Tuesday, 17 November 2015



Barcelona, Spain April 2008

Sjors left the office a couple of hours earlier to come to pick me up at the airport. It was a wonderful sunny day in Barcelona and as agreed I stood waiting next to the entrance of terminal B.  I was looking at a green parakeet, which had flown by to go to its nest under the leaves of a palm tree, when Sjors arrived, we kissed for about five minutes and he helped me with the luggage to the bus. Our new life in Barcelona had finally started.


Sjors works Monday to Friday in an office in Selva de Mar, he really enjoys the new environment and he is happy with his new colleagues. I spend the day on the beach writing this book to an end and at home I make sure that the flat is clean, the laundry is done and the dinner is ready. On the weekends we drive to my parent’s summerhouse in Rosas. We are even thinking to buy a bigger one with a swimming pool.


Yesterday I was shopping in the Ramblas and I found 無印良品 - MUJI. I did not know they had one in Barcelona and I was so happy that I bought a couple of albums for my World pictures. I paid with two hands and I thanked the Japanese shop assistant with a “どもありがとございます - domo arigato gozaimasu”. As she wondered where I did learn Japanese, I explained her that I had taken some classes in London and Berlin and I had traveled to Japan back in 2005.

Tokyo and Honshu, Japan March 2005

Olaf came to pick me up at Narita International airport, where I arrived in the early morning. After my usual post flight cigarette, we took the airport express train to 東京駅 Tokyo central station, we changed there for the Marunouchi Line, then for the Namboku Line and we got off in 六本木1丁目駅 Roppongi-itchōme Eki. Olaf’s apartment was just two minutes walk from the underground station, at the 25th floor of a modern glassy tower in the famous district called Roppongi. The porter stepped in front of the door, which opened automatically before we reached the entrance. “ はようございます - ohayo gozaimasu, Good morning!” welcomed us the Japanese man bending before us. “What’s the point to have a porter that opens an automatic door?” I asked my friend. “I don’t know, it must be extra politeness… Apropos don’t forget you have to give the banknotes with both hands when you pay a Japanese person!” Olaf apartment had a dramatic view on the never-ending megalopolis. I was in Tokyo, the city I had fantasized as a child, during those long hot summers on the Italian Alps with my cousin Marta. Suddenly I lost my balance. “Do you feel the ground moving? Is this an earthquake?” I asked Olaf. “No, you must be just tired. You should get some sleep!” He answered. I went to the bathroom and when I sat on the water closet I noticed that there were some buttons next to it. “Olaf, how does the loo work here?” I asked worried. “See those two buttons with plus and minus signs? Those are for the temperature. Do not press the button with the woman sign on it, or you would get your balls wet. The dryer button is on the left side, you need to operate that only when you are clean…” At first I was scared of the computerized bowl but eventually I got the hang of it and I started enjoying it. After urinating or defecating there is nothing more pleasant for an Italian citizen, than sitting on a bidet and wash anus and genitals. In fact every bathroom in Italy is equipped with a bidet with cold and warm water. In Japan I did not even have to move away from the toilet, I just had to remain seated and a tiny tube would have come out from the back and sprayed clean water where it was needed. After the cleaning operation was over, I enjoyed the best part: warm air to dry the buttocks.

Wednesday, 4 November 2015


Once back home I had a week before Sjors’ move to Spain. We sold all our furniture, packed everything that could be sent and on the 8th of March my boyfriend took his flight to Barcelona, where he started working on the 9th of March. “I can see the mountains and the sea from my office!” Sjors said exited on the telephone. On the 13th of March, the day of my 30th birthday, I gave notice at work and I invited my friend Barbara to come to my place in the evening. We were drinking a self-made cosmopolitan, when Sjors called. “I have found this great flat, but I cannot pay the deposit as my bank has blocked my account… I still have seven euro but they won’t last long.” The German bank thought someone was using Sjors’ debit card in Barcelona and for security reasons they blocked his account. I rang the call center of the bank, but as none of the operators seemed to be ready to release the block, I suggested Sjors that he should go to the German Consulate in Passeig de Gràcia and ask them to call the bank in Berlin. The day after at 10am, while Sjors was in the consulate I stood in front of a banker and I told her: “Your bank has caused several problems blocking the card of my boyfriend… The German consulate in Barcelona is going to call you within minutes.” The telephone rang, the lady paled, the bank account was unblocked and Sjors managed to get his money and pay the deposit for the flat, where we are currently living. Finally I was ready to leave Berlin, but this time I could not move to my new home by train, as I did when I left London back in February 2005.

London, Paris, Milan, February 2005

Olaf took one of my three bags and his own one and we walked down the stairs inside Waterloo station to reach our Eurostar. About three hours later we reached La Ville Lumière, where we had planned to spend our last four days together. The Eiffel Tower was sparkling in the night and the Olympic Candidate logo “Paris 2012” could be seen from the Trocadéro gardens. “I wonder which city will host the Olympic games in 2012” I said. “I’m sure it will be London.” Commented Olaf.

When the four Parisian days were over, Olaf took me to Gare de Lyon; we kissed goodbye and my train to Milan left. The journey last less than seven hours, but I had enough time to fantasize how my new life in Germany would be, the new friends I would make and the new places I would explore. I imagined myself traveling from Berlin to Moscow and from there with the Tran Siberian to Ulan Bator and Peking.

It was about 8pm when I reached Milan central station and my mobile phone rang. “I have to go to Japan for business, do you want to come for a couple of weeks?” Asked Olaf.

Monday, 2 November 2015


Budapest, Bratislava, Prague, February-March 2008

The clear sky allowed me to see the Danube separating hilly Buda from Pest, the long bridges and the green Margaret Island. It was the morning of the 24th of February 2008, when I landed at Budapest International Airport. I exchanged Euro for 50,000 Hungarian Forint and I took a taxi to my 4-star hotel a few minutes walk from the underground station of Déli Pályaudvar. It was a mild winter morning in the Magyar capital and as it was my only day off during my Hungarian stay, I took the chance to walk around the city. From the castle, which dominates the hill of Buda, I had a spectacular view of the Danube and of Pest. After a short break I walked down the hill and I crossed the Széchenyi Chain Bridge to reach Pest. The city on the other side of the river had also lots to offer, the remarkable Hungarian parliament building, the Basilica of Saint Stephen and Heroes Square. In the evening the lights on the bridges and monuments made the city even more magic, I had dinner and before going to bed I had a relaxing swim in the pool of the hotel, a long working week was waiting for me.


The bus was late and I decided to run from Batthyány tér along the Danube to the Obuda centre, where the Team Supervisor was waiting for me at 9am. When I reached the office it was 9:05am. The automatic door of the building opened and I was drying my sweaty forehead with a handkerchief, when a red-haired woman on her forties came to welcome me: “Hi, my name is Anita. You must be Mattia. I am the supervisor, how do you do?” My duties were training and coaching 16 new employees for a week and making sure that they would be ready to pass their final test. I worked everyday from 9am till 5pm and every evening I visited different districts of the city. Sjors flew to Spain on the 27th of February and on the 28th of February, while I was having a relaxing swim, he called me on my mobile phone to let me know that he had got a job as a customer service representative and he had to be in Barcelona on the 9th of March.

“Oh my God! And how do we do with the furniture in Berlin? I am still in Hungary! Are you sure?  We don’t have a flat in Barcelona yet! How sure are you? Is it a permanent job? How much do they pay? When do you have to be there again?” I panicked.


On Friday the 29th of February, I was informed that my flight had been cancelled due to the hurricane that was devastating eastern Europe and I could not reach Berlin by plane. I was nervous, I had to go back to Berlin to hand in the notice to my employer and I surely could not let a hurricane break my plans. As a travel alternative on Friday evening I went to Budapest station and for about 29,000 Forint I bought a train ticket Budapest-Bratislava-Prague-Berlin leaving on the following morning.


The train left Budapest on time, I sat comfortable, I took out my Japanese book and I started reading and copying the kanji I did not know on a piece of paper. A hillier region around Bratislava interrupted the monotonous landscape of the flat countryside, similar to that of Lombardy. When we reached the tiny station of the capital of Slovakia, a twenty-something girl entered my compartment and sat next to me.  The train left, but shortly after, as we reached Zohor, it stopped again. Suddenly a Czech ticket collector came to my compartment and he said something I could not understand. Luckily the girl, who happened to understand Czech, translated it for me. “There are some ehm… strom… ehm… trees … on the rail…track…” Her English was not perfect but I could understand that we had to wait until the track was clear. It was 1pm, I was hungry, I ate my sandwiches and I tried to concentrate on my Japanese book. Six hours later, while I was hoping against hope, the train moved. “They said that the track is free in the Czech Republic” translated the girl for me. At 8pm just before Prague, the train engine broke and they took about an hour to change the locomotive. Sadly when the girl got off in the Czech capital, it was already 9pm and she had missed her appointment, which, she said, it was the only reason why she was travelling there. As I was alone in my compartment, I locked the door, I turned off the lights and I laid down.

“Hello… Hello Sir…” I woke up and I opened the door to the ticket collector, who could speak some English after all. “I am sorry Sir, this train does not go to Berlin… You have to leave the train.” Said the man. “Excuse me??? How do you expect me to leave the train here? We are in the middle of nowhere, it’s dark and I don’t have water! Why didn’t you tell me in Prague??? I could have gone to a hotel!” I protested. “I am going to ask.” Said the man and he disappeared in the other car. I packed the stuff I had taken out and I went walking through the train, looking for other people. The second car was empty, so was the third one and when I pressed the button to open the door to the fourth car, the light went off and some smoke started coming out from an electricity box. I called Sjors and I just managed to tell him I had no water and I was asked to leave the train somewhere in the Czech Republic when my battery died. When I returned hopeless to my compartment, the ticket collector was there and he agreed I could sleep on the train. I laid down again and I was so exhausted that my eyes closed shortly after.


“Hallo… Hallo… Aufwachen!” Shouted a German lady in uniform. “Gott sei Dank” I said as I saw the Deutsche Bahn badge on her jacket. The woman, employee of the German Railway asked me to get ready as a taxi would have take me from the Czech Republic to Dresden with the other three people who were left on the train. The car drove in the dark night along the river, the hurricane had already been there and there were broken trees on both sides of the road. When we arrived in Dresden it was 4am and there was no one in the station but two drunken teenagers. As I needed to urinate, but I had no euro coins with me, I crawled under the gate of the toilet to reach the urinals. Eventually at 7am I took the first train to Berlin, which arrived at 10am in the German capital.

Sunday, 18 October 2015


During my stay in the United States, I intended to visit my ex Rob in New Haven, however I have never got hold of him, so I decided to go to Philadelphia instead and I bought a cheap bus ticket online. The meeting point was at the 88 East Broadway and Olaf had suggested that I should have taken the Express Train to Canal Street at 8am to be there on time for departure. The day after I was ready to get off at Canal Street but the train did not stop there, in fact, Canal Street was the Express Train stop for the M line but not for the line I had taken. I got off at Brooklyn Bridge and run all the way back to East Broadway and when I reached Manhattan Bridge out of breath and with the ticket in my sweated hand a Chinese lady called me: “Mr Zani! Mr Zani!” – “Yes?” I replied confused. “Please follow me, that is your bus!” I am still wondering now, how the lady knew who I was. Two and a half hours later the bus reached Chinatown in Philadelphia, where I got off on the 11th Street. The temperature was much milder than in New York City, I took off my jacket and I walked around. Φιλαδέλφεια, The City of Brotherly Love, that’s what its names means. The mix of modern architecture and the historical colonial buildings was fascinating. Once in Chestnut Street I could admire the beautiful Georgian Independence Hall, where the Declaration of Independence was debated and later adopted on the 4th of July 1776, whose garden was adorned with American flags possibly due to the imminent election time. In the early afternoon I walked to the Sister City Plaza with the landmarks dedicated to Philadelphia sister cities, among which I could see Florence. After a short break I followed the Benjamin Franklin Parkway, which reserved me another surprise: Rodin Museum and its Gate of Hell, the amazing copy of the original plaster, I had seen in the Musée D’Orsay in Paris. La Porte de L’Enfer depicts a scene of the Inferno, the first part of the Divine Comedy by Dante. “No wonder, Philly and Florence are twins”, I thought. After Rodin, I reached the majestic Museum of Art, where I sat on the steps and I ate my sandwich under a delicate winter sun.
After my tiny lunch I walked to the Eastern State Penitentiary, which had held the likes of Al Capone and Willie Sutton. “Let the avenue to this house be rendered difficult and gloomy by mountains and morasses. Let the doors be of iron, and let the grating, occasioned by opening and shutting them, be increased by an echo that shall deeply pierce the soul” wrote Dr. Benjamin Rush, a Quaker reformer about the construction of the State Penitentiary and that surely was the idea that that building gave me. I decided to follow to Philadelphia Waterfront and in the late afternoon, I went to see the house where Edgar Allan Poe lived with his family and where he wrote “The Black Cat”, “…Yet, mad am I not - and very surely do I not dream...” It was dark outside and it was about time for my bus, I left the spooky location to go catch my Chinatown to Chinatown bus.


It was Halloween night and Olaf and I went to Roxy NYC, the popular nightclub located at 515 West 18th Street in Chelsea, where hundreds of six-pack guys were dancing showing off their unnatural muscles. A couple of hours later, we got tired of the scene and we went walking around the city. It was a magic night, we admired Manhattan sparkling skyline from the Brooklyn Bridge and we went on walking to Brooklyn, where most of the houses were adorned with pumpkins and spider webs. I saw a middle age woman wearing bat wings crossing the street and steam coming out thunderous from the holes of a round drainage pit. “Gotham City Scenery” I smiled. Some kids were still ringing bells and shouting “Trick or Treats” in the street and I was wondering how could their parents let them out so late in Brooklyn, when I received a message from Jørn: “Help me - I’m in Jail...” I was still upset with him and as I did not believe a single word he had written. “It must be one of his tricks!” I thought while deleting the message. Olaf stopped a taxi, which was driving by and we went home.