journey back ...
I warn you now that it is long.
Sit back, take the time and apprestatevi you need to read the guide to this vacation. Otherwise, be organized to read it in installments. Top ...
When you say a vacation of shit ...
Saturday morning, woke up at half past seven. A bit 'sleepy, preparing the last things, take a shower and then Cicitto with me at the station ... and already I begin to feel Cernusco press in the gut, but ... how do you keep it!
arrived in Milan, the usual rigmarole, from Garibaldi, in the Metro to the station, then waiting for the arrival of shuttle bus to Linate and also here ... l’intestino che preme. Cerchi di camminare a piccoli passi, la sigaretta che stimola ancora di più la peristalsi. Insomma, una tortura!
Arrivo in aeroporto con notevole anticipo per il check-in: devo aspettare, senza poter lasciare la valigia da nessuna parte, l’intestino che preme, ma andare in bagno vorrebbe dire entrare con valigia, sacca per il computer e contenitore refrigerato per i farmaci. Impossibile!
Cerco un posticino tranquillo per sedermi in punta di sedia a leggere il mio “Montalbano”, ma era una tortura: continuavo a muovermi poggiando ora su un gluteo ora sull’altro per non gravare sullo sfintere ormai sfinito. Per fortuna, avevo scelto una lettura divertente che mi permetteva di distrarre attention from the pressing issue.
At 0:30 I move at the time of check-in and here I make stories for drugs and their containers with ice packs ... luckily the patron saint of fancazzisti assisted me, and rather than for me to retrieve my suitcase settle in, they will agree with each other and anything is possible. We must say that I would have beaten until every ounce of my poor sphincter compressed by the attack of the faeces for non-urgent upload my medication in the hold with the luggage in case of lost luggage I could do without underwear but not of my chemotherapy.
Finally Free!
runs to the bathroom! Also because, oddly enough it was as if my intestines had felt the "green light" and begins pawing like never before. Found the bathroom, put all bags, difficult decision: how to sit on that toilet stranger?! But the kindness of my bowels decided for me and I sit and
free ... "More blessed be the inventor of the toilet," AMEN! Now
light and peaceful approaches me at the boarding gate.
to pass the checkpoint I have to remove the watch, ring, belt, put the phone in the bag, remove the computer from the bag, remove the jacket, holding the paper boarding ... well a job true Director of events, midway between the balanced and archiving.
But not enough! Past the metal detector starts to play. "Come back ... Take off your shoes ... if he wants ... there are disposable shoes." But who cares about the shoes! Let me go and finish this way!
Many faces, many families with children, even at a superficial glance, you realize who we are and who is not Sicilian. Nor is it necessary to hear the inflection: just the face. The typical features of my countrymen, the hairline, the same posture.
Not to mention the concentration of "crazy" that I began to find already on the train in the morning of June 12 seemed like a diaspora, a surplus of Pride, dispersed between Brianza and Milan, looking for some pride vanished.
The plane leaves with more than half an hour late.
I sit near a window of the queue next to me a couple leccatissima, pulling out of a barrel of duty-free shop a stack of gossip magazines you saving him ... But why should I care: I have my "Montalbano ", which continues to make me sbellicare laughing.
To read now, I am forced to remove his glasses and everything is an up and down slowly so as not to hold the book at a distance sidereal impossible in the narrow space of the airplane seat.
The flight, despite Alitalia, he made use of aircraft Air-One, the hostess was rather insignificant kind of contract and with that smile on the face redone, who did not understand if it was intentional or by the surgeon, and that they were too young: that they need to rebuild his face? Flight
sufficiently comfortable with the usual refreshments and snacks made with small glass with a drink and, laudable, usually together with paper towel and wipe the usual refreshing, delivered a packet of gel hand sanitizer.
now in the pipeline, with Etna on our left, with its magnificent plume of smoke and the white streaks that never know if we can deal with the ash snow, the descent ...
a hard time!
I do not know if it was for the presence of "heat" or wind or lack of experience of the pilots or chissaddio, it seems that the plane was about to fall: after many bumps and shaking side, a sudden drop in altitude, followed by a beaten, that only children have been living on board a roller coaster type game. Equally shaky landing with hard braking is included in the price ... but finally we are down, the sun shines and the temperature pleasant and you can smell the sea. They are in Sicily! Just
ground Cicitto call for calm. I already know that for him will be a difficult period. But it is now a year since I saw my ...
long baggage claim, despite the new airport facilities. It always seems to be waiting for the June 12, when you hear them do not see them, with the little voices of three tones higher than any human can, now open with extraordinary voice that only manages to have in Sicily.
to greet my sister and my brother. And we are moving towards home.
The barren landscape and a parched land burned by months of drought, and the few times he has done bad weather, she did really bad, with hail and flooding because of the inability of the parched earth to accommodate the many drops.
Chatter on the way, informed me about my grandchildren and their educational efforts, which, apparently, were not so tiring, in the sense that they put so much effort, so much so that Irene has been postponed until Except in September, with three subjects and, if it protects some saint, will be in September with four or even risk their rejection. The one that is saved is Federica, in process of eighth grade, but that does not seem to have problems.
At home, hugs and kisses, place the suitcase on the bed in my room, "son of a family" with "cot schoolgirl", the notorious drug in my fridge es'incomincia with polite phrases, and then move on to gossip about the neighborhood. For the most part is a "War Bulletin" on those who died and who is seriously ill: cancer and heart attacks are the order of the day, there are strokes, brain aneurysms, or (at your option), some multiple sclerosis, leaving out all kinds of accidents and deaths from natural causes (see old).
time, although the heat did not seem the best and I point out to my mother, who reassures me that it does not rain here for months and that there is nothing to fear ...
Famous last words!
That night came a kind of tornado, which shook the shutters, without slamming doors and turn the jars of tomatoes and basil that my father wanted to put it on the balcony (... "so I do not get me in the garden for a salad" ...). In all this turmoil, my mother was sleeping ...
Sunday is a group lunch, in the sense that, for well-established tradition of eighteen years old and over, the whole family, with consuoceri and collateral and the like, shall meet, now at home consuoceri of my time at home.
Prepare the plank in the kitchen. The home of my parents is structured to be huge and we can sit comfortably at the table in fifteen, but this time there were only twelve (is larger).
Meeting Venus and Fish (now si chiama così, ma è stato Pulce e anche Cutupiddu), entrambe più in carne e forse meno felici, Maria che cerca al solito di fare da mediatore e i suoceri di mia sorella, che, come anche i miei genitori, sembrano sempre più vecchietti.
Il signor Turi, come al solito inizia il pranzo con le sue solite battute: “Buon magiamento a tutti” (che tradotto dal siculo, vuol augurare buon prurito a tutti, alludendo a pruderie inguino-sessuali) e poi “Mangiate, perché un giorno sarete mangiati” (sottintendendo che solo gli altri saranno mangiati, cioè morti, ma non lui).
Piccole sciocchezze, che se non dicesse, staremmo in attesa, lasciando freddare il pranzo.
Pranzo ottimo, with all good things, for at least twenty-five people, because my mother says, "... and then if someone were to desire, 'we should do the eating counted ?!... "We start with
pasta alla Norma (tomato sauce, fresh basil and served with fried eggplant and grated ricotta at the time), followed by chicken with potatoes and tomatoes, cutlets, accompanied by fresh salad and breaded eggplant, wine, water , gentle, kindly offered by Mr. Turi, coffee and chat at will. All with the background of the MotoGP races.
After lunch, at a time likely in the afternoon retreat in the room where I finish reading my book and decided to try la mia chiavetta internet della TIM comprata apposta per il viaggio per fare in modo di potermi commettere con Cicitto senza dover passare dai computer degli altri, tra l’altro, prima di partire, facendo una prova di connessione tramite messenger, mi accorgo che il mio PC non riceve i suoni, ma che purtroppo, non si può aggiustare così facilmente, ma bisognerà inviarlo alla “casa”, tanto più che è ancora in garanzia.
Comunque, la connessione con la chiavetta è del tutto impossibile.
Giramento di coglioni!
Cinquantaquattro euro buttati al vento e l’impossibilità di vedere il Mio Cicitto.
Cerco se ci siano delle reti Wireless disponibili, senza password di protezione a cui hang on. There are from my room but not connected. I try to turn for home with the PC in your hand like a divining crazy, but trying again with the key schifida TIM, that I wanted to catapult off the balcony. Behold the miracle! TIM but not the Tiscali network, receiving a very low, but that allows me to connect, in the most remote of the huge living room, including stuffed birds, pendulum clocks off for years, Triton's trumpets and other shells, the collection of dolls with the face and hands of ceramics and a host of other ciarpamerie collected over many years of absence from my native home.
But who cares! The important thing is to communicate!
That same evening we contact and seemed a paradoxical situation: I was talking, but not felt, but he felt that he spoke in gestures and was forced to write and I read that I had to wait to answer. Meanwhile, however, we saw, and it was beautiful!
On Monday 21, I start reading the new book (I have taken four: one of Camilleri, one and two of Busi Litizzetto). I preferred to Aldo Busi: a kind of reportage travel and accommodation on the edge of paradox, always told with his mastery of language and his acid sarcasm towards life and men.
Today is a day of "aubergine" and my mother, as always, has prepared for an army.
excellent and plentiful and I abound in portions, so that I feel a bit 'heavy, but underestimate, thinking that I'm not used to cooking strong, that my stomach is irritated by the drugs and that, anyway, just a good protector and gastric a bit 'of time to digest everything is resolved. So that night I do an encore with the remaining Parmesan, which is heated even better than lunch.
Night of pain!
A visceral pain dull, continuous, with a hint of nausea, taste of having to go to the bathroom, but I could not do anything.
The next day I was a bit 'a rag, pain, mainly gastric first hour was also transferred to the abdomen, nor have the gastroprotective effect. A grave suspicion: "... and if it were a duodenal ulcer, hitherto dormant and triggered by the robust food and wine ...."
I keep myself mentally ready to ask to be brought to the emergency room if the pain does not dim.
Meanwhile, white pasta, with the usual pieces of my mother, that is for at least three people.
In the afternoon begin the first signs of dysentery. Alleluia!
Certainly not for the dysentery that I twisted the viscera, but because, finally, I could do self-diagnosis of infectious enterocolitis, presumably caused by viruses.
am a genius!
Needless to bore you with technical details on the disease. Rice with portions of a truck driver, Disseten and ferments.
Obviously, no sea. But I am consoled by the fact that the weather was not the best, much to sleep with the duvet day and take long jeans and long sleeve shirt.
On the other hand I did nothing but starmene lying under my duvet, the warmth between the reading and half asleep, getting up only to go to the bathroom or to eat my mega portion of white rice.
Indeed, when opening any window of clear sky, was an overwhelming blue and the sun was really hot, there was also a tune that almost seemed to be fresh in the spring, especially at night.
Cicitto, meanwhile, me details on the weather Brianza e della Bergamasca: ha piovuto anche lì, con relativa abbassamento delle temperature.
Posso proprio dirlo: un periodo di merda!
Poche escursioni, fuori dalla casa avita: una capatina al supermercato per prendere del prosciutto cotto, in previsione di uno svezzamento dal semplice riso in bianco, con relativa burrasca verbale tra mio padre e mia madre su sciocche incomprensioni di tipo logistico.
Diventare vecchi fa diventare più insofferenti. E come sarò io alla loro età?
Sicuramente un gran rompicoglioni con tutte le mie manie da precisetti.
Giovedì pomeriggio, in pieno trip nazional-calcistico, per la partita dell’Italia, non so neanche con quale squadra, con My sister and nieces to go to later buy the gift for the fiftieth wedding anniversary of my parents. In fact, the anniversary date has already passed one piece, but it was decided to celebrate it all together, now that we are well myself.
So we're driving through streets completely deserted at the edge of the unreal, we enter into a mega store where all sales people are in front of giant screens, all tuned to the same channel, where a National disappointing adventure ends disappointing in Africa. And my comment is: "Take away the salaries !!!". If the only thing they care about is money and popularity colpiamoli on this. These ladies of football, which do nothing but PLAY, disgraced in a nightclub atrium, but without bothering to do what they are paid handsomely, should send everyone home, to work seriously, but excuses and justifications as a fan .
In the end, all those who are desperate and degraded these-nothing-what is in your pocket? Bundle of money spent in set-top boxes to watch the games, more money in tickets and travel in the stadiums, they kill and butcher in the name of an ideal team, which ultimately is not shared by the players themselves, who do not see the ' now that there is someone who will pay more to pick up shacks and puppets and leave for new shores, to whom feel the same indifference they felt before. After this tirade
football, back to the gift buying, and this time, I can decide myself.
Take a cell phone, just right for them, big numbers, re-sealable lid and ease of use, good brand and good price.
One time I feel happy that I could have chosen.
In the evening, I was invited by Mary to go out with a group of old friends.
agree, and also because it seems that shock therapy has yielded effect and, except for a mild abdominal resentment (it seems to have taken a punch in the belly) and a bit 'of bloating, I feel for the rest abbastanza bene.
Passa a prendermi per le otto e venti ed in macchina c’è Alessandra: uguale a sempre, o quasi. Come su tutti, il tempo passa e lascia il segno, tanto più su chi ha avuto grossi dispiaceri.
Arrivati in piazza, posteggiamo e troviamo Sara, Linda e fidanzato. Aspettiamo solo l’arrivo di Alfia con marito e figlie. C’è fresco e così entriamo da Mario “Alla Mansarda”, anche perché l’idea è di fare una sorpresa ad Alfia.
Eccoli. Abbracci, baci. “Sei sempre la stessa … Come sei cambiata … Ti trovo più magra … Ti trovo più in carne …” Il festival di tutte le frasi fatte che si possono dire quando rincontri an old friend. When the truth is that we have all changed ... And how could we not be!
inclement time goes on our lives.
And the more time passes between meetings and the more you seem drastic change. We
salacious jokes, take pictures, let's funniest episodes in memory, you order a drink and eat ... and everything runs smoothly, until it begins to pull out their own pain and discomfort.
And that is how I discover that Alfie has lost his father and Alex's mother and both suffer from it yet.
But the evening draws to a close. Tomorrow is Friday, still a working day. So
saluti, abbracci, promesse di non far passare così tanto tempo prima di rivederci … insomma tutto il campionario.
Riaccompagniamo Alessandra a casa e passiamo a prendere Linda, che si era attardata con il fidanzato, il quale ci fa l’onore di mostrarci il suo nuovo compagno di gioco: un IGUANA. Sì, non sto scherzando, un vero iguana in squame, zampette e coda, ancora un cucciolo che dovrebbe diventare, sempre che sopravviva, di un metro e mezzo di lunghezza.
La domanda sorge spontanea: “Che cacchio te ne fai di un iguana?” … “Non potevi continuare a giocare con il piccolo lucertolino che hai nelle mutande, senza scomodare quella povera bestiolina tropicale?”…
Ma queste are questions that we will never have an answer. Maybe one day Voiager or Quark will come to solve the mystery.
Cicitto I heard on the phone while we were in the car. We feel at least twice a day, roughly the same times as always, and when their PC to their consent, we can also see each other, communicating with the strange language of writing and gestures to which we have had to adapt.
Friday 25, the day dedicated to Lucia.
I wake up in good time, Having sleeping late (five in the morning, approximately).
system and I expect I will fetch Lucia.
In recent months, experienced a difficult period: first the loss of her mother, that although old and a little 'pain in the neck, it has left its mark, then the death of her husband, who had caused so many problems, but the suffering of children for his departure was also his, and then, last but not least, an accident between the head and neck, in the true sense of the word. The with his car, locked the collar for a while, but it is not over: here comes a stroke that stops at home for six months, including hospital and rehabilitation. Luckily, it was resolved quite well, leaving no more than a train to mild stuttering, especially when it is under tension.
I followed the whole sequence of events at a distance, talk on the phone and trying as much as possible to cheer and assure the successful completion of the situation.
Now see her again, after a year away and many events in between.
It 's always you, apart from the slight stutter and a kind of childishness, but she always plays the fool to make me a genius.
Kisses, hugs, excitement. We climb into the car and start a ballet: "... You choose ... no ... but you choose where you want to go? ... where you'd like ?...". Exhausting, so much that I lose patience ... and that's when I realize that she is really vulnerable. Change tone.
Eventually, we decide to stop eating at the Atlantis, on the waterfront of Fondachello. Prior to joining
we exchange gifts, then try to figure out where to eat, but it starts all over a dispute with a lady in the restaurant, which I did not understand the reason, where it was placed on the restaurant last year. Eventually, the dispute is resolved, or perhaps is just outstanding, and there you sit by the pool. We order, chatting amiably, as two old wives on vacation. The food is good, the place is beautiful, the sky is clear and the air is warm, there is also a nice guy who takes a bath and a lifeguard who is openly lesbian.
A pleasant afternoon, sitting under an umbrella, with the glare of the water, talking a little of everything '.
Eventually, she wants to offer me lunch, ma non vuole essere lei a pagare e mi passa sotto banco una banconota. E’ inutile che provi a ribellarmi a queste bizzarrie: le voglio troppo bene! E cosi chiediamo il conto ed io pago, in sua vece e lei è contenta.
A questo punto andiamo a casa sua, che io avevo visto solo da fuori, prima che lei la comprasse.
In casa ci sono Valeria con una sua amica e Giovanni.
Entrando, devo ammettere, ho avuto un momento di smarrimento: purtroppo me l’aspettavo un po’ più grande, mi aveva detto che fosse piccola, ma non pensavo effettivamente tanto piccola.
Come le ho anche detto, lei si è inventata una casa che non c’è! Non ci sono spazi, non c’è molta luce, tutto è concentrato in a few square meters. By a steep ladder you go upstairs where there's room for boys and from here you get to a little bathroom and through another scalettina you get to the small terrace where there is a veranda that serves as laundry and utility room and in a corner of the balcony, there was the Moon, their dog.
damp, which had once sought to eliminate was resurfaced again, ruining the wallpaper now withering on the walls. All had something of a decadent, with a creative streak, which had also something of dystonia.
But she's so happy and proud of his house, to love even the stain of mold that is slowly degrading the tree that you have painted on the wall in one of his creative attacks. How
disillusion?!
I, however, insisted that as soon as you call a mason to fix the problem that the moisture before winter arrives.
The boys come out and we stop looking at the photos on your computer. Then you decide for a drive and path, we give a lift to Valeria and another of her friends (which I think definitely gay).
Since there is a memorial Mass for his mother and former husband, Lucy decides it should go Valeria, representing the whole family and she condescends nicely. I, notoriously anti-clerical, I do not understand this need to give money to the priest, just to name one of our deceased in a regular routine of Mass, do give me at least a solemn ceremony, with lots of praise and songs and chants and all cucuzzaro. But, of course, my idea is not shared by a fervent Catholic, what is Lucia.
However, we leave Valeria in the churchyard, to attend the Mass, while we we go around and then ran away Gallipoli Italy, until you reach Piazza Carmine, where we find Valeria, straight out of a mass rapid ultra: Father Diego will had more to do.
I had several photos throughout the city and with them, and finally, after seven now, me back home. The
shake very strongly, both of them, and it seems almost fearful of leaving two children. Valeria already a grown woman, tall, athletic, handsome features, vaguely lesbian, but in the end, despite his twenty years, has remained a child. While Lucy, who had recently gained strength and character, now seemed fragile, vulnerable, lost in a fantasy world where everything is a measure of Lucia, made up of details that are not part of an overall design, in which the horizon is all included in the window overlooking a garden that is not there. She is the personification of poetry, that does not follow the rules of grammar, syntax or fees, only the momentum of fantasy and illusion.
We say goodbye to the gate and a long sigh escapes me: compassion, or regret for having let her go alone, once again, to face his fears ...
returned home, my mother tells me that tonight for dinner will be rice balls, made by my brother. We expect also to arrive
Anna, Sebastiano, Irene and except sit at a table for dinner. Federica is playing with her friend and her family for Vulcan, after much debate whether he should. But in the end, my sister gave in to her daughter.
talk and discussion on bad health and on the incident with Sebastian, implantation of the ICD. Indeed, accidents have occurred there too, that calls into question the laws of statistics. Now she finds herself with a nasty burn injuries from radiation on the back, they will probably heal in many months.
Gone away boys, I'm in contact with Cicitto, via messenger, with our system of communication, and I was also excited, and while he spoke ... and I gave evidence via web
... Funny! But he is embarrassed and we cut off the little game that could have been.
Back in the room, I gave free rein to the imagination. But it is not the same thing. Making love is something else ... certainly better than nothing!
Saturday, another day of relaxation.
I lingered in bed and the rest of the morning flew being a bit 'to the computer and thought to yesterday.
At lunch, we ate standing in the balcony, although there was a bit 'of breeze, it was fine.
At the end of the meal, you start a discussion about the difficulty of communication.
I tried to point out that communication between parents and children was geared to fight the charges, of unresolved tensions, which uses the aggression because they do not have the courage of their emotions, where emotions are castrated and withheld for fear of exposing themselves, lest they suffer if not properly paid. Guilt is also our parents who have never been taught to communicate. But this can not and should not be an excuse. If there was a mistake in previous generations, because we have to repeat it, if we know that there are alternative routes, if we know that there are resources that allow us to overcome and resolve.
Any excuse is good to hold back. 'S so easy to always blame someone else or something else, or think that somehow everything will work out, "if we did we will also hides our children." But the point is: we have it done so?
Always in conflict with ourselves, we end up fighting with everything around us. We fight with our children, because they do not make our own mistakes, but what are models that we are giving?
We are afraid of their fears! And the fear of facing blocks us.
If we really love our children, we do a little effort and will entrust ourselves to someone who can give us the keys to finally open up the world.
who has ears to hear, feel it!
In the afternoon came to see my cousin with the baby and my aunt Tina.
We stopped to chat, while he Eleonora, slim and looking on, ran to the balcony and my mother and sister were told the ailments and illnesses.
the meantime, the temperature is cooler and I did that I was in shorts and T-shirt and flip flops, I started to get cold. I
am always delighted to find Except my cousin, with whom we have grown from as small as we were brothers, we shared all the stupid typical kids, until we are a bit 'grown up and, of necessity, we had different paths. For years he was a hardened pimp, also have three girls coming to the same period. Then he gave a resized, put his head to the party: he took the diploma that he had reached when he was old enough to study, he found a job in college, became a father, and certainly this is the capacity in which the I see better, attentive, caring and responsible. Bravo Salvo!
After dinner, went to visit his friend and Tiziana Giuseppe.
E’ sempre carina, tenera, con quella sua fragilità e modestia che l’hanno sempre contraddistinta.
Abbiamo ricordato i brutti momenti vissuti nei mesi in cui sua mamma si era aggravata ed in fine si è spenta, dopo una lunga agonia, per il tumore che l’ha devastata.
Ora lei sta cercando di ricostruire la sua vita, anche se con difficoltà, che ancora le si frammezzano. Ma, per fortuna non è da sola.
Andati via loro ho sentito il Mio Cicitto al telefono e poi abbiamo ritentato la connessione web, ma la tecnologia ci ha beffati, interrompendosi il collegamento in continuo, tanto che, alla fine abbiamo desistito e ci siamo dati la buona notte.
Ma mica ho preso sonno. Sono rimasto sveglio a girovagare sul computer fin oltre le tre e poi a leggere, anche se con un vago senso di torpore, che mi costringerà, l’indomani, a rileggere diverse pagine.
Ed è di nuovo domenica.
Essendomi addormentato così tardi, mi sono svegliato altrettanto tardi.
Mi sono crogiolato nel letto e poi in bagno per barba e doccia. Bevuto il mio Actimel, assunte le mie pillole, gustato il caffè, mi sono preparato per andare al bar, da mio cognato.
Come ogni domenica, il rito del pranzo collettivo non si può saltare.
Intanto che andiamo in macchina, mi chiama la “mamma adottiva”, per sapere della mia dissenteria e per raccontarmi le ultime cose, in quel di Mondonico.
entered the bar, immediately crossing fish with her nephew Lisetta. There is a lot of people coming and going in trays of pastries, cakes and ice slush, eat at 0:30 ("... so you go to the table later, meanwhile I close a hole ..."). Step into the laboratory where there is a great turmoil: to decorate cakes, biscuits dunked in chocolate, pastries from oven, dust with flour and sugar. Venus spends more time asking the cannoli, the fly, calling Mary the cake ... a true chaos in which it moves with great ease Orazio, collaborator and friend of Sebastian, who joined the laboratory when he was a boy and came out more With more a collaborator, a real shoulder to lean.
Feeling out of trouble, I was at the door, but my sister recruited to lend a hand with small biscuits in storage trays for desk display. I joined my mother, more experienced, for all the hours spent helping out in times of need. My nephew
Salvo, having regard to academic achievement, was recruited to the bar and it seems all included in the role. Towards a
up, there is a discussion between parents and son, who did not want to attend, which, as always, there is a fundamental problem of communication: screaming, everyone from their positions without the will to do slightest movement of approach.
Ormai è quasi pronto per andare a tavola, e chiamo Cicitto, altrimenti chissà a che ora mi sarebbe stato possibile, conoscendo i pranzi della domenica. Ovviamente, non mi posso dilungare, né posso esplicitare tutto ciò che stava succedendo. Ma ci risentiremo dopo.
Menù del giorno: panzotti alla domenicana in salsa di noci, arrotolato di pollo arrosto con funghi e piselli, contorno di cuori di carciofi panati e frittelline di patate, vino bianco e rosso, acqua, bibite varie, frutta (anguria, pesche e mele) e, per finire, dolci vari più un semifreddo alle mandorle coperto di cioccolato.
Sento, nuovamente, tornare un senso di rigurgito da indigestione.
La conversazione del pranzo è rimasta incentrata sui mondiali di calcio, di cui conoscete già la mia visione, per poi finire con i problemi di Venere.
Ho cercato di spiegarle che le crisi di ansia e di panico vanno superate sia con l’aiuto farmacologico che con la terapia del linguaggio, che non ci si può appoggiare sempre sugli altri, ma che bisogna trovare la forza ed coraggio di affrontare le proprie paure, guardare in faccia il “mostro” e dire: “Io ti posso sconfiggere, perché lo voglio fare!”. Bisogna prendersi le proprie responsabilità, essere coscienti che siamo stati noi, con il nostro agire o non agire, a lasciare che alcune cose accadessero.
Come dicevo in un altro contesto, è fin troppo facile dare blame everything that is outside of us, when we did not do anything to avoid it or, perhaps, we have sustained, if not even desired.
Words are too true to be heard. Better to let it go and change the subject. Pretend nothing happened ... until the next crisis until the next attack, when you come back to do the usual moral blackmail: "I'm sick and you've got to be close."
But there will be a moment when those around you will be tired of running to the bedside of your willful child and leave you face alone your fear. And then, they quit or die or live forever. What
speeches sad, after such a gargantuan eaten.
Better to go for a refreshing nap and digestive system. Even more so, tonight I was invited to attend the dance recital by Linda, who will perform in a choreography of modern dance, theater Maugeri Acireale.
I go to take Mary and Irene, about eight o'clock and we head towards Acireale, where we turn a long time before finding a parking space. Flowers in hand, we find ourselves in front of the Maugeri, restored after decades of neglect. We have to wait until almost nine o'clock to take place and the beginning of the show, but, meanwhile, the show was already out there, where a swarm of relatives and friends, variously dressed up with the dress and hairstyles of the best opportunities most unlikely, with corbeillies flowers, not even a scale before and knew the dance, perhaps, as a group holiday resort.
"... His daughter, who is dancing? ... Well, after many sacrifices, and their ... He knew of our Master? But what was intended ... my daughter .... " Comments
everywhere, and while we reached Venus and Lisetta.
It lowered the lights, the voices are silent in the darkness ... and began a massive complains, played live by a local composer, who has been called "The new Morricone. Maybe, but with the music and slides of all students, behind the scenes, it seemed a good start.
The theme of the evening, I learned later, to be the husband of the headmistress of the school of dance (in short, everything in the family) had the same pronunciation of Malgioglio. And to think that I have always told Cicitto, but to Malgioglio inflection is highly unlikely and that no one talks like that in Sicily.
Before entering, I asked Maria, now an expert in art wise, than he could endure, even to realize the time in which to hear Cicitto. "... Generally, by removing the interval and the greetings and closing credits, (pause for reflection and counting) ... an hour and a half."
Famous last words!
Three and a half hours of dancing of amateurs!
Sure the girls were pretty in their tutus and their gaffes and imperfections, including the tender and the clown, then come the girls, and even here we can not expect much from the students, followed by the advanced course, in a blaze of all-more, "among anorexic ass loose and spillungone posing as Savina Savignano.
course a dance school, especially if a fee has to accept all and, at year-end has to show everyone, to the delight of parents paying fees ("... What if the girl is happy ... One does it with pleasure ... But then the results are good ... Of course if the manager has a ... Maybe something on television ... Or at the Trade Fair ... "), but who has eyes to see, should not deceive the girls and parents.
The first part of the essay goes fast enough, and beautiful music with excellent acoustics, and a little bit 'boring choreography. And in the end, a terrifying pistolotto, including the pseudo religious, kind speech, political correctness of Communion and Liberation, which lasted an eternity, with the "Morricone for the Poor", which continues to sound like a man possessed and "Brother Secret Malgioglio of "who recited verses inconsistent Africa and abandoned children and the need to do long distance adoptions.
We were at the verge of collapse, including risate d’isteria e la vera volontà a farla finita, tagliandoci le vene o tagliandoci i coglioni ormai completamente triturati.
Finalmente l’intervallo!!!
Sono le dieci e mezzo ed, ancora, sembra che la cosa sia molto lunga.
Telefono a Cicitto, raccontandogli, per quanto possibile, gli eventi salienti ed intanto, ecco che parla “Malgioglio 2”, per richiamare il pubblico, per l’inizio della seconda parte. E giù a ridere, come dei forsennati.
Restiamo intesi, che se lo spettacolo dovesse finire, così come dissero le parole famose di Maria, entro la mezzanotte, ci saremmo risentiti, altrimenti ci rinviavamo all’indomani.
Inizia il secondo tempo …
Solita solfa, anche se, alcuni quadri, tratti da musical, erano abbastanza ben congeniati e, togliendo le necessarie imperfezioni, ritardi, vaghezze, … a tratti, non era male.
Chicca delle chicche, per dare il tempo alle ragazze di cambiarsi, il solito “Morricone”, ha suonato un'altra delle sue composizioni da colonna sonora, ed a completare la scena, uno degli insegnanti ha improvvisato un balletto, davvero ispirato. E, per chi ne avesse il minimo dubbio, vi dico subito che era UNA PAZZISSIMA, UNA VERA DIVA, la Isadora Dancan della Riviera dei Ciclopi.
Applausi a scena aperta!
Ma non cela facevamo più!
Venere, mezza stravaccata sulla poltroncina, che sgranocchiava una barretta energy, I with my mouth parched with thirst, and Irene Lisetta the verge of collapse and Mary, seraphic, complained that not only was like that of previous years.
comes the grand finale, the greetings and thanks, the delivery of flowers and kisses and hugs and tears and ... .. Enough! It was not humanly possible: grandmothers who show early signs of Alzheimer's (they were healthy at the beginning), mothers with makeup smudged and crumbling, with fathers now carried over to the wind, clothes rumpled and wilted flowers. He seemed to have returned from maneuvers!
was by now a quarter past midnight.
We are moving towards the exit of the artists, with the last few daredevils who managed to survive. Remained, more to withdraw their daughters (in the sense to bring her home, even if the intention is to withdraw their secret, really, the daughters from the school).
When, finally, we are in the street, now in the car, with the hunger that devours the bowels, we realize the time: the less one quarter.
Where to find a place still open?
genius of my niece Irene: We're going to eat kebbab. They do well close to the Villa.
And off to the Villa Comunale. But it was closing. And the other, nearby, was already closed and the owner was watering plants, outside the store. Same fate for the beginning of Corso Umberto.
you decide to go to Acicastello maybe something is still open. And indeed, there is a takeaway kebbab, which closed at a forty-five, we were still in time.
eat in the car while he drove Mary (no, she did not eat), to take him home, before Venus and Lisetta, because we were one step away from their home, and then us.
the street, Linda and Irene had abbioccate and Mary and I were talking again of "communication problems". But by almost home, Irene realizes not have to carry house keys and, knowing the deep slumber of his family was a bit 'in apprehension. Would not be left on the door, might have come home to me or Maria, but it resolves the problem with tactical rings and messages.
Finally, all at home.
Here, the air is much cooler than in Acireale, and because the city is increasingly closed, and because we are a little 'higher. However, smoking the last cigarette and I'm going to bed, finishing reading the last pages of the book of Busi: I left a little 'bitter taste in mouth, revealed a man disenchanted with life and human relationships, in which can no longer find any comfort or expectation, or even less hope, a man resigned to live out his remaining years in loneliness worse than no will to fight back.
It's time to sleep!
On Monday I am waiting for the birthday party and Fabiana, who knows what surprises ...
Monday 28. I wake up around eight, because of the light coming through the French window, which raised the night before I forgot a piece, but I still sleep, I try to turn around, I try to sleep again, but I lose my pee. I might as well stand up and set me free the bladder, or I go back to sleep again.
And so it is. I wake up at ten and a half, the usual ablutions, the usual pills, usually Actimel and coffee and then I sit at the computer to read. Suddenly the phone rings: Rosetta is asking me if I'm at home. Well, if I answer the phone fixed, perhaps in the house. "... No, because I need to copy the songs for the party tonight on the CD, but they are not capable. Me you can do if you'll take the PC and all the rest? ...".
What can I say? "Come."
comes after a piece of office as a mule, his laptop, with its CD and key to connect, since the songs were copied from a website. Switch everything on, put the key ... but it needs the PIN, and she does not remember that at home.
"... No, but you masterizzami for the time that this has given me my friend, while I'm going to Linera to take the sausages, then I go Giarre, I leave the baby from my mother-in-law, I take the pin is back ...."
better not to discuss. I let her go to all its commitments and binding in all contemporary. I, meanwhile, I settle my things and then we'll see what to do.
was already lunch time, and it comes my brother and sister, and she decides to do a great measure of collective pressure. All malatoni, all excited, but the only result I with high blood pressure.
We are at the table, more happy and satisfied, we begin to taste the rice salad and eggplant parmigiana, when suddenly the telephone rings: it is Rosetta.
"... But not me you can do it, alone, this work, I gotta go feed the baby and then I found the twine for roasts, I have to hang wreaths, I have to .... "
"Hey Rosetta, I love you and am your godfather and confirmation of your best man, but as you can ask me to put the songs, alternating with those for children than for adults, if you do not even know which songs you want? You, now, you sit a moment and tell me what you want and in what order and, then, do you then go and hang with string for roasts with all the garlands and CD !!!".
In the end, we are one. She goes home to do all that still remains to be done: that is to say revolutionize the world, before the party for his daughter, and I can finally enjoy my delicious rice salad.
After lunch, I can in no to make the CD that he needed to bring the PC and all the cucuzzaro this evening when I go to his house, even with the task of bringing the cake, which made Sebastian.
And, for a few hours, I do not want anyone to hear and see!
I started reading a book from the Litizzetto, I love both as a television entertainer and as a writer. It is true that his books are nothing but the transposition of his monologues, but reading them, I myself see her sitting on the desk of Fazio, hearing the voice, with its typical Piedmontese accent.
seven o'clock, I'm prepared, I asked the car to my dad (whenever I feel like an eighteen year old, who has to ask the key di casa). Purtroppo, io sono già un guidatore svogliato, in più non conosco la macchina e, ancora di più, è la macchina di mio padre, che se anche le facessi un minuscolo graffio, sarebbe una vera tragedia.
Vado a prendere Irene e la torta, con relative decorazioni, ma mi rendo conto d’aver dimenticato a casa il regalo per Fabiana. Ripassiamo da casa e già mio padre va in allarme: “Cosa è successo?”.
Arriviamo a Giarre per le otto ed, a casa di Rosetta è già il caos. Ma non per gli ospiti, che ancora mancano, bensì per la bambina già sull’orlo dell’isteria.
Erano presenti le due suocere con relativi consorti, una nostra cugina con figlio di tre anni, and the godmother of "cuppuluni" (E 'old tradition in Sicily, as well as the official sponsor, there is an emotional godmother, who at the time of baptism, wash the "cuppuluni", that is, the cap. Now, that does not There is more use of caps for infants, the godmother, the lava which is embroidered handkerchief wiped the baby's little head, after being sprinkled with holy water by the priest. But I am convinced that this practice serves only to able to have one big gift more.)
Let's go to the terrace, where you have placed an artistic wrought iron gazebo, good for the garden of a villa, complete with curtains and drapes, and there are festoons and balloons, in a blaze of Chitty Hello, tables and chairs everywhere and a stereo, playing songs for children, with the entire repertoire. Only, I realize that the little girl, about everything, and I did not care about, if not thrown to the ground colored glasses and napkins, strictly in shades of pink, all in a fit of tantrums galore. What I wanted
Tata Lucia, but perhaps it would be better that there were all the nannies of all editions of "Operation Tata", because, soon after Eleanor was added, completing the trio infernal to Dario Argento.
Other guests there were, of course, unless my cousin and his wife, the pair of witnesses Wedding of Rosetta, with whom they are close friends, another couple of which he is co-worker of the Holy (the husband of Rosetta), and, finally, it's brother Santo, who prepared some of the things we ate.
The menu consisted of disproportionate amounts of all kinds of snacks, followed by bread pudding with various toppings, pizzas, rice balls and "cones", various drinks, in the last ice-cream cake and fruit salad.
Throughout the evening, I am torn between my cousin Salvo and Saro, the best man, with my aunt Tina, Tampin telling me of his ailments.
Poor Irene was recruited as the guardian of small wild animals and, understandably, could not take any more.
The highlight was the cutting of the cake, with photographs, which seemed to be at a wedding where all guests were invited to take a picture with the birthday girl, who, beautiful, put your hands in cream, never mind all with the sole thought for gifts.
At eleven o'clock, and called Cicitto, I do not know what mysterious reason, he could not feel anything, and I felt very well, having perfect field. More and more attempts Cicitto impatient and depressed, which railed against all the technology in the world. Finally, in a cold and windy corner of the terrace, you can not talk, though, of course, does not explicitly and quiet, as it is Our usual.
He feels very tired, and he has good reason, and I'm tired of being away from him, I miss her terribly.
in speaking with Cicitto, I get a message from Irene, who asked me if it was time to say goodbye (these were not the words). In fact, we already got too cold, we have heard too many noises of spoiled children and he was almost midnight.
Greetings, thanks, we receive the favor (even) and head towards home.
It 'been a bad night. An ill-assorted party for adults, disguised as a children's party, with all the colors and decorations of childhood never ended. Myth of a child meeting of "friends" now grown, that have little in common and have nothing to tell. All very sad and vaguely decadent, a childhood that you do not want to let go.
I feel a little 'tired. Tired of seeing couples who can not manage their anger, even when they have guests at home, who can not handle the moods of their children, forcing us to attend their discussions, with great embarrassment. I wonder why so many people come together, if you do not follow your guests. Who needs this showcase, full of many appearances, then if you show that behind there is only a deflated balloon, dangling tragic.
I'm really tired!
Tuesday 29, St. Peter and Paul. And the first thought is Cicitto to: send him a message on the cell.
A mid-morning, a lady passes for "advice". After lunch, another. And the rest of the afternoon snoozing and reading.
prepares us for an evening of celebration of the fiftieth anniversary of my parents.
Yeah, my father began to enter into a ferment, almost hysterical on the choice of restaurant, because, he said, there is no place to park, then, with a round of phone calls is all solved my sister and the boys go with their car, leaving a bit 'first, to arrange the flowers and bring the cake, my parents will be in the car with the consuoceri, Mary, Linda and Peter, will un passaggio a me; dopo ci raggiungeranno Venere e Pesce.
Il ristorante è a Giarre, in cui già l’anno scorso eravamo stati con mia sorella: davvero carino, con una splendida terrazza fiorita, ricca di oggetti antichi, raccolti in anni di giri per rigattieri, inoltre, magnifiche piastrelle di maiolica di De Simone Padre, e foto antiche delle storiche corse della Targa Florio, che si correvano tra i tornanti della Timpa di Acireale.
Presi i posti, scattate diverse foto, ordinato. Ma la partita del mondiale incombeva da un maxi schermo ed il signor Turi, con Pesce, erano li, impietriti, tanto da dover portare loro le bruschette, davanti alla TV.
Il solito bailamme, quando si è in tanti, del “chi ha ordinato thing ". But I wonder: "Can not you remember what you've taken ten minutes ago, when you remember exactly what your neighbor ordered to place?".
But all at the end, enjoy your pizza (except fish and Irene, who took the meat), with a magnificent beer, the restaurant owner, served in mugs that have been kept in the freezer and that, upon contact with beer, crystallizes in delicious beer ice crystals that rise to the surface with foam.
I obviously could not help but ask the pizza alla Norma, strictly, with fried eggplant and ricotta salata: excellent!
At the time of the gifts, but the mobile phone, bought we have children, it is also a huge box arrived, I knew right then and there: the coffee machine, which was launched as an initial idea, and drove off, as a gift to the rest of the group (will have to find the place where ... put it).
More photos, more spin.
Here is the cake. An amazing creation of my brother-in-the fantastic view of the palate, rich in gold, in the form of golden roses, rings and figures. Of course, another round of pictures of the ritual, with everyone. And at this juncture, called Cicitto. Just missed him, and rightly should have been, my partner of seven years, who shares with me everything was missing at this time. Missed me! Of course, that altri, non conoscendolo neanche, non ne sentissero la mancanza, ma io sì!
Anche lui sta accusando il colpo della nostra lontananza, ma, purtroppo, la Sicilia per lui è off-limit , chissà ancora per quanto.
Saluti, baci, abbracci, e ci avviamo verso casa.
Mi sento stanco, fumo l’ultima sigaretta, leggo svogliatamente qualche pagina della Litizzetto e spengo la luce. Un sonno senza sogni, o meglio, nessun sogno che io ricordi.
La mattina del mercoledì vola velocemente: mi alzo verso le nove e mezzo, mi preparo e vado, con mio padre, in paese, per fare delle fotocopie; poi, passo da mia sorella, per chiedere i soliti dolcini alla mandorla, che tanto piacciono ai miei amici lombardi; tornato a casa, passa Rosetta con la bambina, sempre in continuo movimento incontrollabile ed incontrollato; per arrivare al pranzo.
A tavola, eravamo pochi, perché mancavano i miei nipoti (chi al mare, chi a ripetizione). Mia madre si è sbizzarrita in piatti a base di funghi (i porcini, che loro hanno raccolto sull’Etna quest’inverno): pasta con asparagi selvatici e porcini, petti di pollo al forno con patate e porcini, frittata con porcini. Mancava solo un’insalata con porcini, il melone con porcini e il caffè con porcini, ed avremmo finito in bellezza il pasto, con i porcini che ci uscivano da tutte le parti.
Pomeriggio, tra inedia e tedio e … non so neanche io cosa. Non avevo voglia di niente, neanche di dormire il mio solito pisolo pomeridiano. Ho finito col leggere il racconto che mi ha scritto Lucia, finendolo. Certo, è molto da limare e depurare, ma per una collana tipo Armony, potrebbe andar bene.
Mi sono, poi attardato in balcone a chiacchierare con mia madre. Ho cincischiato con il telefonino nuovo, che gli abbiamo regalato, impostando le funzioni che a loro potevano tornare utili. Come dico sempre: “Mia madre potrebbe litigare anche con il tostapane”, figuratevi con un cellulare!
Mio padre ha apparecchiato per la cena, in balcone e, sul tardi, arrivano mia sorella, Sebastiano, Irene e Salvo, mancava Federica, che era ad una riunione di fine anno, con le compagne di classe.
Già si sentiva air storm, when they closed the doors of the car. Unless reproach, because he wanted to leave a his usual friends, his parents who do not want is that every night around, no one knows where and with whom. He claims that the "right" to leave, because he works a few hours of the morning at the bar, studying the courses of recovery, is doing the diving course and is preparing for the license. Activities
valid, except that, to help out at the bar is paid (even if not), the remedial courses will be done, required by the school because it was delayed in four subjects, the course is a kind of sub gift and not an imposition and a driver's license is a useful thing.
But he's not able to come to one. Pulling fresh air in the balcony, I would say cold, so I wore jeans and long shirt heavy, the dinner was a torment, and he refused to eat. But it is not released.
My brother had brought his PC and, after dinner, we saw the pictures of the last few months and I have downloaded a bit 'on my stick, even for them to see Cicitto, who called for eleven and can not wait' now that you return home.
not be long now. Friday 2, will recover the plane towards the Brianza.
I was already tired and strangely, at eleven forty I was in bed, but I could not sleep. I turned over for a long time, intolerant alle coperte, al caldo, alle zanzare. Sembrava che tutto fosse storto. Ma il problema è che, ormai, questo periodo di ferie incomincia a starmi stretto, ho bisogno di tornare alla mia routine.
Finalmente calo nel sonno.
Il giovedì, mi sveglio abbastanza presto, verso le otto ed un quarto, anche per il rumore che fanno gli addetti alla nettezza urbana ed il vociare dei venditori ambulanti. Mi alzo, con le mie articolazioni irrigidite, vado in bagno, prendo le mie pillole e torno a letto, cercando di riprendere sonno. Ma niente. Tanto vale alzarsi, definitivamente. Mi rado, faccio la doccia, faccio un giro sul computer, in attesa che arrivino Anna e Sebastiano, per andare a Catania, per il controllo settimanale della lesione radiation, which is still fighting.
We are moving towards Catania, for the past eleven. The usual city traffic, which, I think that I could never get used. We arrive in the old way Plebiscito Umberto I °, a hospital town, which despite being rearranged (why say "refurbished" is saying too much), shows the signs of aging: a pavilion structure, not very functional.
arrived to the clinic for dermatology, waiting, looking to pass all sorts of medical, paramedical and engineering. A couple of doctors seemed to be the opening night of the film festival, both were drawn to pounce. Some doctors felt that they went for a stroll, to fill the time, prima dell’ora di pranzo. E tutti avevano l’aria svogliata di chi si chiede: “Perché proprio a me? … Me ne stavo così bene a casa mia! ... Quasi quasi ci torno …”.
Per fortuna, il medico che ha in cura Sebastiano, mi ha dato una buona impressione, nonostante il contesto in cui opera.
Gli ha fatto un curetage chirurgico, asportando, per quanto possibile, la fibrina che si è formata nella lesione. Lo rivaluterà tra due settimane.
Torniamo verso casa, e dovendo ripassare per il centro di Catania, si evidenzia “L’Antica Arte dello Strombazzamento”, cioè, quella maestria ad usare, in modo assolutamente inconsulto, il clacson.
Ovunque girassi you played for any reason and without even having one: so as not to lose the training. You have to turn right? Trumpets! You have to change lanes? Trumpets! You have to greet someone, even if you're not sure it's someone you know? Trumpets! So you always
trumpets in a concert, amounting to what you hear in stadiums in South Africa. But think more
horn at home, not to trumpet the street!
got home, everyone had already eaten. So, we settled on the balcony to enjoy a delicious lasagna.
But the tranquility is a vague hope. Except in the living room was in semi darkness, saying he studied law, was sitting Federica in the balcony, while Irene dressed hair mo 'curls ... When the big question here is: "Mom, take me to the cinema with my mates?".
And from here, have opened the cataracts of the usual war of words, of psychological blackmail, threats even minimally veiled. Horrible!
I just can not do more! I can not wait to return to the peace of my life, where I should not be armed and armored for all and all, where I do not have collide at every turn, where to get off to a thousand compromises, just as they are at the table.
I wonder if it had been better if Adam and Eve, rather than a fig leaf, had not used a shovel fig pigs, so as to save us from seed so difficult to manage.
In the end, I do not know what respite is over the battle, because I'm gone, really irritated.
My mother decided that, like last night of stay in Sicily, I had to eat the "bread seasoned" home-made bread, freshly baked, topped with tomatoes, olives, parsley, olive oil, salt and pepper and then, libidum to, you can add cheese, ham and whatever else inspires the heart and stomach. But I prefer the classic, warm and fragrant and without too many additions.
In the afternoon, I rested a bit. I was strangely tired. Perhaps not so strange, Given the continuing tensions that touches suffer from generational clashes.
My mother Mrs. Enna (now elected Zia Enna, to onorem), knead the bread and bake in a wood oven, as it was once.
E 'was great, watch all'infornata, donuts, leavened, that are made with the delicacy with which you lift a child, and shovel lying on the oven, to place them under the dome of brick red-hot fire. Before closing the mouth of the oven, pour a little 'bit of flour on a' charcoal remained at the entrance of the oven and a prayer: "Holy Rusal, the Russian Community janca and Voss," invoking the help of Santa Rosalia, so the bread becomes golden and well cooked (white and red like you). And 'this is a rite that goes back to ancestral memories, in which s'invocava The Great Mother, or Demeter, or the various gods of fertility, abundance and for prosperity. Meanwhile
rises the smell of freshly baked bread, which intoxicates.
cooked, the bread is seasoned and possibly eaten hot.
For the evening, we settled on the balcony, there would be all the usual Sunday lunch, but then, a setback for the missing-in-law of Anna.
Needless to say, that there was another topic with Unless, output evening and his friends, but as always, it all worked out in a soap bubble burst with a scream.
After this time, Federica again, that a little 'jokes a bit' cause, says he wants to try to smoke. "Well," I say, "Go get the package and flue at least twenty." Her, to challenge, and it takes one, but not the lights and I urge to do so: it must have the courage of their actions.
"The choices in life are not like trying on a dress, that if you do not like the changes. Once you've tried it for ever! You can not go back, the experience has been made and nothing will return the integrity that you had before. Are never chosen to challenge, to try to have courage, but because you really want to do and knowing what you go against. And now if you want a shot, then know that you can not say I tried, but I smoked. "Exact words.
The evening ended with gifts: my sister gave me a robe, plus a set of sheets with towels (do not know how shall I put everything in a suitcase, as there are cakes, gifts for mothers and other yet), Rosetta went to greet me, and Santo and Fabian gave me a towel and a shirt.
Going to bed, I feel a bit 'tired. The next day will be a busy day.
Friday, July 2. I wake up at nine, I begin to pack your bags, also to see what I can get us into. As expected some things can not physically enter. Later on the retrieve.
take a shower and go to the bar to eat the first and only season of slush: cream on the bottom of the cup, strawberry granita and cream over again, accompanied by a fragrant brioche hot. A real pleasure!
Those who are called granita in Sicily, have nothing to do with those of other regions, where it is understood, however, the grenadine, remembered as a sorbet, something creamy ice cream that is not: it is granite!
I also met Nino, which has not changed one iota, if not a bit 'of bacon and a few more wrinkles.
I greeted Mrs. Graziella and Mr. Turi, Mary and Horace and I came home to fix the last things. We're really running out.
My mother would have liked cooking pasta with fresh basil pesto, but after a granita with whipped cream and pastries, I do not think I could swallow a lot. Perhaps a toast.
My mother has put on the table, as if it were an ordinary day, that is to say a full-blown lunch, pasta with pesto, pork chops, salad and toast.
As usual, the discussion time to eat with Irene, who asked her to leave and the father who complains that her daughters did not put in order, she and recriminations that the brothers have come out even if they did nothing at home Everything is ... boring! But luckily the last one!
the end, I decided to bring a carry-on baggage, although the computer bag, and so I could take it all away.
We embrace the gate of the house is always a difficult time, especially my mother, about to cry. We only see each other again in a year ... and it is long. But I can not help it, move with a few days off, it is always problematic.
However, we are in the car, my sister driving, at the time of the airport. Meanwhile they stand, I did check in, then, because it would take a lot more before boarding, I asked them to move towards the house: it was no point wasting time, waiting, especially since the bar was still much to work with. We say goodbye and step
the checkpoint, this time without problems. Last goodbye from the stairs that lead to board. Now the wait for the real return.
Telephone Cicitto, to warn, which are already at the airport, with the idea of \u200b\u200bgenuine resentment at the time of embarkation.
Meanwhile, I look around, lots of different humanity: Crazy in Bermuda with enormous flowers of peony; Panzoni, carrying around their belly, like a carry-on baggage; Carampane old, with the color faded from the sun and ' salt water, the usual managers, who do nothing but make phone calls, talking loudly, planning and monitoring of purchases and sales commission checks, so that they know a friend who warned them in time, some foreign, some Sicilian is considered foreign, given the years living in Germany or somewhere, girls who sgam immediately, they did just that on holiday because they feel "much woman", yet a little 'guilty. In short, the whole world in a waiting room.
And in this expectation, there am I, with the desire to return home to embrace My Cicitto, with little desire to return to work and with the regret of not being able to stay for more time with my parents. Sure, Cicitto and I are family, but sometimes miss the pampering of a cooked dish just for you.
Waiting for the flight is long, already more than half an hour late for the boarding and another half an hour before takeoff. Flight quiet, where you see the difference between our company and the other: our hostess had the signs of aging on your face and looked like housewives worked on the fly, with children in kindergarten just left the hangar.
was already six, and yet we were flying in the clouds of Lombardy. Cabbages, I thought, we have not recovered at all during the flight.
But it was not! You hear the voice of the captain, who tells us that for technical reasons, on the runway at Linate airport, you can not land and that there REDIRECTED to Malpensa.
I squeeze the stomach. I think that will already have Cicitto Linate and not being able to experience.
However you can not do anything.
After landing, we leave the plane because they do not have enough buses to take us to the terminal.
When we enter the airport at seven, started ballet for luggage: First, figure out where to reach you and then when. Cicitto and I still call my mother to reassure them, and as the time passes that the conveyor belt, which came in fits and starts and in case your luggage on all flights that were hijacked. When finally, after two hours, get my suitcase, I go with a large group that was on my own plane to the exit seven, where he was to be a bus, who would accompany us to Linate. But beyond the wall of hot and sultry weather, there was no damn good.
In the end, get an assistant Alitalia, that somehow we had followed in these two hours of torment, and a rookie coach, and part of that board. There are now ten.
We have not yet entered the highway, which they call the driver saying that there are other passengers to carry. Then, you return to the airport, expects the output two, then to know that they have decided to send another bus. It is time we start really
. A journey of an hour, with the nightmare, announced of a step along the path.
Fortunately, removing a bit 'of queuing near Cormack, otherwise, it went well, reaching Linate at eleven.
Cicitto was there, waiting, that is to be seen waving in a square crowded with taxis, buses, cars honking, in a cast of sultry and full of smog, but ... it seemed like a scene in slow motion, where the noise is reduced and everything is unreal, since there embrace. It explodes all around.
Tired, stressed, sweaty, we're going to pay the parking area and try to exit the airport. What a mess, to be so late. Machines everywhere, which seemed to be in Naples in the hour di punta, alcuni stavano litigando furiosamente arrivando quasi alle mani, forse per un incidente …
Via, via, via … Bisogna andare via!
Entriamo, finalmente in tangenziale e, nonostante l’ora, c’era parecchio traffico, ma si scorreva.
Arrivati a Cernusco, ci fermiamo a prendere un Kebbab da asporto ed andiamo a casa.
Un caldo micidiale, sicuramente molto più che in Sicilia. Disfo la valigia, intanto che Cicitto fa una doccia, poi tocca a me rinfrescarmi e ci sediamo a mangiare il nostro kebbab.
Ora, sembrava che la fatica di quest’orribile pomeriggio fosse finita, con l’acqua della doccia.
Finalmente a casa!!!
Ma non ci si può attardare. Sabato I wait for the morning shift, hoping to find a quiet ward.
We put to bed, but it is not easy to get a good night's sleep. I kept waking up, even I must have screamed in his sleep, had seemed that someone was entering the window half open, but maybe it was just a little 'air flow.
short, the nightmare was not over yet.
finally I wake at six, get ready and go to work, after kissing Cicitto, still asleep. I leave the house ... Now really, these holidays are over shit!
Sidenotes:
-The second night I slept in my bed with schoolgirl, I nearly rushed out of bed, not avendo calibrato ancora bene le misure.
-Quando ho passato la giornata con Lucia, tenendo la macchina fotografica in tasca, inavvertitamente, questa si è accesa, portando in fuori l’obbiettivo, creandomi una ”erezione digitale”, che si notava attraverso i pantaloni. Poco male: dava l’impressione di una buona salute sessuale, il che non è molto lontano dalla realtà.
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