Can’t wait to get off.
A city that doesn’t want to reveal itself, dancing alternately with the Ocean, is just pushing my well known impatient curiosity over the limits.
After many tumbling caused by the strong wind, my plane has finally landed in Lisbon and I’m one of the first ones to rush to the exit door.
Shame on me I didn’t take a pic of the silly sign my friend Giorgia was holding at the Arrivals where she was waiting for me.
We always mock each other and although we don’t live in the same country anymore, we enjoy meeting between a gate and an other every now and then.
Continue reading “Seville and Portugal: obrigada!”
In a city where supermarkets are swarmed with prepackaged individual meals and where work hours are so inhuman that the only moment you are able to socialise is the drink night out with your colleagues, being single… has never been easier.
In London, when you get back home from work you are so knackered that if you are able to give a ring to your parents or to your friends – who often live abroad – and ask if they are OK, it’s a miracle.
During the week it’s quite rare to go out, and if you decide to do it most likely it’s because it’s related to your job.
On weekends though everyone becomes a party animal: you just need to stand outside a pub on a Friday or Saturday evening to see what I mean. Guys still wearing their suits gulp down one drink after another – the quality here doesn’t really matter, the important thing is that it’s alcohol – competing in a kind of marathon: the winner will be the most pissed, the one who will be “honoured” by being bounced off a taxi because too drunk.
The well known English self control goes bananas, together with the dignity, inside a couple of drinks.
Continue reading “Love 2.0: being single in London”
Here I am, on a desert chilly winter evening – where apparently everyone is shut in their home except me – on my way to the cinema.
I’ve been waiting such a long time to watch this movie and since I had to face the sold out twice and a couple of cinemas stopped projecting it to give space to new releases, I am walking as fast as I can to the Curzon cinema in Bloomsbury.
By looking at the map on my phone I’m trying to cheat time, as I want to reach my destination faster than what expected by Google Maps. I realise I’m very nervous: I feel like I’m going to a date, or meeting a friend I haven’t seen for ages. You know, that feeling you have when you ask yourself a lot of questions, such as if your friend will recognise you, if you will recognise her, if she had a haircut or if she still wears that dress.
I arrive at the Curzon knowing that once again I’ve been wandering too much but I’m really glad to notice that I’m not the only crazy one who got out of her place with such a cold weather: the cinema is small but is gradually filling up.
Continue reading “It was all about Art. And Love.”