Purple Nurple...

I am not a member of the fashion police, neither would i assume the position of such a high praised job. I am not terribly fashionable relative to the rest of the world. Maybe inside of my personal family I have a greater desire for a nice arrangement of matched clothing, but this does not give me the right to judge others on what they wear, but I will anyway. Since I have been away from the celebrity gossip and big city style it is entirely possible that in the 3 months I have been gone that a new color has emerge as the primary color of choice among humans. About a month ago the trio of trouble makers which consists of Michael, Kurt, and I were at the hardware shop picking up some things. I had no need to be inside since my knowledge of screw size and strength are limited to just being able to drill. Instead I took part in a favorite past time, people watching. Not many people were out, but enough to keep me from going inside and standing around like I knew what they were talking about. Something peculiar caught my gaze in the distance. A young lad wearing a coat that looked like a bunch of marshmallows that was dark purple matched with black pants. I thought, hmm, that is not a usual color scheme. Not 2 minutes later I saw an old lady wearing the same exact thing. The obvious conclusion that I made was that they were related and he received color blindness just like his grandmother. I was wrong. As time passed the color purple was slowly flooding the streets of Bosa. I couldn’t comprehend what the heck was going on. Was I so out of the loop that I didn’t realize that purple was the pink? I am not so silly to say that I will never buy something purple, but I don’t think I can pull it off. As weird as I thought it looked, it kind of works due to the dark hair, dark tan, dark pants. I got nothing but light, lighter, and ohh my god is he shining. We will see how my fashion is altered due to some trends flowing through this small town.

Moral of the story, being too cool to care has one main factor that must be true, you gotta be too cool.

St. Michael...

I feel like I have given most things in Bosa a fair analysis. But it occurred to me that Michael has not been put under the microscope like Silvia and the kids have. Since I work with Michael everyday this seems rather appalling that his character and quarks have not been plastered on the web.

Over time working with Michael, he eventually divulges all the stories of his life. This man has had quite an existence here on earth. Growing up in Germany he eventually joined the army for a brief stint. In his early 20’s he lived in the red light district of Amsterdam. While there he was friends with all the local working girls on that area and also took part in the shows that are offered in such areas. As he grew older he pursued a different avenue of enlightenment. He went to southern Spain and lived in a cave in solitude for a whole year. Using only what skills he had learned to capture food, he survived as a anarchist against the evil governments of this world. He told a story of him staring down a tiger from across the river and that he felt like he was moments from death. After his year was completed he left to India where he became a monk and met Silvia. Of course there are stories in between the general over view I just gave, but still the story is pretty amazing. But I guess one of the most distinguishing character traits is his response to the simplest of questions. I will be in the back seat of his truck dazing off and kinda wake up and ask “where are we?”. Without a skip of a beat he will respond with “isn’t that what we all want to know about life”. One that I remember quite vividly is my question to him about work that day “we are gonna have to keep going up and down the hill, huh?”, “This is life, always going up and down, up and down”. You are right Michael but I really am curious about this situation. I have learned that the only way to get around his mysterious answers is to ask super specific yes and no questions. “Michael, are we going to the store to pick up a loaf of bread and cat food?”. Try to get philosophical with that little gem of a question.

His anarchist ways has left him pretty skeptical of the world at large. Conspiracies of the big organizations, music icons like Lady Gaga, future, technology, facebook, they have all felt the wrath of Michaels word venom. I love Michael, he is a good father and husband as well as a great friend to both Kurt and I.

Moral of the story, when you cant think what to write, you write that you can think of anything to write.

Warm My Cold Cold Heart...

Before I left for Norway I still needed a jacket in the morning and night to fend off the cold. Over the three days gone someone turned the summer switch on. The mornings and evenings are pleasant with a long sleeve shirt and whatever form of leg covering clothes(shorts or pants). The day reminds me of the days in Tucson with the heat of the sun and feeling that radiation filling your skin with light to create darkness. A tell tale sign of how quickly summer is coming is the number of people sun bathing on the beach. The day I left for Norway there were about 10 people including myself on a stretch of beach approximately half a mile long. Yesterday I went for a run and the number had jumped to 30. Today I went with Silvia and the kids to a birthday party and there must have been 200 people scattered through the beach. The water is still a bit chilly and takes your breath away, but still fun to go into.

I took a little stroll around the beach while the kids were playing get each other wet while in the water. Now if you have ever had a stereotype in your head about Europeans and how they act at the beach or wear, I promise I have seen it all today. I am not much of a speedo man myself, but the men here really let it all hang out. I talked to the father of the kid having a part while he was in his speedo. It was a good talk except he doesn’t understand the concept of American personal space when tight underwear is involved. If he got any closer to me we would have been in an embrace. The women on the other hand are laying on their towels as women do on beaches. Except on these beaches I have seen more women comfortable with forgetting their tops and slipping the small cloth that covers the butt into the butt. The problem with this is that quite a few of them women that try to pull this off really should use that little cloth as directed and should probably remember where they put their top. It really does seem apparent that people are very comfortable with themselves when it comes to public displays of “oh my god put that away”s.

Moral of the story, shake what your momma gave ya, and your momma…

Grade Check...

Things were back to normal on the Zipp farm. My first official day back and we have started a new project with clearing out a space that will be dedicated for hosting the spoontinos(BBQs). Before we entered the area it was over grown with cacti and tree nonsense. The stone wall was crumbling and the ground was uneven with debris everywhere. After demolition of the cacti and some nice pruning I had the honor of building the wall up. We have quite a bit to clean up in the next couple days, but it will look like a beautiful summer oasis for Italian mingling. A few setbacks made sir Michael a frustrated panda. And no one likes frustrated pandas. The sledge hammer, pick, and small hammer all broke off of their wooden sticks nearly 20 minutes within each other. Also, we are borrowing a car that was sitting in the sun tanning for a year. We had to get a fuel filter replaced to make it run smoothly. At the moment it sounds like it will blow up around gear 2. Michael was getting flustered by the mechanic that would give him a part that wouldn’t fit. He would try to return it, but it was siesta(nap time). Then he got the correct part but needed a certain lubricant to make it work properly. All this running up and down and broken tools was turning Michael red with frustration. Everything turned out alright though. The tools we fixed, the car is running, and his color is back to normal german white.

Fooled ya…his color had gone back to normal but quickly went back to red when his wife went to a parent conference. I dreaded this day like no other when I was in school. Most the time I would get the exact same thing said by every teacher. “He is a good kid, talks a little too much, and could work harder”. All things were true, but man it would eventually turn into a report card and that was when WWIII would happen. Michael experienced this with Orlando today after he got his report back that he doesn’t do anything and will probably have to stay back a year. I could tell that there was a huge discussion(fight) that went on because Orlando was careful not to be a pill at the dinner table. He ate his salad and didn’t make any jokes to be noticed. I pulled the same move…

Moral of the story, if you do your work, then you can make jokes…

When The Moon Hits Your Eye Like A Big Pizza Pie...

A long day of travels took me to Alghero, a city a couple hours away from Bosa. The buses don’t run after 9 at night, so it was up to me to find an extremely last minute hostel that would be easy access and close to the bus station. So as I was walking to the closest McDonalds for their good wifi and tasty heart attacks a fellow strolled up to me and offered me a room for 25 Euros overlooking the entire ocean. It was only a couple blocks away from the bus station. I tried to dip into the skeptical side of me, but I found out I wasn’t born with that specific bone. With extreme excitement that I just got a great deal for an apartment over night I hoped in his very clean car and we took to the road. A couple minutes later I was inside a wonderfully big apartment that is actually bigger than the place in Bosa. He handed me the key and explained how to use it. I am not very familiar with the use of keys, so it was good that he told me that you put the mountain side up and then twist. I was just gonna hold the key next to the lock and hope it opened on its own.

I dropped my stuff off on my bed and took to the streets to find something to eat. As I left the building the kind sir was there to give me another lesson in key use. He assured me that the key to the building worked exactly the same as the one into my room. Phew…I can only take so much information at once. The city seemed quite dead, but I walked around and found an open pizzeria anyway. I ordered a random pizza off the menu and a water. The cook lead me to the bar where I could pay and wait for the pizza. As I walked in, there was a few men and a woman behind the bar. A midget of the group gave me a handshake and asked if I spoke English. I told him I was American, so barely. He loved talking to Americans because we are looser with our language. He said British people were very funny in the way they talk and hard to understand(he then gave a funny impersonation I don’t think I could ever copy). He then told me of his dreams of going to Las Vegas so he could take some of the money they have their home with him. I told him that was quite a few people’s dreams going there. I am not sure people go there dreaming to lose money, they just expect it. The pizza came out and I wished them a pleasant fair well. As I walked out of the building I realized I had a monster pizza and that I couldn’t eat it all. So I walked back into the bar and told everyone to have a piece. Without a moments delay, the midget man that could speak English dove right in. Others were reluctant, but eventually gave in. I now had roughly 6 people standing around me asking the man questions to ask me. I felt like I was on Opera and she let the crowd submit questions. We had some good laughs and some good eats but it was eventually time to go. That night I was offered a place to sleep if I was ever in Alghero and had no bed. Gotta love the locals…

Moral of the story, if you got a piece, share a piece…

Weegee Board...

Due to the fact that by going out and experiencing the Oslo would have cracked my bank in half, I made the decision to do what was free. So I sat in the hostel and walk about the town while watching the people. It wasn’t the most illuminating experience I ever had, but it did eat up 3 days and minimized casualties on my debit card. I didn’t think I was gonna miss Bosa so much, but when I was cold, hungry and bored I knew how good I actually had it on the paradise islands. It takes little trips like that for one to realize what others know so well already. My roommate lived in Italy and even asked with major emphesis “Why are you even here then?”. Good question, considering the main purpose of my flight was to get out of the EU so that I could renew my travelers visa and they didn’t even do that. I am just going to have to keep my flight papers on me until I leave for Turkey with the rents’.

Something that has caught me off guard since I moved to Italy then took my trip is the hand gestures. I got so use to hand waves, hand swipes, arm lifts and arm drags in Bosa. At first I just thought everyone was a wizard and were casting spells but as a culture, they love dramatic effect. Nothing is more dramatic to say good morning then a song and dance that Italian arms do. So when I got to Norway when people didn’t take part in such theatrics, I just figured what they said probably wasn’t important if you can’t even raise an arm to say it. Nothing anyone said would have been important then. So I took a closer look and they had a different dramatic effect that was unique to Norwegians. You know how in movies, the hero is driving around in his beat up old car and on the dash is a little baseball player with a bobble head(if there is no movie like that, then use your imagination). Well, from the amount of time I spent watching the weegees(Norwegians), their neck is actually made up of springs that fling their head side to side. It is kind of a subtle, but when conversations get a little more heated, the heads bobble just a bit more. So I guess if you are a hero and have no room for a figurine on your dash, just get a weegee and your quota is set.

Moral of the story, why wash your body, it will just get dirty again…

Mo Money, Mo Problems...

Many different things have caught my gaze as I have toured the city of Oslo. I am not quite sure that I was able to really get a feeling for the culture that Norwegians have. Which is funny because according to most people here, I am a local. I don’t know what gave them that idea. Sure I have the blue eyes and blonde hair, but don’t they see I have a tan? People here are ghost white. On lucky days they get to feel a little bit of sun pour through the mist of fogs. From my experience a lack of sun can only lead to depression. My roommate in the hostel told me that Norway, with its 4 million inhabitants, is number one in Europe for suicides. I am just gonna go out on a limb and say the lack of sun has a little to do with that.

Something else that quickly caught my attention and made me change my mind set on how I would spend my time in Norway was the currency exchange. When I was in Thailand with Carlyn we would spend 100 Baht on a full meal and it would include appetizer, drink, meal, and dessert. We chuckled at it because it actually cost us only about 3 dollars for such a large amazing amount of food. Well here in Norway I bought a drink and a kebab for 100 Kroner. Of course I bought this before I even knew what I was doing with my money. I ate the kebab, drank my drink and head back home to do a little math. When all was said and done my lunch put a whole in my plastic card worth 16 US dollars. It was that day that I decided I wouldn’t not eat again for the rest of the trip. When 5 kroner equals 1 dollar and even McDonalds cheap menu is 20 Kroner, I knew that I had no hope. This even made me re-evaluate my trip decision.

Moral of the story, do the math…