As I am applying to almost one post per day, I have to rationalise all the documentation related to my jobs, studies, language learning etc.
I have scanned all these documents and, to have them in order, I gave to each one a name starting with the date.

In that way, I realized how crucial the 1989 was, also for me.

For that year I have gathered:
a degree certificate (Law, thesis in International Law);
a diploma as lawyer expert in computers;
a certificate of attendance to a French language course for youth organizers in Strasbourg;
the certificate for a 20 months time collaboration with the Centre for International Juridical Co-operation; and
the discharge from the Army (actually, from the civilian service)

(this note could appropriately appear on the Il Male’s column “Who cares?”)


Today we went to IKEA; it is not the first time. I stayed at the restaurant, eating Swedish meatballs, with boiled potatoes, the strange brownish soup and marmalade.
Usually, I am not fond of sweet-and-sour food, but after a short stay in Uppsala I came to like that taste, or may be that mood.
Everything works well in IKEA shops, they offer you pencils and paper rules, the food is not expensive, coffee is complimentary.
It is part of globalisation, but it is easy. May be that’s the real force of everyday globalisation.

Home exchange

Our apartment in Barcelona is not very large and not very central. But there are two bedrooms and a living room and the metro station is only 300 meters away. The Ramblas, Port Olimpic and the Barrio Gotico are only 10-15 minutes away. There is a sea view from one of the windows and we have an old bicycle you can use to get around.

From May to September our neighbourhood will be the very centre of the town, as we are just 500 meters from the Forum 2004 (Forum Universal de las Culturas) where are scheduled concerts (Sting, BB King,Cheb Kaled, Bob Dylan, Cesaria Evora) Expositions (the Chinese Xi’an warriors, “world voices”), debates (on peace, development, globalization, cultural diversity) and all sorts of activities.
For the programme go to http://www.barcelona2004.org.

We would like to do a house exchange for 1 to 3 weeks, anywhere in Europe, during the summer season.

Riferimenti: Home exchange

Books and roses for San Jordi

Today is San Jordi and Barcelona is full of books and roses. On every corner and along each rambla, improvised sellers offer you books, that women should give to men receiving roses in return. Roses come often assorted with ears of wheat (I don’t know if that is to do with ‘bread and roses’).
It’s a celebration, a carnival and there was sun and happiness.
We took advantage to free two books, lets wait for some news.

Book crossing

Today I have registered my first book; I will free it tomorrow, somewhere in the centre of Barcelona.

Book crossing is an initiative worth joining; its aim is to convert the world into a big library.

If everybody would free their books after reading them, everybody will gain, the book buyer in space and self consideration, the new reader in saving money and getting comments together with the book, and even sales will not go down.


Regarding the obsession of keeping books close by, I think it is an unhealthy one. May be it’s ok for one or two special books, but creating a dust-collecting mountain is meaningless.

Then go out and free your books, and you will get a lot in exchange.

Riferimenti: Bookcrossing.com

Balance in Cambodia

In the gym, at the end of each session of balance (the exercises I prefer) we relax lying on the floor. The monitor tells us what to do and to think, but I generally lose contact and start my own line of thought.

Today, I was thinking of Cambodia, some of the Khmer people I met there, the links that still remains. I was happy for having such memories that are a gift and a privilege.

History of Arruffat El Hachbedel

Sheik Arruffat El Hachbedel had two daughters: the oldest was called Msida, and the other Gzira.

When he was visiting them, he couldn’t avoid going back to the time when they were living together.

On the contrary, the two women could barely wait for the moment he would leave. Not for lack of affection, as they loved him, but for fear that something could go awry, that he may get angry, a quarrel start abruptly and they may not see each other once again.

Indeed, the good sheik had a fierce temper, and was incapable of mending relationships; he was as a tree plenty of broken branches.

Whilst he was there, a strained atmosphere pervaded the house, made of few words, restrained gestures and some faint smiles.

One day, one of Gzira’s girls wanted to bring her grandpa a cup of coffee and, bumping into his kaftan, spilled the boiling beverage over his legs.

The Sheik’s yell led to a flood of shouting and fighting throughout the house in which everyone released their pent up feelings. Every lack of attention was reproached, every suspect, every concealed regret.

They almost came to blows; then, out of the silence, they waited for Arruffat’s reaction.

He came back to the room, in his underpants, and was received by a sweet, boisterous laughter, wafting through the walls as a salty wave.