Well ... here we are at the end. I arrived in Dublin ...
On the plane I started really thinking about what I was doing when the plane got up I felt as if something had definitely torn. It was not the umbilical cord with Italy because I do not have ever had, let's say that I felt the gear shift of a life; mine.
"Only those who have so much to lose" right? And well ... I have very little to lose even though I still much to bring up in Ireland with me .... Sole true?
Let's step back to understand who I do not know what happened.
I'm done with the past and I tried to rebuild a future. Simply as an explanation? Well ... So much. But if I close with the past simple, try to build a future is difficult (say impossible?), Italy. Leave a job and you have eight years of experience and you find yourself with pity in temporary employment agencies for a job in a call center ... no that's not what I mean for the future I'm sorry. Who knows? if the child of the Prime Minister instead of going to the dances for the debutantes and act as nominee for many shady deals dad had been found to be the ass is a step in the offspring of Ferrari but turn to bring home the Bacon who knows ... maybe not so outrageous to claim a steady job, a guaranteed salary, a future ... or not?
But it passes the monastery ... and then I decided to go to Ireland. The ability to migrate is flashed at noon on a Thursday, the night I chose Ireland. After a month I'm here. Just like that things are done this way.
Why Ireland? Because it is beautiful because it is in first place in the world in IT (Information Technologies for the uninitiated) ... because I needed to put a nice piece of the continent and also a bit 'of the sea between me and the smell of stale and dung that rises from the beautiful country. All
say that Ireland is fantastic? Well ... occur.
We come to the trip ... I said that I felt this thrill and I do not deny that I also had very nearly the urge to yell to the pilot to turn around and make me get off this jalopy. It was hard to see the tears of the person I love to peep while trying to smile and greet me pretending to be quiet. And it was hard to see the awful truth ... after almost two years living shoulder to shoulder would have to live apart for a month before we meet again. The fact that the terrible truth is out disruptive exit just as the plane began to roll for the track did not diminish the sense of anguish that has accompanied me up to the high altitude.
I stumped every time the hostess was talking, it seemed a dog that growls with a potato in his mouth, and I thought to live a life without knowing what the fuck are telling me those around me. Mmm ... what a joy to the ear then slowly started to get used to and I decided that the best move was not just cagarmela and start reading. And I did ... just in case of accident useless to know that the exit corridors are illuminated in the dark ... the problem is not the dark balls! There are thousands of meters that you'll get in free fall ...
But there, above the clouds, surrounded by sun and blue sky I began to see things from the positive point of view. Things will go well. Christ must be good ... we have not killed anyone and fuck's sake we will also us our dose of luck (meaning of course not as lucky as "becoming the").
I slept. That often takes a light sleeper you when you sleep on a moving vehicle ... one that takes on half of the brain, like dolphins, and you're there you're rilassatissimo and sleep but you see realize that you're snoring as the Landslide Vajont and wonderful thing ... ... you'll slam the balls and experience new forms of relaxation and nasal sound production. The great thing about snoring is that you snore while you sleep and then do not you remember, or if you notice it is not there a problem.
got off the plane I set out a phrase that I think will be carved into the rock by would-be emigrants in Irish soil. I gave him a pat on the shoulder of a young Cagliari who made my own choice and I said "My dear ... from now on we are all our cocks." Verba volant ...
The first approach to the hostel was not the best ... for one used to divide the home with one person say that was quite a shock to be sharing a room with seven other people and even worse on the beach with a few dozen ... and you think that here there are no bidet ... and even the custom to flush the toilet ... Christ ... I know you have diarrhea is a bad problem, but Christ ... (again) because it pay me? Oh well ... never mind ... I've been so
renowned Temple Bar area is nice ... but ... I do not come to say that that is Ireland. Among restaurants, Italian, English, Chinese takeaways and company do not try to tell that the pubs in the area are true ... but let me say how pleased the good ... Totò.
However, I tried a pub ... because I had feet like bagpipes, and I could not have ordered a more Irish stew in my dreams ... too bad that ignorant of the language of superimposed stew had a steak and then, expecting a T-Bone I saw it coming a stew of horror ... but the beer was good. Sigh.
I ended the evening in a pub (this really original) on the road to the hostel. Another pause to rest your feet and another pint. I was in the company of some nice old people, and we saw that in my imagination is the typical British sitcom. Five people, locked in a room that arm trying to pull the story forward trying to make it as fun (Or bearable) possible with corny gags ... I laughed with them even if I knew what they were saying one hundredth of the actors ... I felt so Manfredi with dyed blond hair who looks Italy-Germany in a German brewery.
I decided to take me behind the moleskin so I can record on-the-road experiences and events can fix them before deleting them ... so lame will report to the rhythm of my Moleskine, as I wrote at the time, for the benefit of the reader this site.
One of my roommates is a "nice" child of the fifties who enneenne tonight has kindly kicked out of the room, while I was writing the computer, because he had to stay (at eight? What is a hostel or a hospital?) and for these things is the "common room" ... ok ... you're right ... but fuck. And he got it! He did not understand my broken English (he must be cursed and snooty English), but when I delivered the invitation to give the back of his body orpo how I got the ladies hair.
On the plane I started really thinking about what I was doing when the plane got up I felt as if something had definitely torn. It was not the umbilical cord with Italy because I do not have ever had, let's say that I felt the gear shift of a life; mine.
"Only those who have so much to lose" right? And well ... I have very little to lose even though I still much to bring up in Ireland with me .... Sole true?
Let's step back to understand who I do not know what happened.
I'm done with the past and I tried to rebuild a future. Simply as an explanation? Well ... So much. But if I close with the past simple, try to build a future is difficult (say impossible?), Italy. Leave a job and you have eight years of experience and you find yourself with pity in temporary employment agencies for a job in a call center ... no that's not what I mean for the future I'm sorry. Who knows? if the child of the Prime Minister instead of going to the dances for the debutantes and act as nominee for many shady deals dad had been found to be the ass is a step in the offspring of Ferrari but turn to bring home the Bacon who knows ... maybe not so outrageous to claim a steady job, a guaranteed salary, a future ... or not?
But it passes the monastery ... and then I decided to go to Ireland. The ability to migrate is flashed at noon on a Thursday, the night I chose Ireland. After a month I'm here. Just like that things are done this way.
Why Ireland? Because it is beautiful because it is in first place in the world in IT (Information Technologies for the uninitiated) ... because I needed to put a nice piece of the continent and also a bit 'of the sea between me and the smell of stale and dung that rises from the beautiful country. All
say that Ireland is fantastic? Well ... occur.
We come to the trip ... I said that I felt this thrill and I do not deny that I also had very nearly the urge to yell to the pilot to turn around and make me get off this jalopy. It was hard to see the tears of the person I love to peep while trying to smile and greet me pretending to be quiet. And it was hard to see the awful truth ... after almost two years living shoulder to shoulder would have to live apart for a month before we meet again. The fact that the terrible truth is out disruptive exit just as the plane began to roll for the track did not diminish the sense of anguish that has accompanied me up to the high altitude.
I stumped every time the hostess was talking, it seemed a dog that growls with a potato in his mouth, and I thought to live a life without knowing what the fuck are telling me those around me. Mmm ... what a joy to the ear then slowly started to get used to and I decided that the best move was not just cagarmela and start reading. And I did ... just in case of accident useless to know that the exit corridors are illuminated in the dark ... the problem is not the dark balls! There are thousands of meters that you'll get in free fall ...
But there, above the clouds, surrounded by sun and blue sky I began to see things from the positive point of view. Things will go well. Christ must be good ... we have not killed anyone and fuck's sake we will also us our dose of luck (meaning of course not as lucky as "becoming the").
I slept. That often takes a light sleeper you when you sleep on a moving vehicle ... one that takes on half of the brain, like dolphins, and you're there you're rilassatissimo and sleep but you see realize that you're snoring as the Landslide Vajont and wonderful thing ... ... you'll slam the balls and experience new forms of relaxation and nasal sound production. The great thing about snoring is that you snore while you sleep and then do not you remember, or if you notice it is not there a problem.
got off the plane I set out a phrase that I think will be carved into the rock by would-be emigrants in Irish soil. I gave him a pat on the shoulder of a young Cagliari who made my own choice and I said "My dear ... from now on we are all our cocks." Verba volant ...
The first approach to the hostel was not the best ... for one used to divide the home with one person say that was quite a shock to be sharing a room with seven other people and even worse on the beach with a few dozen ... and you think that here there are no bidet ... and even the custom to flush the toilet ... Christ ... I know you have diarrhea is a bad problem, but Christ ... (again) because it pay me? Oh well ... never mind ... I've been so
renowned Temple Bar area is nice ... but ... I do not come to say that that is Ireland. Among restaurants, Italian, English, Chinese takeaways and company do not try to tell that the pubs in the area are true ... but let me say how pleased the good ... Totò.
However, I tried a pub ... because I had feet like bagpipes, and I could not have ordered a more Irish stew in my dreams ... too bad that ignorant of the language of superimposed stew had a steak and then, expecting a T-Bone I saw it coming a stew of horror ... but the beer was good. Sigh.
I ended the evening in a pub (this really original) on the road to the hostel. Another pause to rest your feet and another pint. I was in the company of some nice old people, and we saw that in my imagination is the typical British sitcom. Five people, locked in a room that arm trying to pull the story forward trying to make it as fun (Or bearable) possible with corny gags ... I laughed with them even if I knew what they were saying one hundredth of the actors ... I felt so Manfredi with dyed blond hair who looks Italy-Germany in a German brewery.
I decided to take me behind the moleskin so I can record on-the-road experiences and events can fix them before deleting them ... so lame will report to the rhythm of my Moleskine, as I wrote at the time, for the benefit of the reader this site.
One of my roommates is a "nice" child of the fifties who enneenne tonight has kindly kicked out of the room, while I was writing the computer, because he had to stay (at eight? What is a hostel or a hospital?) and for these things is the "common room" ... ok ... you're right ... but fuck. And he got it! He did not understand my broken English (he must be cursed and snooty English), but when I delivered the invitation to give the back of his body orpo how I got the ladies hair.
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