One of Charlie Brown’s phrases I prefer is: I would drown my sorrows over an haircut.

The other day, also if at moment I have no major worries, I went to the barber shop.

It wasn’t a very simple task though, as nowadays it is quite difficult to find an ordinary barber shop. Generally one can find a unisex coiffeur or a beauty saloon…… I had to walk a lot.

Check the result yourselves.


Les patrons sont tous morts

This appellation, patron, nag me from Chad.

What a paradox, for someone pretending to contribute to better relations among countries and among people, to be called patron, with the simplicity and directness of a long experience.

Are we the same as before?

I often answer, the masters are all dead. But I’m conscious that’s not true, the masters are still there, in our mind as well as in the mind of the others.

In French patron has a faintly softer meaning, it’s used also for the principal at work, but I never use capo to define people I am working for. Colleagues.

Am I a patron? Younger I didn’t accept having people working for me. Later on I compromised. I’m not happy with that.

Sometimes I was accused of patronising, and I have to admit I have this tendency; is this the same?

Big Brother knocking on the door.

It’s not a substantial problem, seen from here, but the other day, at Barcelona airport parking, while retrieving the ticket at the entrance, the machine looked at our plate number and registered it on the ticket (and somewhere else, I suppose).

I didn’t feel comfortable.

At my bank, in Italy, to enter you have to put your finger on some sort of futuristic device in order to leave a trace of yourself. The service is not so futuristic, though, and many times you leave there also a lot of time and money for different kind of ‘fees’.

Nonetheless, even if the service would be much more efficient, we pay it with the progressively stronger invasion of our privacy. I am not sure it is worth it. I am not sure it is constitutional. I am not sure I like it.

Sooner or later we shall have to choice: or enter clandestinity, using only cash, switching off the computer, wearing big hats and sunglasses or try to mislead them, creating hundreds of alias, opening counts everywhere, using internet for any transaction, but always with different identities.

Ah, chiare fresche e dolci acque

The bather 2

One year ago (July 2004), I published a picture of a bather in order to celebrate the advent of summer.

Nowadays I present a variation on the same topic, for the first day of June.

Here there is no sun, the sky is covered by clouds and it will goes on this way until September. While I’m writing it started to rain.

The sketch is less sophisticated than the previous one (???), but perhaps more intelligible.

Red is the nose.


The art of putting words together is an old and tricky one. But intriguing and satisfactory (sometimes). I remember that once I ‘framed’ a letter I wrote at the office, as it was a good example that it always exists a way to express something in writing. No matter how complicate or delicate or controversial the issue is.

Transferring this exercise in a stranger language is not simple, and the result is often contradictory. But the challenge is bigger and therefore more appealing.

Bureaucracy offers many occasions to test your ability, but the most stimulating are the letters to customer-support services, where a difficult equilibrium between rage, rationality and claim has to be pursued.

If such a service exists and is clearly indicated: try to find any reference to customers satisfaction in Alitalia’s web site??

One month

One month has passed without harms. I do not know better the town neither the people, but I keep feeling at ease.
Today is raining and I have not solved any of the logistical issues I should have tackled, I hope tomorrow the sun will shine.
I have some projects, but any program requires energies.
One task has been accomplished. I am the happy owner of a ping pong table (with a carton-paper net).

Churros versus cornetti

Life is also made of minor pleasures.

One of them is breakfast’s pastry.

In Roma the choice is obvious: cappuccino and cornetto. The best is the cornetto baked by Il Cigno, especially the old way, before they changed confectioner.

On the other hand, in Barcelona you have a satisfactory alternative proceeding from the South: churros. Thin or bold, with sugar, coming hot from the pan.

Churros and cornetti contribute to make mankind better than it naturally would be, and the cooks would deserve a Nobel prize for peace. A big medal made by chocolate.

Don’t feed the pigeons!

Today, in a small park near the Cibernarium, I have seen two seagulls devouring the remains of a pigeon.
I couldn’t restrain from a sight of satisfaction.

I like nature, I like animals, I loved the dog that was living with us and I regularly visit the almond-tree we planted on her burial place.

But I don’t stand pigeons. I did celebrate the decree of Venezia municipality establishing the decapitation of hundreds of such beasts.

And I always try to dissuade parents, and especially grandparents, to accustom children to give food to those birds. It’s an unhealthy behaviour bringing disorder, filthiness and above all, more pigeons.

Homer Simpson is my hero

There are several features which bring together me and Homer. His wife’s name is Marge, their dog is probably a greyhound, and above all we have a similar attitude towards life.

He is lazy, and on my business card I mentioned idler as specialization.

He does not contribute much to house cleaning; my task at home is wash dishing….within a 48 hours deadline.

He doesn.t bother with his personal care. I do not own a comb from the age of 14.

Of course, I have not is thoughtlessness (despreocupación in castellano, very interesting word) and his heavy levity, but I am working on it.