Napule é

Someone should apologise to my neighbours on my behalf: it has been a week I’m livening up their days with a Pino Daniele background music. He’s one of the greatest Italian song writers but I think I did exaggerate, poor neighbours. :’D

Pino for breakfast, Pino under the shower, Pino for dinner and Pino again before going to bed… it has been my obsession and it’s my weekend in Naples to blame.

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Illy in Wonderland

 

And finally… here we are.

After a never-ending waiting list – we have been waiting a couple of months to get in! – we are here with a skyrocketing enthusiasm.

My ex colleagues Jessica and Francesca and I decided to give ourselves a treat, the Mad Hatter afternoon tea at the Sanderson Hotel .

Are you ready to follow me and the White Rabbit?

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Magic Istanbul

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Music, round of drinks and 20 degrees in January: that’s not a bad welcome at all, Istanbul!

The preconditions were not that good: terrorism alert, the related worries of our beloved ones (“be careful, don’t you have another place to fly to? two girls… usually in January the forecast says snow over there”), but in the end the welcoming could not be better.

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After an awesome couple of hours flight with  Turkish airlines  – nothing to do with the return flight with BA, (British Airways) that couldn’t hold a candle to it – we arrived to the only city in the world divided by two continents.

Europe and Asia live side by side in this 15 million people metropolis, in an amazing mishmash of different cultures, sounds and scents spread in every single corner of this city.

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My colourful London

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I know, I know…  in London the sky is quite often grey. Pitch grey.

Since I have been living here I’ve learnt to hunt for colours everywhere, and when the Sun finally decides to come out every corner of this city reflects a different light and everything seems to be more beautiful.

Believe it or not, even in London you may find colours… Want a proof?

Scroll down and keep reading

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My favourite London bookshops

When I walk in a bookshop I can seriously be dangerous.
It is impossible for me to get out with empty hands.
Sometimes I feel I’m addicted to “literary shopping” and since I’ve moved to London, it’s getting worse because there are so many bookshops around here.

Although I love of all them unconditionally and I still need to visit a lot of them, I would like to share with you a list of my favourite bookshops in London.
They are magical spots where I literally love to get lost in.

A very special Afternoon Tea… at The Ritz!!!

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Whilst my heals were being absorbed by the hall soft carpet, I felt like the star of a movie.
All around and above me stood gleaming mirrors, enormous flower vases and huge chandeliers hanged from the high ceilings.
A bygone era atmosphere.

A couple of scenes of Notting Hill, the famous movie with Julia Roberts and Hugh Grant, took place here but The Ritz Hotel, inaugurated in 1904, is scented with glorious past.
You can feel it as soon as you arrive, and you find yourself backward, surrounded by rich women sipping a cup of tea, or international high society individuals such as Churchill, Eisenhower and De Gaulle – English, American and French Prime Ministers during the II World Word – who used to have meetings right inside these history saturated rooms.

Quintessentially British.

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Love 2.0: being single in London

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.

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