waiting, a Spanish man and his pregnant wife entered the reception and sat there with me. Soon after a young man stood there in the room with us (there were only three chairs). Not long after the whole picture became clear: the same consultant had contacted all of us that same morning, in order to go and work for the same company. And we all rushed down to feed with some crumbles our bank accounts.

Right at that moment I understood that I jus became ”disposable as a toothpick”: use me whenever you want, for whatever job my suit my skills, I will be there. And the consultant came out saying, “At least is something”. I was not quite sure if I had to cry or laugh. If she wanted to encourage us, well that was a really bad attempt.

Spring is coming!! :)

This is the fourth day in a row that the weather is wonderful. It is sunny, it is warm, no wind, no clouds. Every day I wake up with the feeling that spring is getting closer and closer.

Yesterday I decided to take a few hours off from my boring and repetive problems.
So I put comfortable shoes on, took my camera and went exploring and picturing this early spring.
After an hour, I gave up with taking pictures. Flowers and blossoms are not yet that interesting. Trees still don’t have young green leaves, their branches are still brown and bare. They may have some kind of little green “lumps” here and there, but not more than that. Cherry and peach trees are covered with flowers. From the distance they look like gigantic pink or white candyfloss.
And flowers.. well, daffodils seem to be the only flower available right now. They are cute but it is the same flower over and over again in every garden.
I put my camera back into its case and concluded that for that day I was only meant to enjoy the sun and the warm weather.
I kept on walking around quiet streets, finding myself whistling and old song of the 50’s, and returning smiles to strangers that crossed my way.

I ended up walking in Southpark, my favourite park. There was lot of youth around.
From what I could see, favourite activities were: singing/playing guitar, sleeping, reading, playing (rugby or football).. Considering the number of bare male chests around, sunbathing was a popular activity too (it is 10 degrees Celsius.. But that’s England too).
I walked by a group of guys, they were playing what I renamed “lazy football”: no one was putting much effort in running after the ball and kicking it seemed to be a violent demonstration of force (so better avoid it!).
One of the guys looked at me and said with malicious voice “.. G’afternoon….” And I looked at him for not more than two seconds. “Hello young English man with white trainers and grey shorts. And hello to your naked and strong chest. You are quite good looking, you seem promising. I don’t quite like you running around the ball with a can of Stella in your hand though. How old can you be? 22? Yeah…. I am sorry, you are too young for me!”

Of course I did not say a single one of those words. They came all in once in my mind during those couple of seconds that I looked at him. I replied with a smile and walked away, back to my way home.I manage to take more pictures.. there is always a better light with the sunset!

Four out of six

I decided to invite some friends for dinner last weekend.
I love cooking and I love having friends around.
Anyways, I love cooking not only cos it can satisfy all of my senses but also because I found it a very relaxing and therapeutic activity.
Considering that I am living quite stressful weeks, I thought that a couple of cooking sessions could help me! When cooking I switch off all of my connections to the ugly, angry world and I take refuge in the kitchen, my limbo. No pressure, no rush, no screaming, complaining or shouting.. nothing but me my cooking books and a variety of pots, pans, utensils and chopping boards.
So there I was, planning a three course meal: few starters, one main course (lasagne) and chocolate cake for dessert.
And I invited a few people. Once they all agreed to join the feast, I realised that I was the only one who knew all of them. They didn’t know each other. “ I will call it ‘Dinner with strangers’”, I thought.

And it started right in this way. There was an initial feeling of “Who is that one?” or “I already forgot his name!” or “He is good looking..!” but then good music, good wine and of course, good food, changed the dinner with strangers into a night out with friends.

One of my friends at some point, came out and said “Hey, the world tonight is sitting around this table!” and he was right! There was Europe (me and a Spanish guy), Asia (well, one was born in France but has Vietnamese parents and the other was born in the UK but has Pakistani background), Africa (my Moroccan friend) and America (my Brazilian friend). We were missing Oceania and Antarctica, but still, I think we did well!And that is exactly what I like about my friends: none of them comes from the same country. Maybe continent, but that’s fine.

The best job in the world

Great Barrier Reef, Australia. Snorkeling, diving, sunbathing, meeting people and write a blog. That was more or less the job description.
The state of Queensland has advertised it all over the world, with a final figure of 34,000 (yes, thirty-four thousands) applications.
I am one of them.
Yeap, I took a video of myself, uploaded to the website and sent emails to whoever could vote for me. That was the application process. (By the way: the website crashed few days before the deadline).

So, me and my flatmate, on a grey, wet, typical English midweek afternoon, we went to a fishshop and recorded the video. It took us one hour and a half, more than 20 takes and eventually we had that one minute video that was going to be my application form.
I was exhausted at the end of the recording session.

Needless to say that I have not been shortlisted. I suppose it would have been easier to win the lottery.
Anyways, enjoy the video and the out takes!

End of a friendship

It happens in life. And it just happened to me.
It happens that you have to close doors and leave people behind you.
It is for you own safety and well-being.
It happens because you had enough of lies, months of lies.
Because you cannot get over the disappointment caused by two of your closest friends (they are three in total).
It happens because you cannot forget and you don’t seem able to forgive. Or maybe you don’t want to forgive because a year later, it still hurts.

I have been so angry, so mad at them. They deceived me, hide from me and accused me without giving me the chance of simply explaining, not even defending myself. And they judged without knowing, pointing their fingers at me and saying “Guilty! Capital punishment!”. Like in the Middle Ages, during the Inquisition.
And every time I asked for explanations and tried to sit there, take time to talk and understand.. well, I was told that it was all going on in my head and it was my problem. And they were not available for help.

But you cannot lie for the rest of your life. And once I discovered the truth, one of the two even denied it. Just like when a child is caught eating chocolate: hands and mouth are covered with the sweet treat but still he would say “No! I didn’t eat the chocolate!”. I felt sorry for my friend, for her incapacity of admitting what kind of person she really is (or likes to be for the time being?).

The other tried to sew up the tear but I always felt she was bringing in pretexts rather than grounded points of view. (When there is a lack of trust, whatever the other may say will always sound fake).

The funny thing is that I don’t feel different, I mean, I don’t feel I am missing something/someone. I feel like they stopped existing long time ago.It is all over now. Let’s turn the page.

Dating? No thanks!

It all happened a few weeks ago.. Which means that it took me quite a while to digest one of the most painful- and somehow embarrassing experiences of my life.

Lets make a preliminary statement: I hate dating.
According to my English dictionary a date is defined as “an appointment, esp. with a member of the opposite sex”. Speaking rationally yes, it is an appointment with someone (opposite sex or not).
But if you have a closer look at what happens, the questions asked, I would rather define as “an appointment between two people, where you try to understand if the one in front of you could be a good partner”.
I have an instinctive rejection to it. I find it embarrassing, a waste of time and energy.
I suppose my previous negative experiences on the subject of dating, are playing quite a part.
I prefer “lets just be friends and if something else has to happen well, there is plenty of time”. Take it easy, in short.

And here the foul deed.
As you do, I went out with friends one night. Beers, chats beers, laughs, beers and then I met Tim. I thought he sounded and looked interesting and gave him my number.
Days went by until I received a call. “Hello? Nadia? Hi, it’s Tim, we met last week, and I am the chess guy!” (he laughs). “Oh, hi, how are you?” “Do you remember me?? That’s great!!!” (and he laughs again). We spoke for a bit, usual questions like “what have you been up to” “how was your weekend” etc.
And then, he came out saying “I like your voice on the phone.. mmm…”, “I really like your laugh.. mmm…”
At that moment I thought that it was a bit weird. Now, I wouldchange ‘weird’ with ‘psychopathic’.
Cut the story short, he asked me if we wanted to meet for a tea. And I said yes. I don’t know why I said that word; it was not the one I wanted to pronounce. I did not want to meet him. At all. But by the time by brain was trying to find a logic explanation to such unpredictable answer, Tim was already telling me where, when and what time.
As soon as I hang up the phone I told myself “This is not a date, you are meeting someone for a chat and that is all about it”. I was SOOOOO wrong.
That day I turned up late and told him I had to leave pretty soon to meet a friend of mine. I know that lying is not a good thing, but I considered it as a self-defence move.
“How would you like your tea?” “No milk, no sugar, just a slice of lemon, thanks.” “Very continental, I like it..” and he smiled at me looking straight into my eyes. There I knew it was a date and a chill run down my spine.
I wanted to run away but I couldn’t. So I spent the following hour listening to him, pretending I was interested and asking questions for the sake of filling the air with words. Two things were really embarrassing: him keeping on paying compliments to me (I like your necklace, I like your top etc) and realising after the first half hour that he was definitely the wrong guy. He likes shopping and perfumes (I don’t), he likes Dutch art (I find too still and plain), he believes magic and the power of stones (I only manage to reply that I found it and interesting subject…).. I started feeling very uncomfortable, I needed fresh air and just wanted to get out of there and get away from him. Some kind of pressure started building up and after having checked my watch for three times in less than 10 minutes I said “ Sorry but I have to go now”.
On our way out he asked me “I will see u on Sunday then?” “Sure! Bye!”. Why on Earth did I say that??? I am supposed to connect brain and mouth when I speak! But then I realised that my brain switched off as soon as the conversation with Tim started to languish.
Sunday I texted him saying that I had a very bad hangover, too much to drink on Saturday. Sorry.
He did not reply. I felt relieved.

Repetitive words

My friend Zuhair calls him “some one to look after you”.
Farzana instead prefers calling him “Mr Right”. She always has dreaming eyes when saying those words.
My aunties, uncles, family friends (average age 55+), they just say “Someone”, hopefully without the implied meaning “Anyone please”.
I like to call him “Prince Charming on a white horse”. Every time I say it, I laugh.
Cos I think of Shrek, the movie, the first one, where Prince Charming is on a white horse but he almost needs stairs to get on top of it!

My friends and family they all seem so worried for me.
The fatal question always comes after the usual “How are you?”. If I start betting on it, I may be able to stop working. May be I should.
I know they cannot avoid it. It is part of the cycle of life: you are born, you grow up, go to school, meet people, find a job, get married, have kids, teach them what you have learnt, die. It works in stages.
According to my family and friends I should hurry up for the “get married” stage.
Unfortunately, I do enjoy the “meet people” one. Plus I did not do well with the “find a job” one. And I did try. Maybe it did not like me.

By now (since it has been years that I am asked the same thing) I got used to the “So… tell me.. did you find someone?”. I know, those words will come up, always.
My answers vary according to my mood.
A good mood answer would be “I am working on it”.
A bad mood answer would be instead “Can we change subject?”
I remember once, back home, the priest of my village asked me that exact question.
“No Father, not yet”. “C’mon, what are you waiting for?!” And I replied “ For Providence to look down and help me out!”.I know, that was a bad mood answer, especially if you consider the expression on his face. But at least he stopped asking it.

Catch-up

I just got back home, the taste of shisha (apple tobacco.. my favourite!) still in my mouth.
I spent a few hours with a really good friend of mine.
Last time we met was four or five months ago. We both have busy lives, although he says I am the one who has always something else to do.
We needed and we wanted a catch-up.
“So how is life been treating you?”. None of us could complain.
For the whole evening he had a smile on his face while talking to me. He has his good reasons for it.
He found a wife, he is getting married next summer, he is busy finding a place for himself and his wife-to-be (her name is Amira, it means Princess in Arabic), he has a good job, wondering if it would be better to get another Master’s degree or a PhD.
And then my turn came.

I told him my plans for the next couple of years, or until this world economic crisis gets to an end. He questioned me a lot, I suppose to test how grounded my decisions were.
He has the ability to ask just the right questions and to listen to my 5-minutes monologues. With him I simply open up, it just happens naturally.
Like when you pick up a book and after glancing through the pages, you choose one and start reading it. When I am with him, I am that book.
He is very patient and wise. He is like an older brother to me, someone who always cares for and prays for me to be happy.
His door is always open for me. Being his friend is one of the fortunes of my life.

Let it snow

It all started a couple of days ago.
Early morning, my alarm clock went on and I switched on my mobile. I was not happy about it, but I know I cannot spend the whole day in bed.
Few seconds later the sound of a text message. “Show?” Yes. “Open?” Yes. “Salaam, it is SNOWING”.
I got up and had a look from my window.
My friend was right: thick white flakes of snow were coming down from the sky.
Usually snow has a relaxing effect: you look at it coming down, it covers everything with its white colour and you feel an overwhelming sense of peace. Silence reigns. That morning though, I had quite a different feeling. The wind was pushing and pulling those poor immaculate flakes with such violence that they were flinging at the soil rather than resting gently.
It was freezing, of course.
I took my mobile and replied to the message: “I may stay in bed a little longer then..”
And that is exactly what I did.

This morning, when I woke up everything was covered with 15 cm of snow. And it was still snowing. According to the weather forecast tomorrow will be even worse. I keep my fingers crossed for a lot of snow. So I will stay in bed a little longer tomorrow morning too.

Friends (good ones)

Two friends of mine came to visit a week ago.
We met at uni and I like to think that we grew up together for a few years.
Last time I met them was two years ago.. may be three.
Nothing has really changed but at the same time a lot has changed.
They have been together for five years now. They are planning of going to live together.
I am so happy for them.
Our friendship is funny as it has always been. I asked them if they thought I had changed in these last couple of years. Both of them said no. It was a bit of a disappointment cos I do believe I have changed quite a few things of my personality and the way I understand the world around me. I suppose they did not have enough time to discover it.
Next time, may be.

People I met while travelling alone in Australia

In Brisbane I met Donna. Born in New Zealand (if I remember well), 27 years old, with a tattoo on her back saying ‘freedom’ in Latin.
She has been incredibly helpful. I met her as soon as I got at the hostel, she was my roommate (better say that I was her roommate since she had been living at the hostel for a few months). An hour later my arrival, we were walking around Brisbane together. She offered to take me around and there we were, walking down the main street, chatting.
After the long day around the city we went to a pub to rest our feet and get a good pint. I came out saying that I wanted to know more about aboriginal people. She kept silent and took a book out of her bag. It was all about the Aboriginals. It turned out that she was studying sociology and anthropology in Sydney! What followed was a good discussion where I was asking her all sorts of things on Aboriginal people and she was trying to feed my curiosity.

On the bus from Brisbane to Byron Bay I met Christine from Switzerland. 38 years old, red long hair, blue eyes, freckles all over her face and body. She was an interesting woman. She made the 6 hours bus drive till Byron Bay a really nice journey.
And then Manuel crossed my way. Another Swiss, very young (20 years old). Young was his tanned body and young was his way of approaching the female sex. He was funny and I had good laughs with him. One morning we got up early and went for a walk along the beach. With my camera he took a picture of his feet on the sand: that’s the only picture that I have of him.

And then Frederik and Ron came along. The first one from Denmark, the second from Holland. Both were in their early twenties, curly hair, tanned body and well defined muscles. We had a really good night out with lots of glasses of Byron Ale.
We went back to the hostel around 2am. The time of a cigarette and both of them were flirting with me. Well, let’s say that they started flirting with me right at the beginning of the night, but once back at the hostel they did their best! I never had such fun. They were so predictable and so sweet at the same time. One paid compliments to my lips, the other one to my feet and my legs. We talked a lot and had a good time. Then, with their great disappointment I went to bed. I said “Sorry, guys no threesome tonight!”. They answered me back with a laugh.

Once in Newcastle I met Lee, better said, he met me. 34 years old, 100% Aussie, he just moved to Newcastle from Sidney. Long curly grey hair, just enrolled to Uni, where he will be studying Psychology.
We were both strolling along the coast under a very hot sun. After an hour of walking and chatting, he invited me to his place for a drink and then with his car we went to a wildlife park. I finally saw koalas, kangaroos and emus! Lee had been working for an environmental agency for almost 10 years and could tell me a lot about the animals in the park. Koalas are stoned most of the time. The leaves of the gum tree contain a small amount of opiates. That’s why koalas are so slow and they seem sleepy all the time. Kangaroos instead can become really violent. With their big legs they can rip off the body of an animal or human being.
We walked around the park, talked about politics, Aboriginal people and our lives.
He then drove me half way back to the hostel and we said goodbye. An unexpected encounter followed by a very interesting afternoon.

Italy

I am freezing.
I never thought I could feel such cold. My body and my skin don’t seem to get used to the winter. I am always cold. It does not matter how many layers of clothes I may wear, I will still shiver.
From 38 Celsius degrees to a couple above zero. Quite a shock for my skin after being spoiled for weeks under the tropical sun.
It took me a few days to recover from the jet lag. Every night waking up at 2 or 4 am feeling completely rested and ready to go. And then at 8pm ready to go to sleep cos I am feeling so tired, unable to keep my eyes open.

It has been raining since I got back.
No more bright colours, just brown, grey, black. Everything is so desolate.
I used to like the cold season. I always thought it had some sort of charm: the naked trees, those sleeping fields, the misty sun.. a sad romance that I admired and that was making me smile.
It will take me such a long time before feeling it familiar again.
When I will be back in the UK it will be even worse.
Better not to think about it.

Way back

Our flight was at 5pm.
I managed to get everything ready in time. Saying goodbye was sad, but you cannot avoid those moments.
We got our seats on the plane, mine was next to the window. And then the plane took off. I stuck my nose on the window and my eyes were filled with the last images of Australia. Sidney first, with its skyscrapers, the harbour, the boats, houses and trees. And then the mountains and vast plains. We flew over the Great Barrier Divide. Our ground speed was 914 km/h.
The landscape changed again. We were over the Australian desert now. There was nothing but plain red land. Only once I saw a road crossing the desert: one straight line, God knows where it was heading.
Not a house, not a hill. The clouds with their shades, stained the surface of the desert. I noticed open air mines, they looked like “holes” on the ground. Four dried up lakes dotted the thirsty soil.
After a while rock formations came along. You could see the paths of rivers running down their side. They reminded me of wrinkles on an old lady’s face.
Once on the Indian Ocean, I started feeling really tired and fell asleep.

I woke up few hours before landing in Singapore. Movie time! Vicky Christina Barcelona, The Duchess and Lemon Tree. The first one a bit of a disappointment, the second had great costumes and that’s about it, the third one was the only one worth watching.
In Singapore I only had the time to stretch my muscles and buy some tobacco and then back on the plane.. 12 hours to Frankfurt.

In Frankfurt we had to wait 5 hours before getting on our last plane to Italy. Again, my seat was next to the window. The Alps were beautiful! I cannot say the same when we approached the airport in Venice: the land was brown and wet, the sky was cloudy and grey.

Leaving

It took me half an hour or so to pack my stuff. I could not fit all in my suitcase. Mom or dad should have some spare kilos on their luggage.
I spent the day sunbathing.. it was so relaxing! On the list of the things that I will miss, that is in my top five. The others are: walking barefoot on the grass/sand, listening to the crickets at night, the sounds of birds: they don’t actually twitter. There is one that is “croaking” right now. The sky is in my top five too. Boundless clear blue above your head.
Saying goodbye to my family is becoming a difficult task. I had such a good time with them. At least I met them. And I may come back to Australia, you never know what life has to offer.

Two to go

I have only two days left and I am not happy about it.
If I could I would stay here for the rest of my life.
The thought of going back to Europe and its winter is not an appealing thought.
I spent my last days doing the most suitable activity to women and tourists: shopping!
I did not buy much for myself, just a couple of scarves and books on Aboriginal culture and history.

The rest of the money went to presents for family and friends. 

I walked a lot around Sydney.. it is such a beautiful place! I visited three museums (all of them free): photography, history of Aboriginal people and early European settlers, contemporary art (interesting and funny). Me and my dad we had a quite heated up discussion on the definition of art.. according to him contemporary art is not art at all.. “Anything can be art.. even a broken pot!” It was not easy trying to make him understand that art is about imagination and interpretation of the world around us. His conception of art stops with Michelangelo or Leonardo da Vinci or Canova. In the last few weeks I have realised that my dad is developing a conservative view of society. I need to get him back on track.

Last night, while smoking a cigarette, I heard a plane flying above my head... I felt sad and cold inside. I should consider myself lucky cos at least I had the chance to come to and travel around Australia. But it is so unfair having to leave it!
I am not ready for scarves, gloves and heavy jumpers.. I need sun, sand, sea, watermelon, bright colours and light…
I keep on taking pictures.. I suppose that is my way of keeping with me as much as I can of this country.
Leaving Europe was the best thing could happen to me and I don’t want to go back to my old life.
Unfortunately I have to. I will bring a few changes to it.

Alon

I met him in Byron Bay. He is Jewish, in his early twenties. Skinny, dark hair and blue eyes. He wants to fight the Palestinians. When I asked him why he replied: “Because they are fighting us and we have to fight them back”. I tried to understand
his reasons but the only thing that he knew was that “them” (he never called them Palestinians) were fighting Israel and so was his duty to defend his country. “Did you ever fight?” I asked him. And he replied “No, but I want to”.
It’s been weeks now that Israel started what is probably the most ferocious attack into the Gaza Strip. I don’t have much time to follow the news but I know that Israel is calling all of its reserves to support this attack. Alon is one of those. Good luck young man.
By the way: I do find nonsense the 3-hours daily truce to let humanitarian aid into the Gaza strip. Is now Israel a “good boy” because at least it leaves room for some relief?? This is what I call sadism.
Of course Mr Bush did not say much about it. Neither the rest of the world did. The international silence that followed the early attacks, seemed to acknowledge and accept such sudden violence. I was bewildered. Let’s hope the president-elect will put more efforts to solve such miserable and self-destructive situation in the Middle East.
Let's hope Obama really is the change the world needs to believe in.

Victoria State

On the 2nd January at 3am we all left Sidney for a 5 day family trip (16 people altogether) to Melbourne - 12 hours by car. My bottom started complaining after the first 4 hours. It has been a loooooong ride.
I tried to sleep; I woke up right in time for the dawn. And then fell asleep again. I must say that an Australian dawn leaves you speechless.
Panoramas from Sidney to Melbourne did not change much. We went from urban areas (Sidney) to brown, arid land and back to urban areas (when we eventually arrived in Melbourne). Nothing but the long road in front of us and deserted fields around us. Here and there you could see cows black as pitch put to pasture. The same was for sheep and horses. The land once covered with trees, is now flat and solitary. It seemed to me that the hills had been “shaved”: rounded shapes against the blue sky. During the trip I spotted a board on the side of the road that was saying “Land on sale”. As far as I could see nothing was delineating its boundaries. I wondered how big that piece of land was.
A few times I saw a graveyard right in the middle of nowhere. No villages around, any churches, not a single sign of human activity. But there it was, with its withered flowers, standing at the sun.
We had busy days while in the state of Victoria. We went gold hunting!! It was great! That was the funniest day of the whole trip! We even found some gold! I had lot of fun with my cousins’ kids (from 3 to 12 years old). I played a lot with them: running around, shouting, laughing, getting dirty... it was making me feel so free.
Morlington and Philip Island were our next stops. More sea and more sun!
Melbourne is a modern and growing city. I had the feeling that architects did have fun in shaping its buildings.

New Year’s Eve

I could not miss the fireworks from the Sidney Harbour.
Not easy to find a good spot: everywhere around the Harbour was already crowed/packed by 4pm.
We found a place on Balls Head, a promontory on the other side of the Opera House.
I was really pleased with it cos I had a different view of the harbour. I left family and relatives to play cards and I went to take a few pictures. Everywhere I walked there were people waiting for midnight. Music, beers, food, sunglasses, happy mood.
It was quite warm. While walking around I’ve realised that Balls Head is an Aboriginal archaeological site. I tried to imagine the headland and the harbour without skyscrapers, houses and roads. Without boats, planes flying all day long. Without the Bridge and the Opera House. No horns or sirens. Just trees and the sound of the sea and of the birds. It must have been the closest thing to perfection

By the time I got back my family was already having dinner. “We have been waiting for you! Where have you been???” I did not realise I had been walking around for nearly three hours.
At 9pm the first lot of fireworks, those for families with kids. Beautiful.
Having three hours to spend before midnight, I went for another walk. The harbour by night is something amazing! All boats had lights on and were facing the Sidney Harbour Bridge. Most of the boats were moving from one end to the other of the harbour. At some point an ancient vessel made its way into the harbour. The masts were covered with lights and so were its ropes. In the darkness its figure was perfectly delineated. What a show!
The best show of all was, of course, the one at midnight. Surprising, shining, wonderful fireworks. 15 minutes of colours and sparkles on the bridge and all over the bay. It is quite an experience!

Blue Mountains - Three Sisters

Forest, valleys, sandstone cliffs and mountains stretching all the way to the horizon and beyond.
It is an incredible scene.
I tried to breathe in as much air as I could. I wanted to make it mine somehow. I had the impression that mine was just an ingenuous attempt.
I walked around, following paths that were taking me right in the middle of the forest.
I was surrounded by the white trunks of the gum trees. Their leafy branches were giving shelter and shade from the hot sun.
Unfortunately I could not make this day trip mine. Too many of my family around. Too many people to get together, too many things that had to be done.
“The kids are hungry, we have to stop”; “Wait, and some are still in the toilet”; “What about the gift shop?”; “We cannot walk all the way down, we have to go”. I went with the flow but I do feel the need to go back and live that place my way, taking my time.
Needless to say, I took heaps of pictures (as they say here).
By the way, here is an interesting fact. They called this forests “Blue Mountains” after “.. the soft, blue haze emanated from the oil secreted by the covering forests of eucalypts.” I could not quite see the blue though. Maybe the sunlight was not right.

The Blue Mountains, like everywhere else in Australia, were territory of the Aboriginal people. The Three Sisters is a rock formation and here is the Aboriginal explanation of it existence:

“Whenever he had to leave his three daughters, Meeheni, Wimlah and Gunnedoo, Tyawan the witch doctor, would place them on a high cliff to protect them from the bunyip. One day, a stone which Meeheni had thrown at a caterpillar fell from the cliff and caused the part the sisters were on to break away so that they were stranded. The noise woke the bunyip and he lunged at the sisters just as Tyawan was returning. Tyawan pointed his magic bone at his daughters so that they turned to stone until the bunyip left. Tyawan though, was trapped in the rock and turned himself into a lyre bird. In the confusion he lost his magic bone and is still searching for it today, while the three sisters silently watch from the edge of the mountain.”