Dead inside

It had been a while since I last gathered my belongings and ventured passed the Apennines to our little Tuscan retreat, but this weekend a mixture of holiday mood around town (June 2 is holiday in Italy, so most poeple are taking Monday off too) and a work trip to a fair in Florence persuaded me to brave the drive on my own all the way to Maremma.


Before getting there, I therefore stopped in Florence for the day. Hadn't been there for 15 years Marjory. Unchanged, as far as I can tell. Beautiful, stunning, and dead inside.



Luckily there are some eye-candies to keep us entertained...


The fair I went to, Terrafutura,


was full of do-gooders and barely-camoufflaged Commies:


But at least there were some bizzare things in there, including this wall of coloured beans. Beans, yes. Not sure why they featued in a fair about stuff that is saving the world, but apparently these beans are doing something good. I was too tired to bother checking what exactly though...


And then, it was our little hideaway and a gathering storm. Just what we like, and what we'll be doing again next weekend...

The excitement mounts

Discoveries

Today I made two discoveries.

The first one was that carpenters can be extremely, extremely hot. I had this idea of furniture makers as old men with waistcoats and a moustache. Or as oddly-shaped giants covered in sawdust, like our carpenter in Tuscany.

Then I met these guys:


The picture does no justice to the men, both of whom had tense muscles bulging from beneath the few clothes they wore (indeed, one stripped all the way down to his low-cut shorts, revealing - you guessed - a perfectly-shaped Iliac crest). Both also had very interesting features, perhaps not beautiful in a classical sense, but certainly striking. One had piercing blue eyes with a strong slant, as if they belonged to a cat.

But it was the ladies who took central stage. Chain smoking dope and sporting a moody and misterious smile, they moved around the large planks of wood and circular saws with the confidence of a man.

My desire to drop everything and become a carpenter has never been as strong as today.

So I went to the gym for an unusually long time, trying to get ready for the day when I am going to have to lift those large pieces of wood, and then came home to listen to my new favourite folky singer (yah, Glasto's around the corner, so I am brushing up my musical taste, natch).


Emiliana Torrini. Absolutely fabulous. Someone pointed her out to me some time ago, but I only got round to listening to her properly. I expect she might not be SOMEONE's cup of tea, but I also think SOMEONE ELSE might really like her...

Here you go. Easy listening.


I like making these nice discoveries.

Old favourite...

Well, it was only polite to follow from the previous post with a bow to a great artist (and by that I also mean a certain writer who has a penchant for La Vie en Rose). Well... and to prove to her that ALSO A MAN can sing it wonderfully...! ;-)

New favourite band

Chef's Special. Brought to Milan by yours truly on Friday. Yes, apparently my JD includes organising rock/ska concerts.



They so cool, in'it? It helps when the Chef looks like he does. Hopefully they'll be at Glasto. We'll find out tomorrow...

Hometown, sweet hometown

It seems like several of us are back in our hometowns this weekend, partially because it's Bank Holiday in the UK and US, partially because we're living too close to it (ITA).

So here you get a few pictures to titillate you with what you'd have been able to see if you had come with me.


First of all, flowers. Yes, dear reader. My hometown has one of the largest immigrant commuities in Italy, many of them living in appaling conditions in inner-city collapsing buildings, rented out to them at extorionate prices by ruthless landlors. While these immigrants are explited in factories around the city or funneled in the any type of illigal activity, with virtually no money being spent on supporting their education/integration or accommodating them properly, my lovely hometown (one of the richest per GDP per capita in the world) thinks it's FAR more important to cover the city in lavish monuments to bees' best friends: flowers.

When finding itself with some extra cash, something which apparently happens rather frequently, here's another way it thinks wise to spend it:


No comment necessary.

Thankfully, I am going back to Milan tonight (mind you, its spending habits are even worse, considering the huge social problems it has and the near-absence of resources it pours towards them). I say thankfully because perhaps I'll get a chance to see the Frecciarossa again...



Now I know SOMEONE who might like to see that too...!

A journey in pictures

Just got home after 10 days hopping around the globe. Best thing is to let the images speak for themselves...

When still in Milan, the womanizer D and the womanchaser N, gazing somewhat gaily into each others' eyes:


In NYC. The Japan society shows me what being a developed nation is all about:


While Korea teaches me once more what chicken is really for:


Back in Italy. Rome. A random selection of images from my Hub-wanderings:




And of course, the apex of it all. The End of the World Party. When Fellini turned in his grave making a heavy noise. The lovely host (one of two, although the second one was too busy playing ping pong all night, so no good pictures were taken by this camera):


And the three ladies that made the party perfect for just being there:

New casa

Home sweet home. Or so the saying goes. Well, tonight I moved into what will hopefully be my last Milanese abode, at least for this round. And it started of course with large amounts of gin and dinner at my sister's, where all my stuff was stacked. Her bf, Opus as we like to call him for his fanatical sympathies, volunteered a lift, and who am I to turn a faithful down?

So this is how it started, luggage piling up and ready to descend once more the 4 flights of stairs only recently climbed after leaving San Vittore.


A few minutes later, the very same luggage was made to climb the 4 flights of stairs leading up to my new pad. Maybe my friend Ben wasn't SO wrong when he genuinely enquired if they had elevators in Italy. Certainly not in the houses we take possession of.




I spotted straight away the unwanted intruder, a small TV set looking at me rudely.


I immediately disposed of it in the only way these creatures should be dealt with: I hid it under the staircase. I would have set it on fire, but I guess the landlady would have demanded my kineys as compensation.


The fridge was left pretty empty. In fact, they even removed the toilet paper from the loo, something which says a lot about the Milanese sense of saving.


Thankfully, I took with me the essentials:


And finally found a trace of the previous tenants - or of the landlady, hard to tell.


I think I'll sleep well tonight. My own home after some 9 months living in someone else's house. God I missed this...

Stuff...

I won't even start apologizing for the long absence. Consider it done.

Went to my mother's house to check out some furniture which I am hoping will adorne Number 10. Took some exquisite pictures I am rather proud of with my spanking new BlackBerry. Was really testing the quality, and I am satisfied.

A frame. Waiting to be filled.


A floor to ceiling mirror, so everyone will get a chance to see their reflection.


The old kitchen table in the house I grew up in, where I first learned that the kitchen is the heart of a house.


Not sure about this 1930s thing (I don't even know what to call it, it's a tiny cupboard, perhaps?), but I thought Lady V would surely go for its Virginaesque aspect.


And finally, stacks and stacks of chairs. I love this picture.