Istanbul in TV colors

Life in the desert and in the land surrounded by extensive masses of dust and sand is opaque. Dubai dense humidity is also a factor. After living more than one month with a misty horizon, Istanbul landscape is even more impressing. Clear air, probably only relatively pure, lets my eyes see the old town with a forgotten clearity.

Back to Istanbul, Europe

Thursday, July the 3rd I am back to Europe after 44 days. On the West coast of Bosphorus lays the European side of Istanbul. I am back to the Turkish capital after 12 years.
Back in 1996 on a dirty white truck I crossed eastern Europe with other eight friends to cruise to Anatholia. 1996, Atlanta olympic games, Micheal Johnson flying for 200 meters in 19.32 secs. Through one of the first mobile I asked my mom the results of track and fields.
Vegetation and weather are familiar. Far from the extreme heat in Arabic peninsula, green hills with large trees. Perfumes of Mediterranean accompanies the sun through the long July day.
Istanbul, for centuries the bridge from the East to the West, welcomes me for this short adventure in Europe. Far memories of adolescence and friendship make warmer and sweeter the weekend.

White eyes in white buses

A float of white buses carry the army of construction workers aroud Dubai. From the suburbs to the developing areas, a continuous flow of blue dressed pakistani is the blood thet feed Dubai.
Tired faces directed home, white wounded eyes looking for few hours of rest.
24 hours a day, 7 days a week endless motion. Thousands miles from Lahore, Islamabad, Karachi and more small communities from Punjab to the north, thousands miles reflected in their opaque espression, in their dusty beards.
Colors and spices of Pakistan become empty sweat. Still their big white eyes look outside the dirty windows of the buses, over the horizon, without destination.

Sand

On a 767 from UAE to Saudi Arabia. Sea colors are pure and innocent but the coast shapes nervous and bizzare. Many dessalinator plants work furiously to provide urgent and impelling Saudi needs. Thirtsy and sandy land. Once the plane start flying over the desert, the earth becomes invisible. Pale yellow clouds, wind and sand. Nothing for thousands of kilometers, until Riyadh.
Wind in Saudi brings dust everywhere. Warm and sandy air through my nostrils on the way back to my hotel.

Kingdom Centre, Riyadh

It's a typical early June day in the Saudi Arabia capital. Dust and humidity, dense air covers the city. Kingdom Centre is a giant shadow very far away, but as the cab moves towards the skyscraper, it becomes cristalline and soft. Shopping malls colored neons start to shine as the sunset approaches. Kingdome Centre reveals its unusual geometries, tough angles and imaginative surfaces. Riyadh is imponent, friendly and calm. Its peaceful soul just asks to be discovered.

Hard Rock cafe, Dubai, Sunday night

Sunday working day very long. 830pm I need a legendary epic-burger. 100 meter from my office Hard Rock cafe, Dubai.
Two 10-meter-tall guitars stand in front of the main entrance.
Unlucky selection of videos during my quick meal, including Cinderella (oh !) and a special dancing event with all the HRC staff shaking their bodies randomly and hazily with the luxurious rithm of 'Cadillac-eye Joe', the techno legendary song by Rednex.
On my left a Kevin-Spacey-looking guy stares at me while I am divoring my burger.
Some turists are loosing their time here. For me it's enought to go back working

St. Moritz and Aspen reunited, Emirates Mall

Snow falls gently night time. Nearby St. Moritz cafe's fireplaces broadcast fire.
Yes, that's what they do, they simply broadcast fire.
Aspen cafe, close to Virgin Megastore, is much more quiet. And cozier.
Curry smell covers the restaurant area, Burger King is surrounded by felafel and kebabs.
Emirates mall teaches skying lessons. Sells original French baguettes, videogames.
A slightly more commercial version of Disneyland, where kids are safely shaken by a gigantic robot hand.
Never ending, always surprising, shiny, immaculate and fresh.
Sky-lift operate until 11pm. From the terrace of T.G.I.F. a phenomenal view of the slopes.
Outside, still 100 Farenheit, dust, and the first shadows of the night.

Nuran Greens residence, Dubai

The noise of air conditioning cannot be dumped by my soft pillows. Laying in my bed, thinking abount this Sunday. The tears in the airport. The cold in the airplane. The heat in the taxi line in Dubai.
Le lights of the new city. The malls, the hotels.
The stars.
The middle east, and the gulf area.
Too many emotions to sleep, I calmly eat a banana in front of the tv. Satellite brings me Rai1, and whispers from Italy.

Moving on: Barcelona, MBA graduation, Dubai

After last Friday MBA graduation cerimony, University's campus was very quiet. Gone are hundreds of couples of parents who came from every part of the world to live this emotion with their promising children. Gone are the heavy rains, the queues for the cabs. Gone are the parties.
Gome are my very last two years as a student.
Walking around the campus I felt absolutely quiet. Fruits and jems of the MBA are ready to be caught. No more a student, I automatically feel distant from the working rooms, from the cafeteria, from all the facilities. I am a guest, walking around, during a holyday, in a desert University.
Desert in front of me. Arabic peninsula is waiting for me.
I will land in Dubai next Sunday, and will start working in ten days.
No more a student, I am ready to move on. Time will bring me some wiseness and some reflections on the MBA experience. For now, I am just thankfull.

MBA graduation eve

In computer lab, pretending it's just another day.
Some students checking email, knowing it's just the last day.
Some partents visiting campus, feeling it's really a special day.
Wind and heavy clouds won't make the Dean sleep tonight.
It must be a sunny day. Melanchony will come later, when I will close all my baggages. It will be just another maniac Monday !

From St. David to Rothko

Large field of light colors in the South West coast of Wales.
I flow through capillars from Newgale to Little Haven. Horses staring at the sea, enormous spaces, sand and wind.
Yellow are the flowers of Wales.
Dark purple the paints of Rothko in Tate Modern.
Shallow light, deep intimate. Four hundred miles between chromatic solitude, sweet and cold spaces.
Some colors are free, enigmatic. Others are stored, for the future.

Pembroke

Last grasp of Wales is the castle of Pembroke. Ruins of white sand rich of history. Quick clouds run over the fortress.
Ice creams are already for sale. It rains and my trip in Wales is over.
Main objectives of the trip:

emotions
images

Both linked to nature, soil and tradition. Driving, too much, from place to place, I found warm rooms and solitude, for this time, an unwanted emotion.
Sweet smerald green landscape, rusty walls. Warlocks and wizards are finally resting.

From Mt. Snowdon to Whitesands Bay

Finally, unfortunately, Welsh weather stops making discounts. Mist and rain around Mt. Snowdon make the hike impossible.
A slow diesel train bring cold turists to the top of the montain. In fact, it brings turists into a giant cloud. The landscape is hidden. The train is cold and wet. Ironically the wagon has an automatic speaker which keep on suggesting to look left to heartbreaking views.
Two hours of mist suggest me to move south, to the coast nearby St. David. It's a long trip, but, at this point, necessary.
Short pit-stop at Cardigan, another disappointment. Cardigan castle is just a ruined wall, the rain isn't heavy but penetrate below my skin.
Warming in my car, hot blood and excitement bring me (finally) to St. David. Nearby Whitesands Bay is marvellous, large and sweet beach. It's a Breton see in Britain, without seafood in the low tide.
Dogs are playing into the waves. The sun finally kisses Wales, two hours before the sunset.
After disappointing meals, I give myself a special dinner, crabs and sea bass with Cider.
Extra-cold Walsh Cider is a really exciting drink. Immagine a big glass of cider filled up with ice cubes. Chilled as ice tea. Great great drink, obviously a disaster with sea food.

Travelling is looking for excitement. And for emotions.
Staring at a painting in a museum, staing at the sea.
Spotting a koala on a tree, walking through the street of a city old district.
Sometimes emotions can emerge from hybrid experience, food, music and landscape.
Or writing my blog in a B&B managed by chilled, surf dudes staff !

quick comparison (Although I hate comparisons)

Like Iceland, Wales average village population does not exceed 1000. Despite looking important on the map, 99% of villages offer just a small cafeteria and a nice sight.
Which is beautiful.

Whistling Sands, Aberdaron

Aberdaron, as the Lonely Planet guide states, is an end-of-the-earth kind of place.
Roads connect people to places. Thus, most of the earth can be reached only by a walk.
Highway and main roads connect to a limited and selected number of spaces. To break this gentle control, small roads in Wales do the job.
following a thiny and nervous road in the Llyn peninsula, I find myself in a desert beach surrounded by black stones.
I meet two persons:

• A young fisherman
• A technician who's trying to repair the cash payer for the parking. Even remote beaches have a two pound parking fee!

On the last edge of the peninsula lays Aberdaron. Here I find a small Cafe, serving sandwiches filled by fresh Aberdaron crabs. This place is all white painted wood, warm canvas. It's crowded by 60ers turists from Cardiff. Everyone is speaking in Welsh.
What does Aberadon offer?
Malichony, rains. Magic islands.
Most important, it offers intimity like no other spot on the earth does.

Travelling is movement. I cannot stare at Beaumaris castle more than 15'.
Following 10' in Beaumaris Courthouse. So uneasy place! So much enphasis on death sentences, tortures and witch-hunting. Dark emotions, people's favorite.
Several questions make my mind pale:
What is the substitute of witch-hunting?
Why humankind burnt witches for centuries?
And what do we do now instead?

Wales is full of witches, warlocks, and wizards.
I am the lizard king. I can do everything.

Wales day one

Wales in just two hours West of Heathrow.
What the hell I am doing in Wales?
Nature is, most of the times, the direct creator of the most stunning beauties. Views, sights which leave you breathless. Unexpected colors, gigantic masses with potent shapes, pure lines.
Elegant felins, thousand of birds flying together as a pink cloud. Crocodiles, born to kill.
Most of humans can only try to replicate the power of the universe.
Wales is not that disruptive. Wales is beautiful. Its landscapes are sweet, green and warm.

First visit, unforunately, a disappointment. Hay-on-Way.
The town of second hand books is useless. True, there are a lot of second hand libraries, true the maior festival (it's in one month) is a unique event, at which even Bill Clinton likes to partecipate. Dunno, what the past president likes in looking through one billion of insignificant old, stinky books.
The ruins of an old castle host the outdoor library. It's without personnel, in fact it's called the honest library. If you like a book you just grab it and deposit half a pound in a box. When I was there it was raining a lot. It's romantic when it rains over a million of books.
In fact here it rains at least ten times per day, for just a few minutes.
Day one ends in Betws-y-Coed. Walking in a forest, muddy soil, to the waterfalls.
Sleeping in a cottage, with a lot of white painted wood. Warm old Wales !

Map of Intelligence

Talking smart, looking intelligent, I am not sure these are real signes of intelligence.
Evaluating intelligence in a discussion requires to take into account the capability to adapt to the current situation.
Two quick examples:
1. In a political discussion you may prefer to be perceived as not extremely smart by certain enemies, so that they won't see you as areal threat.
2. When you meet the first time your boss' wife, a very beatiful but insignificant woman, you may prefer to talk about easy and silly matters to be liked by her.
In my view intelligence is not linear at all. Up to a certain threshold is about a deep analysis, then it's a quantic jump to the adaptation zone. Like Poincarè maps, two distinct areas of behavior are separated by a stiff curtain.
Evaluating intelligence is even more complicated. If a potential political rival seems not extremely smart in the first occasion you meet him, you may want to discount the possibility he is only pretending to be average to leave you relaxed.
And so on.
Obviously eveyone agrees that intelligence is understanding people, and, probably, nothing else.

Paintball; Platoon

Today Team A6 gathered together in a battlefield to play paintball. I have been shot in my throat, in my arm when I was already eliminated, in both my legs like Elias in Platoon, when the Vietcongs shot him 20 times before he died.
I did not like watching people so eager to shot at me. Hidden in the woods, journeyman snipers seem mercyless.
And they are, with semi-automatic air guns screaming. My hairs green of oily paint.
Where is my general?
Soldier boy, made of clay,
Now an empty shell,
Twenty one, only son,
But he served us well,
Bred to kill, not to care,
Do just as we say,
Finished here, greeting death,
He's yours to take away

Pale blond on A4 Audi, two Koreans follow on a BMW 730 d

So pale blond sad woman you drive big German car on which Volkswagen spent billions for marketing, media and advertising in the last 10 years.
Almost two tons of steel, in dark blue. Four silver circles on the front.
OOOO is premium.
OOOO is wealth. For someone.
Still you look so sad, awkward, exitant, with pointless red glasses, followed by two Korean punks on a big diesel BMW.
West of Barcelona in front of you, sweet sunset, you so pale.

Everybody hurts, sometimes: Bachelor party

A slow cab was bringing us to Marselle Bar in Barrio Cino, REM screaming on FM 104.2.
My best friend telling we are mature, adult. Still one weekend like this would always be possible. Maybe.
Running wild when teenager, growing up in acid cotton of wealthy society. Cynic, sarcastic, tender. Now night arrives with her purple legion. Family man, happiness in front of me, it's time to donate childhood last jems, and call it a night.
Don't let yourself go, 'cause everybody cries and everybody hurts sometimes....
Childhood memories roll faster. 5.
8.
14 years old. More than 20 years of fun, laughts, friendship. Of life. Of doing it in our way, of pretending to be adult.
Now, one last time, we feel the moment to say goodbye.
Finally, sleeping together we hear someone vomiting in the dark, alone.
We laught, until tears.
Everybody hurts. You are not alone.