There's a first time for everything, right?

So today I'm going to Parma, about 200 km south for my first photoshoot! A friend of mine, asked me to take some pictures of her for a beauty contest.

This afternoon then I will take various pictures of her in order to make her looking interesting enough to be choosed. Not knowing what to bring with me I opted for bringing my whole equipment (digital camera only) and experimenting a bit. I'm sure she has some ideas too.

If she's agree I'll add some pictures...

Have you ever heard that research about ancient ice in polar zones? Briefly, in those places, where the cold is perpetual it happens that, year after year, different layers of ice creates a pack where is possible to see what kind of lifeforms were on the earth at those times. So they discovered many interesting things such as microorganisms and bacteria that aren't popular in those places now.

But ice is not my topic now. My topic is music. What music and ice have in common? Well, nothing apparently, except if you're talking about Immortal and all the norwegian black metal movement.

[And by the way, you can joke about Immortal but not about my favourite Impaled Nazarene, right? ]

Ok, all of us has a collection of Cds, right? Large or small, it doesn't matter. I personally don't know how about a teenager now in 2009, in the midst of this mp3 era, but I remember that, back in my teenage years, I was proud of my collection. An amount of more than 500 Cds all around a room. The joy of every mother. And I'm not talking about the music itself!

As every collection it is formed by "towers" of cds or "walls" or random "bunches" left all around, right? My collection actually is divided in two parts. The "play it again Sam" part and "Goodbye blue sky" one.

Let's forget about the first one. As the name suggests, are CDs I play often or quite often, eventually deciding to encode them in mp3 for the sake of "portable pleasures".

The second part is like the ice I mentioned at the beginning of this post. It happens to be CDs bought in teenage years, or following some "wave", or for the sake of curiosity. CDs that at the time were played extensively but now are buried under layers of newer ones. So, digging down the collection here it what I found:



Body Count - Body Count
An album that begins with three gunshots and shows the multiple use of the word "motherf****r". What's better than this for an angry teenager? Plus, if you add that I didn't exactly pay for it. It suits perfectly. Recently it returned playing in my car's radio.



The Hardcore Superstars - Bad Sneakers And A Piña Colada
This swedish punk/rock band really got me when I listened one of their songs on a sample cd (didn't stealed it). Among all those songs, there's a couple of hits. "Someone Special", "Liberation" and "Have You Been Around". Funny album.



Lacrimosa - Elodia
If you just broke off a relationship please, do yourself a favour and avoid this album. In the greek mithology, Elodia is the goddess of failed love/relationship.
Said that, the album is wonderful. A great combination of metal and orchestral parts. Almost completely sung in german. Even my parents love it, and it should be enough. "Am Ende Der Stille" (At the end of the silence), "Ich Verlasse Heut' Dein Herz" (Today I leave your heart) and "Am Ende Stehen Wir Zwei" (In the end remains the two of us) are pearls into this necklace. I strongly suggest it.



Moonspell - The Butterfly Effect
I admit, I stopped following Moonspell right after the release of this album. Not because they produced crap. I just focused on other things and "weak leafs" were the first to fall. Despite that, the album is really interesting and entertaining. "Soulsick", "Lustmord" and "Angelizer" especially are my favourite among the other songs. I think I should listen to it again.



Anathema - Seranades
When the song Sweet Tears entered the MTV heavy rotation (I remember they showed Headbangers Ball late at night on MTV Europe and used to record every episode) I thought "I must have that album". I was lucky enough to find a re-release with The Crestfallen EP included in the package. What to say about that. Well, first of all is not an easy-listening thing. The singing is growled and suffered. Lyrics talks about melancholy, sadness, darkness and something else but hey! that's Doom Metal. What do you expect?



Vex Red - Start With A Strong And Persistent Desire
You know who Korn are, right? They were produced by Ross Robinson who, one day, asked, through a poll on Kerrang magazine, to receive demos from English bands to produce and launch among the stars.
They were lucky enough to catch his attention and what they got was a good album. Sometimes a bit boring. Definitively NOT my favourite since I always skipped between the same two songs ("Cant' Smile" and "Itch"). Few for considering it a "good" album. Perhaps that's why it was so deep down my collection.

And you, can you take a look at your collection and tell the world "what are your forgotten CDs?"

(L to R: Christian Meyer [drums], Faso [bass], Rocco Tanica [keys], Cesareo [guitar], Elio [vox/flute/percussions])

During all these years of travelling I started noticing that several things are routine on a plane. It doesn't matter the airline, the destination or the kind of flight we're on. It just happen.

1. You could be ten persons or two hundreds on the same flight. But be sure, one or two of them, will walk up and down the corridor the whole fliying time.

2. When it's time to go out and passengers from economic class walk through the corridors they stare with a little of envy and curiosity the empty business class (large) seats. I always do.

3. Nobody pays attention at the safety instructions during the departure.

4. After lunch, you can't put the things back into the tray as they were put originally.

5. After the landing. The moment from when the wheels touch the ground and the "beep" saying "take off your security belts" look interminable.

6. When the plane is full of italians. Be sure, they ALWAYS applaude when the plane lands.

7. When it's lunch time it is also turbulence time.

8. If you're interested in seeing outside, your seat will be on the wings.

9. Before landing, everybody feels the need to go to bathroom.

10. When the captain talks about weather conditions, flight plans and thanks for flying with his airline, he always mumble it that you can't understand a word.

Durante tutti questi anni di viaggi in giro per il mondo ho notato alcune cose che, immancabilmente, si ripetono sugli aerei. Non importa la compagnia, il tipo di volo o la destinazione. Però succedono.

1. Non importa di quanti siate sull'aereo. Dieci o duecento non importa. Però c'è sempre qualcuno che cammina su e giù per il corridoio.

2. Quando si va per uscire dall'aereo e si passa attraverso la business class, noi tutti guardiamo con invidia quei maxi posti con ogni ben di dio sopra. Altro che la nostra pizza rancida in economica.

3. Chi presta attenzione alla hostess che indica le uscite e come usare la mascherina in caso di depressurizzazione?

4. Una volta finito di mangiare. Per quanto ci si provi, non si riesce mai a rimettere a posto le cose nel vassoio così come lo erano all'inizio.

5. Tra il momento in cui le ruote toccano terra e quello in cui il "beep" che indica la possibilità di staccare le cinture passano lunghi, interminabili, secondi.

6. Gli italiani applaudono SEMPRE.

7. Quando si mangia ci sono sempre turbolenze.

8. Vuoi guardare il panorama? Finirai seduto sopra le ali.

9. Prima dell'atterraggio pare che tutti sentano il bisogno di andare in bagno.

10. Il capitano, quando comunica cose come temperatura e ora del luogo di destinazione lo fa sempre mugugnando in maniera tale da non far capire niente.

So, after all these days telling you all the good and interesting things I saw on the other side of Atlantic Lake, it comes the time to come back home.
When it comes, there's people who has maniac depressions. Thinks about quitting and go back "there" (though it's a dirty gutter in Bangkok) and live into an eternal dreamy vacation. Beside, there's who simply faces the terrible truth: the holidays are over.

And when everything it's over everything's possibly more messy than when it was time to leave, days before.
So it remains a suitcase full of clothes. Plastic bags, boxes, tickets, receipts, coins and pictures to be downloaded and showed to everybody.

I didn't cam back at work feeling bad or upset. Instead, I was full of energy, good mooded and optimist. The anger that haunted me before leaving was far and somehow difficult to believe I felt like that. But my job and the problems are still there. It didn't change very much in this week but hell, holidays are here for this reason.

So, after writing for almost a week about what I saw, what I ate and lived through, I feel this post like a post trip consideration.

Let's start saying that the States has never been my dream journey. Not a matter of disliking. I wasn't just interested in going there.
Actually, my "contact" with America was just through movies and what's called "american culture", which doesn't need a tv to spread.
I didn't know people there, though I have friends all around the world and showed little interest in some friend's tale about trips to N.Y or other places.

Said that. When my father suggested me to go to NYC for the marathon, I didn't let him say twice. Why miss the chance?
Let's say that what impressed me the most was this, hugeness, of everything. Well, this hugeness left me almost breathless sometimes and made me think how we look tiny, compared to the world. It never happened here. Let's make things clear. Despite being constantly nose-up in front of those tall buildings, I wasn't amazed by that simply. But everything. From the portions at restaurant, from the cars to the spots and lights. Not just amazed me but, as I said before, let me breathless.

This is something every other people told me. Another thing that surprised me was the general kindness and good manners of people. NY is a touristic city. Rome is touristic city. But why people in Rome and in Italy in general (shopkeepers) is so rude and bad mannered with tourists?

We have a lesson to learn.

Day#6

When it comes the time of leaving a place you've been even for a few days it's always a loss. When you start getting used to talk about "10th ave" and "48th str" it's already time to leave the place.
Both me and my father are pretty exhausted after walking for almost five days. Plus, the wake is early as usual in these days: 5 a.m.
We should be at the airport at 7 something and take a plane to Buffalo. In the meantime we should gather with other people going to Buffalo/Niagara Falls at a hotel on the 2nd avenue.
Jumping off the bed is quite a hard job. My legs looks like rocks. But, when I'm already thinking how it would be possible for me to keep on walking around during this two days visit at Niagara Falls and Toronto my body promptly replies "YES WE CAN!". So, why should I worry?

As soon as we seat on the taxi, the driver rushes as he's chased by police. My father asks me to tell him "we're not in hurry..", but we're already arrived at destination.
That's incredible how many people is out at six. Looks like there's always traffic here. I wonder that if I lived here I couldn't do one of my crazy rushes to reach my workplace when I'm in hurry. Too many cars around.

Anyway. We reach the hotel and there's little time for doing important things: breakfast and buy NY-Times to see the results of the runners. I just can buy the newspaper that the guide, Moreno, a very funny guy, calls everybody to get on the bus.
Buffalo here we come.

Ok, I think I already showed little display of ignorance saying that I thought Buffalo was somewhere in the south like Texas or Arizona. Discovering its real location was kinda big surprise.
Anyway, as usual, check-in and metal detector. Oh, they ask people to remove shoes and put under the check. The words "socks...holes...." suddenly comes at my ears. Everybody's worried his/her socks would show some unwanted aperture. We reach the gate and have a generous breakfast with a (american-size) "little" cup of cappuccino.

Finally some good soul decided to reserve a window seat for my father. Good. So it will save me from hearing complainings in this short trip.

As soon as we land we just have the time to reach the bus that will bring us around in these two days.
The guide tells us something about timing, things to do, things not to do and introduce a woman who talks a strange mixture of english and italian with a strong accent from Abruzzo. Weird.

She basically says: Canadians were lucky, they got the nicest view and the biggest falls. So they can live with tourism and casinoes. American instead, earn their living with industries and with the production of hydroelectric energy.

"The electricity you all used in New York in these days were produced here" says.

"Thank youuuuuu" somebody barks from behind..

There's time to take pictures at the Bride's Veil and take a walk around. Here's much colder than New York. The bus driver, Jim, jokes about how who ran the marathon walks in this atrocious day-after. Funny guy.
Then. It's time to cross the border. Canadian border is...easy to cross. And the two border officers waiting for us are really nice. Not as the pokerface policeman at JFK.
So, ten minutes and we're in Niagara Falls, Ontario.

We move straight at the hotel where we have a buffett lunch or, as we called it, abbuffett lunch.

[explanation. Everybody knows what "buffett" means. In italian "abbuffarsi" means "eat until you collapse", so, with a little wordplay...got it?]

I don't remember what I ate. But I do remember well those two huge slices of chocolate and cheese cake covered with cherry gelly I got. Oh yes.
In the afternoon, it's time to take a look at these Canadian Falls. And yes, I now understand why everybody, before coming here said me "are you going to see it from the canadian side, aren't you?

Even the skyline is pretty different. Almost nothing on the american side. A kind of luna-park on the canadian one. Nice to shot at night.
And the night comes wy too soon. There's just time to go out and look for a place to dine and to have a fight with my father. Sounds incredible how, despite he's not hungry, wants to decide where should we go for dinner. Plus, he complains about that hour I feel asleep and why I did this and why I did that. When, says again "that place is the only one for dining (italian)" I turn and move away, looking for some other restaurant. Despite he keeps on calling me from far, far away.

And, by the way, a steak, a beer and the game. What's best?

The camera is with me, so I can take pictures of the falls at night, when they light them up with coloured lights and effects. Really nice indeed. In that moment I regret not having a tripod.
Moments later I would regret² not having a tripod because right in front of me, a fox, takes a night walk, lazily looking around.
Haver you ever met a fox?
That was my first time.

When I arrive at the room, my father's trying to understand how american football works. Sulky and silent. And I'm silent too, though not sulky. I'm sleepy and I can see just the bed. Luckily all those elections spots are over, and there are only games on tv. But I can't stand any longer...

Today I went back to work. Nothing changed and if it did, it changed in worse. Anyway, I thought my colleagues spreaded some strange rumour about me (as sometimes happen) but instead I have to say I was saved this time.
By the way. Here's the...

Day#4

What's better than beginning the day feeling a bit strange? Well, maybe going to bathroom, looking at the mirror and finding that the right half of the face is swollen like a baloon!
Yes people, my face looks totally asimmetrical. Or more than usual.
My mother from Italy suggest to take a painkiller and looks like I become addicted to them. I took one the first day because I had headache. Another one the second day because headache didn't end. Then another one because the teeth on that side hurt a bit (actually a very little little bit, let's call it a square root of the word "pain" but, being on holiday, why taking the risk?). And now another one for that. Aw.
Is possible that the teeth did it all?
Possibly. My father tells some sadistic and totally unrepeatable solution that I prefer to ignore it and think that his tireness and jetlag made him saying such nonsensical thing. (Hmm, but here there's no jetlag...hmmm).


Anyway, the saturday before the M-Day should be quiet and taken with a slow rhythm.
So we dedicate to some purchase. A BlackBerry for instance.
Honestly, I wasn't about to buy a mobile phone and the story is so damn long that it will take hours just to tell. Let's say that my phone doesn't work and, being it close to retirement (the battery comes and goes, network problems when you need to call) I ride the tiger and go to this big shop looking for mobile phones.
Now, a Nokia could be good, but the price of BB looks interesting (especially after I did the conversion in Euro), plus my father, acting as the little devil on shoulder keeps on saying "that's not bad uh? that's not bad uh? that's not bad uh?" like a mantra to both me and the girl who looks at me mentally asking "what the hell is saying?".

So, yes Cristian, you got a BB that makes you look (at friends' eyes) sophisticated and a bit snobbish but that's ok. They'll survive.


Then, considering that I never been to Central Park, why don't take a look there? The legend tells about squirrels jumping and walking around as they were the only creatures in the world. So it deserves a picture, right?
We just leave the phone under charging and we go for the ten minutes walk that separates our hotel from Central Park.
Hey, that's huge!

I always thought it was a big field with a lake and some trees. Not a field, then a lake, trees, a field, lake, trees, baseball field, trees. All up to Connecticut.
It can make you feel like you are not in a city anymore.
My father is willingful to show me the little lake where him and other brave runner dared to go with the guy I talked about (Pizzolato). On the way there I think we passed beside the Dakota building.

Oh yes, John Lennon was killed there. Yes I know. But you're talking with a horror fan and I could tell you that the externals (and I think some internal shot too) of Rosemary's Baby were shot there. When Polansky was still a free man, married with a beautiful girl and not attracted by underage girls...

Were we talking about Lennon right?


So we arrive at the lake and that make the song saying "New York city don't mean nothing, it's just a good place when you're running...". Runners and joggers all around. Not enough to make the place looking crowded. But still many.

Raise your hand if you want to visit the UN building. Outside it's a nothing more than a building. On the way there my father keeps on pointing his finger saying "that's it!" to almost every building. Including a tamil takeaway restaurant.
Now, the fact that is called "the mirror building" (or something like that, at least in italian..) doesn't mean that every building like that is an UN property. We could say that UN owns NY then!

Anyway, we reach the place before we start a family war and we get inside. Surprise! No tickets! All free access!
When we get in we discover why.
The portraits of the last presidents, which attracts a bunch of Japanese tourists who, one by one, take a picture with every portrait. Of course, one by one.

I wonder if they were the american presidents...


Outside people is all dressed up for the Halloween thing.
I personally always disliked how people here tried, forced themselves, to live this festivity. A festivity far from our traditions. But here in the US, well, that's another story. First of all it looks like something more joyful and burlesque. Not taking themselves too seriously (even if I saw many costumes stores) and willingful to have fun.
Here it's just an excuse to go clubbing dressed differently. And I mean, ONLY clubbing. Not home parties, not "let's go to see the Yankees". Call it crap. I will do the same along with you.

The day comes to an end. We just recover for a while at the hotel and then head out for a dinner. My father this time was firm: Pasta.
You know the story. Carbohydrates, vitamins and whatever comes in help for the tomorrow 42 km (or 26 miles, I learnt).
So we arrive to this place where the personnel is dressed like '20-'30 divas. So we have an incredibly similar Groucho Marx (with cigar too), Ginger Rogers (I suppose), Al Capone (I suppose), a mummy (maybe the available characters were over) and a guy really looking like Roy Paci. (By the way, check him out, his music is interesting).


I don't know what's the reason. I just know that my father clean his dish as he was a castaway. My pasta with pesto doesn't taste as pesto. But like cheese. Pesto-flavoured cheese instead of the opposite. But my father said his "bolognese" tasted good. Aw.

Since he needs to wake up early (at 5 a.m.) he wants to go to hotel after a brief walk around, keeping on repeat "I don't know if I'll do it tomorrow, it'll take 6 hours..", but I know he's underestimating himself.

And I still don't understand why they stop the baseball game at a certain point...

Day#2

We end up waking up at 3.30 with much of our disdain. I could solve to sleep more, but my father, slightly unrespectful of other's sleep, keeps on talking and complaining about why he can't sleep and blah blah blah. My tireness saves me and I immediately fall back asleep for about two hours more.

I go out for breakfast. That should really sound weird, but I confess I never drank a coffee from those big plastic glasses, so, why don't try it out?
I ask for a cappuccino and a croissant (way too easy, except for the fact that we say "brioche") and start drink..hey, I can't understand how to drink from it!
No holes, no pressure points, nothing. And all the people around me drinks as it was the most natural thing to do. Well, not for me maybe!


So I just remove the cap and drink it as it was a coke. For sure that's NOT a cappuccino. Please come to Italy and I'll let you drink what IS a cappuccino. You won't forget. A whole different story.

I have a walk before meeting back my father and, out of my will, I find myself at Times Square. Wow, that's impressive. I mean, that's really nothing in reality. Buildings, lights, shops and people. Nothing having more than 80 years, but stunning anyway. Maybe we saw it on tv too many times, making it a "must see" place. Who knows. I enjoy anyway my walk there. I like cities for this reason, though.

My father joined the others of the Terramia group (the one we joined to come here) for a brief "briefing" and warm up in Central Park. Now, the group, leaded not by an unknown guy, but the one who, 25 years ago won the Marathon a couple of times (him) calls a "warm up" what, for a normal person, with a normal training as my father is a running for their lives. So, as soon as they say "let's go!", they rushes away as they had some mad dog chasing their heels. And my father has just to keep on running at his rhythm.
Plus, it's not really a good idea to go for a jog without eating nothing than a slice of bread with marmalade. As consequence, he feel weak and sick, overtalkative (I heard him saying "I don't know if I will run on Sunday", to which I promptly replied "WHAAATTT????", this makes him immediately change his thinking) and sleepy.


Before going back to hotel we have to go to Jacob Javits Center to pick up the number and other marathon things. We're pretty lucky cause not many people decided to do this key operation. The woman at the desk call my father "Albert" when checking his passport. He laughts at her.

Then we decide to take a look at the Empire State Building.
Now, call me ignorant and you'll be right, but I ALWAYS thought that the ESB was what actually was the Chrysler Building. It looked so familiar.
Anyway. There's a long queue just to get into the building. A queue that lasts just for 10 minutes.
"oh good" we think, unaware of what's waiting for us inside there. Queues, queues and queues.
Queue before the security control. Queue before the tickets. Queue for the picture (heavily photoshopped, we didn't buy it). Queue to get into the elevator. But just to 80th floor!
We then decide to open a door and go by the stairs on the remaining six floors. Then we reach the top!

What a sight! And what a lot of people there. It looked like the time we went over the chapel in Rome. So many people that it's hard even to look outside. But when we do it, the sight deserves the two hours of waiting. Camera out and pictures to every direction. Far away there's the Statue of Liberty (that we're visiting tomorrow).
So Cristian put his butt over Empire State Building too. Oh Oh.

I decide then to leave my father at the hotel and take a look around. Camera-freem hands in pocket and mp3 overloaded with Death Metal, I go around by myself, thinking that:

a) I never get lost
b) the guide-guy told us "if you're lost, just ask a cop, they're friendly with tourists".


The first shop I get in is something I actually looked for on the internet before leaving: A guitar shop.
Oh my.
Oh MY!
The heaven of Fender basses. Oh My..
Too bad I'm not there for a Fender. I'd like something different, since I need more strings for my equipment, but the sight is really stunning. I'd stay hours just looking those pieces of art.

Anyway, I get out of there and head to a shop that many people suggested me: B&H.
It's not that common here to see a Jewish dressed like a...Jewish, you know, the little hat, long beard, glasses (it seems ALL of them has some sight problem) and those two long hair on their head side. But here, here is totally another story. I never saw so many of them in a row.
I wonder, why they all look the same? Really, they all look the same. Same hair colour, same clothes (but this must be due their religion..) same beard-type. If it wasn't for the badge saying their names I could think I talked to the same person all the time. Weird.


Anyway, that's a preview visit, since my ideas about what I need are still not clear, so I leave and go back at the hotel where my father surely recovered from his sport-coma.

He did. Looking a human being and not as he wrecked from the Titanic like a couple of hours before.
We decide to have dinner. A friend of mine suggested a place called Friday's. Now, I thought it was ONE place. Not a whole chain of restaurants. But that's another story.
This place looks really nice and the people there is friendly and speaking a slow-enough english.
My father choose french fries and nothing more. He's not hungry yet. This jet-lag is playing bad tricks. I have two hamburgers with onion rings. Ok, I can't kiss any girls tonight but that's ok.

A brief walk after dinner along Times Square and we go back at the hotel.


TV is quite strange in America. Really. I thought that Italian TV is really bad. And still think that. But American tv goes really close.
Take in example the election day.
There were several spots about New Jersey candidates (Christie and Corzine) and those for NYC new major. Bloomberg, Thomson and Daggett.
Well, they all said THE SAME THINGS.
"More jobs, less taxes, less waste". Everybody could have said that, cause everybody SAID that.

Plus, and this is the biggest difference between American TV with the Italian one, they really mudded their opponents without any morality.
In example.
Christie said "Corzine had the highest unemployement rate, raised the taxes and wasted one million dollar". Could you figure out what Corzine said in his spots?
Exactly the same.
And the same happened for Daggett, Bloomberg and Thompson.


Here's different. Berlusconi says that the left-wing are communists and want to enstablish the reign of Evil with him as saviour of our beloved motherland. Maybe we're more surrealistic.

On tv there's baseball. A sport that, along with football, I never understood. But we soon get quite touched by Yankees Vs Philly (I think my father secretely supports Yankees) but, after an hour asking each other "why he had to go out?" we both fall asleep as dead pigs, waiting for our visit to the Statue of Liberty.

And tomorrow is another day.