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comment recent survey on the preferred destinations for expatriate

Dear friends, we finally arrived

the long awaited moment: the comment of the last poll published on this blog.

It is right to underline that the first two places you have placed the following destinations:

Middle-earth (46% of votes);
Amsterdam (30%).

This result indicates a serious loss of confidence in the real world, which is preferred to a parallel reality ...

Now if you'll excuse me, I must run away, because there are only three days at the end of my Erasmus ...

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Dissertation philosophical after the concert of Manu Chao

Go to a concert is like a journey: you know where you are going to go and with whom, but there are many variables to consider. First, it may be that the place does not draw us much, but what we really matters is the company. Maybe even that you are about to leave for the destination of our dreams, for which we would also be willing to set out on their own, in which case we can get some nice friend to accompany unfortunate that he does not want to be in any of the lists of missing persons or we can really take the cabin and puppets and set out, aware that almost certainly will meet someone on the street very much like us. In short, there is always the most convinced, and that rather than rely on friends, but certainly the philosophy of the concert can not be reduced nor just music, no alcohol-only (Yes, I said it). At least for me, is something much more: an opportunity to explore and discover, for better or for worse.

That said, a little final note for those who want to learn about the concert, and not to my interessti pseudo philosophical longings - existential - Decaffeinated: beautiful. Two and a half hours (or maybe more?) Fullest ... I think it was one of the few times when the public had destroyed most of the artist, but he could not help but to stay because everything was too good. To tell the truth when he came out for the third (or was it fourth?) A, I was afraid that someone impallinasse ...

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Waiting Italy - France ... Birthday Gifts

Erasmus By now even the world (or at least what's left of it) has been impregnated by the climate of European football. Last night, taking advantage of the fact that we're sweet damsels, we improvised a table football tournament (which in French has the noble name of Baby-Foot), which ended when the manager, not sure which indicates a strong sportsmanship, wanted to close the Local. Sad, distressed and desperate, we went to buy more wine (as if proof were needed!) And we walked to the Luxembourg Gardens. Since much chance of us had with table tennis bats, 2 balls, well, we decided to enter the garden next to make a small parties (among other things, someone had forgotten to open the gates of that ... but then say that the French are eager!).

In the midst of our heating, while someone was playing, someone else was drinking and someone to test their motor skills through an abandoned scooter, we noticed in the distance, the silhouettes of five figures equipped with bat ... They were bold young men in France, who took advantage of the night to train. At that point, the temptation was too strong: we went from one of them to suggest a match France - Italy, where the winners would go all the stock of both alcoholic groups (light which comprised about 8 bottles of their beer, and half a bottle of rosé our ...).

It 'goes without saying that we were badly beaten ...

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By order on my computer, I found the gift you sent me the Mayor of Tregozzano.

I must admit that is one of the nicest gifts I received ... :-D

I hope that what I am worth the citizenship of honor Tregozzano.

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CATS CEMETERY MONTMARTRE

Paris decided to give us days of chilly and cloudy, that made us forget that he already arrived at on June 6. Since the city is still overrun by tourists, I decided to go for a walk in the house, in the cemetery of Montmartre. the last minute I also decided to munirmi of my inseparable photographic camera, which has lately become almost a kind of prosthesis (just to give you an idea). At first I followed the typical tourist path, reaching incotrare, near the tomb of Truffaut, also a fellow Italian.

At that point I decided to give proper burial to the map, and wander aimlessly. So I found myself watching the cats in the cemetery of Montmartre. E ' difficult to explain in words the way they manage to immeggersi in that: the tourists are not many, but their presence within the avenue out of place, surrounded by tombstones trying to preserve the memory of people more or less known. But those cats rebalance the harmony of the environment, as well as the presence of the woman sitting on the bench, staring blankly into space, which probably was not there to pay tribute to Dalida. Perhaps this is the only right way to live their grief: acceptance calm and quiet, knowing that we are a part only of a life cycle that transcends our will, willy-nilly and that someone, someday, will walk over us, as we do us, without accorgencene.