The Undoubted Queen

I followed the Diamond Jubilee celebrations on line like many others in the rest of the world. The inner British freak in me enjoyed it all. I'm convinced that if I lived in London I'd celebrate in the streets. I'd probably never wear a mask or hold a flag, since the unpatriottic Italian in me find it tedious and admirable at the same time (I wish we had at least one symbol to believe in like the Queen), but I'd surely wake up very early and gather outside St Paul's Cathedral to catch a glimpse of the Royals too. 

Collage created with phtos from The Telegraph

Monarchy can be useless and aesthetically decorative, but it's the only institution that hasn't let the family, the nation and a whole Commonwealth down through the years. Queen Elizabeth II has always been there, stable, intelligent and honest, getting in return respect, affection, even love from her people, "insisting on finding common ground with a woman whose life is so singularly uncommon, on seeing the ordinariness in a figure who by definition must be extraordinarily other." - credits

60 years of amazing fashion history, too. The Queen has always been a reassuring matronly solidity in her elegance, which developped through the years but didn't change a bit: always impeccable. I'm used to the image of her wearing coloured outfits with a matching hat, neat handbag and shoes, so I was surprised to see she was glamorous in her youth. She was vibrant, exciting and spontaneous, and even wore a seductive tight dress on the day of her coronation. 

via Vogue

I loved the way throughout the 1950s she channeled Grace Kelly glamour through fitted bodices and full skirts during the day, and outfits of duchesse satin and tulle paired with furs and tiaras at night. I also loved how through the 1990s a more relaxed image of the Queen emerged, as images of her relaxed clothes enjoying the British countryside in colourful headscarves and down-to-earth tweeds.   

It must be hard to work with her to assure her outifts are always away from wardrobe malfunction. Since she's aided by Angela Kelly, her First Assistant, I notice an even better look on her Majesty. I'm so glad the Queen keeps trusting this lady's taste against all great stylists out there who would like to dress THE Royal, like disgusting Karl Lagerfeld dreamed.

"I don't know why the Queen seems fond of me - Because I don't give her an easy time!" spoke Mrs Kelly about her role to the The Telegraph for the first time, after seeking permission from her special boss. "I do think she values my opinion, but she is the one who is in control. She always makes the final decision,"

Queen Elizabeth looked utterly majestic with all her Jubilee outfits. The only sad thing on these happy Diamond days was that she was alone, with her husband hospitalized for an infection. Long live the Queen and Prince Philip, then. I hope they can keep sparkling with their marriage, the longest for any reigning king or queen in the history of British and a symbol of devotion to their dominions.

via People

It was, in 1947, that rarest of unions: a royal love match. Just like mine with London, which took a piece of my heart and keeps it there. London calls and I have to respond: I'll go next week with Alice and stay a fortnight. A bit late for the Jubilee, but surely in time for restoring a sane nostalgia :)

Hermetic Poetry

I love translating poems I like on this blog, I really do. Translating is one of the most complicated jobs, because you have to help authors touch foreign readers the way they did with natives. Dealing with emotions is always challenging in itself. 

Italian hermeticism is obscure and difficult poetry, as of the Symbolist school, so it gets even more changeling because of the language and imagery that are subjective, and because the suggestive power of the sound of words is as important as their meaning. But Quasimodo is one of my favorites, I can't limit you with this joy to miss his little masterpieces of sophisticated style and abstruse symbolism.

So here I try ...

SUNKEN OBOE

Stingy pain, delay your gift
in this hour of mine
of whispered leave.

A cold oboe flutes
joy of perennal leaves,
not mine, and confuses;

It is evening in me:
the water goes down
on my grassy hands.

Wings oscillate in a dim sky,
labile: the heart migrates
and I feel rough,

and the days are a ruin.


IMITATION OF JOY

Where the trees still
make the nigh more abandoned,
the indolent last last step you took vanished
and it appears when the flower
limes and insists on its fate.

One reason for looking for affection,
experiencing silence in your life.

Another adventure reveals
this mirrored time. It mourns
like death, like beauty now
lightning in other faces.
I have lost every innocent thing,
even in this voice, surviving
to imitate joy.

ALLEY

Sometimes your voice calls me
and I forget that skies and waters
wake up in me:

a network of sunlight reflects
on your walls that were in the evening
a swing of lamps
late in the workshops
full of wind and sadness.

In another time: a frame pounding in backyard
and a cry was heard in the night
of puppies and children.

Alley: a cross of houses
that are called floor
and they do not know who is afraid
of being alone in the dark.

And then, my favorite: 

And then my favorite of all: 

MIRROR

And here on the trunk
the gems break:
a green newer than the grass
that rests the heart:
the trunk looked already dead,
folded on the ditch.
And everything sounds like miracle;
and I am that cloudy water
that reflects in bluer its piece of sky,
that green that breaks the zest
that even tonight was not there.

 

Cultural Afternoon

Hey! I haven't disappeared, I've actually got at least a dozen drafts ready to be published, but for some reason I can't manage to create coherence for any of them. Too much creativity and distraction, too many ideas and very limited time to sit down and write. Before the situation turns into a serious writer's block, let me blog about the beautiful afternoon Ali and I had last Monday. 

With all her chores and social life, having her all for myself is more like a treat these days. I want to hope I won't have to book an appointment later when she turns into a busy teen LOL She also wants to know what we'll do and where we'll go now. Long were the days when it was just me to decide, whereas today it's all about objecting, inquiring and sometimes giving generous okays. Welcome to the life of a liberal parent!

Fortunately she loves art, so she had no objections when I proposed to view an exhibition. There's this Disclosed Horizon one on at the Salone degli Incanti here in Trieste until May that I wanted to see, partly because of my passion for everything Slovene (and the exhibition is a collections of paintings of various Slovenian artists who were active in the first half of the 20th century) and also because I try not to miss anything about this city's cultural life.

With my great pleasure, Alice appreciated the paintings a lot and even left an enthusiast comment on their Guestbook, with that handwriting that is getting more and more like her as months go by. 

These artists (Milko Bambič, Jože Cesar, Avgust Černigoj, Bogdan Grom, Robert Hlavaty, Avrelij Lukežič, Lojze Spacal and Rudolf Saksida) were influenced by post-impressionists, folk arts and symbolism and they continued to work with a certain degree of impressionism. It was nice to get to know how constructivism, futurism and surrealism were prevalent in their artsy paths and the way they developped their artistic expression under the influence of the European-wide avant-garde movement.

The focus of the exhibition is the close contacts these artists had with Italian artists, thus the title that generates it all. Disclosed Horizons, just like mine since I moved here to Trieste, borderline of these two diverse cultures. I feel lucky!

Man of the Year

One of the movies I watched this week was Les Intouchables and I adored it. I love French cinema in general, I find it so innovative in plots, brilliant in style and with a great humour as a base that never exceeds. Accidentally, this is the film that sold more in the last years and whose actor, Omar Sy, won Les Cesars as Best Performing Actor.

There must be a reason if they let The Artist star and Big Oscar Winner Jean Dujardin out at the 37th annual César ceremony in Paris. Omar was preferred and with every reason. His acting in this film was extremely portentous, plus he's funny and talented (and, hell, extremely sexy.) He has a new fan now :)

via mymovies

The Award is the highest honor in France, the equivalent of American Oscars. Plus, Omar made history, as he was the first black actor to win it since the ceremony debuted back in 1976.

Now, seriously, this guy rocks. Watch by yourself in the speech he gave. He's so alive and charmant! :)

I highly recommend Les Intouchables. Behind Omar's sensational acting there's a great plot (based on a true story, by the way), which will lead you to explore unwanted zones of illness and friendship. Then come here and share your opinions with me. I'll be glad.

Battling Euphemisms

Guglielmo Oberdan was an Italian irredentist who attempted to kill Austrian Emperor Francis Joseph on his visit to Trieste for the 500th anniversary of the city under the Habsburg kingdom. He failed, but two innocents died, thus he was executed in the central square that carries his name. Just before the execution he cried 'Viva l'Italia!' (Long Live Italy!) and became a martyr of Italian Unification.

Pino Robusti wasn't a partisan but he was killed all the same, arrested and later burnt in the crematory facility down under. He was 22 and was waiting for his girlfriend Laura in Oberdan Square on a sunny Spring day of 1945. They never met because the moment the girl stepped off the streetcar, police arrested the guy. He wasn't working and the fact seemed strange, even if he legally was on a day off from forced slavery work at Todt Organisation. He had to be working and was killed because of that.  

Laura never saw him again. She only got a letter from him, one of the most innocent, powerful, true love letters ever written. 

"It feels weird that, while writing to you, in a few hours I'll be shoot to death. I feel calm, barely glad. The only thing that hurts is I couldn't enjoy you as I wanted to, the only and most desired reward of my youth years (...) Goodbye, my adored Laura, I'm going towards the unknown, the glory and the abyss. Be strong, generous, inflexible. Goodbye. Pino."
From his real letter exposed at the Risiera Museum. 

Cantico dei Cantici sculpture in Oberdan square

Marcello Mascherini probably had Pino and Laura in mind while creating this statue that was placed in the infamous square. It stands there, covered by Spring blooming trees, utterly slim and utterly tall, to commemorate the horrible events. You need to have a good eye to catch it, it easily camouflages with the pompuous renaissance style of the other buildings. And it's so so different from the usual sontuous dead people monuments 

You know, Trieste is a city that never ceases to fascinate me, because every building hides a fact, every statue means a legend and in every corner or street something happened. Its story is so complex and so full of obscure and obliterated chapters, that maybe it's a reason why people are so eager to populate bars and enjoy life. Because their past is full of tragic and complicated aspects.

Since I live here I can't separate the beauty of this place with its intricate history, so I had to visit THE place where Pino was killed. It takes you a long corridor to arrive, where footsteps echo makes the place even more sinister. Its walls are so high that even the blindest light fail to illuminate the way. It's the entrance to a national museum, which gives honour and respect to many victims today, but that was a gateway to hell for many people. It takes to the only death camp Nazi had in Italy.

Built in 1913 as a rice-husking facility (hence the former name that hides the shame, Risiera di San Sabba), during the Nazi occupation it became an efficient prison where to keep political dissidents of the regime and Jewish people, who were sorted out to be deported to Auschwitz. The premise also had crematory facilities. It's where Pino was imprisoned and burnt. It's the peculiar killing camp of ideas, not necessarily tied to the madness of Nazi racial doctrine.

The only photo I dared to take, from the cells room.

There never were official statistics about the number of people exterminated here (though it's calculated around 5000 victims). Germans were efficient in destroying records and Post-War Italy did very little to aknowledge and even commemorate the events. The Risiera was declared National Monument only in 1965 and still today, complicity of the locals make it difficult for tourists to reach and even know about the place for those who are unaware. It's like they're doing their best to avoid involvment in the holocaust.

Which isn't true, because we had our part in the horrors instead. I hate recalling this, but we were a puppet state of Nazi Germany. Benito Mussolini was largely dependant on them to maintain control, especially in areas like Friuli Venezia Giulia were partisans were very active and Slovene irredentism was causing trouble since the brutal italinisation of Istria started when fascism started to spread.

The dependance became even more inevitable when German Army liberated Mussolini, an action which helped him to build The Salo Republic. And as a sign of gratitude, territories that once belonged to Austria were given to Germany, so Trieste, Udine and Fiume, with their hinterlands, were abandoned to their destiny. And while Marshall Badoglio secretly began negotiations with the Alley to let Italy capitulate, we persecuted Jews and repressed partisans. And once these large portions of land were under the Nazi control, they immediately started up a detention and death camp, using an abandoned rice facility here in Trieste.

I was silent and watchful while I visited THE place. I felt like I could be caught any moment. When I arrived near the perimeter where the furnace was, I was attracted by the contrast that the red brick of the structure creates with the cobalt sky. I kept looking up, thinking of those swalloed bodies, people on their back who watched the sky for their very last time. I wanted to scream. I turned instinctively to the 'death chamber' instead. It's spacious and wide. There was enough room to cry.

Next, one after the other, the tiny cells with uncomfortable wooden bunk beds. Reluctantly, I forced myself to go. There are bars on the window. I snapped the only picture of my visit, an overview of the courtyard from behind the bars, the view that prisoners enjoyed during the one hour of exercise per day granted to them. I did not know what else to photograph to document the terror. The writings on the humid walls are enough to testify the shame. There's something horrible in these personal effigy's tombstones.

When I realized there was nothing more for me to witness, I took out my notebook and started to take note of all the possible sentences to document. The exhibit hall includes documents, letters, drawings, photos but, most of all, includes the smell of death. That's where I copied extracts of Pino's letter to Laura. I was alone and I felt the exact shivering terror of when I'm alone in empty churches. The documents distracted me. The thought of what to witness and then write about my visit kept me sane. 

"Goodbye Mom! Goodbye sisters! I'll be shoot tomorrow." Chilling like that. 


Roberto Benigni did a fantastic job in presenting a vision of the Italian humanity during the Holocaust experience, away from the violence perpetrated by others. His film Life is Beautiful perpetuated a stereotype of good Italians compared to violece used by others, and this costed him the claim to compromise historical horror, giving a feeling of Italian extraneity to the fact. To many it sounded like his sentimental optimism protects us, just like the Risiera signs. With all my respect and admiration for Benigni, I find it difficult to understand why he should chose such a theme for his humour. The holocaust was a tragedy without equals and I'm with those who find not nice at all the way how Guido was trying to protect his child from such atrocities.

All you need is a visit to the Risiera and you'll realize how we had our dose of racism too. There were anti-semitic laws in Italy, promulgated in 1938. We had our 'No dogs or Jewes allowed' discriminatory signs and Mussolini was guilty of crimes. The fact many Italian Jews survived the Holocaust helped us  avoid censure for involvment in the persecutions, yet fascist policies and attitudes had a devastating effect on Jews community here. In the case of Trieste, by May 1945 only 10% of the city's prewar Jewish population remained there.

The euphemism of the Risiera isn't the only tragic event we tried to obliterate. When Italy surrended, Tito was doing his best to anticipate the alleys and take possess of the territory. New Zealanders arrived and couldn't help much. Yugoslavs took revenge on Fascists, who had largely imposed brutal italianisation of Yugoslav population in the new territories annexed to Italy after the Absburgic end of kingdom, starting a massacre through foibes and then repressing and humiliating Italians in Istria and Dalmatia, one of the most terrible events of our history.

In those 60 days of Yugoslav occupation it's calculated that many people died, buried still alive and still we obliterated the facts. No single history book mentions about it. We had to wait for 60 years and a brave politician who was trying to run for prime minter to finally commemorate the victims. Isn't this a shame? Primo Levi said that "if we die silently like our enemies want, the world will never know what the man was and is still capable of is capable of." So why being silent?


The least I can do is being firm in my principles and scream the truth from this blog. So, when you come to Trieste, plan a visit to the lager in San Sabba. And remember, it's called Risiera (rice-facility). Ask locals once in the area, because signs don't help. Good luck.

PS:
I started this article a few months ago but found a way to finish it only a few days ago, inspired by the statue i photographed in Piazza Oberdan. Then I waited until today to post it, because Pino was killed on April 5 and I wanted to pay a tribute to him. I hope you appreciate.

People with Talent

Welcome to the rubric of mine where I spot interesting people and am lucky enough to interview them. The photo course I'm taking gives me the chance to meet so many talented people. One of the firsts I came across was Marco, one of the instructors of my group.

He recently got his Masters Degree in Naval Engineering here in Trieste and is now approaching his Doctorate. In the meantime, he keeps mentoring students development each step of the way at the Circolo Triestino, whose is an enthusiast member. 

What impressed me about this guy was is competence in camera knowing. Then, the fact he had a lot of hands-on time during our outings. His later acute critiques and commentary to our assignments made me brave enough to want to know him better. He's got me so intrigued.

Let's read what he has to say and share about his passion. I'm honoured to have him on my blog and if you enjoy the interview, let me know.

1. Hi Marco, tell us something about yourself. 

Well, I'm a 26-year-old Marine Engineer with a great passion for photography, Classical Music (especially Mozart and Beethoven) and History. Besides, over the years I became very keen on the English language and the culture behind it, which has prompted me to visit Britain many times, thus providing me with plenty of inspiration for my photography. I occasionally help some kids with Mathematics and Physics to earn a little money that I then mostly spend on photo equipment.

2. The first question is a must: how did you come across photography?

When I was 9, my parents bought me a 35 mm-point-and-shoot camera that I used for some years, until I became curious about my dad's reflex (he had a Nikon F3 at the time). So, when I finished Secondary School with distinction, I got a Nikon F70 of my own as a present and with that, I guess I built most of my photographic culture on my own.

3. Are there any experiences that influenced your approach to your artistic activity?

Strange as it may seem, I never attended a photography course, nor did I have any particular experience that influenced my early years as a photographer. After my father taught me the basics, I guess I built most of my photographic culture on my own.

4. Helmut Newton says taht "the desire to discover, the wish to move and the taste to capture are the three concepts that reassume the art of photography". What is your philosophy of photography?

For many years, photography has been for me mainly a mean to capture snapshots of the places I visited, thus sometimes resulting in somewhat postcard-like results. I'd say that, over the last 5-7 years, my approach has gradually changed towards a more personal approach, yet remaining a way of bringing something back home to remember the places I've been to.

5. What are your favorite things to photograph?

Architecture, animals and flowers.

6. What photographic equipment do you normally use?

I own a Nikon D700, my old F70 (which I have kept), two old rather cheap lenses (a 28-80 and a 80-200 mm), a fabulous 105 mm f. 2/8 Macro lens and a superb, incredibly sharp 24-70 mm f. 2/8; I use a tripod when the necessity arises. Oh, and sometimes I borrow my dad's 70-300 mm lens for some extremely long shots.

7. Is there a photo you're particularly attached to? And why?

There is. When I visited Tuscany in 2003, I spotted a small grove of cypresses alongside the via Cassia, near a village called 'San Quirico d'Orcia' and casually I took a shot, but without much confidence. The result was impressive and for this particular picture I was even awarded a prize in a photographic competition held at school the following year.

8. Does the eye with which you capture the world change depending on the subject, or do all of your photos reflect your personal vision?

Yes, and it's probably not a good thing. Many photographers can find inspiration also in desolate, dilapidated subjects, while I can't. Likewise, the weather tends to deeply affect my vision of the world through my viewfinder, therefore I love taking pictures on sunny days, but I often find it difficult to get good results on rainy days and it's almost impossible for me to take a decent shot on cloudy, white-skied days. That is when I find trustworthy ally in HDR photography.

9. Do you do much editing?

Not much: just some minor cropping and saturation/white balance adjustments. This is partially due to my poor knowledge of Photoshop. I occasionally do some HDR.

10. If you had to photograph a celebrity, whom would you choose?

This is a tough question. I would say a famous orchestra conductor.

11. What do you capture better and what would you like to improve?

Flowers and architecture are okay, but I still have to improve landscape and animal photography, as well as night and low-light photography.

12. Which photographers of the past, or still alive, have influenced the way you photograph? And whom do you admire in particular?

Unfortunately, my knowledge about photographers of the past is rather limited. Anyway, I have recently come across pictures by Jim Brandenburg, an American nature photographer who has worked for National Geographic for over 30 years and I found his work particularly inspiring. I also saw some extraordinary shots by Dr. Mike Maloney, an English photographer, who has recently had the privilege of being allowed to produce a photo report about the British Houses of Parliament.

13. Which books and magazines published your images? And where can we view your photos?

The previosuly mentioned picture of the cypresses was published in a book called "Gran Tour delle colline" some years ago. So far, no other shots have been published. You can view my pictures at my Flickr photostream (please note that this page also contains several images of my father and that almost all captions were written by him, so please don't hold me responsible for any mistake ...)

14. Woud you like to choose a shot from your portfolio and tell us 'what is behind' it?

Of course. When I was in Provence, back in 2006,  I visited a small village called 'Le Grau du Roi' and I spotted a young lady reading a book on a quay with her bike lying on some rocks next to her. The light was just perfect, as it formed a beautiful reflection on the surface of the sea. But, as I discreetely approached to take the shot, a cloud obscured the sun. Well, I was so determined to capture that image, that I waited for a good half an hour until the sun finally shone again and I could carry on with my intent.

One more? When I was in London in December 2010 I was wandering around St. James' Park when I spotted as quirrel that had just dug a piece of an orange out and was eating it and I stopped to take a picture of it. Suddenly a hooded crow landed nearby and tried to steal the food from the squirrel, only to be mercilessly beaten up by the angry rodent.

15. Finally, leave a thought or some advice to those approaching the world of photography today. 

Don't approach photography with the idea that "It's' digital, therefore I can take random shots and then edit them later".  Photo editing is great, but it works on a garbage-in-garbage-out basis: if the input is lousy, you'll never have a first-class output.

Thanks, Marco, for being with us today. Wishing you luck in your career and keep shooting, constantly experimenting and loving life!

Mouth-to-Mouth

source

It looks like a kiss between mom and baby but it isn't. It's pre chewed feeding. I had no idea premastication was common around the world. Thanks to Alicia Silverstone I know now. I googled it and seems like there're more pros than cons in it. But well, I can't even imagine all the bacteria spread through saliva and, more precisely, my daughter attacking me like a little vampire every time I eat.

What's wrong with regular feeding? I don't know, I'm more worried for the psychological consequences implied than for the practice itself. What kind of an adult will this pre chewed baby be? Please help me understand this right because I'm open minded and liberal enough but this photo puzzled me this morning!

The Blogging Experience

I never fit in the New Year euphoria to make resolutions, try to change your life or attempt things that most of the time remain in the list. Not that I'm totally immune. In the past I made lists too but always staying away from balances. I believe we're here on this world trying to live at our best possible conditions, no matter what. I'm personally always here wearing my armor and battling life and that is sufficient to me. Because at the end of the day what counts more for me is being able to stand up on my own without fearing to look anyone in the face. Dignity is my priority. And I say this with a rotten heart since it's my dad's best teaching I got but in the worst lesson ever. He's a chronic liar and a compulsive gambler. I'm sure these two faults are strongly related, but well, you get the picture.

My little resolutions revolve around my hobbies. I want to finally end those photobooks, attempt to create my own portfolio different from the one in Flickr, translate my book in English. This is a huge task because it means lots of editing and cuts but I feel it must be done. I also want to (maintain my current weight and) take better photos. It's all up to me. I've got objective, realist goals. I can make it without stressing.

And of course I want this blog to go on. Last December, while organizing a rubrics section, I realized how it matured a lot through the months but it always concentrates on a few favorite subjects of mines. I'll leave it like that and maybe add a Digital Photography page as long as my skills will improve with the course I'm about to enroll in. The most important aspect of this blogging experience is that it helps me discover new people and facts. It's my personal way to nurture and improve my own culture.

I came across two important personalities last year, while researching here and there for my posts,  each of them unique in their own brilliant way and concentrated on helping peope during their memorable lives: George Whitman and Simon Wiesenthal. Whitman gave special privileges to writers. Proprietor of the legendary bookstore Shakespeare and Co. in Paris, he always put people, culture and books before money in what he defines his 'bussines of life'. Wiesenthal spent his life hunting nazi criminals instead, and gave justice to million of victims of the Holocaust. 

2012 started with another great discovery, the ritual of pignarul, a propitiatory bonfire set up in Northern East Italy villages on the night of January 5, before Epiphany day (January 6). It's the ancient tradition  of burning the old year away.

The main one is in Tarcento. Here people walk up Coja hill where a huge bonfire, Pignarûl Grant, or Great Bonfire, made of branches of pine, sheaves of corn, is lighted up by The Venerable Old Man (Vecchio Venerando) and is the signal for all the other minor bonfires around the area to be lit as well. 

While the fire burns people sing folk songs and try to figure out which way will the smoke go, a way to predict the fortunes of the region in the coming year: smoke blowing east predicts a year of abundance while smoke blowing west is a bad omen for the crops.

"Se il fum al va a soreli a mont, cjape il sac e va pal mont, se il fum invezit al va de bande di soreli jevât, cjape il sac e va al marcjât." Old saying in Friulan language that means "If the smoke goes west, take your bag and go for the world [emigrate in search of work], but if the smoke goes east, take your sack and go to the market.

We never knew which direction the wind went because it was far too windy and the bonfire lit was postponed for preventing to burn people and cause accidents. Too bad. But the visit to Tarcento was an occasion to watch the medieval parade and events that usually accompany the Pignarul moment, find out local crafts and enjoy some more cool markets and late Christmas atmosphere, before Epiphany arrives and takes all feasts away (it's on January 6 that we usually take down Christmas decorations.)

It was particularly lovely to admire the different dolls of our peculiar Befana. I loved this day and worried over many nights wondering if I'd find coal in my sock. Yes, because a limp of coal is what you got from our old lady if you'd been naughty. My sock was always filled with chocolates and candies instead, and a toy.  

Befana, fine and wise old crone,

Bless the doorway of my home, 

Watch as winter passes by, 

Come as maid when spring is nigh.

My daughter excitedly awaits the arrival of La Befana too.

After these years in the depth of this blogging process of mine, I'm still enthusiast about its growing prospects. I aim to produce higher quality posts and keep growing as a writer. And I hope you'll keep following me in this path. I'ts important to me because your views discipline me and push me to think.

A huge thank you again to my regular readers, then; a warm welcome to my new ones and many happy returns to the occasional folks out there. Thanks for being my daily thrill!

A billionaire for my blog

Succesful enterpreneurs have become our society heros. In times of recession and poor opportunities, they are the solitary crusaders who see a small potential and start a business, taking risks and challenges in the process, pushing their limits and testing themselves until they are rewarded with lots of benefits.

These men who think everything is possible and never give up are an endless source of inspiration for those who are venturing out and starting their own business. Thus explains the success of some of their strategy memoir books, where they explain the struggling journey they went through to become succesful people. 

Mark Cuban's How to win at the sport of business popped up on the bestseller lists and at the top of all business books. This NBA-champion franchise owner and media-business entrepreneur who slept on the floor with 6 people and lived on Cheese Macs before making it is also extraordinary for his own promotional campaign to his ebook. 

When I was asked to host the interview he gave to lucky Jeff Rivera, best selling author himself, I didn't need to think any further and accepted straight away. It's a honour for me, so thank you both Mark and Jeff for giving this opportunity to me.

There are many mummies out there that dream of creating their own business but haven't a clue where to start. What advice do you have for them?

Find something you love to do, can do on your own and doesn't require any more capital that you can afford or lose personally. The most valuable asset you have is your time, talents and ability to communicate. Focus on those strenght and what you can do rather than what you can't do.

There are many young moms who are just beginning and can relate to you when you said you were sharing a small apartment with six people and sleeping on the floors. How can someone keep their eye on the prize when they're living on Ramen noodles?

Who cares how you are living today? I loved every minute of living in that dump. The low rent and utilities and eating Mac and Cheese all the time allowed me to afford the startup of my business. Instead of paying myself much, I could put it in to my business.

One part in your book I loved and my heart sank at is when your fiance lost your $7,500 engagement ring. What's your advice for those who are distracted by a relationship? How do you balance a real life with your dreams?

I never was able to balance. Each person has to make their own decisions. But remember, your competitors aren't sitting by idly waiting for you to have a nice dinner with your significant other. They are trying to kick your ass. So, choose wisely.

You encourage entrepreneurs not to hire a public relations, Mark. How did you get the word out about your eBook?

I tweeted, posted on Facebook, (used) Google Plus and responded to emails. Nothing more.

Where can we get a copy of your eBook, How to Win at the Sport of Business?

Anywhere eBooks are sold: Amazon, BN.com and sited that support independent bookstores too.

As a thank you gift, Mark Cuban offered me two Landmark movie tickets to HDNet Movies Kid Scene to give away to you. Let me know if you'd like a chance to win these tickets!

A nice surprise

Hello, world!

This is not a fashion blog and I'm not interested in Pippa Middleton's urban runaways. She became more popular than Kate after her royal wedding and is now a fashion icon. But what I saw her wearing today while being regulary followed during her usual errands in London put a smile on my face.

Spotted on People

I love this bundled-up ensemble and I never thought my same scarf could match with those colors so well. Just Lovely! Good job here, Miss Middleton. And you also reminded me something more important today: "Judgements prevent us from seeing the good that lies beyond appearances." (Wayne Dyer)

I've always thought this girl wasn't all about 'derrier' only! :)

L'Americana

This week the news includes the unusual warm debut of autumn we're having (no falling leaves for us here yet, just African temperature and lots of sunshine in what is like a prolonged Italian summer) and the usual government scandals. The list of women our local Casanova Prime Minister slept with reaches 131 presences. Its publication made some young ladies pretty angry because they didn't like seeing their names at the bottom of the list. They probably had no idea the list was casual, which gives you an idea about the level of aspired fame in the Bunga Bunga country. 

But much of the coverage revolves around Amanda Knox's case. Four years after the brutal murder of her British roommate Meredith Kercher, for whom Amanda, her boyfriend of the time Raffaele and  Ivorian friend Guede were found guilty and sentenced to  26, 25 and 30 years (cut to 16 years on appeals) in jail respectively, the court accepted to revise the case due to its complexity. Today there were the final arguments and a new verdict is expected on Monday. Amanda and Raffaele could be set free because of a review of forensic tests. 

In the U.S. there seems to be a cinematic obsession with this story. Frankly, it's perfect for a film, almost a remake of the movie 'Midnight Express'. Just like American Billy Hayes, who was imprisoned in Turkey for 5 years for hashish possession, Amanda was wrongly accused of murder and is now imprisoned in Perugia. Once again, the good (America) against the evil (Europe),  efficiency against  awry Italian law.

source

The court wouldn't have accepted to look at this case with a fresh eye if it had been as corrupt as everybody claims. It's true, we've our flaws here, and I'm the first one to lucidily point at them in this blog, but there were too many disturbing aspects in this controversial trial. The court sentenced these people based on the evidence provided by attorneys, who ensured a fair trial and provided with a quality and ethical defense. The fact the court gave these guys a second chance at freedom means they want to look at the case with a fresh eye, which is a positive, civil sign to me. Now that the final arguments are over, I hope the jurors have all the elements to come to a decision. I read what experts say,  it's very rare that one sentence would contradict a definite sentence, but you never know. 

I don't have my own opinion. I didn't follow the case in detail. Too many countries are involved (Usa, UK and Italy) and each one has his own way of looking at it. America defends its student, Britain wants justice for the victim and Italy is keen on wanting to show justice is regular here, in the country where the facts happened. All have reasons but none seems fairly complete to me. Nobody can establish if Meredith was killed because of her criticism of Amanda's sloppy housekeeping skills and her habit to bring men in the apartment they shared, by a trouble Ivorian or if she ended up victim of an extreme sexy game. I only hope jurors wont' be influenced by any of the partial versions and will merely look at facts with their own eyes. 

It's my sincere hope for Meredith in the first place. I don't care about Amanda. If she'll be set free, she is already in the spotlight, she'll find a way to survive with all the interviews to tabloids and books and films that will follow about her dramatic experience. But Meredith can't see the sun anymore because her exchange term in Italy costed her a life. Amanda and Raffaele studied, Raffaele earned his degree and she learned Italian, she's pretty fluent in it now. They weren't brutally treated like Billy in that Turkish prison. They were all properly nurtured. Meredith can't do these things anymore.

And I also wonder: do American students still want to study in Italy now? Like Sophie Egan wrote, "This country has far too much to offer for me to let an incident like this tarnish my experience." I can only add: come here, it's still safe. We don't condemn all innocent students in medieval prisons. And even if we do, we serve them pizza margherita weekly :)))  La vita è bella here!

Rocking family

The Stefani-Rossdales ... I believe they are the coolest, happiest and more beautiful family in Hollywood. I just love looking at them. They make me happy.

PS: All photos are from People

It’s very rare for a person to have work, love and family life all be going with flying colors. Bows to them! (And by the way, Gavin is utterly handsome!)

Genesis of a mortal

I feel like a zombie these days. A bad fixed tooth generated a monstrous infection that forced me on antibiotics. The mouthwash that goes with it is disgusting, still I feel this urge to put anything in my mouth, because on Monday I'll start dieting and I don't want to miss a thing. Very Elda's style. I can't believe what a self-destructive moron I can be sometimes. Like when I know caffeine keeps me going and I still drink Coke or Cappuccino late in the afternoon. It must be my mother's genes.

It's when I feel all messed up like this that I listen to Dimmelo te obsessively. It's so energy radiating, fast-paced rock, psychedelic at times, compelling and so sarcastically interpreted that it motivates you to send the whole world fuck itself. Oh yes, exactly! Vasco Rossi's music is perfect for this purpose. It's so free of cliches and obligations that you feel a great dose of liberation each time. 

via Wiki

Il Blasco is someone I discovered later in his career, when his middle life crisis was more important than a lifetime of fame. It's the rockstar who comes to terms with his life who touched me and drove me to forget the voice of a wild generation and concentrate on his weakness. Because in the recent years he started to send different messages, the ones of a person who thinks life is a bitch and had to find way to deal with it, no matter what. It's then that I started to watch his videos, read his lyrics, make researches. It's then that I discovered the romantic guy emerging from all those guitars ponding like hell and amplifiers to the max of his shows.

I found out he's a honest person. His mother was right when she wrote a letter to the savage critics who had called his debuting son names like drug abuser, outrageous, jerk to name a few. The Italian musical scene was pretty polite and puritan early in the 80's when Vasco shocked it with his rockstar ways. "My son is honest, at least" she wrote "and I hope your wife and your sons can think the same about you". Fierce woman, she was. 

My journey to discover Mr Rossi had to be different. I've never been the type to identify with someone. As a teen I was pretty absorbed in books and no singer or band was enough substitute. I knew certain songs by heart, like everyone Italian out there, because some  are truly part of our musical common background. Siamo solo noi is a generation hymn, Vita spericolata is an anthem of an adventurous aspired life, Albachiara is his most famous hit. There is no school trip play list that doesn't include at least one of his songs. 

"And then we'll happen to meet at Roxy Bar, to get drunk like celebrities, or more probably we will never meet, each of us lost in his own trouble ..."

We were finally having our local superstar. But I couldn't like someone who made of racism his fortune. His song Colpa d'Alfredo may be the firt case of provocative slang in Italian musical scene. Still, I remain of the opinion that he could have invented something different to shock his audience and catch attention.

Also, there was that sad circumstance in which he insulted Southern fans. Okay, he was on drugs when he answered the shocked journalist (who had asked him why he did shows in Southern Italy if he disliked Southerners): "Why? Don't you use the toilet?" But he didn't fool me. Fans boycotted many of his shows, until they accepted his public excuses. Vasco sold out his first concert in the South after the scandal the minute he announced it. Everything went back on track. Not me. I immediately stopped listening to his music.

Today Mr Rossi is a concrete guy who accepts life the way it is now, tired of battles with his wind mills (because everyone has one to fight, let's face it) and ready to share his life experience with different, wiser eyes.

"You can not fly over the mountains, you can not go where you want to go. You know what? Everything is here, here you can only cry and in the end you don't even cry anymore."

I prefer the Vasco of today, the one who went back to his origins and is not afraid to show he's not flawless. You rock, Blasco. I know he retired, but I hope he'll keep blessing the world behind the scenes all the same. Long Live the King!