Free Me Of These Shackles...

I beat the résumé theme into the ground already, let’s try a different route.

I have come up with a theory about parents and children. Two adults find one another and create a loving bond. They eventually get married. Then behind closed doors they make a verbal agreement to turn their children into their own personal slaves. Through this pact, they push their kids into doing tasks such as wheel burrowing and pulling weeds(bringing it full circle). My parents thought that a specific skill set that would be necessary to learn is rock moving. I was trained in the art of moving small rock that you shovel up to picking up 100 ton boulders on my back and placing them in precarious spots, and everything in between. A popular one at the Halbach household is placing river rock in the shape of a winding river to make it look oh so pretty. My theory continues with what happens when the skills are acquired. Before internet or telephones were ever developed, parents told every other parent in the world what their child was capable of. The agreement then extends to every parent in the world that their child can be used at their discretion. I came up with this theory because it would seem the Zipp parents were told by my parents that I could do all three of these specific jobs. After the wheel burrowing and weed pulling, Michael has me help rebuild his stone wall. Him and Kurt were putting up wire fencing, I come behind them and rebuild the broken wall with large and small rocks. Sometimes I am running all over the mountain to find rocks that are suitable. I can’t quite figure out how the parents get the message out, but I know I will invoke that power when the time comes.

Moral of the story, if you cant lead the horse to water, then it is just not thirsty.

New Great Diet

Now that you have accomplished your new found weight with the TTD(The Travelers Diet©), it is time to put it back on. Boy do I have a diet for you. I know how tough it is on you to be able to keep traveling all this time not eating more than bread and Nutella. Your pain is over. With Brian’s new celebrity diet ESHF(Eat Silvia’s Healthy Food©), you can take your taste buds on a wild rollercoaster ride of pasta and vegetables. I know your first question “How do I pronounce it so I can tell all my friends about it?” Great question, and don’t worry, this won’t give you whip lash like the TTD did. Start off with a smile like The Joker(Jack Nicolson joker) and stick your tongue out like a doctor is checking your tonsils. Whatever sound that comes out will be good enough. Next you are going to pull your head back until you have no chin or too many to count and sssss like a snake. The last part is the most important. By now you are half way out of breathe, and if you aren’t, get rid of some air. Lean your head forward and give an H sound. You should look like you are breathing hot air on a mirror to write on it, but actually just breathing on someone’s face. Since you are out of breath now, struggle to get that last f out. Once you get that down it is time to start your new diet.

Here is the step by step process that has me feeling great.

1.       Buy an extra pair of larger jeans cause you might get bigger.

2.       Find a Italian cook named Silvia.

3.       Have her cook only naturally made products.

4.       When it comes time to eat, clean your plate, the two people next to you plates, and go for 2^nd and 3^rd helpings.

5.       Do some work outside, but don’t stress yourself too much, you don’t want to ruin your appetite.

6.       Repeat from #2 and do number 1 when you no longer need a belt.

Real live dieter, “I did this diet and took down all mirrors in my house so I don’t have to see what is happening to my stomach, but let me tell you, I have never been so happy.”

Carnivale

Yesterday starts the beginning of Carnivale. When Michael told me Bosa hold Carnivale I thought “YES, Cotton candy, merry go rounds and American Hotdogs.” Wrong. There will be no clowns walking around or obese hicks chomping down a turkey leg. Bosa holds a extremely cherished event that last one week. Today was not the first day, but the day when people get excited about it and begin preparations. Children got to leave school and parade through the main street banging on whatever then could to make “music”. Their faces have black ash all over them like the chimney cleaner in Mary Poppins. Little Nihima struck me with ash on the face and was then able to color all over my face. It gave me the 5 o’clock shadow I have always desired, if I were a werewolf. Carnivale starts late this year on Thursday the 3^rd of March. From information gathered from the host family, there is a story that is chosen each year. From that story people will dress up and go out each night in the streets and party. Saturday the 5^th, my birthday, is supposedly the craziest of the nights. On the last night of the 8^th people dress in all black in the morning. When I say dress I mean men wear women’s dresses and try to look like old hags begging on the street. At night everyone switches to all white and goes out for one last night of chaos. I am not much of a birthday person, but I guess if you are gonna celebrate it, you might as well have it be memorable. Last year I was in New Zealand in Rotarua, the egg smell capital of the world. As more information comes along to me, I will update about it. Be prepared for some pictures. From what I have heard children under 18 should probably not see them.

Moral of the story, calm waters run deep, calmer water don’t run at all.

Oh Hi, Didn't See You There

For the past couple days my parents and I have been keeping in touch via Skype about their trip to Italy. The first half of their trip will be spent with a couple of long time friends of the family. Starting in Rome and taking off to Tuscany. Their house in Tucson is heavily influenced by Tuscan culture. Turns out when they were deciding to live in the world they spun the globe blindly pointed at a spot. It was Tuscany. My mom didn’t have her glasses on and mistook a couple letters and that’s how we ended up in Tucson. When my dad found out about this tiny mistake he figured that he might as well make a house like a Tuscan Villa. For 6 days they are taking refuge in a Villa about 25 minutes outside of Florence. It is at this point I am going to fly to Florence and say hi to mom and dad. If you have asked me about my world favorite spots, I am sure I have mentioned Florence in there. We are heading to Cinque Terra and Venice after that. Impeccable skills of persuasion comparable to “the force” has convinced my parents that Istanbul is amazing. It too is on my list of beautiful cities in the world. From there it is slightly up in the air where we are going after, but I think it might be the most beautiful country I have been in; Switzerland. There is something so magical about the countryside and the alps. At that point I will be taking my leave and heading back to work. There is going to be plenty of work to be done at the Zipp house. But everyone needs a break from holiday.

Moral of the story, too much of a good thing is a good thing + a good thing.

Dice Cut STAB

The Zipp family has finally had enough. They have all taken it upon themselves to teach me Italian. I have a very unique gift for taking a large knife and butchering a beautiful language. After 2 weeks of some mumbles and awkward encounters the lessons have commenced. Before I left I was under the impression that if I immersed myself into a culture, then I would be able learn through osmosis. I was sure that by hearing it enough that my brain would flip a switch to Italian. For those who have the same natural talent of not learning language easily, do not assume what I did. Like the saying goes, by assuming you make an ass of u and…no pretty much just you(I think that’s how the saying goes). Luckily for me I get to start past 1^st grade. My knowledge of how to say my name and counting from 1 to 10 has be graduating to level 2. The biggest problems I have is of course my lack of vocabulary and the horror of the romance languages; conjugating verbs. This is what I was hoping would just come naturally to me. Sure if I listen to the jibberish enough the endings of actions will cemented in my head. I am taking a different route to achieve my goal. Something I thought I was done with in the 3^rd grade; writing out words hundreds of times. As I started writing out the conjugation of “I am”, essere, I was getting post dramatic stress from the long nights of writing out words like couch and coach 500 times. THEY ARE SO SIMILAR. This time around though I am thinking about what I am doing and have got grammatical lessons along the way.

To go along with the language lessons, Nihima is taking English classes as well. So my goal is to be better at Italian by the time I leave then she is in English, ever. What can I say, I aim for the stars.

Moral of the story, if you aim for the stars, there are enough that if you just point up you will probably hit one.

Yogi

I was sitting with my computer open contemplating what to write about on this day. What came to me…I am hungry, I have to go to the bathroom, why is this song in my library, and finally YOGA. For the past few weeks I have been taking Silvia’s yoga class that she offers on Wednesdays. This class takes place in a small cold room with 4 or 5 other older women and moi. When the women walked in and saw me I swear they were looking at a ghost. I asked Silvia what happened and it turns out men don’t usually take the class and they were a bit taken back. The women do not mind that I join them. One elderly woman actually has taken a fancy to me. If it is not Wednesday, sometimes I get to get a 1 on 1 session with SIlvia where she gets to work out my bad spots(everywhere). Now I believe it takes a real special kind of person to do yoga. I don’t think it is just for anyone to take part in. Let us go over some personality characteristics it takes to be a yogi.

1 Voluntarily subjecting your body to pain. Luckily I don’t have to pay, but most people are giving top dollar to feel pain and be told that it is good.

2 Willing to learn to breath. Most of my life I think I have perfected the art of breathing. I started pretty early in my life and have been holding strong with it ever since. There were some times when I lost my breathe, but don’t worry I got it back. I haven’t quite figured out the technique of breathing under water, but above ground I thought I was doing alright. Turns out there are different ways then in the nose/out the nose.

3 Distortions. People have to be ok with bending their bodies in ways that in most cases are not flattering. Fat rolls will plop out, butts will appear bigger, general unathleticism  will blossom out. Sure you think the people around you are concentrating on breathing and their bodies, but you can be damn sure they are checking you out too.

4 Public flatulence. Yep, it is common for people to let loose some gas during some of those real tough stretches. I am guilty of this, but by acting like you are coughing can make you feel like you have successfully hidden your butt burp.

I jest about yoga, but it has help loosen out some tight spots. I have done yoga on and off for a few years and I usually feel best when on. Another way to thank Silvia.

Big Wheels Rollin

As I mentioned, my years of experience in the picking of weeds was well utilized. The garden now looks like an oasis of dirt clogs and mud pies. Ripe for the making of greeneries and other vegetables that are have different pigment. It was a day to put the feet up and take a nice tea. NOPE. It seems that my host family got their hands on the previously mentioned résumé. Right under “Weed Picking Enthusiast” is listed “Wheel Burrowing State Champ: 3 years running”. Before I left my trip, I was known for taking trips to Phoenix to practice my wheel burrowing skills and my sister’s house. She needed 100 million ton of rock and sand moved. It seemed the opportunity to improve my abilities had fallen into my lap just in time. Fast forward to today when my feet were about to be planted on the couch. Michael stops me mid swing and tells me of the group project of the day. We are putting up the perimeter fence. Ok, this can’t be that bad, right? We just have to put some posts in the ground, some fence, drink a beer and go home. Not quite. There was on step that I didn’t think of. Cement. Michael has a machine that mixes the cement perfectly. But he needed a mule to wheel it around. Don’t be fooled by “around”, his land is not round, it is a mountain slope. My 3 year championship wheel burrowing and 100 million tons of rock and sand came handy. I think I had to take 10 loads of cement up and down Everest. “10? That’s it?” Considering that walking up once will nearly give you a heart attack, pushing up a full dish of mud pushes you inches from pushing daisies. I hope they don’t see the rest of résumé. I think “Hole Digging” was next.

Moral of the story,  if someone ever says “smell this”, don’t, it probably isn’t good…

Doing Work

For the past few days I have been delegated to work in the garden. Some of you could be saying, “haha Brian is working at an olive garden. Hilarious.” Stop it, you aren’t funny. The family has a garden that they try to maintain. Most of Silvia’s great dishes have some kind of herb would usually be found in her garden. Unfortunately , due to the work load that 2 parents have with kids and everything, the garden has been neglected. So it was my job to use my 24 years of weed pulling experience that my parents have blessed me with. It was quite an ordeal for someone of my limited back flexibility. About 10 minutes into bending down and kneeling over my back was feeling the little knifes playing with my lower spine. I have been tormented with work like this before while in Arizona. The job needed to be done and I had the most experience. Though I don’t know how heavily employers would weigh it on a résumé. “Brian has a little customer service experience. Good. He says he is nearly an expert in weed pulling. Hire him!” I can only hope.

During the very last run of weed pulling, Silvia came to my aid and decided to pull with me. As people that can communicate do, we talked. She asked about my love life, my decision for coming to Italy, whether hair was better up or down. After my short interview I got to ask something I was curious of for a while. Is my hair better up or down? Then I asked the secondary question, “what are next jobs we have after the orchard is done?” The list wasn’t long, but the jobs were not going to be half day jobs either. 1. They have a tepee that that they want to build a wooden stand for. 2. Build a platform for Silvia to teach yoga classes on overlooking the sunset. 3. Make a fence around his perimeter so the dogs don’t get out. 4. Build 2 additions onto their house. A small bedroom for the children. At the moment, the house is a bit small. 1 bathroom, a kitchen, and a bedroom with the kids in a bunk bed and the parents in what would be the attic. These are the bigger projects that need to be done. Other little ones along the way will be found as well.

Moral of the story, a happy wife makes a happy husband. Unless you are gay, then you are just happy.

Touchè

I had mentioned in a previous posting that raining days are spent with as much productivity as checking facebook. Sure it is good to know who the next internet Susan Boyle is going to be, but in reality it just doesn’t matter. Well my mind told me, “Brian, go out and take care of some business. AND TAKE SHOWER.” I did as the boss said and took a shower. These are pretty quick due to the fact it holds only a small portion of hot water. Three minutes of hot water is maximum before you start getting the glacier water. Good thing I am a man and only shower once a month. No I do it more. Twice a month. I got dressed and got my back pack, laptop, music, extra pair of shorts that I didn’t feel like taking out of the bag and headed out. It was just about 10 seconds out of the door I remember why I don’t leave the house on raining days. Watching me would be like watching Disney On Ice. And instead of Disney you get me. Instead of Ice you get slippery rocks and slippery stairs. Instead of skating you get me falling on my bottom. I don’t know if I am top heavy, bottom heavy or just overall heavy, but for some reason on rainy days gravity works harder. The earth just says I am gonna pull down on you a bit more than usual then yank you down when you are off balance. Touche earth… This same phenomenon happened in Athens when I walked about on their marble streets. I walked around like a 90 year old woman. I guess my moral of the story is don’t walk in rain, earth has pranks to pull on me.

Moral of the story, don’t mess with Texas.

Good Day To You Too

I have built up my confidence over the past week greeting people. It is now common place to go out of the way to smile and greet every single person that walks on the same street as I. Well, except the old women that look like they are sucking on sour patch kids and are carrying a brick in their bag to beat you with. It was today that made me realize what it was that attracted me to this language. They utilize the sexiness of words. “What in the world do you mean Brian?” Well, I mean that nearly every word they use utilizes depth and bass in the voice. Just the words Boun Giorno. The Boun starts it off strong with a nice reverberating Adams apple. It uses the Barry White everyone has in them. Giorno is like an echo in the Grand Canyon. The no at the end is the cat and mouse game men and women play. Yes means no, no means yes, and Giorno means lets get sexy. Now imagine each word having this beauty and grace. It is like foreplay to my ears. It is not fair for harsh languages like Russian or crazy sounds like Thai. Even English pales in comparison to the lust that Italian supplies.

Unfortunately I have not been able to show my face about town to give my daily greetings. The weather has been such that we cannot work or walk about. Strong winds and any rain makes us witches of the west. A drop and we melt. I have been given a good chance to count the hairs on my chin(not many), read a book(falling asleep mostly), and contemplate philosophical questions(who can beat superman). During this time of reflection something interesting is about to occur. My roommate Kurt told me that he is looking to move on to the next Help Exchange pretty soon. I would be lying if I didn’t say I was slightly happy about this. He means well and does good things for the hosts, but our personalities clash a bit. He has his way and I have mine. I told Michael and Silvia I am here until they kick me out. Of course I am going to take weekend trips to different countries but Bosa will be my home to stay.

In the near future I will be probably getting a new flat mate. I am having fears of the characters that could be residing in this town. What if the person is a monster from the Swamp Thing? Or worse, some goods looking woman. Dear god help me. Cross your fingers that it is someone I will like.

Moral of the story, don’t accuse the Hulk of cheating…

Valentines day

A couple days ago was what us Americans call Valentine’s day. From what I can see, the US is the largest over exaggerator of this holiday. As I walked around on this lovers holiday I had noticed not much had changed on the streets of Bosa. The only thing I really saw that gives tribute to V day was a petit shop that had one window display with maybe 10 different assorted stuffed animals holding hearts. The shop owner was taking down the display on that night. This tells me she either has not sold a single thing, OR she gives way to much credit to the guys celebrating this holiday and won’t think last minute gifts will happen. Either way, a ballsy move I can stand behind. The lovers of the world do not need to be told to be romantic. Let me prove the passion with an example. My host family consists of a man and a woman. Check. They know each other. Check. We are on our way to steamy lovers. On valentine’s day he gave her a gardening rake for her to use in the garden. Stop with all the romance already. Too much to handle.

My personal belief is to not indulge in holidays that I do not actually hold dear to my heart or beliefs. Holidays like Labor Day(I don’t like labor) or Presidents day(I was never a president) I just can’t get into. To add on top of that, most holidays these days are all about drinking. St. Patrick’s day has become a day of let’s see how fast I can puke. Because the saint was Irish the men and women of the world suddenly think that Irish doesn’t mean spiritual, but to consume some spirits. There is one holiday that I break my rule for; Thanksgiving. This holiday tastes way to good for me to not take part in. The inner struggle how the white man treated Native Americans still sickens me today. But on that day I think my tummy wins the tug of war match.

Moral of the story, If it is raining cats and dogs, just be glad it’s not elephants.

Words

In my life my mom has taught me many of things. A lesson well learned was to be the class clown and try to make people laugh. One of the ways I try to accomplish this is through puns and general word play. As proof of my mom’s hand in this skill I offer a completely true account.

We were driving home in Tucson and the next door neighbor’s donkey was Heeeing and Haaaing wildly. I was in mimic mode so I started making what I thought was the exact sound of the donkey. For reassurance of this fact I turn to my mom and asked “do I sound like a donkey?” Without hesitation she replies with “No, but you look like an ass.” For the next four hours she was laughing at her pure wit. I too have to give her props on her perfect delivery.

Back to the main topic; word play and puns. While I am at large in the world it would seem one of my most fond tools for humor has been dismantled and sold for parts. Here in a foreign country where English words have a single meaning, word play seems impossible. If you want to ask the oh so classic joke, “is your refrigerator running?” their answer will be “no it is turned on”. Now you are frustrated that you have been out done. On top of that you look like a dweeb for wondering about the condition of their fridge. The first few times I tried to use word play, I got a look like I didn’t know English. Lesson learned. Stick to knock knock jokes.

Roles get flipped when locals trying using English. Italians and Germans make blunders then laugh at themselves. Just last night I was last walking out of an apartment gesturing whether to close the door or not. In the tenants attempt at telling me to shut the door it came out shoot the door. So others laughed, they told him what he said, he laughed. I sat there wondering whether I should buy a gun or close the door. Why didn’t you teach me this humor mom???

Moral of the story, if you cant beat em, join em…If you cant join em, you are probably not very good at what you are doing…do something else

Thanks

This is a thank you to my parents. But before we get to the true gratitude, let me show what brought this on. As you know I am staying with a family of four; the mother, the father, older son and younger daughter. We have been at their house long enough that they no longer treat us as guests and will openly yell at their children, as parents that need to should. The brunt of the parental force goes to Orlando, the 13 year old. He is a nice and gentle kid. The problem his parents are having is his lack of enthusiasm for school. No matter what they try they cannot get him to care about doing grades. Silvia says she is just so tired of chasing down after him making him do the work. It looks exhausting.

I have already called my mom to tell her thanks and that I understand. I once was Orlando. School was secondary(maybe third or fourth) too everything else. They got on my case on a daily basis. Many nights we had to have talks about me caring about what I did in school. It wasn’t until junior year of college that I was actually reading the textbooks and excited to learn something new. But it wasn’t until now when I see a parent struggling the way my parents must have that I can appreciate it. I know that karma will also come back to bite me when I have children. One of my kids will be the same way and my parents will laugh.

So the moral of this story is I love you and thank you mom and dad for caring and sticking with me till I found my enthusiasm. As someone has recently reminded me, I wouldn’t be where I am today without the path I took, and that includes you guys.

All the other readers, go hug your parents…

Punching Pasta

Just a couple nights ago Michael and Silvia rented Karate Kid. The newest one with Jaden Smith and Jackie Chan. I had already watched it twice; once in Vietnam and once at home. I was tricked, I thought maybe there would be a different ending. Like Jaden was actually gonna lose. No, I was sadly mistaken. I had hope still that since I had transferred to yet another continent that maybe they had made alterations. Again I was horribly disappointed. DAMN YOU JACKIE CHAN for teaching him to backflip kick on one leg in only a few months. I bring this huge introduction and reference for a really weak purpose. In the movie Mr. Chan says “too much of a good thing is bad”. Ready for the punch line to tie it all together…He has never had Silvia’a pasta. Yep, all that introduction just to bring it back to the food. I kind of fell bad for you, but that feeling has already passed. But I must say, We have pasta at least 1 time a day and I don’t think I will ever be able to be tired of it. It is just heaven on my taste buds. Tonight though we are getting something new and I am a little worried. I know because everything she makes has a hint of heaven with a squeeze of unbelievable, but we will see what she pulls out tonight. LIVER. When I heard the dinner choice, I thought wait isn’t that an organ in the body that is filters. There is nothing like eating a cleaning agent of the body. YUM…Sure the animal isn’t using it anymore, but what is wrong with the other parts of the body, like the thigh, or the rib, maybe just the fillet mignon(that’s a body part right?)…

Time Passing…

I have had the dinner and my conclusion is that Silvia could take any food and make it a great meal. Why did they have to show me the preliminary meat before the cooking though? It was covered in blood and probably still trying to filter. I asked for a medical report to see if this animal drank alcohol or did hard drugs. I didn’t need any surprises. Funny fact, they don’t do that with animals...The taste was relatively normal since it was sloshed around in onions for quite a while and served with a canopy of onions as well. The texture is what surprised me. It kind of melts in your mouth, but not in a good way. It wasnt M&Ms melting(I would have liked that). Either way, it was ok to eat and I am not going to doubt her anymore.

Moral of the story, eat your veggies…except beats, those are just gross

Can You Hear Me???

As promised I have given much thought to my music selection going on and I think to start it off I am going to give an example of what I am working with to see if it can apply to my life in any way. So I will take the first five songs on my random shuffle list and list them with a lyric that is in there. I have don’t this before and it did not turn out how I liked. Let’s hope for a better outcome. And mom, I am sorry but I don’t think that Elvis is going to be making it into this list. Unless I go to jail then we can play jailhouse rock, but don’t worry,  I will be dancing.

Hootie and the Blowfish – Go Blind -  Every time I look at you I go blind. I hope this doesn’t happen on this trip. Nothing against blind people brailing my blog, I just don’t think I would wear it well.( just lost half of my readers)

Michael Jackson – Thriller – Their out to get you, as demons close in on every side. I REALLY hope this doesn’t happen to me, ever. As a matter of fact it’s time to lock all doors, windows, grab a large wooden stick and get a tazer.

Billy Joel – Lullabye – Goodnight my angle it’s time to close your eyes and save these questions for another day. This one kind of works. I am in bed at midnight writing this wondering if I can save this question for tomorrow. Depends on the next song.

Shakira – Hips Don’t Lie – My hips don’t lie, I am starting to feel you boy. It is true my hips do not lie. They are pretty pure when it comes to telling truth. And my hips are telling me there is no one near me to feel. 4 out of 5 is not doing well.

Fugees – Killing Me Softly – Strumming my pain with his fingers. NO.

There are songs artists that I listen to on my iPod during work that I can hear over and over again. These songs  help me keep my mood up when doing some of the mundane work. A song like “Lay Lady Lay” is a beautiful song that also has a special place in my heart during this trip. The ever so classic “Hakuna Matata” can be applied in nearly every situation. Nearly any Paul Simon song, Sting, Kings of Leon, Eric Hutchinson, or Disney will really get me singing along with pure enthusiasm. Recently I was listening to the Bosa Radio station. There was a song that played that really was fantastic. A man singing Italian, a woman singing English, acoustics in the back ground. Even though I didn’t know what most the song was about, I could feel the pain being felt. Once I find it, I will post it. I don’t know if that will make it to my travel songs, but it will be special to Bosa.

If you have any suggestions on songs to download please list em off for me. Always looking to expand my library.

Moral of the story, Just do it… and if you don’t want to, Just don’t do it.

See Spot Run?

A funny thing hit me today as I was watching Silvia play with her two dogs. I saw her speaking to them and them not responding. In my head I was thinking, I dont blame you guys, I dont know what she is saying either. That look that dogs give when you talk to them and they tilt their head from one side to the other, like altering their crown will change your frequency to dog language. I am pretty sure at times when an Italian speaks to me and expects more then a smile and nod, I must be doing the exact same tilt. A little to the left and I swear he will turn into english. But then I realized, every dog in the world doesnt know english. If I am in Slovenia and a dog came up to me(I would run away because it is a Slovenian dog), he wouldnt know “sit”. After many minutes of trying to make this rabied mutt take a load off I would attribute it to stupidity. Right now you are saying to yourself either “Brian, I am never reading your blog again because that is dumb, of course they knows english”, or “Makes sense, I never thought of that, maybe I will see if my dog knows French”. Either way, I think my epiphany completely makes my trip a success.

On a continued higher note, I am nearly 100% better. Head ache, gone. Neck stiffness, gone. Throat crap, gone. The nostril waterfall, still flowing strong. Last night I tried to sleep on my side as I always do. But when that happens, of course the nasal cloggers deside to have a little dance party in just one of your nose holes, then when you switch, they party hop to the next hole. As frusterating as a dog that doesnt know english.  But like I said, by tomorrow I should be back to work and singing “Dont worry, Be Happy”

A preview of a future coming blog comes from a Lio. She writes

“Long time reader, first time writer. Brian this is a two part question. What kind of woman do you like (giggles)? The next is, Do you have any songs that have had an impact on you this trip? Or keep you going, or something is Sardinia?”

I can give an answer to the first question. You know I dont discriminate against women, I am an equal opprotunity lover. Second, I will have to answer in a more in depth blog. I actually pretty much need time to go thru my ipod and pick things out.

Moral of the story, dont stand down wind of a race hourse.

Here We Go Again

Today unfortunelty was a worse day for me. In a race between me and the cold, it is the hare and I the turtle. But in this race the turtle fell on his shell and cant get up(ninja turtles?). But still I went to the farm and did what I could at half alive. They are not giving me food and shelter to sit in bed all day. As Kurt cut branches I became the pyro apprentice. At times the fire I created was blazing to Lucifers satisfaction, other times it was wussy and kinda smoldered a little. 3 or 4 hours of this was not the easiest thing to do with whatnot dripping from my nose and eyes pounding out of my head. You know the feeling, we have all been there. So lets rewind to the day I did not feel like writing this. It was quite eventful and productive. The first half of the morning was spent working outside as we usually do. The afternoon was driving and errands time. Thanks to Micheal I am now able to write on a “full” sized computer(10 in ASUS).

Let me start at the beginning of our road trip. Micheal told me that we were gonna be driving to Alghero and a little past it. But instead of the same path I took from my bus ride, we are gonna take the coastal path. His claim is that this is the most beautiful drive in the Mediterranean. I havent been on any other drives on the Med so I am gonna have to take his world for it. Plus from my gaze, it was pretty amazingly beautiful. During the summer the olive trees dont need any maintenance, so Micheal gives free lace tours of Sardinia. So during our drive he gives me bits of information that turns out to be quite interesting. There is a man that lives in a cave just off the road. He has a solar panel and everything, must be a rather luxurious cave? They have griffins in Sardinia. Now when I head this I said WHAAA? MY HIGH SCHOOL MASCOT EXISTS? Turns out it is called a Griffin Vulture. Its wing span can be as wide at 10 feet. WTF? They have mountian men that actually band together and live in small communities like robin hood and his merry men. Except Little John takes from the rich and then keeps it and shows his buddies. Micheal tells me they are really warm hearted though. Sure…

My entire goal for driving an hour to a large city was to buy a small computer that I can put my pictures on, easily blog, and maybe facebook a little. Found a great deal for something not very strong or impressive. No real need. The big decision I had to make was what language to make my computer. And without thinking of the concequences of putting it in Italian I had already said do it to it. My entire idea is that now I HAVE TO learn.

Moral of the story, eat dessert before dinner, during dinner and after dinner…actually just get rid of dinner

Not Tonight...

I am alive. It is late and I have no kind of mind to write all that happened today. I promise tomorrow will be filled with all the adventure and excitement usually delivered. My semi cold stuck brain is on shut off mode. 

So have a good night and I leave you with this...


Moral of the story, it's all water under the bridge, unless you are in Arizona, then it's just dirt. 

The Itch

I got the itch. Not the good kinda itch, like the itch to go to the beach or to eat junk food. I got the worst kinda itch, the pre-cold itch. The past couple days Kurt has had a cold and has not been tendering like he should have. Regardless of how well protected I stayed from him and how healthy I tried to stay, it was inevitable for me to inherit the virus.

Of course though, my Italian hostess with the mostest has her remedies and solves all problems. Or so she says. After it was announced at morning tea that I had the early stages of "the cold", she became Hussien Bolt and sprinted to get her cure all bottle. She told me to squeeze it down my throat, bit try not to hit the tongue, it would taste good. So I took the droplet and did as she said. Now, this remedy is bee hive extract. She says it is what bees use to cover the cells in their hive. Why of course that makes sense that a cell wall will scratch my throat itch. This did more then scratched. It burned, stung, poisoned, stabbed and mutilated my itch. I don't think they use the wall building material she said was in it. It tasted more like liquid be stingers. Each molecule giving me a nice big hello I am here sting. I assume it works because nothing that bad tasting can't not work. She repeated this at the end of the day again with much reluctance on my part. We will see tomorrow if what she supplied is actually what the doctor ordered. But in all honesty thanks to Silvia. She has taken great care of me and I only jest. She has become my other mother here. 

Moral of the story, if you bite the had that feeds you, take out a good chunk, cause you don't know when you will eat next. 

Too Hot To Handle

I am sure there are only a few funnier things in this world then 2 Americans watching dubbed over Italian shows. Nearly every show that plays on the 10 channels that we have is an American show that has horribly dubbed Italian voices. Action scenes feel as exciting as a Sunday night slow jam radio host smooth talking the women. My roommate hates silence during any part of his day, so his remedy is to instantly put the TV on and sit at the table and watch. He might secretly know Italian but there are hints that he does not. First, the only thing he will say in Italian is hello and bye. Lucky for him it is the same word. The second hint is quite a bit funnier cause I too take part in this activity. If we both are watching a show, for example, doctor who. Then during the whole show we are blurting out guesses for what we think is going on. "that is his clone, and they want to eat pie with their feet", "no Kurt don't be silly, its corn on the cob." At the moment we are gazing upon a quite interesting reality trivia show. This is even more entertaining because we guess the question being asked then interpret the answers to make us look smarter. "I think it says, this thing floats on water", "hmmm...choose between brick, sand, Salem witches, and boats... Ima say boats! They chose brick?" We are pretty clever.

The only tv that made sense was when Michael took Kurt and I to the pub to watch Sardinia play another Italian team in soccer. This was important because 1. Sardinia doesn't even consider itself apart of Italy. They are the Puerto Rico of the US. 2. Their best player got traded less then a week ago to the team they just played. Traitor. The bar was filled with men chanting and yelling and spilling beer. Everyone became a victim of the excitement. At one point when calgiari, Sardinia's team name, scored, an old man came over to me held my cheeks in his hands, started shaking me like I was a piggy bank and he needed that last penny. Meanwhile saying something and spitting little spittles of beer on my brow. I have officially been welcomed at an unofficial Sardinian.


Moral of the story, if you can't handle the heat, get outta the kitchen and go to KFC

Let It Burn...

There is one thing world wide that posses me off. When I tell someone where I am from the conversation goes a little something like this. 

A-hole: where are you from
Brian: Arizona.
A: it is pretty hot there huh
B: ohh yea, it gets to 115 or 45 during summers. 
A: ohh but that's a dry heat huh? it's not a humid heat at least

It is at this point where I really want to go crazy on the person. Are you telling me that humid heat where you breathe in a gallon of water every breathe is harder then dry heat breathing out a gallon of water? The only time someone loses more water is when they go to the little boys/girls room to relieve their stress. So mr./mrs. humidity Nazi, next time go hiking in the Arizona desert without water among the killer diamond backs, the flesh hungry cougars, and skittish but crazy eyed coyotes. See if you can survive 2 hours then tell me how easy dry heat is.

On a lighter note, everyday I smell like a barbecue. Our job consists of cutting limbs and burning them. With the wind playing a game of guess what direction I am gonna blow now, it is impossible to dodge the smoke. Luckily, Kurt is the pyromanic every ranch should have. His solution to most everything is fire. Big bush in our way, burn it. Lots of bugs out, burn em. Got an itch on your butt, where is the lighter. The only problem with this is when I have done a good 4 hours of pulling and cutting vines out of trees, he comes by and burns the tree down and claims the tree was asking him to do it. I either want his tree whisper ability, or some kinda forewarning of the path of his wrath. It is straight demoralizing having done so much work with scratches and blood everywhere for a lighter to do 5 minutes of work to erase all that was done. 

Moral of the story, if you cNt run faster then the bear, turn around and fight it.

How Could You...

Obstacles are a large part of traveling. A bigger part is beating these obstacles. No it's not as intense as American gladiators, or real gladiators, but can be just as devastating. Traveling obstacles are slightly different then living in a foreign country obstacle. Let me take you through what I mean.
1. Local judgement. As I have mentioned before, I was being judges solely on my shoes and little else. I walked down a street is what I thought was a "fly" get up, when two Italian lovers where walking in front of me. Without looking at any other part of my body besides my feet, they started laughing uncontrollably. I don't take kindly to public pressure, but due to the fact I don't want to be the ignorant not well dressed American, I had to buy some shoes. Now I am just the ignorant American! Problem solved.
Auto correct. This isn't so much a travel problem as it is a posting blog problem. I have to work on my itouch, so as one of it's many features, it autocorrects words it thinks I misspell. It turns out I misspell quite a bit so it gives it's own interpretation to my blog. A feature I was not told of.
3. Speaking the language. I think that of course that is a kinda a barrier everyone knows, but no one really gets until they are there and wanna ask someone "yo foo, can you point me to the closest brothel?". Luckily for me, I am slowly learning Italian but yet do not know the term for brothel. Cant win em all.
Speaking the language part II. I list this twice cause it is difficult even when you know a few basic things by heart to go to someone your age to try to make a friend. At the moment I can say, good evening, how are you, I have spoon. I am not a friend psychologist or an architect, but I think bonds need to be built by more then a castle of spoons.
4. Clothes. When traveling, having the same clothes is no big deal because you move from one place to another without anyone noticing the frequency of recycled shirts. That all changes when you live out of your backpack for a few months in the same place. Luckily my savior is my jacket that I wear. By not revealing one if my 6 shirts, I will not have the feeling of judging eyes.

These are just a few of my trials and tribulations. If you have any questions or comments, please feel free to leave them. I am relieved when I get one knowing I have at least 1 reader.

Moral of the story, tip your waiter 20%, if you don't they will find you.

Sweet dreams 

Momma Mia.

What did I do to deserve this?

I am completely baffled at the great deal I get by working a few hours a day. Please tell me where the downside is here. 

I am rooming with an American named Kurt that for a living pretty much does the help exchange. Interesting guy that is ex-army and full of plenty of stories(fantastic for people that don't like to talk much, me). Our place is a little 3 story apartment that is on a hill over looking the city and beach. There is actually a terrace that we hangout on for a couple hours each day to soak in the fierce beauty of the entire scene. I get my own room with a queen size bed and bathroom.

The father, Michael, picks us up in the morning around 8:45, takes us to his house for tea or coffee and we start work around 9:30. I find this hilarious. Never would I thought I would find people in this world that started later then I would want to. Ask my parents and they will concur that 5 a.m. was something I pissed and moaned about. "5 a.m.? But it will still be there at 9, why 5?" Sure an Arizona sun at 9 is equal to the 105 fever you get if you don't get enough cow bell(check SNL for reference if that flew past you). I digress(often). We work till 1:30 if it is not raining. If it rains, it is a day off. The Italians are related to the wicked witch of the west. Not a smart move to go to an island surrounded by water. The work is simple enough, prune trees, pile the branches, burn branches, repeat. Once in a while there will be an odd job such as pick blueberries for them to make thief own liquor. Lunch time. The kids are home from school and Silvia, the mother, is making something the contestants on top chef couldn't make. Her lunch and dinner would easily be a $25 meal. We eat with the entire family devour massive amounts of food. But according to them their food is not fattening. Hmmm... Pasta, bread, meat. Yeah your probably right. I am not gonna complain, I am just gonna keep on saying ancora(more in Italian).

After lunch we have a choice to work or go home. Most who know me know that going home early is the first choice, like the kinda sluty girl in high school being first choice to prom, you gotta hope. Well, moat the time we say keep working. It is so special to be apart of a family's life style. The fact that I am here is making their life a bit easier, and it feels great. They could work me all day and I would be perfectly fine with that. Michael drops us off to spend the rest of the day however we want until dinner at 8. Most of the time I like to take a little nap like the locals do, then walk around the town to get a feel. Old men sitting in groups of four yelling, gesturing, and staring at new faces as they walk past(me). After a few nights out on the town, I have a good feeling for the layout. Soon it will be discovery time for the little gems. Excitement.
The last part of the day ends with dinner cooked by master chef Silvia, as previously mentioned, with the family. The kids are pretty great. Orlando is 13 and knows a little bit of English so we can ask him questions and he can answer yes and no. It feels like a game of twenty questions. "are you hungry" no, "are you tired" no, "are you understanding the words coming out of my mouf?" yes. Nice I win. Nahima is a different animal. She knows 0 English, yet I feel a connection with her. It might be a superficial connection that is only bonded because we stick our tongues at each other, but I can tell she is a kindred spirit. I think she is my best chance at learning Italian. I asked her to teach me in Italian, or is said please poop jelly beans, either way she laughed and ran to play outside.

Moral of the story is this place is awesome like Michael Jacksons thriller video. 

Ask And You Shall Recieve

On the island of Sardinia it turns out lepers and people carrying a traveling backpack snapping pictures carries the same stigma. Let's watch carefully, but don't get near them, you will loose a limb. I walked up to a couple who was unaware by my immediate proximity. As I spoke to ask for directions, the husband threw the wife between us and starting running. He knows he just has to be faster then the slowest person. I figured it was the shoes that made them act this way, but a it turns out tourist in the off season are not common place here.
I get to my bus and take seat. I was a bit tired due to the fact I hadn't actually had sleep for 36 hours. But the view I was getting from the bus was just too amazing. Ocean of one side, mountain scenery on the other. It was pretty unbeatable. If other scenic views picked a fight with this one, Sardinia's would TKO them. An hour later I arrived in the beautiful town of Bosa, Italy. Michael, my host, picked me up and off we went. He is a friendly German fellow with a wife, Silvia, and 2 children, Nihima 8 and Orlando 13. This is a very tight family that is so amazingly hospitable and wonderful, they will deceive thief own post. My ability to post is gonna be limited due to the fact that I do not have Internet readily available. I will do my best though.

Arrival

Today I arrived in the lovely city of Alghero. My bus at 2:30 arrived in the airport on time. The plane left right as it said it would. It had even landed half an hour earlier then we expected. Things are going pretty right. The only slip up that took place was trying to get a bus ticket to Bosa. The very nice Italian information desk man bamboozled me. I admit he got me good. He gave confusing directions on how I would get there and pointed at a little green box machine that gave out "tickets" to those who give it offerings from their wallet. I drain 8 euros into this machine due to the fact it says the bus to Bosa is 8 euros. I press the "give me my ticket foo" button and nothing happens. I can't say nothing happened, it said please feed me more money, I am hungry. No I will not green box eater. I head to the bamboozler and say "good sir, your machine happened to swallow in 8 bites 8 euros." And his reaction is "but of course, that machine is broken, it is beat to pay the bus driver". He turns and goes into his dark office. Bamboozled.

After that though it was smooth sailing. I walked outside and I couldn't believe it, I didn't need my coat anymore. 15 degrees Celsius(~60f) and sunny. A stark stark contrast to the below zero temperatures I was experience in Germany.
Taking the bus into town I was able to get a good feeling of how the nature and towns co-existed harmoniously. To compare, I would say it is half Roman, half Greek, half Jamaican. If my math adds up correctly, that is 150% beautiful.
The Italians though are gonna have to make up for what a couple of their youths had just done. In the middle of my writing I found myself hungry for something Italian. What's more Italian then a panini. I order, grazie, prego, 4 euros, on my way. As I walk out. Two youths not older then 16 look at me then feast their eyes upon my shoes. They didn't stop looking even as I walked right by them. I felt like the Italian shoe mob was trying to intimidate me. "you sure you wanna wear those shoes buddy" is what they said with their eyes. What fool, I am ready to play basketball at any second, are you? Is what I wanted to say, instead I sat down at my panini self-consciencely and decided to blast them on my blog behind their back. Take that tweens.  

Soon Too Come...

Currently I am looking furiously around this small town for a place to steal free internet from without looking like a hodlum. I have written a few posts on the itouch that are ready to be put up, but with the lack of connectivity, they cannot be seen. Be patient, I am looking daily for my spot. I am in Sardinia and doing great.