HOW TO FALL OFF A DECKCHAIR WHEN AWAKE

Gioia somehow mastered the art of falling off the deckchair, and i don't mean getting tangled up between the wood and the fabric, I mean literally collapsing. She even managed to sit on the bedhead and flip that over... Needless to say that I was thankful she spent most of her time asleep in the same position!

In Montalto di Castro Marina, I had the great joy of meeting Manuel from Fautly Towers. He was the best waiter I have had in a long long time and came very near to running around the room with a chicken stuck to his foot. Shame I won't be returning to Maremma Mare (who came up with that name?!) anytime soon.


Tuscany looks like this at the moment. A little bit burnt out - like me?!


On the way there, we passed San Casciano dei Bagni - the place where the thermal baths are.

HELLO WORLD!

As I prepare to go to Montalto di Castro Marina on a minibreak with Gioia, I wanted to share with you that last night i nearly fell off my chair as Mr Walter Nudo walked by our table on Piazza Baldelli. You foreigners will not be familiar with this fellow's nude calendars - so you should go and google right now! Good job I was sitting there with Doctor Benjy Boodles and his future wife, so I had to behave (slightly) and not go running after him :)

After Gerard Depardieu and Dame Judy Dench, I am now starstruck!


That is WITH his kit on!!!

WHAT THE FRENCH HAVE OR LACK

The French have this thing with phallic symbols and Carte Bleu. It's surely all about frenchness. Everyone should have either or both. And that's it.

The average tourist is not French, but still has to brandish a Carte Bleu to pay for a RER ticket from the international airport to town -- mais non, you can also pay 8.40 Euro, in coins only, mais oui, a feasible option indeed if you are not travelling light (and you can "oublier" the visa/mastercard/amex).

On the first point, from stating the obvious (Tour Eiffel) to the more subtle (all the poles that line every single street in the capital), there is clearly a point that the Parisien are trying to make, and I am not going to go back to the toilet dispensers mentioned earlier...

(...)

Excitement for the day:

I walked on a gherkin...

here is the team - during team dinner on Saturday, at Le Reconfort (ohhh how appropriate) on Rue Poitou, dans le 3eme!


Nicole and Stefan.


Reem and Anders.


A view of Paris - from the Centre Pompidou.


Angeles and Xenya.

UN ATTACCO DI...

Panico?
Fame?
Muffa?

... and you get ten points if you can figure out what I smell of.

I am currently impregnated all the way down to my undies. Even my socks honk of mold rather than sweaty feet (too cold to sweat). But the French have taken their obsession with bleu de bresse one step too far. From the chairs to the curtains, the plenary to the toilet, there is no escaping, UNESCO is rotting and I am with it.

The highlight of this morning was sitting on a soggy chair in the conference room. I am now wondering if one of the delegates relaxed so much that their bladder gave way.

Maybe today I reek of mold and urine combined?!


Paris as seen on the way back from the conference. Pic taken by Anders!

LA BANLIEUE C'EST PAS ROSE!!

And in fact the whole of Paris is rather grey and drizzly... so we had to FORCE ourselves to do the sales!!

After that, the twelfth meeting of the Subsidiary Body on Scientific, Technical and Technological Advice (SBSTTA 12) to the Convention on Biological Diversity (CBD) -- che?! -- started and I have since been wondering why the French prefer to have no soap (or dense liquid stuff coming from the hot tap) but plenty of condom vending machines in the toilets, and hot chocolate in lieu of cappuccino in the drinks machine?!

Sais pas moi...



Gangsters at the metro exit.


France Telecom antenna.


The girls with some French woman.

A FLUFF REVOLUTION

Mr Star looked at the moon and knew the solstice was near
Luna came out of her kennel and let her coat shine under the night sky
Together they eloped without turning back
Together they returned happy and relaxed

Some two months later, three puppies are born

Want one?!


Mr Star brings back pigeons as presents.


Luna with her three puppies back inside her kennel

LA BELLA STAGIONE

The Romans built the Strada Basolata that snakes its way up and down Italy from the capital. A segment of that amazing road branches off behind Cortona whilst another intersection takes it over to Mercatale, where the estate agent's office is.

On Sunday, whilst the main square was buzzing with tourists (mainly Americans), the Basolata was amazingly quiet, with only a scattering of butterflies and flowers.


Spies planted microphones along the way.


But we had out own radio controlled device.


Ok, it was over 35degrees, not the best temperature for a walk, so we eventually retreated to Casa Alessandra for a dip in the pool.


An this is an artichoke!!

MADRID

Our Sevillian spring mini-break mutated into a long weekend in Madrid. First we bounced around Fiumicino long-stay car park and had to pay 18 euro for a 6 minute stay (anything over 5 madame - if you know someone that works there, please strangle them for me). Then we dashed around the tarmac and over the sea to Spain. Tapas, canas, chorizo, serrano, many many gay prostitutes later, we celebrated Real Madrid winning the league - in a town that really did not seem that bothered. Yes, there were a few people hanging from traffic lights and David Beckham was there with his kiddies, but no, there was nothing like an Italian frenzy. Chanting "campeones, campeones" (Fabio CapeLo and Cannavaro were there, so we were allowed) we made it back through the most beautiful airport I have seen in a long while. Viva Espana!

WHAT FOOTBALL IS ABOUT...


and the easy answer to that question is food. lots and lots of food. complemented by even more drink.


its also about being totally stupid and publishing pictures you would prefer the world not to see...


I also have the suspicion it is about... men being boys?!


finally, its all about sticking together, for better and for worse, especially when wearing stripy shirts.

(these were all tributes to the last dinner of the season at the Locanda della Mercanzia and to the post-last-match-pizza at the Pellicano pub)

SAUSAGES NEVER COME ALONE

They usually come hand in hand with birthdays - and on this instance it was mine!!

So on the place of the kill, where Hannibal got rid of thousands of Romans, we lit a fire, grilled meat and scattered more bones.

Then we played football against the local saints and danced until the rain threatened to make the ipod explode.

I would say that we kicked off the bbq season in style!





BBQ car - portable always and easy to ignite


George W would have been proud of our attempts to "smoke'em out"


The No Dribble competition took place at 4pm


Someone got very spoilt this year and now has a groovy new camera!

UN MAGNUM, UNE JOURNEE CAVES OUVERTES ET UNE CENTAINE DE ROBES

Trop retro, mal coupe, trop serre, mauvaise couleur... Pas de robe pour Cynthia.

De jolies larmes, un reflet de transparence, une odeur fruitee, un apres-gout tannique... Beaucoup de vin pour la valise de Laurent.

Le weekend de la Pentecote a coule au rythme balance d une riviere de commentaires. On a rigole, on a couru, on a flane et on en a surtout profite.

C est pas tous les jours que la Cinzia et Lorenzo nous accompagnent dans notre vie cortonaise, dans les meandres de la plus vieille cave de Montepulciano ou au concert de Blues d un Amerloc defraichi, et on espere deja que ce sera partie remise bientot!!


Gemelli?! Or is it that Cortona really is "gay-friendly"


Cristian gagne le concours de bulles haut la main!


Moris et Morisette, les expertes de vin mendatees par le Guide Michelin (ou etais-ce Marie Claire UK??)


Non, Lorenzo n'etait plus tres frais, mais que dire de Cynthia?!


Le trio dans un nuage de fumee cree par notre pote (droite) a Camucia.

EMILIA ROMAGNA, CHIANTI, TOSCANA

The mercury hit the 30+ mark and we headed off on a shaded walk that ended up being completely in the sun... 10 minutes down the line, Fox had made himself a leafy crown that he refused to remove until we got to the other side of the hill, some 40 minutes later. Mate and I sweated it out and were rewarded as we got back by yet another G&T!

The following day, the whole of Cortona consipred to be lovely about/to me, giving us discounts on everything and eventually rewarding Rita with a free pashmina! They must have realised she deserved it, having survived my famous Long-Cortona-Tour.


What a pair!!


Lunchtime rest before the big walk.


Two locals or Rene and Fox?

MATRIMONIO - RELAXXXXXX

Somewhere along the line upcoming singer Mika got involved with the wedding of my cousin Daniela (younger and blonder) to Giuseppe (a lot more patient and involved with mozzarella di buffala makers), and so all of the foreign Pasini clan spent most of the evening yelling "relax, take it easy" and pranzing around JA as if he was a camp fire (it was in fact his birthday).

Should I add that Roberto and Nathalie dashed into the church exactly 7 seconds before the bride?

Mum looked the best sporting her molto inglese hat, whilst Mr Fox boogied the night away.

Isa and the girls were as good as gold, although the shop assistant that got screamed at it English is now in rehab.



The groom and bride (no, really??) trying not to spill.



Toilet paper fashion?

Far too long for a blog

From Dakar to Toubab Dialao and back, plus too many hours in Milano Malpensa

A few of the questions Mel and I asked ourselves as we went through Dakar after the meeting, down to la Petite Cote to Toubab Dialao and back:

• Does this smell like urine? – everything did, from the couch to the corners.
• Is he taking a dump? – when the taxi driver performed some strange squat.
• Is that a cat in the air vent? – when a miauwing animal was hanging from the airport ceiling.
• How often do Senegalese men think about sex? – and the answer to that was simple. As often as possible, and at least once every second.

Beach at La Pointe des Almadies
The best of Dakar, upper class posh… and a dusty car park full of rubbish: the scene of our farewells as the others prepared to head back home.

Place de l Independence, with nothing on it. Even the flags were tatty. There were pictures of President Wade everywhere though… even on people’s t-shirts! We could not find the fabric with his face on it to buy by the meter; shame, would have looked lovely on the couch!

FLASH BACKS:


A reminder that COPs can be fun:
Head of the Australian delegation, Lee Eeles demonstrating that silly things (the duck's nuts) can be said in Plenary.



Karen exploring the use of DDT and making us all run from the office.

After the French hotel owner terribly embarrassed his Senegalese staff by claiming he was Senegalese too, we managed to get away from La Détente, having left “only” my passport and 200 Euro. To cut a long story short, my credit cards refused to work even after being tried over eight times (system problems!!), and the nice receptionist and lovely Emmanuel were obliged to call in the owner. He was aggressive and unaccommodating. An awful experience ensued where Mel and I ended up heading to Toubab Dialou a lot later than planned, in the wrong taxi and badly stressed out. Somehow, by Tuesday, IISD had managed to solve the problem by sending over some cash to add to my 200 euro.

So Babouba did not get to drive us to the village on la Petite Cote, but we went with some Muslim man who decide, half way through the trip, to stop the car along the main road, take a bottle of water out of the boot, pull his caftan up and crouch to the ground… As I grabbed the pepper spray, Melanie asked if he was taking a dump?!

And that was the beginning of the vacation.

Sobo Bade, a Gaudi-like resort, made of shells: our slice of peace and quiet on our mini-break

Upon arrival in Sobo Bade, we had to fend off Ibrahima who was determined to put his hands all over Melanie with the excuse of practicing reiki. That was our first flavour of coastal insistence, but after having been called a racist because I pulled away when a bloke grabbed my arm in Dakar, and having our bums commented on several times, we were expecting the worst.

Sobo Bade lived up to its expectations and saw us both slowly wind-down and start to enjoy the Gazelle beer and sunshine. I managed to out-talk a lot of the boys and we eventually befriended a few of them without having to marry!

One of the ladies trying to sell us bracelets and refusing to buy our shells.

What Senegalese women wear around their waists to attract men. Samba demonstrated that it went quite well with the fashionable low-waist trousers and high-waist knickers…

On the way back, (le mari de la route) Samba’s car broke down and we had to leave him to sort out the clutch. We regained composure at the Institut Francais which provided a haven of peace before moving on to l Ile de Goree where we were supposed to check out the Slave museum but had to skip it as it was swamped by hundreds of school kids. So we walked and checked out the terrible souvenirs and art work instead!

Back in town we looked for the basket market, which had closed by the time we found it, and headed back to the hotel. Babouba – who was desperate to get back to his wife and kids – took us to the airport after pocketing my euro coins…

Babouba, Oumar and Emmanuel contributed to make Dakar pleasant, reminding us why Senegal calls itself le Pays de la Teranga (hospitality)!

DAKAR COMING TO A CLOSE


Plenary room, the day an intervention was made by Australia on "being the duck's nuts".


Melanie, Lao Xia, Karen, moi, Sikina and Tallash in front of "Uncle Xia's cabin" on Saturday - only Joe was missing, but he would have had his eyes closed anyway.

Melanie and Sikina in full editing mode, also on Saturday.


Beaten up taxis in front of Hotel La Detente - always.

By tomorrow, the rest of the team will have left and Melanie and I will make our way up La Petite Cote to the fishing village of Tiubab Dialou to explore a bit of Senegal - or maybe we might just stay in Dakar and got to the Ile de Goree and other stuff around here.... we seem to be totally unable to decide.

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)