Getting married these days...

My dear invisible friends, how are you today?
As you have probably noticed, I'm writing again so I'm clearly on holiday... or, to be more precise, off sick. How exciting! Getting deadly bored while melting in the sun... it's not nice to be ill with this weather... but here we are, still holding on!
But we are strong, so we'll deal with that. And anyway, there are some good news to keep me afloat... Ellie is getting married!!! :D Happy? I am. I shall increase your diabetes now but I have to tell you that I found the man of my life and I'm incredibly happy! We are disgustingly sweet together... ohohohho...
Now the real problem, these days, is to actually get to the big day. Apart from the enormous amount of money you have to spend, the organization of all the stuff is seriously distressing. Luckily I have parents and sister to delegate to. But there is something that the bride cannot delegate: the choice of the dress! After watching 10 billion episodes of "Don't tell the bride" I tried to convince my fiancee to chose it for me, coz I was simply desperate... but it didn't work!
I started looking for dresses in May... yeah, you can say it's not that long... but try a wedding dress on, first!!! O.o Went to my first appointment and I was completely lost...believe it or not, the shop was full of wedding dresses, all white... lace, tulle, silk... my head started spinning! Luckily the lady was very helpful (cheap dresses and very nice, check it out: www.stellasweddingdresses.com) and I managed to squeeze myself into 4 different dresses... on my gosh, they are sooo HEAVY! So many layers of stuff... I was wondering how I could ever wear it for a whole day... mamma mia! There were two I particularly liked, but that was it... I left very pensive. A few weeks after I went to another one... same story that repeats itself... try the dress on, try to close it (they always have very small sizes in those shops... gggrr!) and stand on a platform looking at yourself in a mirror that reflects back a meringue. The problem is that my face do not fit on wedding dresses... but! But I have to say that there was one I really really liked and I've almost bought it! Luckily I promised myself that, before buying it, I would have shown it to my mum. So I took a pic and left all excited. (still affordable and nice www.pronuptia-northwest.com)
A few days after I came down to Italy and starting my search back from the beginning, with mum, sister and some friends. My suggestion is... DON'T DO THAT! It's nice to have people with you giving an opinion but... too many opinions just create a mess! I was so confused... The first place i went to had a few interesting dresses, but the lady keep kindly suggesting me to lose weight. You see, this is the problem in Italy. I'm a size 14, fat ok, but in England more less acceptable. Italian standards put me in the morbidly obese category. All the dresses were far too small for me and the lady kept saying that she'll never find something that would fit... surely encouraging! 'O.o So I left very depressed, as you could imagine, even if there was a dress I really liked... but, as the lady said, I should lose weight before trying it on again!!! >.< (www.markosposi.com)
So, on to the next. We started again with the meringue style (the one my mum seemed to prefer, coz it's so "wedding dress"... is it?) but again I wasn't convinced... not Ellie at all! The only one I liked was a grey-silver one that looked aggressive enough to work on me! While I was walking around in that dress, my sis spotted an interesting dress in the catalogue. It was a bit lady Marion style, finally with sleeves... I've always wanted a dress with sleeves, coz I have fat arms! ;D I tried on and I almost cried... here's the one! I was so happy! Even mum, sister and friend agreed that it was very Ellie! (www.sposidomani.it/) The lady in the dress was very good as well, never complaining about my size... yuppi! She made me feel good and beautiful for once! At that point I took an appointment for the day after to come back with my dad. I wanted him to see it, coz he will pay for it. I go home pretty happy, already planning hair and accessories!
As you can imagine, the story is going to get more complicated. The morning after I had an appointment with my favourite wedding dress shop ever! I spent all my life passing in front of it and sighing in front of their window... prices are always sky high but I thought... I get married only once (hopefully) so I want at least try them on!!! (www.aimee.it/) I went with mum and sister again. The lady at the shop was super nice and even when confronted with our low budget (for wedding dresses standards, obviously...) she didn't lose heart and started showing me thousand of dresses. At the end I chose 7 (seven) to try, and off we go! Empire style, meringue style, elegant style, all lace ones... I was so tired! I decided to try lace coz my mum is obsessed with that... she likes lace! But I don't really... somehow it makes me feel older and too... mmh... posh? Maybe. But I'm too aggressive to wear a lacey dress, I would break it in 5 seconds... after almost 3 hours in the shop, a deadly tired bride to be and my family eating in front of me, the lady (Doriana) came out with a completely different dress and put it on me... and ta daaaan! Now THAT was THE dress. MEGA confusing! Even if there was lace on it.... mmmh.... mmmmh.... spent the night thinking and thinking and the day after I go back to the Marion dress with even more friends and my dad. He just didn't like it, saying that it looked more like a first communion dress... and it made me look older! Ouch! So I tried some more on... please somebody save me!!! And I left again, even more confused... :Q
Time passes and I decided to go back to Aimee but only with my sis, this time. I tried on the 2 I liked the most and I finally chose the one. THE ONE! I was in tears... I have a dress!!!!
Oh gosh, what a journey... at the end even my daddy liked it. Obviously I cannot tell you how it is, that would be bad luck... but when it's all done, I'll post a pic of me in my dress!
So, always remember:
take only one person with you, a very trusted one! Too many cooks spoil the broth...
take your time, start well in advance... try as many as you can, don't settle for one that is just ok
surprise yourself, sometimes the perfect one is the least expected one! let the assistant guide you
have a precise budget in mind, the incredible choice could lead you afar...


Good luck


Ellie

Let's talk about food!

Hello invisible friends... how are you?
At the moment I'm sitting in my parents' house, in Italy. I'm sitting in the kitchen (where else should you stay in an Italian house?!) and I'm happily sweating. I'm constantly covered by a smooth and sticky layer of humidity, while a cloud of mosquitoes slowly wander around me, striking every now and then. Amazing. Typical Italian summer, it reminds me of my childhood, ages ago... I mean, Italy is a fantastic country, but the weather in summer is just... mmmh... boiling? So you can just eat, drink and sweat...
Anyway, apart from coming here to see my parents, I haven't traveled much lately. Useless I am. And still sweating.
I shall tell you then about my last culinary experiences in Manchester. Very interesting ones.
The first place I want you to try is Gaucho, an amazing Argentinian restaurant! It was my fiancee 30th birthday, so we decided to splash out a bit. Believe me, you have to leave home with the idea of spending some money... but you will see that it is worth it! mega yummi... http://www.gauchorestaurants.co.uk/restaurants/restaurant.php?id=manchester
We started with a couple of cocktails, just to get in the mood. The were alright, but considering that they costed £8 each, not really worth it... oh well, let's talk about food! As a starter we had ceviche, ecuadorian and tuna one. Wow... no words to describe the flavours of that dish... the coriander kicks you first than the amazing peppery aftertaste of the super soft shrimps, majestically cooked in the marinade.. I so wanted more, but the price stopped me there. After that we had steak... aaawww... oh my goodness...the best steak I've ever had, even compared to Italian stuff. I had bife de ancho (rib - eye steak) and it was so soft and well cooked... melt in the mouth feeling! Those £20 of meat were absolutely worth it, I wanted to take it home and sleep with the steak on my pillow. WOW My fiancee had churrasca, more less the same price, that was marinated 48 hours in some kind of sauce... lovely!!! :D No really... impossible to explain how good it was, you have to go and try it!!!!
Since it was the man's birthday, we decided to have dessert as well. He had Don Pedro (ice cream with whisky, £10) and I had Vanilla flan, with dulce de leche that I love (£7). And obviously a bottle of one... the cheapest I guess, around £25. It came to a total of £130...not something that you do every month, but I'll surely go back next year. On top of that I have to say that the service was very attentive... we've even got a glass of bubbly to celebrate his birthday. Mega good! ^.^

Bonnie Scotland

Hello invisible friends, how are you? Been a while now, but because of shortage of money and time I haven't traveled a lot, lately. Not much to say.
But the new year (the last one, maybe) started pretty well: two trips to Scotland in less than a month. What a lucky woman. I love Scotland and having a Scottish boyfriend helped the process.
So...as you know I leave in Manchester so the first step is to get to Edinburgh. Not a massive deal, you'd say, but Friday evening is not always the best time to travel...especially by train. Mega packed, obviously. And many, far too many, children, to my taste. They tend to shout and run a lot... and I really dunno why. Sleep. Read. Play! No... only shout and run. Luckily enough I had books, homework to mark, tests and jelly babies. at the end of the day, it's only a 3 hour journey... and a quarter...or so... forever, to me.
the funny things I noticed is, as soon as we crossed the border England - Scotland, cans of beer started appearing on the tables... interesting...

Edinburgh is as beautiful as usual and I highly suggest you 2 great place to go, for food and for a drink! Cheap homemade food: Morita Art cafe'! Yeah, let me specify... Japanese homemade food... and there's a REAL japanese guy preparing the food. So coool! (http://www.list.co.uk/place/33827-artcafe-morita/) We had some pretty cool stuff: omelette stuffed with nori, fried veggie dumpling, rice cooked in green tea sprinkled with dried salmon (amazing, you could really taste the green tea in it) and HAGGIS SUSHI!!! That was unbelievable... we really had to try it and it was seriously worth it! Well done Morita. We had Japanese green tea as well, the most flavoursome green tea I've ever tried. And it came in such a cute pot. Lovely lovely! thanks Morita & friend! :D

the other great place is The Halfway House, a super great and a super small pub! http://halfwayhouse-edinburgh.com/ It's on the way between Waverley station and the Royal Mile. It is seriously small, but very very cosy and friendly. Beers are good and even the whisky selection. Didn't get to try the food, unfortunately, but everybody seemed to agree that it's pretty good.

But the best part of Edinburgh is Arthur's seat. At least to me. The little hill at the bottom of the Royal Mile. Little... yeah, start climbing it, and you will see. I obviously blame my cold, but I really struggled. Because of my cold. But it is steep, come on, it really is. We didn't get to the highest point, but quite close to it. The view was seriously great, you could see all the way to the bridge on the Firth of Forth.

After Edinburgh we went to Kirkcaldy, cute town on the seaside and we had a looong walk along the coast. Dodgy background, let's face it, but the coastline is breathtaking. Lovely little villages dotting the sea... and seals! Soooo cute!

Nothing really exciting happened, to be honest, just a nice romantic week end. Yeah, you can vomit. It was a long romantic walk beside the sea and we've even seen rainbows. But we had amazing hot chocolate and cake! The best whipped cream I've ever had (outside Italy, of course).

As usual, Scotland is the best place in the world if you want to witness incredible views. And you notice that even more once you're back in England. From high mountains to rolling hill and then big cities... we went through woods and parks, and it was always peaceful... dunno how they manage. And I could see the stars! yea, I could see the stars every night... and I miss that... :(

Drops of water... and more about life and travel...

"We each have within ourselves the ability to shape our own destinies. That much we understand. But, more important, each of us has an equal ability to shape the destiny of the universe. Ah, that you find more difficult to believe. But I tell you it is so. You do not have to be elven king or human monarch or the head of a dwarven clan to have a significant impact on the world around you.
In the vastness of the ocean, is any drop of water greater than another? No, you answer, and neither has a single drop the ability to cause a tidal wave.
but, I argue, if a single drop falls into the ocean, it creates ripples. And these ripples spread. And perhaps - who knows - these ripples may grow and swell and eventually break foaming upon the shores.
Like a drop in the vast ocean, each of us causes ripples as we move through our lives. The effects of whatever we do - insignificant as it may seem - spread out beyond us. We may never know what far-reaching impact even the simplest action might have on our fellow mortals. Thus we need to be conscious, all of the time, of our place in the ocean, of our place in the world, of our place among our fellow creatures.
For if enough of us join forces, we can swell the tide of events - for good or for evil."

                                       M. Weis - T. Hickman "The seventh gate"

"We are rich, Raven, richer than we could ever hoped to be. we have woven a saga - tale that will warm men's hearts on cold nights for many years to come." He looked at me then, his blue eyes boring into mine like ship's rivets. "Is it enough?" he asked.
And now I did not answer, for i did not need to. I looked at the warrior ring on my arm, the silver ring Sigurd had given me so long ago when i had proved myself in a hard fight. Then I looked out to sea, watching a fat trading vessel wallowing on the merest ripple of wave, her crew bellowing at each other like cattle. And I smiled, lips pulling back from my teeth.
It is never enough.

                                                               G. Kristian "Odin's Wolves"

When Marco Polo came at last to Cathay, seven hundred years ago, did he not feel - and did his heart not falted as he realized - that this great and splendid capital of an empire had had its being all the years of his life and far longer, and that he had been ignorant of it? That it was in need of nothing from him, from Venice, from Europe? That it was full of wonders beyond his understanding? That his arrival was a matter of no importance whatever? We know that he felt these things, and so has many a traveller in foreign parts who did not know what he was going to find. There is nothing that cuts you down to size like coming to some strange and marvellous place where no one even stops to notice that you stare about you.

                                                        R. Adams "Watership Down"

There's gold at the end of the rainbow...

Gran Canaria and Manchester...it's like the rainbow, it happens when the sun shines through the rain.
Down there, on the small island, we have the sun. The sun shines on the shores, rooftops, streets, on the waves and on the people. And the people reflect it back, like crystals, in an incredible variety of shades. It is beautiful. People actually smile there! The sun gives colours to the world around you. Even the houses are so bright...then you have the slightly bigger island on the other side of the rainbow, Great Britain. The Rain. The main idea you get of a British city is grey. I look out of the window and the sky is grey. The streets are grey. The air is grey! People are sad, snuggling inside their coats, under black umbrellas, splashing in pools, quickly, across the road. The houses drip slowly, hiding their red skin behind lacey curtains of mist and pollution. The sky is heavy, it's always angry and tired. And it shouts down at us, with wind, slashing rain, hail and thunder. The smel is musty, fresh, forcely pushed into your nostrils by some double decker bus passing by...and you run in the rain, because you always have something to do, somewhere to go, a timetable to follow. You're always running out of time.
In Canaria you walk... sit... contemplate. You don't hear people shouting... well they do shout, but not because they're angry. Because they're latin, and that's the way we speak! You can smell the sea, that is obviously imperative. It's everywhere, you cannot run away from it! Sometimes I felt it a bit oppressive... but I still prefer to be oppressed by the ocean than by skyscrapers!
There's your pot of gold, my friend. The waves, their song. The misty skyline of volcanos in the distance... rough dark sand... walking down an empty street in the boiling sun of noon!
But we sit on the other side of the rainbow... we sit on a metal bench, endlessly waiting for a bus that never shows up, drenched to the bones, looking up at the heavy sky. We sit and pray for a ray of sun, a beam of light that will colour our long, winter days.
We sit in front of the fireplace and dream of the pot of gold at the furthest end of the rainbow...

Make heaven out of hell.....

Hola amigos!

What a multilingual.... just back from sunny Spain. Sounds like a mega stereotypes, but it was actually mega sunny. 36 degrees on the dot.
Some people say that the Canary islands are more Africa than Spain, and somehow I tend to agree, but anyway that's where I went for the week end. Incredibly cool.

As you probably don't know, my dear invisible friends, I used to live in Las Palmas de Gran Canaria (why such a long name, I've never really got it...) 6 years back. When I was young - er.... and full of hope for the future. Already a heavy drinker, anyway.

But let's move on.

I packed 500 different things, considering any possible kind of weather, from draught to typhoon, knowing very well that there the weather never changes.
My flight was at 2pm, so I obviously left at 10am. Why? No idea. I got to the airport at 11am and got incredibly bored drinking latte at Starbucks. The good thing is that now I possess a beautiful thing called Kindle! A thing similar to a computer that you use to read books... very clear, innit? Like an electronic reader, let's put it like that. It's super cool... you can store up to a million books. More less. But it's great, mega light and small, you can fit it in your bag and carry a whole shelf of books.

Well... the flight was obviously delayed and then I spent the next 4 hours looking at the ocean, reading and eating Jelly Babies. Not too bad. Obviously I was wearing winter clothes (in Manchester we're in the deep end of winter, now....) and the shock came when I got off the plane.

Flying to the Canary islands is quite impressive. You soar over miles and miles of ocean till you notice a small cap of clouds on the horizon, standing over the water, and you know you've arrived. Here's El Teide, in Tenerife, Spain's highest mountain.

That's cool, believe me. Even because on Ryanair flights you don't get much space to move around and 4 hours can feel like an eternity. So the doors finally open and we dash off the plane... to faint straight away!
Gosh the heat... I wasn't ready for that... even because of my very helpful winter clothes! Well, at least I took my coat off...

Sweating like a pig I got on a taxi and went straight to the hotel! How unbelievable was that! All my memories were running back and crashing against me like high tide on the cliffs.
So weird... like going back to where you grew up, after many many years... I don't know how to put it but my heart was seriously racing and I couldn't stop smiling and telling the taxi driver about all the things I did in Las Palmas. luckily he didn't fall asleep.

Quick shower, took off the winter clothes and off we go, running into the sunset.
Sunset on the beach is the best thing in the universe. With a cold beer (and more than one) and someone pretty attractive sitting beside you it can get even better! But let's leave men out of the story...
I walked along the beach almost all night, feeling the rough sand under my feet and smelling the sea, dragging it down deep into my lungs. Loved it to the bone. The same beach I used to walk on 6 years ago, and everything seems exactly the same...sigh! I'm the only one who changed... yeah got wrinkles, now!

Yeah, it is really like that.
Well, i got pissed and got to bed at 2 in the morning. It wouldn't have been too bad if the day after I didn't have Tenerife. But this is life. Got up with a humongous headache and so tired that i couldn't even open my eyes. Somehow I walked down to reception and asked the guy to call a taxi for me. He started speaking to me using some mysterious language and I could just nod without really knowing what I was agreeing to. The taxi driver insisted in speaking to me... what's wrong with these Spaniards? it's 7 in the morning, it's still dark, I'm fighting a massive hangover... leave me alone!

Finally we got to the port and the time came to pay. "It's 4 euros 40" I grumble something and I gave him a tenner "Have you got something smaller?" a part from my brain? I grumble again and I open my wallet... gosh so many coins! I start counting but it's a hard task for me so I just tell the guy "Sorry but I do not understand euros in the morning... can I pay in pounds?" he looked at me a bit puzzle so I yawn and pass him some coins... he seemed satisfied so I got off and walked to the ferry.
here comes the next big task of the day and it's not even 7:15am....the ticket checker!
(to make it easier for the public I translate the conversation into English)"Good morning" let's put it like that....grumble. "Ticket please" I produced the ticket "ID please" I produced the passport... and then he stared at me... and I stared back... what are we doing here? "Erhm... I keep the ticket you can get on the boat!" "Oh ok... thank you!". So I climbed up and I entered the boat.... to freeze on the spot! My dear invisible friends, how mega cold it was! My jumper wasn't enough at all! I sat somewhere and became a small (relatively) ball trying to keep myself warm. What a nightmare! Together with my headache, hangover, nausea and rolling boat on the ocean... well, it wasn't a pleasant journey at all!
Somehow I managed to keep the vomit down (beautiful) and landed safely to Tenerife... after ONLY 3 hours!!!

My friend, Celina, came to pick me up! Oooooh I was so happy to see her! She actually lives in Tenerife, so she drove me all the way down to her place, El medano. And what a windy little village, my friends! So cute and small and full of kite surfers and wind surfers. Wow. What a pleasant view!
We went to a nice tapas place in front of the beach and we talked and talked and talked... great food, great view and great company! Best ever. She took me around the island, from playa to playa and we had ice creams and drinks. Gosh it was so hot and the sand so white... it killed me!
Yeah but this is not very interesting, isn't it? You insensible lot... it was a great day with a great friend. Full stop.

The trip back was almost fine, but my biggest mistake was to go out again in the evening. I was so tired that I could barely stand, but somehow I managed to walk for almost three hours... silly me! But it was just so beautiful that you couldn't go inside, you had to stare at the sea.

The day after I just went walking around Las Palmas, remembering many many things. The place where I used to live, work, where I used to have breakfast, go shopping, drinking and so on...just strange, every little corner had a story to tell about my past. It felt like time never actually passed and I'd just left yesterday.

Now the plan is find a way to move back and I'm working on it.
After spending all Monday on the beach pondering (and tanning and swimming) I think I found a few options: go back, plant a tent on the beach and leave there; pretend to be an asylum seeker; win the lottery and buy a place there; get a job there (but that's boring and possibly the most difficult of all...); get a job with ryanair (it's on route....); marry a very rich Canarian man... or just get over it.

Well that's it... not an interesting story to tell till the very end: I get to airport on Monday only 2 hours earlier (I'm improving...), get back into my winter clothes and buy some stuff. Rum Arehucas, gofio (a type of flour), mantecados (biscuits), aloe juice... and then sit down with my omni Kindle. We finally get on the plane and guess what? Delayed... what a surprise. One hour stuck on the plane waiting... ah poor Ellie. At least I had mantecados... and I promise, I didn't touch the rum!!!

And then again, after 4 hours... thermal shock! 15 degrees here... and you can guess how I spent the night!!!

O.o

Manchester cries out

Hello my dear invisible friends.... how are you tonight? Watching falling stars?
I'm finally back after almost forgetting about this thing... yeah, it's just a diary at the end... so why not keep it updated? Well, every once in a while...

But the wind changed and the breeze smells of smoke. England's on fire. Nah, it's not the weather, it never gets that hot here. It's the British. British people are burning their own cities and country. Strange? Yes indeed.
I'm sure you're all aware of what's been going on since last Thursday. Riots, riots, riots. The funny side? They don't even remember why it all started. Now it's all about burning, smashing, kicking, looting, crashing, shouting... and so on. I couldn't believe my very own eyes.

A guy has been killed by the police. Possibly by mistake. Hopefully. Must be. Since then any excuse has been good enough to cause havoc. Kids... yeah, kids, smashing shop windows to steal everything they could put their eyes on. Honestly, what would your parents do if they caught you doing that? Well, I would be dust by now. But not British parents. They justify their kids... yeah, we have no job, what can we do? They say it's the rich people' fault. Wasn't that what Hitler said before starting locking up and killing Jews? Oh gosh... the situation is bleak.

I don't want to start complaining about people on benefits stealing the poor tax payers' money (ok, it is true) I just want to tell you how I feel about this. About my city.

The big trouble in Manchester happened on Tuesday. I found myself being unbelievably worried about my students. You know young people "There's a riot, let's go and have a look!". How clever. I was very relieved when they've all showed up on Wednesday morning. Eh eh. School closed early that day, to allow everybody to get home early and safely. I found out that I actually have a maternal instinct... is that how it is called? Anyway... suddenly I just wanted to round them all up, take them into my house, cover them with warm blankets and sing songs while drinking a hot cup of tea. Silly me. My other problem was Potato, obviously. I thought of all the possible ways to save the cat in case the house got attacked. yeah, double silly.

By the way, let's get to the point... should we?
This afternoon was my turn to go down to Manchester. I left home armed with my camera, ready to take as many pics as possible to witness this event. I was full of energy till the bus turned into Oxford road. The first shop completely boarded up. My heart skipped a beat. Dunno why, but it did. I asked myself, Ellie are you scared? But it wasn't that.
I finally got to Piccadilly and walked around the square. Everything looked normal but the atmosphere was eerie. the noise. The sound. It felt like someone put a pillow on the loud speaker. People were whispering slowly down the road... and not many people. Thursday is the day in which shops stay open till late, normally very busy. It looked more like a Sunday evening to me... More boarded shops around me. Suddenly my camera felt heavy and kept jammin' in my pocket. Weird.

I walk down market street and somehow my guts starts moving. Earlier latte? And here it is, the burnt down shop. Many people around it, taking souvenir pictures. I just stare blankly. I can't. in that smoking hole, a few days ago, people worked, walked, laughed, mumbled, sighed... there was movement and life there were colours. Now just black. The only colour being a red and white tape in front of it. A brainless idiot took the rainbow away.

And I just couldn't do it. I couldn't take pictures of it or of any other broken window. I felt like I was taking pics of a best friend's corpse. It's wrong. You must not do that. Full stop. I put my camera away and lowered my head, finding myself mourning in front of my shop. So sad. For the people who, every morning, get up and get to work, still feeling safe here. For the people who call this city home... oh yes, including me. Sad because so many of us (immigrant and indigenous) own so much to this piece of land called Manchester. Greater Manchester, actually.
Police was still walking around, slowly, looking carefully at people, with dark signs under their eyes. But still out there. So many people criticized them, but I don't think anybody has the right to. They were outnumbered but never gave up. Thanks to them. Ta, I should say! Ah ah.

Gosh, I'm getting sentimental.

I was glad to see that many people gathered in the morning to help out cleaning the city. OUR city, not that stupid mobs' city. Manchester belongs to the people who love it.
And we won't easily give up. Break us, we'll pick up the pieces and start again.

Sorry... I know, I'm not even British but somehow I've been adopted by Manchester so I do respect it. Mmh... ok, I go to get the cat and then bed.

Goodnight. God save the Queen