Ciao mamma, guarda come mi diverto

Ciao mamma, guarda come mi diverto! Yes - I'm listening to Jovanotti. My huge favourite when it comes to mixing rythms, genres and awesome lyrics. I never visited his webpage before this day, and I must say those old videos make me put on a smile.

And why Jovanotti a day like this, when two Finns for the first time in history stood on the same F1 podium? I'm preparing for pure relaxation in Rome. And the right person to take me there is Lorenzo "Jovanotti" Cherubini.

At the moment I feel like a piece of empty canvas. Let's see what a Roman atmosphere can do about that. I'm good at emptying my mind of anything that has to do with work. When the office door closes behind me I'm already asking "What office?". So let's fill that mind with something new and fresh.

I'm ready for the next episode of the Italian experience. It has been a while since the last one.

This one, totally different from the previous. The plan is to take as many pictures as possible, spend as much quality time with my partner in crime as possible, enjoy the Italian sun, the city and what it has to offer, the food, the wine, the people.

If getting into the Italian mood feels like a positive, I recommend a book: Peter Moore's "Vroom with a view".

To Rome I'm not bringing any book, other than a notebook, that is.

Saturday morning

Saturday morning. I play AaRON's "Endless Song" from the album "Artificial Animals Riding On Neverland" to get in the mood. I admit, it's not the song to play a Saturday morning. It's a song to play a Sunday morning. So I'm a cheat. Just live with it.

There's something magical in that song. The lyrics do not reflect my mood at all - but still the whole thing does something for me. It's like looking at the rain through the window. It's like watching an endless ocean. With a darkness that seems to fill up the world around you, aswell as the one within you.

A certain kind of desperation - beautiful, endless desperation.

A strange choise for a Saturday morning.

Another track on that album that I love is O-Song, and particularly the lyrics that seem to reflect a piece of real life.
Easy talking in the bed

I drink your lies

with some corona

The heat smells good close to your head
right in the streets of Barcelona

I like Barcelona. And Corona is one of the few beers you will ever see me drinking. Which might have something to do with it.



Back to AaRON. The boys' website state: AaRON’s music takes us through the labyrinth of our lives, a detour in memories , bringing life through the eyes [of] childhood, giving the light that is needed for all vision, “Don’t care what people say, I’m dreamin’ louder every day” [line from O-Song].

Why not. It suits this Saturday morning just fine.

What's happening in Pernambuco

Let's talk about music. Almost a year ago I visited Brazil for the first time - definitely not the last. I spent seven lovely days in Porto de Galinhas, a small town in Pernambuco, in the North East. While there my thoughts were on the local music, as I love exploring music, artists and bands. Most of the live music I came in touch with was the rythms played to the Capoeira.


Four months later I'm buying music in London. And I find the CD "What's happening in Pernambuco". Of course I'm buying it. And it's excellent. It takes me back in a split second to the salty waves of Brazil. I can almost hear "Rema, rema" [hema] for paddle, paddle - as I lay on the "prancha" (board) waiting for a chance to conquer the sea.

The music of Pernambuco is special, not like an every day walk along the water line. It's a total hybrid - a mixture of traditional rythms and punk, rock, rap - and particularly electric sounds. And that mixture is what makes it incredibly credible. I suggest you to try it. Start with What's happening in Pernambuco.

And I must admit, I would love to return to Pernambuco. This time I'd take a few days to explore the live music scene in Recife.

Start with a poem

I love poetry. I've always loved poetry. A poem can do so much. It's a wonderful way of saying things that in a normal discourse wouldn't show the true colours of your thoughts. It's a way of expression, but can also be a way to lend someone the key to your soul.

My love for poetry grew stronger than ever when I got acquainted with Pablo Neruda's way of looking at the world. That was, I think, when watching the Italian movie "Il Postino", many years ago. I fell in love with that movie and along with it, with Pablo Neruda's poetry.

I also remember reading Roland Barthes' "A Lover's Discourse". Although not poetic in itself, the outcome is pure poetry.
So let's start with a poem, and it will be one of Neruda's. You'll get it in both Spanish and Italian.

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche. Escribir, por ejemplo: " La noche está estrellada, y tiritan, azules, los astros, a lo lejos".
El viento de la noche gira en el cielo y canta.
Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche. Yo la quise, y a veces ella también me quiso.
En las noches como ésta la tuve entre mis brazos. La besé tantas veces bajo el cielo infinito.
Ella me quiso, a veces yo también la quería. Cómo no haber amado sus grandes ojos fijos.
Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche. Pensar que no la tengo. Sentir que la he perdido.
Oír la noche inmensa, más inmensa sin ella. Y el verso cae al alma como pasto el rocío.
Qué importa que mi amor no pudiera guardarla. La noche está estrellada y ella no está conmigo.
Eso es todo. A lo lejos alguien canta. A lo lejos. Mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido.
Como para acercarla mi mirada la busca. Mi corazón la busca, y ella no está conmigo.
La misma noche que hace blanquear los mismos árboles. Nosotros, los de entonces, ya no somos los mismos.
Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero cuánto la quise. Mi voz buscaba el viento para tocar su oído.
De otro. Será de otro. Como antes de mis besos. Su voz, su cuerpo claro. Sus ojos infinitos.
Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero tal vez la quiero. Es tan corto el amor, y es tan largo el olvido.
Porque en noches como ésta la tuve entre mis brazos, mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido.
Aunque éste sea el último dolor que ella me causa, y éstos sean los últimos versos que yo le escribo.

Posso scrivere i versi più tristi stanotte

Posso scrivere i versi più tristi stanotte. Scrivere, per esempio. "La notte è stellata,e tremano, azzurri, gli astri in lontananza".
E il vento della notte gira nel cielo e canta.
Posso scrivere i versi più tristi stanotte.' Io l'ho amata e a volte anche lei mi amava.
In notti come questa l'ho tenuta tra le braccia. L'ho baciata tante volte sotto il cielo infinito.
Lei mi ha amato e a volte anch'io l'amavo. Come non amare i suoi grandi occhi fissi.
Posso scrivere i versi più tristi stanotte. Pensare che non l'ho più. Sentire che l'ho persa.
Sentire la notte immensa, ancor più immensa senza di lei. E il verso scende sull'anima come la rugiada sul prato.
Poco importa che il mio amore non abbia saputo fermarla. La notte è stellata e lei non è con me.
Questo è tutto. Lontano, qualcuno canta. Lontano. La mia anima non si rassegna d'averla persa.
Come per avvicinarla, il mio sguardo la cerca. Il mio cuore la cerca, e lei non è con me.
La stessa notte che sbianca gli stessi alberi. Noi, quelli d'allora, già non siamo gli stessi.
Io non l'amo più, è vero, ma quanto l'ho amata. La mia voce cercava il vento per arrivare alle sue orecchie.
D'un altro. Sarà d'un altro. Come prima dei miei baci. La sua voce, il suo corpo chiaro. I suoi occhi infiniti.
Ormai non l'amo più, è vero, ma forse l'amo ancora. E' così breve l'amore e così lungo l'oblio.
E siccome in notti come questa l'ho tenuta tra le braccia, la mia anima non si rassegna d'averla persa.
Benchè questo sia l'ultimo dolore che lei mi causa, e questi gli ultimi versi che io le scrivo.