Where the hell is Francesco … part 9431282 ;-) (@ London, UK)

It seems my periods of silence on this blog become longer and longer, but now I have lots to tell hahahaha. So voila` a little update here from London, where I just concluded a week long workshop on adult education (23-27 February 2009). My flight leaves in a few hours and my lovely hosts Chiara and Ceri are out partying so, sad as I am not being able to join, I do have the time to FINALLY post this story. Thanks Chiara and Ceri for having me over and bye bye!

… Where was I? Aha… After 14 months for the UN in Cote d’Ivoire (Ivory Coast), filled with most enriching life experiences, lovely new friends, beautiful beaches, bombastic parties, smiling and talkative villagers, and a small little taste on the Dark Continent, I felt ready to move onto something else.

So, in December 2008, I left.

On 16 December I said goodbye to as many people as I could but, shamefully, I was made to work almost my whole last day which made it impossible to salute about 1/3 of my friends, namely those from the village (as parts of the UN HQ in Cote d’Ivoire are lovingly known), which really saddened and frustrated me.

Once home I finished checking my luggage to make sure I did not forget anything (but of course I did anyways hahaha), there was a little sweet good-bye cocktail in my house and an even smaller but sweeter good-bye committee that would accompany me to the airport. The committees’ faces full of sad smiles with Roberto, Gurdeep, Verane, Shahzad, Farice, Ludivine, immortalized in a blurry picture from Shahzad would have been engraved in my mind the whole trip long, were it not for some old a**hole in the airport who during my check-in cut the cue in front of a young girl to line up right behind me. My comment to his action being other than polite and polished, the old man became furious and grabbed me in my face with one hand. I told him to pull his hand away asap please but before having the pleasure of removing the hand myself a few bystanders rushed to the scene and separated us. Strange how at 24 years old, for the first time in my life, I was actually feeling the need to smack an old man (and maybe even enjoy it). Funny (and tragic sometimes) how angry moments can make you lose years of careful shaping of your character, norms and values in the blink of an eye. Anyways, I was so tired that I did not care and went to my gate.

And then … “… I put on my blue suede shoes and I, boarded a plane tadadadadadaaaaaa and I was walking in Memphis”… actually, I was walking in Bologna and took a train to Modena, where my brother (Marco) was at the time living. I was so destroyed from my last two weeks of goodbye dinners and parties that I was sleeping insanely long hours and, even when awake, I was as reactive, speedy and attentive as a 95-year-old, much to Marco’s simultaneous amusement and frustration! As soon he was off from work, we went to visit some relatives in Milano, which was great. We had not seen them for quite a few years and it was great to be reunited once more. Thanks Alfredo, Eugenio, Paola, Roberta, Chicco, Franco, Laura, Nilde, Antonietta, Milly, Alessandra!

On 22 December I went with Marco to Bra in the northwest of Italy to visit my closest relatives and celebrate Christmas and New Year’s together. We were joined by our parents and my brother’s girlfriend. It was a great deal of long hours of sleep, great fun, long chats and glorious o so glorious food and WINE! On one of the days, I even managed to go skiing with two Italian friends/colleagues from Cote d’Ivoire, who happened to be taking Christmas holidays! Despite my rather lousy and constantly-out-of-breath-and-holy-crap-my-legs-are-on-fire skiing technique, I looked extremely sexy in my fully black outfit plus black bank robber head mask and I had a great time with my friends. Thanks nonno, nonna, Max, Paola, Roby, Marina, Gianca, Daria, Piergiorgio, Mara, Carlotta, Lisette, Peira, Matteo, Cati, Maria Grazia, Giuseppe, Kim, Silvia, Bruno, Irene, Stefano, Cico, Deglia, Fabrizia, Marta, Roberta, Filippo and Fiorella!

On January 6, actually 7 (because Easyjet decided to cancel our flight after postponing it for hours and hours and sort of forced us to sleep in the airport) we arrived in the Netherlands. From then on I have been doing my very best to visit as many friends as possible, even though between my long hours of sleep, banal misunderstandings and a few double bookings (ups ups silly me sorry) I still managed to miss many of you (currently) in the Netherlands. I will do my best to catch up. Thanks to those I visited already: Christina, Joep, Lyssandre, Etienne, Ofra, SIETSKE, Claire, Rutger, Kim, Andrea, Toto.

On 10 January all hell broke loose, because the cargods allowed me to spent a day in a brand new BMW M3 with an instructor by my side gently suggesting how to best kick the car’s ass around the twisty roads he had selected for me… and some Autobahn (German highway, the no speed limit part please!). Those of you on Facebook will have seen pictures and videos. No need to tell you I thoroughly enjoyed the experience. Thanks Stephan and thanks to BMW Motorsport for putting together such a sweet little monster of a car!

After a bit in Holland I went back to Italy to spend the last week of my brothers’ internship by his side, after which we would travel back to the Netherlands with all of his belongings. Spending the days by myself going around admiring the most beautiful Italian sports cars (most brands have their HQ in this area, which is why the area is also known as Supercar Valley). Out of many many motoring highlights I think meeting Mr. Horacio Pagani was maybe the most magical moment for me…
The evenings were filled with dinners, some in the company of Marco’s colleagues and friends. We also managed to visit some long lost relatives again, this time those living on the Lago di Garda (near Brescia and Milano). We were treated so nicely and wonderfully once more, ah our family and relatives really rock! Thank you Mauro, Elena, Bruno, Vittorio, Marta, Flora, Carla and all of Marco’s colleagues!

Then I went on a mini Eurotrip visiting old (but not forgotten!) friends in Brussels, Paris, Basel and Geneva. Ah how nice to reconnect with old friends, to notice how you changed in some respects and stayed the same in other. To reassess the course of your life and bounce off ideas for your future, to see how they live, how they feel. Thank you Nancy, David, Marta, Dieter, Meryam, Alma, Pierre, Catherine, Anne-Kathrin, Sergio, Angela, Lucilla and Ottavio.

Of course I could not leave without a trace, as usual, so I have generously as well as unwillingly donated a practically full pot of gel to Nancy and David in Brussels. Also, I have left a semi new toothbrush to Meryam in Paris (mmm what would Coelho say about this!?)… reports on lost & found objects in Basel and Geneva are still pending!

Back on 10 February from all these trips I decided to rest in …Yemen, where else?!

So please do stay tuned for an imminent recount of my little trip to Yemen (11 – 21 February 2009), to appear very shortly!

Latest little trip … (@ Sana’a, Yemen)

- I hope you understand that I do not give too many details on names and certain events because Yemen is a wonderful and at the same time very conservative society so I prefer not to expose anybody online too much -

Hard to believe a place I will visit for a mere 10 days already has found a special place in my heart.

But so it was.

A dear friend of mine and I were chatting online at some point and she invited me to come visit her in Yemen where she currently works. I said I would like to come, but more as a courtesy reply than an actual answer, because I thought meeting her in Europe one day would be much more likely. However, discovering the costs were not prohibitive and that I could wiggle a couple of days into my busy holiday schedule (yes yes poor me!) I told her that I would actually come if she really meant it…

I arrive in Sana’a, Yemen’s capital, on 12 February 2009 at 03.55 in the morning. Shell-shocked from the trip and the arrival time, I zombie out of the airport into the warm smile of what was to become one of my best buddies in the hotel I was staying. With some hands and feet conversation and my shameful Arabic mumbling I manage to discover his name and the fact that he has 3 girls and 2 boys. GOD it’s frustrating when you (almost) do not speak the language of the country.

I arrive in the hotel around 04.30 and want to go straight to sleep.

Obviously, a few loud voices disagreed with me. Especially one! About 10 meters from my hotel window there is a minaret and guess around what time the first prayer is announced… let’s just say I did not exactly manage to fall asleep straight away.

In the morning I saw my dear friend but she being… well, a she, I cannot exactly express my feelings of happiness of seeing her again because of man-woman interaction rules in Yemeni society. It makes me feel somehow uneasy during my stay in Yemen, but what better way than learning a country from the inside then by trying to put your judgment aside for a while by attempting to adapt as much as you can and see how it makes you feel over a certain period of time. Obviously, my stay is too short for that, but I can try my best.

I am enchanted by the colors of a splendid city, my eyes cannot grasp the entirety of the beauty of Sana’a, the Yemeni capital. Beautiful little children playing cheerfully on the streets, jumping up and down, and occasionally hopping onto a passing pick up truck for a ride of a few metres, just for kicks. Astonishing buildings in the old city centre, which is the second oldest (although Palestinians told me it was Jericho!) still inhabited human settlement after Damascus, an architectural marvel with a style so uniform and precious I have never witnessed before. Teenage girls, ladies and old women walking by in black burqas, sometimes they quickly glance and their eyes seem to smile at me. The loud and melodious prayers blasting out of the minarets, so much more enticing and pleasant during the day and evening than in the early early morning!

Now I would like to introduce you to a new friend. His/her name is qat.

I chew qat, some kind of green tobacco leaves. You chew them until almost dry, after which you move them into the corner of your mouth and stuff new fresh leaves in. Repeat the sequence until you run out of qat, after which you just suck the remaining liquid out of that ball of qat that will by now have formed in the corner of your mouth and keep it there for hours and hours. Don’t forget to drink because your mouth becomes horribly dry. When you become an expert chewer, your mouth will be so full that the cheek seems to explode. Many Yemeni men have even some sort of dimples on their cheeks when there is no qat in their mouths, which are actually overstretched pieces of skin because of making enormous balls of qat. I thought I was going to have hallucinations but during the different days I try it I notice different effects. Sometimes I feel I can take on the whole world and I feel like talking all the time, at other times I just become slow and my appetite is completely gone.

Apparently almost a third of the country depends on qat for a livelihood and one magazine writes that, because of its widespread use and influence on lifestyle on so many Yemenis, it is the Green Imam secretly ruling the country. In many country, it is considered a drug and is therefore illegal.

Countless other things happened that would make this too long a recount, so I will just tell you one little story and leave you to attend your things!

On 15 February, after a day of glorious sightseeing in the company of my dear friend, her driver and the only female tour guide in Yemen (see pictures), I went with two Yemeni hotel staff to a hammaam, a Turkish sauna.

It was the most wicked experience.

How cool to go somewhere and you have no idea how to communicate certain concepts, it is terribly frustrating but somehow quite fun too. So with many gestures and facial contortions I was dragged through a series of small steaming hot rooms where I was constantly scrubbed, massaged and stretched for about an hour. Every now and then, some bloke would come out of nowhere and throw a bucket of water over my head. Well, not just one, usually 4 or 5 in rapid sequence leaving me ehm, rather short of air to breathe. Is this the infamous “waterboarding” torture technique? Interestingly enough, the person who was my masseur for the occasion was actually a man who must have been about 60 years old. I felt really bad because he was scrubbing, massaging and stretching me all the time and for that he had to fold himself into awkward positions, both standing and sitting. To make things worse for him, he had to repeat to me every instruction or change of position a few times and/or explain it in gestures. Every now and then I glanced over at my two friends and gave them a thumbs-up or my “signature” blink of an eye and they would smile back, seeing I was enjoying the little treat.

What I did not mention yet was that at the very beginning of the massaging sessions, when the masseur tries to stretch the muscles in your legs, not only does he stand on the lower leg, he also slaps it a little. But as he moved upward he also spanked the upper leg and occasionally he hit my butt. So, for somebody who got his last ass whooping at least some 15 years ago I really really felt embarrassed and really had to stop myself from bursting out laughing.

What an amazing trip.

I feel so grateful that the world has many amazing sights and people, regretting my life will be too short to enjoy them all. I am mesmerized by Yemen as I am sure another Marelli was when he set foot some decades back (my late grandfather), and it makes me sad I cannot tell him just how wonderful the experience made me feel.

I wish you all the best, much happiness and love all over,

Your friend,

Fra

P.S.
Check out the photos on http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=228211&id=728315480&l=5e55c
For photos of the Sana’a city centre just go to Google and you will see some awesome stuff !!!!!

P.P.S.
I am now in Romania in Cluj-Napoca working for PATRIR ( www.patrir.ro ) One of the things they organize is trainings for people working and/or wanting to work in the humanitarian sector, so if you are interested and manage to spare some time in May check out www.patrir.ro/training and mail me for any questions !!!!! ciauuuuuuuuuu