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)

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