The Clean Face of Islam

Last night I, Ale and Dyenova enjoyed the wonderful nightlife of Dakar. Almady is a quartier famous for its countless and often expensive discos and restaurants, pubs and bars. We decided that 3000CFA could fit our budget and entered Le Passio Disco. Good loud music, gigantic wardrobesize security men and as usual lot of pretty local women dressed up and sometimes accompanied by other Toubab. I had a short talk with Binette who I suppose was “working” there in search of tourists, in Brazil they are called “piranhas”. Then we moved toward the Centreville and tried La Scala, local owned by a french man, entrance free, not so many clients, some good local dancers, a few  etrangeres. Here I had a nice chat with Awa, a lovely bargirl who work almost every night until 5 or 6AM, her parents live and work in Thies, not far from Dakar. The following morning Ale gave me the opportunity to visit the sacred city of Touba, the heart of Mourism, religious movement connected with the Islamic Sufism. Touba, 1 million dwellers, growing 15% every year, is known all around the world and thanks to its devotes the huge mosque has been built with marvelous marbles coming from Italy and Portugal. No money has been asked nor given by the local nor nationals politicians. Touba has a special status, no douane controls can happen inside the city, the roads are astonishingly clean, where really NOONE starve. This mystical center attracting people from all Senegal, during the Magal, which celebrates the return home of the first Marabout, sent abroad by the French colonialists, can increase its population until 3 or 5 or 8 million (I was there and do believe me when I say I never seen before so much people) and contribute to the country eceonomy with several millions of CFA. What really impressed me is that the Marabouts are respected and devoted for their tolerance and hospitality and peace word they always teach, here the bad side of Islam is miles away, here are slaughtered too many cows and goats, not a nice spectacle especially on the corner of the streets, with the only purpose to feed all the pilgrims, here no one will have to sleep on the road because the doors of each house are open to the visitors, even more they will be given the best food and the most confortable bed. This is really the Clean side of Islamic world, Khadim, brother of Ale, is totally right.

Senegal Style

Finally Senegal time has started. My first contact has been at Dakar airport where a local crowd of shouting vendors and awkers has puzzled me and other passengers not accustomed to Africa a lot. Luckily enough Ale since the first time demonstrated me to be not only punctual and clever, but also deserved all my trust. In fact he was waiting for me with his lovely and amazing cuisiniere, Djenova, in the car park. Dakar is a huge, hectic, colourful, interesting and sandy city. Only its main and city center roads are tarred, whereas the smaller ones are just sandy, as well as there are very few road signals and road lights,its also amazing to notice how many buildings are in progress waiting to be completed. No need to say that traffic jam is a normal side effect of a metropolis, however even during these unpleasant moments you can taste the quiet and friendly attitude of this people in fact although no rule seem to be respected by car and motorbike drivers or pedestrians,  when they are on the verge to crash each other, they put one arm outside of the window, ask, talk, or greet something and the result will be a peaceful agreement about who and why one should pass and the other wait . I assisted in Saly/Mbour a scene in which a man risked to be stirred under an enormous truck tyre, well the driver excuses have been perfectly accepted by the poor pedestrian who risked a serious accident! Another interesting mean of transport in Dakar is a kind of collective Minibus called Car Rapid, which is a wonderful piece of road art, filled with colours, eyes and paintings, as for other cars and taxis, my main wonder was how could these already died European or American car continue to work sturdily in Dakar, even with wooden windows, even with multilayer tyres, even with  pieces of different other cars. The best happened to us last week end when, after a night at La Passio, in Almady, we had the bad chance to take an Iranian taxi, I neither suspected that the ayatollah country was producing and selling cars abroad. The car seemed in a very good condition, if not luxurious for Dakar standard, but just a few kilometers we punctured a weel, and after the driver bravely changed it, he could not get off the handbrakes, then he used a hammer and after a long 5 minutes he succeeded. Dakar has a lovely mild climate in January with hot but windy bearable temperatures in the day and cool nights, the city is safe, except for some banlieu like Pikine,and mosquitoes are not that worrying problem I was afraid of. Ile the Gore, where 15 million slaves waited to be deported in central or south America if did not die before, and the huge statue of African Renaissance are the only 2 touristing spots, both worth a visit, I have so far experienced. Yet last week Ale brought me to buy some fresh and inexpensive fish to Yof Tongor market, directly on the beach. The spectacle of fishermen, women selling it after long bargaining, women cleaning it up, kids playing around, was great but locals were not so friendly and didn’t accept to be photographed by a white Toubab, Ale who was and still is the knife that let me enter into local culture, could take easily  as many photos as he wished, but even so, he always politely asked the permission. Although my 20 years of travelling abroad, since I can not speak any word of Wolof and since I don’t know at all this expensive city, I could not appreciate as much as I am doing it now, Senegalese culture if I had not Ale and his wife next to me.

Dream of the African departure

Some time ago I was reading an interesting article saying that the most exciting moment of a vacation is..BEFORE it starts. I immediately thought it was a nonsense, a silly idea, just impossible. How can it be true??? Well today it's the 24 of December, the day before Christmas (or "Vigilia di Natale"), my flight to Dakar will leave the 3rd of January and I am really so puzzled with those mix of feelings who make a vacation such an exciting and unforgettable moment of our life. In other words the author of the article was right! These last nights I just can not sleep well, everyday I buy new medicines, a water purifier, some plasters, a swiss knife, a mosquito repellent but every moment, yes even while I am sleeping, I ask to myself if these "homemade" first aid kit" would be enough or if I am overcautios, if I am going to overload my backpack against my recently adopted OneBag philosophy that rewarded me with such a confortable light bad in my last 2 travels to Thailand. As for Thailand no doubt that I miss and I will miss so much that smart, quiet, safe, relaxed culture. I'll miss all my nice friends (Vassana, Pornphipol, Ninja, Nui, ans so on) and their smile even in the worst moment. I'll miss those wonderful Thai massages and the great oportunity I could practise my little Shiatsu massage skills with locals who are used to be touched and manipulated while here in Italy (Europe?) even my parents, my closest friends are just scared to be touched by me.
However after a few years of doubts, fears, questions, dreams at open eyes in front of a map, I finally resolved to skip Thailand and Cambodia (I am so sorry Khonty) toward West Africa. I have so many questions; will locals assault me? will they be curious with an Italian Toubab? or maybe they will just be interested in my "argent"? Will their food be delicious and healthy?How many times will I catch an heavy "Montezuma Revenge" just not to mention the scaring Malaria risk...Whatever will be, I am so curious, excited, confused and let's say the truth; those few African friends just met in Italy (Yousufa, Ale, Modu from Senegal) or on the web (Brigitte, Justine, Marie Lucie) were so fine, friendly and helpful that I can not imagine so many Italians could do the same with an African friend. Going back to 11 years ago, I was experiencing the same feelings and fears a few days before my departure to Brazil. I heard so many bad stories of criminality and thefts and assaults, but after a while, picking up word by word some portuguese words, despite a few unpleasant stories I deeply loved Brazil and Brazilians, I learned how great was to live there, to meet such a solar people, to go out with friends, to listen to live Bossa Nova or Chorinho concert, to fall in love with the most charming women of the world. That's why I am looking forward this next adventure with no expectations but also with a positive and open mind attitude, who knows, one day I may talk with friends of an African dream that became real.

Loreto and Porto Recanati

When my foreigner friends think of Italy suddenly they start imaging wonderful famous historical cities like Venice, Florence or Rome, and some of them try to rush into a one week tour in the absurd attempt to visit as much as possible of these, I repeat, wonderful spots. I understand them but I usually suggest that they broaden their view toward other smaller much less known but great anyway places like Loreto.
"Strange statue of a lady" discovered in a house near a laurel grove (loreto) after 1294; house said to be the Holy House of Mary transported from Nazareth by angels to Italy in 1294. Statue accidentaly destroyed by fire and replaced in 1921 by a new standing figure, 3 feet high, carved from the wood of a cedar grown in the Vatican. Analysis of literary sources, however, indicates that the transport of the Santa Casa happened by sea and not through the assistance of angels. During the medieval period of Christian history it was common for monks and crusaders to be called ‘angels’ by the common people, this explaining the legend of ‘angels’ flying the house from the Holy Land to Loreto.
I visited Loreto many years ago when I was a teenager student and never forgot its magical and simple atmosphere that's why I decided to spend a cold and sunny november sunday with my mum and my aunt Fanny.
Loreto (takes its name from the plant of laurel,) is a small town of 10,000 people in the region of Marche and it's well known for it's beautiful Basilica of Santa Casa (Saint House Basilica).
We arrived late in the morning just in time to assist the mass that was attended by important guests like Loreto mayor and Bishop. During the mass I could not refrain from admiring all the many paintings, marble and carvings that ornate this marvellous church, but the main attraction of Loreto is, however, the Holy House itself (in Italian, the Santa Casa di Loreto), a well-known Catholic place of pilgrimage since at least the 14th century. It is a plain stone building, it has a door on the north side and a window on the west; and a niche contains a small black image of the Virgin and Child, in Lebanon cedar, and richly adorned with jewels. St Luke is purported to have been the sculptor; its workmanship suggests the latter half of the 15th century. Around the Santa Casa is a tall marble screen designed by Bramante and executed under Popes Leo X, Clement VII and Paul III, by Andrea Sansovino, Girolamo Lombardo, Bandinelli, Guglielmo della Porta and others. The four sides represent the Annunciation, the Nativity, the Arrival of the Santa Casa at Loreto and the Nativity of the Virgin respectively. he Holy House of Loreto is alleged to be the house where Mary was born and raised, and where an angel told her she would be the mother of Jesus. The first historical mention of the ‘Santa Casa’ appears when Helena, the mother of Emperor Constantine, learned of its existence and had a church built around the house in order to protect it. According to a 14th century legend, after the Holy Land came under the control of Islam in 1263, the Holy House was flown by angels to Dalmatia, modern Croatia in 1291, where a vision revealed it to be Mary’s house. Three years later, in 1294, it was again transported by angels to Recanati(a few Km from Loreto) and finally, in 1295, to a laurel grove, the ‘Lauretanum,’ for which Loreto is named. The myth of the Holy House states that when the Holy House was lowered into place the nearby trees bowed down in respect.

Analysis of literary sources, however, indicates that the transport of the Santa Casa happened by sea and not through the assistance of angels. During the medieval period of Christian history it was common for monks and crusaders to be called ‘angels’ by the common people, this explaining the legend of ‘angels’ flying the house from the Holy Land to Loreto. Archaeological evidence and documents uncovered in 1962 suggest that the house may indeed derive from the region of Nazareth as its limestone and cedar construction materials are not available in the area of Loreto. The Holy House itself is quite small, and its single room with a small altar contains a Black Madonna statue and a blue ceiling with golden stars, and what I can say about this Italian treasure is that even if you dont believe in saints, in the Madonna or in miracles, we all could perceive a strong, powerful, sudden energy in front of this small shrine. It was undoubtful that I made a great present to my mum, to my aunt and to...myself!
As we arrived quite late in Loreto (my fault, I love to sleep a bit more on sundays mornings), we had to set off and drive to our small Osteria where a good, but not delicious as hoped, fish lunch was waiting for us in Porto Recanati. After this long lasting meal we had a lovely and relaxing walk on the gravel beach of this small town. Once more I realized how this small country called Italia can be different, amazing and interesting just moving a few kms from your hometown. I often travel around the world while there are too many half undiscovered gems hidden in my "courtyard".
I want to finish by greeting and wishing the best to my brother's brother in law, Maurizio Voce, who has just started his final and more important travel, I hope, I am sure to the Paradise.
Fai buon viaggio Maurizio!

Viaggia, Rohita!

Viaggia, Rohita!

There is no happiness for those who never travel, Rohita!

By dint of staying in the men society,

Even the best man gets lost

Therefore, wander!

The traveller’s feet become flowers,

And his soul grows and gives fruits

And his vicious are washed up by the effort of travelling.

The fate of the one who stays still, doesn’t move

It sleeps when he falls asleep

And it gets up when he wakes up

Therefore, wander!

(dai Brāhmaṇas)

Thai Women

My first contact with a Thai woman took place about 15 years ago, while attending and english course in Auckland with my good friend Massi. We soon noticed that New Zealand was packed with Koreans, Japaneses, Thai and other oriental people. Most of them escaping from the ipercompetitive Universities of their countries or just learning english in a very relaxing and quiet atmosphere. During Christmas vacations we organized a group of 10 people: 3 Italians, one from Switzerland, one German, several Korenas and 3 Thai girls. No need to say that I was astonished to see these short, cute and gentle creatures cleaning up our backpacker common room, washing the dishes, cooking  and doing this house duty, mostly considered as a hassle in my country, spontaneously and with a bright smile in their face.
Fifteen years later  I landed in Suvarnhapu airport, Bangkok, to meet a Thai penpal.
As I approached her to give an innocent kiss in her cheek, she suddenly jumped back with a sense of surprise mixed with fear..."what am I doing wrong?" I asked to myself. The following days thanks to my curiosity (yes I am a nosy guy), thanks to other Thai friends and thanks to Bangkok Days, I started to move my first tentative steps into Thai culture.
I realized that if Thai women have not that sensual appeal of a Brazilian or Peruvian woman nor they have that cold disarming beauty of a Russian, they are anyway pretty, earnest, always gentle and polite. Due to their education and to their Buddhist philosophy, they have no sexual taboos, (there is a deep respect toward "Katoeis" who represent the third gender or "the most beautiful side of masculine beauty") they always smile and even in the most difficult situations keep calm and positive,  That's great compared to our western culture I think. I soon discovered that they grow up with a strict social rules who make inpolite to kiss or hug or become angry or to shout in public. They have so many ways to say Mister or Miss depending to whom you are referring and the sign of Way is a wonderful greeting gesture, pity it's going to disappear.
They consider good "Jai Yen" (cold temper) and bad " Jai Ron" (hot temper). Thai society requires harmony, self-control and honesty (far from being a perfect country I may say it's the safest country ever visited by far). Yet Thai women love to keep their skin as pale as possible (as well as Vietnamese and Cambodian women) because milky skin is considered attractive as well as a sign of health just the opposite of western culture where charming women are always well tanned and like to sunbathe. Women are are the pillars of Thai families; since very young help their mothers with housework and when they start to work always send part of their salary to their families who often live far from Bangkok whereas many times I heard about men who get drunk, beat or betray their women.

Buon Compleanno Fa Buon Compleanno Fla

This shattering tourist season is going to finish exactly when I get next to my birthday at the end of August. It's always so weird to wish Happy Birthday to my twin brother Fabio and of course to receive his wishes and his presents. As usual it was a great, relaxing, quiet, and friendly party who had its start at 1am after we shut the shop. No need to say that Alessandro was a wonderful host with its delicious food from Aqualagna (Marche):ricotta with marmelade, prosciutto, salame, capocollo, small pork sausages and lovely white wine along with great artesanal Belgium Beer (Triple Karmeliet is my favourite). I got marvellous presents like after shave, underwear, a lovely blue pijama, a nice pen, a good bottle of wine, a nice photocamera (let's see if I got it stolen of if I lose it as for the previous 3 ehehe) and lots of beloved books...well I do believe that books reading is definitively one of the pleasures of the life, don't you agree with me??? However the most brilliant present I got is for sure the friendship (but also SMS and emails by those who could not be there the 26th of August) and the love received by all those who reminded of my/our birthday: brother's, shop assistants, cousins, mum, dad (his phone call arrived late but really welcome), friends and those 2 lovely little scoudrels of Martina and Elisa who fell in love with Mirkao the Harley Biker! I am now 40, not bad I know, however I can not find myself as a sad old guy, I still love my family, I still bear so many heavy and naughty clients (although I do dream a lonely desert island at the end of every summer season..as a result!), I still am emotioned everytime I meet new folks or I visit a new country or I get into a new culture. Well it's probably time I start to think to have my own family as well as to my own little scoundrels otherwise I risk to be their grandad instead of their dad, the problem is to arrange a good, reliable, clever and young woman...being discouraged by locals better I search for a Thai or Russian or SouthAmerican one eheheh. As for my next trip I am planning to fly toward West Africa (Senegal, Mali, Sierra Leone, Ivory Coast or Ghana) although I will surely miss so much Cambodia and Thailand along with its great food, wonderful massages and lovely people. Let me now put some Photos of this Birthday Party and its Protagonists. And thanks again to all of you guys!!!!