JAMBON DE BOEUF

Somewhere in between a violet-bodied yellow-footed mini-iguana and a bright yellow bird, I realised that I had made it all the way from Perugia to Dakar (with Alitalia - miracle??). Pausing only at Senegal's airport at 2 am local time to ponder going to Club Med rather than to the COP-3 POPS (ok, Third Conference of the Parties to the Stockholm Convention on Persitent Organic Pollutants).

After the dry pain au chocolat and soft baguette (tears), Melanie and I decided to take a walk down to the sea front, getting our arms grabbed and bums commented on by the locals.

Since, we have had a variety of team lunches - mostly at 4 pm - and a dinner last night looking over the seafront (lots of concrete buildings, half finished, mostly falling into the water, a bit like Calabria ;-). After overdosing on fish, I decided to try the Jambon de Boeuf - muslim country, so maybe it was not pork, but it certainly was not beef, so what on earth was it?!

Still alive, I am now very eager to get my teeth into this conference. We will be operating from a booth that takes a compass and scout skills to get to, and overlooks the conference hall. The office, on the other hand, is in the basement, several lift rides and flights of stairs up and down!

If you are lucky, you will get more updates from here. If not, I will bore you when I get back!!


Along the main road between our hotel (La Detente) and the conference venue (Le Meridien)


Trying Castel and La Gazelle beer (quality vs quantity)

HAPPY EARTH DAY!

http://www.earthday.net/

EXPLOSION OF COLOUR

BEFORE & AFTER ... and much more

So I located the chocolate.

So I went beserk.

So I am now full of spots.

So that should not hurt!


Before and after being in the sun (yep, ate the melted one too!!)


Before and after being eaten by wolves.


We trekked like crazy to contain calorie storage induced by chocolate. But little did we know that the elements would be out against us en force and that we would get dramatically lost every single time we left the hotel...

On the first day, in Norcia, we could not even manage to locate the tourist information centre or the Casa del Parco - the main national parks office. It had been moved and not even the Police knew where to send us.

When we found a board indicated a loop walk around town, we decided to go for it, believing (foolishly) that there would be signs all the way.

By the third junction, and still on the main road, we decided to do it the Italian way and get back in the car and go for a drive...


Viva il Terremoto. Totally redone and lovely too. Cresci was our first stop. Then we went on to Presci and visited a few other nice little villages. The Monte Sibillini National Park is full of roads but has great views and stunning landscapes.

On day two, we go so totally lost that we ended up having to scramble up some woody mountain in an attempt to find Pian Grande (which, as its name indicates, is supposed to be pretty big...)


Singing in the rain over Pian Grande.



VERGOGNA.

This is the Casa del Parco of Castelluccio di Norcia, one of the places people drive from miles to visit. The main parks office is basically a pile of rubbish. I am ashamed. National Parks should represent the best spots of a country...


After being hailstoned on the previous day, we decided to take the morning easy before going on another trek, so we visited Santa Rita of Cascia. An experience...


Brilliantly modern.

Then we went on another long hike which was supposed to take us on a loop round a mountain. We got to the top, enjoyed fantastic views, then tried to find our way round. We climbed and climbed and climbed. By 16.30, totally lost and completely sodden, we had to turn back and dash down the way we came, before dark.


Looking at map somewhere up some mountain.

Getting lost and wet enforced the feeling of being out of this world for 4 days. Rushes of adrenaline, smiles and endorphines all contributed to a great mini-break!

Now back in Cortona, Spring is here with its swallows and flowers.

VENERDI SANTO

Just before we all hit the streets in our kkk outfits to celebrate Easter, I wanted to post this picture of me, posing as the fierce estate agent. It was taken yesterday at the top of some hill in the heart of Umbria.

You will be pleased to know that my sense of direction is getting somewhat better and that I should therefore not have too much trouble locating chocolate over the weekend.

Enjoy the break!


"special price, special price, just a little problem with the internal structure of the house, but nothing worrying."

TORN BETWEEN

I am unsure if I should punch or bite the next door neighbour. Ok, she is related to the owner of the block and I should therefore tread carefully. On the other hand, she is amongst the most ignorant people I have ever met.

A few months back, she kicked the girl next door out as she wanted to keep the flat free for her occasional visits. Before her first visit, the daughter who lives downstairs took several days off work to clean the flat, have it painted, buy new beds and so on and so forth. I thought it was a bit over the top, but when the bell rang on the first night her mother arrived, I realised I was bitterly wrong.

As I opened the door, she stood there yelling that she could not tolerate the sight of my shoe rack in the corridor, who did I think I was to keep them out there, etc, etc, etc.

Calmly, I extended my arm and shook her hand, politely introducing myself and enquiring who she was.

That was the beginning of the Shoe Rack Saga. After she departed, one week later, I waited an extra week and put the rack out again, as I had told her I would.

Yesterday night, I came home (not in a particularly good mood) to find a note sitting atop my trainers.

What happened to interaction? How about a knock on the door to say hi? I would have removed them immediately. This way of doing things frustrates me.

With no shoe rack left to put my shoes on, I felt compelled to clomp around the flat in my boots... Ok, not nice, but it did make me feel marginally better!


and there it sat quietly at the end of the landing.


remove or i get removed?

UMBRIA'S EXPLODING UDDERS

Delving deeper and deeper into the joys of rural living is proportional to the amount of chicken pooh that coats my trouser legs.

Prize milk cows go on show with their udders so utterly tense that the veins bulge and the liquid seeps through the teats at every step.

Rabbits get so used to being at agricultural fairs that they sit on tables, unchained, totally relaxed about the thousands of people stroking their coats.

Intertwined horns are seen as a good thing on mountain goats.

Stands are expected to be staffed by females wearing mini-skirts and plunging necklines to make the male-dominated farmer public happy.

I am thrilled at the sight of piglets and then enjoy a pork sandwich.

Who has lost the plot?


Toilets to the left


Clearly the best stand in town!


Competing for best-looking farmer