It's Christmas, Christmas can be done piùùùù
From tempoooooo much!
· · · that said, I am afraid that every time I update I say this sentence (=_=;)
but in fact ....
are almost in hibernation ...
eheheh
're finishing the year 2010
my mom, time passes faster and faster ehh!
THEREFORE
before the end of this year I want to greet all my dear followers of this blog:)
Monday, December 6, 2010
Bhow To Make Sweet Popcorn
Where have you been so far?
What I like the phrase I put in the title, I've heard again from the first day of the trip several times a day, literally - where have you been so-far far, is one of the first questions you are asked when you meet a new traveler, about two weeks ago I discovered that pull the two words-so-and-far-generates a third meaning that is-until now-, after this discovery, the phrase has lost a little bit in beauty ...
Here I am, sat down to write my last post on this blog with a little advance thought to this day he tormented by 'start of journey is a bit like when you have translated the Latin version of questions and in sixth hour, the anxiety begins to salirti from when you step into class.
What to say now.
I do not know.
When I dreamed this trip when I took notes and tips on the Internet even when they boarded the plane did not think I was doing it really. But here I am, at the end.
The mind flies to the early travel memories, the last having familiar faces that warm morning of July 4, my mother with the same eyes, which I am now as I write seemed to want to follow me right into the airplane, that girl on the flight Rome-Sydney in twenty-hour flight did not utter a word to that guy in Hong Kong gave me a Yankees baseball hat, the wanderings of my mind stops at the first meeting in the Australian soil: a German in the south of Stuttgart near I not even remember his name, was the first night and instead of sleeping at the airport as planned I take refuge in the first hostel of my life, a waste of money because jet-lag because of sleep I did not want, wandering through the hostel I met this guy sitting on a bench near by his backpack, he could not sleep in a few hours his plane was leaving to return home after six months of wandering around the world, a face carved in the terrible sadness but his eyes shone with happiness his journey, I remember almost nothing of what we have spoken only told me that this trip was a great challenge.
And so it was.
The flow of Cairns there again and I remember that I get lost in its surroundings in search of the Crystal Cascades not understand anything about what people were telling me, then there is Diego, two months of travel I have been with him, the best travel companion I could see, the only person of my trip that I really want to remain in my life. I go to mind the nameless faces of everyone I've met Europeans and North Americans and South Asians also Africans, that have kept me company during this trip, the quiet faces of those who were hanging on to their last day, probably my sad face will be remembered in a few months from another backpacker. The endless roads I have traveled, the long waits for buses, every time I did not sleep on a bed, the long and exhausting trek wonderful landscapes cultures tastes worlds I knew, everything flows nicely into my memory. Then there's next to me my pack more and more dusty and dirty, with flags everywhere sewn, gradually unraveling puncturing is breaking, my house, which faithfully followed me on his back in recent months, my best friend and my own worst enemy, because I hated the beginning so heavy so cumbersome, then as always smaller and lighter.
I think about how I was at the beginning.
Shy and frightened by this adventure did not know, then gradually more and more confident and experienced in muovermici in as if I had never done anything else in life.
these months have passed in a hurry, too, seems to me yesterday that first evening wandering around the streets of Sydney in the humid wet from the rain, and at the same time seem to me ages ago. I also
Facing a world map ... what is small and far away my dear Europe.
My thoughts are more confused memories try to get back together, too many at once and block each other.
is over. You just have to come back.
" The journey never ends. Solo travelers end up. It is also likely to endure in their memory, in memory, in the narrative. When the traveler is sitting on the sand of the beach and says: "There is much to see," he knew that was not true. You have to see what is not seen to see again what we have seen, in the spring to see what we have seen in the summer, the day see what we have seen at night, with the sun where the first time it rained, see green crops, the mature fruit, the stone has changed places, the shadow that was not there. We must retrace steps already given, to repeat, and to draw alongside new ways. We must begin the journey. Always. The traveler returns immediately. "
[José Saramago]
What I like the phrase I put in the title, I've heard again from the first day of the trip several times a day, literally - where have you been so-far far, is one of the first questions you are asked when you meet a new traveler, about two weeks ago I discovered that pull the two words-so-and-far-generates a third meaning that is-until now-, after this discovery, the phrase has lost a little bit in beauty ...
Here I am, sat down to write my last post on this blog with a little advance thought to this day he tormented by 'start of journey is a bit like when you have translated the Latin version of questions and in sixth hour, the anxiety begins to salirti from when you step into class.
What to say now.
I do not know.
When I dreamed this trip when I took notes and tips on the Internet even when they boarded the plane did not think I was doing it really. But here I am, at the end.
The mind flies to the early travel memories, the last having familiar faces that warm morning of July 4, my mother with the same eyes, which I am now as I write seemed to want to follow me right into the airplane, that girl on the flight Rome-Sydney in twenty-hour flight did not utter a word to that guy in Hong Kong gave me a Yankees baseball hat, the wanderings of my mind stops at the first meeting in the Australian soil: a German in the south of Stuttgart near I not even remember his name, was the first night and instead of sleeping at the airport as planned I take refuge in the first hostel of my life, a waste of money because jet-lag because of sleep I did not want, wandering through the hostel I met this guy sitting on a bench near by his backpack, he could not sleep in a few hours his plane was leaving to return home after six months of wandering around the world, a face carved in the terrible sadness but his eyes shone with happiness his journey, I remember almost nothing of what we have spoken only told me that this trip was a great challenge.
And so it was.
The flow of Cairns there again and I remember that I get lost in its surroundings in search of the Crystal Cascades not understand anything about what people were telling me, then there is Diego, two months of travel I have been with him, the best travel companion I could see, the only person of my trip that I really want to remain in my life. I go to mind the nameless faces of everyone I've met Europeans and North Americans and South Asians also Africans, that have kept me company during this trip, the quiet faces of those who were hanging on to their last day, probably my sad face will be remembered in a few months from another backpacker. The endless roads I have traveled, the long waits for buses, every time I did not sleep on a bed, the long and exhausting trek wonderful landscapes cultures tastes worlds I knew, everything flows nicely into my memory. Then there's next to me my pack more and more dusty and dirty, with flags everywhere sewn, gradually unraveling puncturing is breaking, my house, which faithfully followed me on his back in recent months, my best friend and my own worst enemy, because I hated the beginning so heavy so cumbersome, then as always smaller and lighter.
I think about how I was at the beginning.
Shy and frightened by this adventure did not know, then gradually more and more confident and experienced in muovermici in as if I had never done anything else in life.
these months have passed in a hurry, too, seems to me yesterday that first evening wandering around the streets of Sydney in the humid wet from the rain, and at the same time seem to me ages ago. I also
Facing a world map ... what is small and far away my dear Europe.
My thoughts are more confused memories try to get back together, too many at once and block each other.
is over. You just have to come back.
" Travel must involve the sacrifice of an ordinary program to promote appropriate, renunciation of the everyday to the extraordinary ... "
[Herman Hesse]
And I have now finished the program, forcing the ordinary, the everyday, you go back where I started, hoping that this wonderful experience I have served something. I will remove the garment from backpacker, backpack relegheró in the cellar, my tongue will again be the mother.
I'll be back to be to always do things ever ...
10:30 Heroes' Square?
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Where Is A Womans Vergina
Uruguay & Brazil to Buenos Aires
The bus arrives early on the classic American South and delay for a short stay not walk, I was entertained to enjoy my last Jugos nice steak and lose time on the internet , Brazil is not as cheap as the rest of the continent, then return to the diet that has accompanied me in the first 3 months of travel: rice and pasta in white ... damn economic development!
few days ago I left Argentina we will come back only to take the plane that will take me back home ...
I went to Uruguay, Argentina is very similar, only better managed and more ordered, even I found that many universities are studied here in two years of Italian.
I started my tour of the smallest country in South America with the city of Cologne for two days then stop in the capital and two in Punta del Este, which reminds me of the Gold Coast in Australia, here we find that even large groups of Anglo-Saxon in recent months had almost disappeared, I came here with the idea of \u200b\u200bthrowing myself on the beach doing nothing but rain forced me to throw the hostel in the hammock and do nothing.
In Argentina and Uruguay use our same bucket for garbage, if strange cities are filthy, the only difference is that ours are green and they change color changing city, is a month that amazed people all over the world by opening by pressing down with your foot ...
Arrive early morning in Porto Alegre, there remains only five minutes because I see the bad weather and decided to go a bit 'to the north.
Incredible, I never thought it could be bad weather in Brazil, I do not know, maybe I imagined that the clouds will magically disappear when they pass over this nation.
Brazil still surprises me, and the bus ride of 'Ilha de Santa Catarina I have not noticed the same poverty that you see in other countries, the machines are all new and there are even highways!
Another thing that surprised me is the landscape, as seen so far reminds me of the very north of Australia, my trip will begin and end with a similar landscape.
Brazilians are fantastic, although I had guessed already known to those traveling through, are much more open and friendly people of Argentina, have only two problems: they speak Portuguese and the Argentinians have even more layers to this habit of touching or keep attached to your face.
Arrive early morning in Porto Alegre, there remains only five minutes because I see the bad weather and decided to go a bit 'to the north.
Incredible, I never thought it could be bad weather in Brazil, I do not know, maybe I imagined that the clouds will magically disappear when they pass over this nation.
Brazil still surprises me, and the bus ride of 'Ilha de Santa Catarina I have not noticed the same poverty that you see in other countries, the machines are all new and there are even highways!
Another thing that surprised me is the landscape, as seen so far reminds me of the very north of Australia, my trip will begin and end with a similar landscape.
Brazilians are fantastic, although I had guessed already known to those traveling through, are much more open and friendly people of Argentina, have only two problems: they speak Portuguese and the Argentinians have even more layers to this habit of touching or keep attached to your face.
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