Few things

We had a long week end, though partially spoiled by rain: Saturday and Sunday, as usual, and in addiction Monday was, I think, the Virgin of Pilar, who is, if I am right, Zaragoza and Spain patroness. And today is Constitution Day (well, I am supposed to study the Constitution and I am not, so I don't wanna think about it) which is like June 2nd in Italy. So there was a parade, in the center of Madrid, and I wanted to go there and see King Juan Carlos and Queen Sofia and Prince Felipe and everything, I mean, I really wanted, I even got up at six in the morning because a friend of mine told me I absolutely had to go early in the morning, because there was so much people, you know, he would have go with the first train, at five, and bla bla blas... The minger. He finally went there just before the parade, while I spent half an hour calling a friend of mine who was supposed to come with me and then went back to bed. I later discovered that she doesn't live in room 750 but in room 650, which means first, thanks God I gave up before spending all the morning calling her, and second, I am an idiot, which is well-known. So no King no Zapatero and no parade in the end, but a nice morning sleeping. Not in my room: my roommate boyfriend arrived and I went on exil for a couple of days. I don't want to be the gooseberry. (I never heard this word before, and I am not responsible for its meaning: the dictionary says it means the one with a couple who stay there like a stupid and I trust the dictionary).
Thanks God this Spanish guys sleep like a stone, because I made a lot of noise while going out coming back looking for the phone and everything but my host did not get up... I don't know if it depends on a genetic attitude or more simply they sleep so much before they go to bed at three in the morning. A couple of days ago they asked me to watch a movie when it was midnight and I was already putting my pijama on. I held on till two, then collapsed before the film ended; but it was Operation Valkyrie and i don't think Cruise managed to kill Hitler after all. I fell asleep even at the disco, Friday: and if you are wondering how can someone fall asleep without being drunk, just consider that it was five, that i had got up at seven and that sofas were quite confortables. By the way, after recovering a little I was able to make my way home: and there are few words I wanna say about it.
We went back in cercanias, the little train who link Madrid and the suburbia. And we took it in Atocha. So far I never stopped there: we usually stop in Sol, but I was expecting it with a strange feeling. My first meeting with Atocha. I don't know what I was expecting. The 11th March 2004 massacre was shocking to me, even more than September 11th because I was older, maybe, or just because I was able to realize what a terror attack like it means. 191 killed. And so I was surprised to see that there was nothing. Not a gravestone, not a paper, not a flower. Maybe I was in another part of the station, so I did not see things which actually exist. Atocha is big, and I later read that there is a sanctuary for all the victims. But it was strange walking in this empty station, looking for something. Life goes on. Six years have passed. Every Friday and Saturday a lot of people take the train to go to Madrid having fun, and every Saturday morning and Sunday morning they go back, as we did. Yes, life goes on. But I can't stop thinking that I waited fot the train in Atocha, and that it was so ordinary.

God Save the Queen

After a race like this, no matter my nationality, I can not but being moved by this anthem, by the flag, by the victory.

Thank you Lewis, you are great. Fantastic.

1. Lewis Hamilton (GBR/McLaren-Mercedes) i 308,052 km in 1 h 29:04.268 (media: 207,510 km/h)
2. Mark Webber (AUS/Red Bull-Renault) a 1.571
3. Robert Kubica (POL/Renault)

I copy the arrival order from La Repubblica

Lewis and the black sheep

I am a lazy girl. Quite strange, for being my mother's daughter, but that's it. I never liked sports much; not playing them, at least. On the other hand, I am totally fond of football - already said - and F1. Typical for a girl, isn't it? But if I am completely guilty for having became a football fan, I can blame my family for the F1: my dad, my uncles, my grandfather and my cousins used to watch every race, even the Australian one- which is broadcast on Sunday morning at 6 A.M. and which I never being able to follow, even if I tried to get up a time or two- and I am sure they still do, despite all the fuss they make about how boring it has became (Boring? How can they think that when you can never be sure to win 'till the end?).
The only problem, the reason that makes my aunt says I am a black sheep, is that they support Ferrari, they all support Ferrari - what else? - and I don't. I am a McLaren fan, shame on me.
Now, let's being honest: I was a Ferrari fan, once upon a time. At the very beginning, when I was little and naive and I had not realized yet that I have a soft spot for brave and bold pilots, the ones that will always try to overtake the others in their amazing way. They are a little heroic to me, modern chariot driver - prosaically, my grandmother defines them "fool". I had a crush on Montoya, then on Alonso (and now, as every betrayed girl, I hate him) and now I am hopelessly devoted to Lewis Hamilton, shame on me once again. When he won the Championship two years ago, beating Massa at the very end in that gorgeous way I was ... ok, I won't say exactly how I was - nothing to be proud of when you are older than three - but it has been a great moment.
Let apart these glorious days, singing out of the choir is not easy, not even when it is about sport. First, when I rejoice, I rejoice alone, and when I cry, I cry alone. Second, a lot of people I know think I do it on purpose, to be different from others. Someone even said I am against Italy - seems like in their minds being pro Italy means support Azzurri and Ferrari and deny Mafia existence - and it annoys me, because it shows how stupid and superficial people may be, and the distorted notion of patriotism they have. Third, it is really frustrating to deal with media partiality- though I think it a common limit. But it helps, because you become aware of the distortions around you, distortions that many don't remark, because they are accustomed to it.
And after all, it is just sport. Sometimes you lose, like today. Sometimes you win: and when you win, you forget everything and just think that it worth it.

Back

I haven't been writing for a while. Mostly because of university. But not only: as I have written in the Italian Blog, I find very demanding to focus on something and deal with something else at the same time. As Mamma always tells me, I can do - or at least do in a satisfying way - only one thing at a time.
Once I begin to write, it is pretty hard to stop. Like stopping flowing water with naked hands. It is a peculiar side of my personality, and the more I grow up the more I think it is a limit, and not something to be proud of. I never admired those who says "I am extreme in my feelings, I am extreme in my passion and so on", because moderation is the main virtue someone can have. And I lack it.
Apart from this silly confession- I feel very free while writing in a language which is not mine, maybe because I focus on grammar or maybe because some words are not as heavy, as important as they seem in my language- I will try to be a little more present. At least during the summer.

Random

I spent the last five days running, literally, from a press conference to a meeting and from a meeting to a lecture. The International Journalism Festival is one of the main reason for loving Perugia- it is my Best-Event-Of-The-Year-Here. You can deal with so many different topics, and meet a lot of interesting people... I have opened my books today for the first time since Monday, but it really worth it.

In the meanwhile, some things happened. Yesterday was the Liberation Day: the 25th April 1945 Italy was finally free from fascism. I suppose that in a normal country everybody would celebrate it: but as we are very far from being a normal country, every blessed 25th April we are forced to listen to hundreds of delirious monologues, while some people show us- who, unfortunately, know it very well as we experienced many other 25th- how moron they can be. Let's stop; I'm sick and tired about that. Maybe I'll explain it next days. Right now, I feel both ashamed and depressed.

Sometimes, I wonder if we really deserve freedom.

The round passion

I'm watching Inter-Barcelona on TV. Right now they are 1-1. I don't support neither Inter nor Barça, but both because of my national pride and - mainly- because I don't like the Catalan team, I hope Inter will win now and next week (quite difficult). They are playing pretty well, and the match is not boring at all; this is quite uncommon when Italian teams are involved, as they think first about winning the match, not about playing good football. And as I am persuaded that in football the only important thing is score, I agree with them.

I'm fond of football- and by the way, don't you dare to call it soccer! Football is football and that thing played in the USA by armored men, it is american football. If you prefer, to avoid misunderstandings I'll call it "calcio", as we do.
Calcio is very important in Italy, as you may know. It is so important that once Winston Churchill said "Italians lose wars as football matches and football matches as wars". He was sarcastic, of course, but there is a lot of truth in this statement. I sometimes think that as long as the national football team ("la Nazionale", or "gli Azzurri", a nickname referring to the shirt color) is among the best ones in the world we will be proud of our Country. I am harsh, and I know, so maybe this is not completely true; but I remember, in 2006, hundreds of flags exposed by people, decorating almost every window... I had never seen something like this before, and so far I have not seen it after: usually, you are a sort of fascist if you expose a flag ... but if Italy plays, if we win a football match, ok, let's be glad to be Italians. Can you imagine how much it bothers me? Italians really feel Italians only once every four year.
(However, there is also a positive side in that. When I think about countries buying weapons because they believe that only with a strong army someone can be admired, I am very relieved: my countrymen will never call for the nuke, at least not as long as football is popular in this country.)

Football is a family affair, too. Fathers tech their sons- and if they are open-minded or really fanatic- their daughters to love one team, the one they support. It is uncommon for a son to support a team which is not his father's, and when it happens, it is quite tragic (of course, it does not happen only here: I remember Nick Hornby telling something similar in "Fever Pitch"... football is - with all the due respect - almost a religion and conversions are not allowed). Depending on your father you became an expert and a devoted supporter between four and seven years old. A nine years old boy knows everything you need to know about his team, and probably has collected five different shirts. Thinking back about my school days when I was that young, I recall that we used to choose our mates depending on that. It was not friendship, it was more an allegiance. We did not talk but about that, we argued, sometimes we even hit each other. Mondays were terrible, if you had lost on Sunday. Growing up you can become wiser or you can loose your pureness and become a violent and an idiot- and that happens too often.

However, even if there are a lot of morons, there are also a lot of people who become wiser- and I am among them. When I was young, very young, football was the center of my life. I started supporting Lazio when I was seven or eight. Unlike millions of Italians my father don't like football, so I can't blame anyone for putting myself in this mess. I saw my classmate be enthusiastic about matches and players and everything so I decided to join the party - because I was naive, at the time. The team I chose is not popular outside Rome, and I was the only one supporting it: and I was the only girl truly supporting a team - my friends pretended to be fans but I am persuaded that they did not know that football is played eleven versus eleven. I sometimes think that if I can bear insults and malicious tricks it is because of my classmate... You know, kids can be very unpleasant, and Lazio has a special talent in losing in many different and terrible ways.

I suppose that a strong role in my love for this sport was played by my parents. More or less in the same period, they got divorced and football became a safety valve. So, if I try to recall when it lost his appeal - because even if I still love it, it is not as important as it was - I think that it happened when I started living true emotions, when I first fell in love, when I experienced all those feelings that maybe make you suffer a little bit but in the end learn you a lot. Mondays are not as humiliating as they was, and I spend Sunday morning in relax, without that feeling of sickness I used to have. It is better, yes, but I miss it a little bit: because now I lose football matches as football matches, but also my wars as wars.

Ps. Inter scored three goals, and won 3 to 1.

Who offends whom?

Ever heard about Roberto Saviano? I'm likely to think you did, as he became very famous after writing the international bestseller "Gomorrah". But if you didn't, let me explain few thinks about him and the way Italian media and Italian politics reacted to his book.
"Gomorrah" deals with a very hot topic: the Camorra. Even if a lot of people identify the Italian Mafia with the Sicilian Cosa Nostra, thinks are much more complicated. Almost every southern region has its own Mafia, and lately Camorra has stood out among the others for being both very powerful and very bloody. Right now the different clans which constitute it control Naples and Caserta and their environs, have made a lot of investments in both legal and illegal business and have a strong influence over the whole Campania. (I am summarizing a lot, because this is not the post's topic: but I strongly suggest you to read some books about it.)
The Neapolitan journalist and writer Saviano published "Gomorrah" in 2006. Sice then it has sold more than 2.000.000 copies here and has been translated in 42 languages (see here). It also causes a lot of troubles to his author, as the organisation has threatened him several times . He lives under police escort, and I don't think its is an easy life, no matter how rich and popular he has became.
Many Italians consider him a sort of hero, or, at least, thank him for what he has done; others don't. Several people think that he made money by insulting his own country, and that at the end, he deserves his current life: you know what happens when you bother dangerous people, don't you? This is the kind of people which makes me ashamed of being Italian, the kind of people who would , as we say in Italian, insult the thermometer for telling them they have fever. But as long as a statement like this is made by a common ignorant who merely knows what is the book's topic, I can bear it.
What I really can not bear, is when our beloved Prime Minister, the man who is supposed to represent the Country, criticizes Saviano for this reason. Yesterday, he said :"Our Mafia is the most famous one because of TV films or books like "Gomorrah"". You can find the news in italian here. Sounds unbelievable? Not to me. I'm used to the beloved saying thinks like that, attacking everyone including foreign press 'cause they dare to criticize him and what he does, or better, what he doesn't, and hiding behind the usual pretext: if you denounce what is- unfortunately- the ugly truth, you are a self-hating Italian.
I won't pretend that Italy has, right now, a good image. On the contrary, I'm aware of our problems and I suppose that we are not that highly considered. But I'm pretty sure it has little to do with a brave writer who endanger his life for telling us what goes on in our own country, and a lot to do with all the Governments which did nothing, or very few, to solve these problems. And I am deeply persuaded that a Prime Minister should encourage and support people like Saviano, because if one day Italy will be a better place to live in, we would have to thank them. But, by the way, who offends whom?
Who is on trial for bribery, who attack the Judiciary Power every two days just because they do what they are supposed to do,who phones a showman if he doesn't like what he is talking about, who said Obama was "beautiful young and tanned", who made this
and this, who said that those who don't vote him are "coglioni" dickhead, and so on?
Not Saviano, I think.

Day after

I'm going to change my blog's name into "How to open a blog and stop studying", because that's exactly what I'm doing... or not doing, to be honest. One day, when I will have a lot of patience and a lot of time I'll explain you how university works here but for the moment all you have to know is that my exam are getting closer and I'm here writing nonsenses. The clever I am.

Those days, I'm dealing with "job law"- all the stuff that you need to know to supervise a job contract, to understand this subject rules and not to kill your client when he fires someone without warning him in black and white. I adore it- but yet April has always been a difficult month, due both to my tiredness and to the weather. I'd do everything but standing on books.

Let's start

OK, I have a problem. Not a big one, of course- but after spending some minutes trying to choose a nice name for the blog, I am here, spending others minutes trying to start my new blog in a decent way.

It's not easy at all, for many reasons that I'm going to explain to you quickly- because they say a little bit about me.

First of all, I'm writing in English. And, though I used to be one of the best in my English class, though I daily read English-written blogs or newspapers, though I am definitely in love with this language, I've always written in Italian, and now I feel like an out-of-the-water-fish, "un pesce fuor d'acqua" as we say here. And you should consider that: I am perfectionist in few things, but language is one of these. I know very well that there are not two words which mean exactly the same, and that the less of them you know, the poorest your world became- and I am conscious that mine is not the best english you can find on the internet. But, unfortunately, Italian is not widely spoken, so if you want to share your opinion with foreign people, or to make them know a little bit more about your country, you have but this choice. So, I beg you, correct me when I make mistakes and be nice: I have a lot to learn.

Second reason for being a little uncertain: I don't know what will this blog be. I used to blog in Italian (camomilla1989.spaces.live.com) but I haven't written anything since October, I think, mainly because university keeps me busy a lot. But I need, definitely need to write- to share my views, my hopes and my feelings- so I'll try to do my best.

By reading that, you already know a little bit about me. First, you know that I'm Italian- and that explains the blog's name, "Writing from the Boot" (we the Italians refer to the peninsula calling it "stivale", boot- and indeed, it looks like it). I live in Perugia- and I fear that you know my city for the wrong reasons. It is a pleasant place- a little small, after almost twenty years here, but I like it. I wasn't born in Perugia, yet. My birthplace is Rockville, Maryland, Usa: so I am also American- Italian-american. My parents are both Italian and we came back soon after my birth- I was nine month and that is why English is not my mother tongue- but I hold dual citizenship and I feel that I am very american under some sides (by the way, can we say "under some sides"? it is the literally translation of "sotto certi aspetti").

I'm 20 and I'm studying law at university. As many of my friends, I live with my family. This is absolutely normal here, since renting an apartment is very expensive and - more important - not so common in our culture. So I'm going to talk you about my Mum- sorry, my Mamma (I don't know if we are truly obsessed by our mothers as someone things. However, mine is not the typical Italian mother.), my brother, my grandparents, my uncle, my aunt and my cousins. Dad lives on the other side of the city- but of course, he is important for me.

I am fond of my university- I start wishing to study law when I was nine. And I'm interested in politics and in history- and no, no, and again no, I am not a berlusconi supporter. Definitely. I am leftist, but neither communist nor socialist- I vote for the Democratic Party in the USA and for the less pitiable party in Italy- which is, so far, Italia dei Valori. And I'm a "calcio" fan. But I'm sure you'll discover more about me.