Friday, May 25, 2007
Saturday, April 07, 2007
Mamma mia, gia finito...
Despite my monastic life, I was enjoying Rome, her thin streets and her green hills, her cappuccini and gelati, vespas and Romans. My Italian was also improving; too bad: I'll need to return in Italy to practice it more.
It's been a good time there, eventually. I learnt how to like this city, how to cook pasta and make cappuccinos. I also did understand that I wouldn't work at the Fao then: too much political and based on the interest of some countries. There are some good projects though, like the one I was working on.
There are the five best places I found in the area:
- the terrace of Castel San'Angelo, one of the best sights of the city (41°54'10.47"N/12°27'58.84"E)
- the gardens of Villa Medici, the other best sight on Rome (41°54'30.68"N/12°28'55.31"E)
- the market on Via Andrea Doria (from 41°54'32.00"N/12°26'56.28"E to 41°54'36.85"N/12°27'16.75"E)
- the lawn in the old temple, Ostia Antica (41°45'18.98"N/12°17'33.52"E)
- the decaying velodrome in the EUR (41°49'35.03"N/12°27'25.68"E)
That's all folks
Ciao ragazzi, ci vediamo en Hollanda
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Breaking News
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Journey in Mussolini country
A bit farther, nature springed back on a hastily built velodrome. I had to jump over two fences to enter in the site and see it growing and spreading. Nature is right, though.
Vote for José... Esquinas
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
My new way
I left the catholic surroudings of the Vatican to the also-catholic surroundings of Ostiense and Piramide, to the South. Only 20 minuts of walking per day instead of one-hour-and-a-half-almost-two I used to do; however, even if my fitness will be (a bit) worse, my lungs will be (a lot) better. Indeed, thoses last beautiful days, I've been able to discover the orange-grey smog I merily crossed each day during the three previous months.
My new way pictured, then :
At the corner, the caffè-at-the-corner; in front of it, at the end of the street, the great wall and the Piazza Ardeatino, and the stairs crossing the wall
In front of the wall, the handrail I'll slide on this evening
Upstairs, the symetric street; houses look the same in both sides of it
The market on the piazza at the end of the symetric street, warming hands and the fao...
And, from the top-floor of the fao, the sight to the west, and to the Vatican, in the north-western back-ground and above, the orange-grey smog.
Monday, January 22, 2007
Butterflies
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Save water, share a shower: Ecologic activism
Monday, January 15, 2007
Flea market and CO2
This morning, I was walking on my way to work on Via Petroselli, just before Piazza della Bocca della Verità, when I caught sight of a woman's legs, ankles and heel joined, in leather ankle boots, lying down on the ground. Passers-by walking ahead of me hide her face with their long coats; and their legs, crisscrossing as they walk, let only see the color of her jacket. Surrounded by a small group of people smoking and talking, totally indifferent, she lies down on the pavement, among the scooters that are protecting her. Two policemen wait a bit farther. Her dark ankle boots seem there to cut the white line of the road, cars slow down as they come closer, a lady shouts at the ones that don't let her cross the street. I understand that the ambulancy won't arrive anymore. Perhaps one will write about her in the news in brief, about this lady lying among the feet of those who protect her too late. Perhaps.
Saturday, my mood wasn't so dark, I roamed even merrily in the streets, for once empty of people: they were inside shops. Sales. I'll use the occasion to buy new shoes, my old ones hardly bear Roman pavement. The market under plane-trees, nearby, displayed its fishes and smelt good sea..
The National Geographic talks about deforestation in Amazonia, a happy-ending expedition to the North Pole, migration of humpback whales and hummingbirds. Things that soon nobody will talk about anymore, when the Mato Grosso will have changed its name (literally: dense bush) to Grande Campo de Soja Que Engorda os Proprietários Terrestres (lit.: big soyfield which fattens squires), when expeditions to the North Pole will be done by boat and will always end happily, and when whales and hummingbirds won't need to migrate anymore. What a wonderful world is that one, intended to facilitate our job.In front of the Castel San Angelo, an ice rink. Despite the coolness of the ice, it's a hot day. Lili Allen "makes me smile". I conclude Senilità written by Italo Svevo on Piazza del Popolo, under the rays of the sunset.
Walking back, I find the bookshop Il Mare, which sells a large number of everything about sea. I'd like to do seakayak on Kamtchatka peninsula.
Sunday; that's when my dark mood came. Green mood rather. I had decided to gallivant toward the Trastevere, on the other side of the Tiber, so. I went there by il Gianiculo, to say hi to Garibaldi and enjoy the calmness of hills. The garden of one of the American embassies
Downstairs, a huge flea market straggles. One can find everything: scrap mercants, book mercants, people who seem to sell all they own, i.e, for some of them, a plastic dwarf or old trinket on a dusty blanket, forgeries sold at high price under the nose of policemen, kilograms of unusable clock's mechanisms, kilometers of wires from mobile phone chargers, one laptop which looks so strange on these stands that it must work as well as this half dismantled boat-engine, others suggest curtains, a bit of color, discs, a bit of music, watches and fake guns, mobile phone's bodies, electric components, memory sticks, plastic things, dvds, and all the stuff our occidental society send to Asia to build it up, that comes back to us and that we buy, use, stock, forget, sell again so that others buy it, sell it to those who will buy it, use it and forget it again and so on until it ends on the dusty blanket of an Italian bum or a lady from the Balkan, lean hope to feed a day or a family.And me, in crowds squeezing and moving me, my green ideas make my mood darken: is ecology a thing of well-to-do? Who, in this thousand of people, thinks about the future of Earth? Rather, who has not much daily problems to think about our planet's future? North Pole's ices and the Amazonian forest? Which one of these faces I meet thinks like me that batteries costing 1€ for 5 are not a solution for industrial contamination? How a president-to-be will take into account these environmental problems while the half of French population lives with less than the Smig (official mimimum salary, almost 1400€/month) and a good part with something less than the Rmi (assistance for unemployed, around 500€/month)? It's a good thing to create washing-machines and fridges saving energy, but how many buy 2nd hand washing-machines and fridges that don't save, or don't save anymore, energy? Proposing tax-deductible assistance for those who use solar panel or transform their houses in HQE (French High Quality for the Environment); but how many are under the taxable income and consequently can't have this assistance?
Walking out, I follow the Tiber, which at the edge of the city grabs tatters of plastic to the branches of plane-trees. A bit farther, slums; heat escapes from a stove pipe.
ciao
yvan
Post Scriptum which has a lot to see : I recommend you (for the ones who read French) to read "Dol" written by Philippe Squarzoni. After "Garduno, en temps de paix" and "Zapata, en temps de guerre" (two comics books about globalisation and the way it affects our life -negatively and positively- that you can find in good bookshops or in my bedroom), Squarzoni is attacking last years' conservatory policies and eventually relates it to our "new" environmental problems. The English translation of "dol" is "wilful misrepresentation". A very good political comics book, soon in my bedroom.
Monday, January 08, 2007
Back in Rome
Saturday was a good day though: it was a free-day. Near the Vatican, a parade whith horses and guys wearing stilts, marching band and cheerleader celebrated, in a semi catholic-pagan procession, the arrival of the Three Kings and the Befana, a witch who gives present to good Italian kids and coal to mischievious ones. A band was playing "Ay ay ay ay, canta y no llores".
All of them headed up to the creche situated on Piazza San Pietro.
On Piazza del Popolo : did the US signed Kyoto Protocol?
Snaking around...
Rome's antenas: almost a part of the architecture... In Trastevere district, a place I didn't know, but where I'll go back. A guy was playing "Ay ay ay ay, canta y no llores" on his accordion.cielito lindo los corazones
De la sierra, morena
cielito lindo vienen bajando
un par de ojitos negros
cielito lindo de contrabando
Ay, ay, ay, ay, canta y no llores
porque cantando se alegran
cielito lindo los corazones
ciao
yvan
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Sometimes...
It started well, though.
New Year's eve has been good, in a hutt, at 2500m (almost 8400 f).
And then, we drove back. I arrived at my house at night, unpacked my backpack of my my mountain's stuff, packed it with my city's stuff, ate a south-western soup; that's when you sleep the best, after a long day from mountains to plains, having seen family and friends, and when you think you won't see them before a while.
The train starts in time at Pau's train-station. We ran along snowy mountains and cold streams, then sunny plains, then the mediterranean sea, and then we stopped. A women had just thrown herself under the wheels. So we waited 5 hours, I missed my train in Nice, we slept 5h in Nice in a couchette, waited 1h to take the train to Vintemiglia, Italy, waited 2h to catch the train to Genova, waited 2h to take the train to Rome, arrived at Rome with 1h30 of lateness, spending the 6 hour of this last trip between two railcars. In Rome, I payed a 50€-fine for not having enough coins to pay my metro's ticket. Eventually, my travel lasted 35 hours from my house to my flat. Almost as long as going to New-Zealand.
Fortunaitely, my future Arctic supervisor remembered me and is going to send me some ar(c)ticles.
Friday, December 22, 2006
Monday, December 18, 2006
fishes z'and co
Italians markets are fun. I mean, the one which is near my building is fun. You can find there anything you want. Like a supermarket along a street. People have their own stand in bricks and mortar where they sell their stuff.