il gran toscano

ciao voi,
oggi siamo stati in casa tutto il giorno fino verso le 6 di sera. Poi siamo andati a vedere un documetario su un cuoco spagnolo che tentava di vincere il campionato mondiale di cucina a Lyon. Il titolo è El pez, el pollo y el cangrejo real.
Molto carino e divertente. In gara alla berlinale. Come il Caos Calmo con Moretti che speriamo arrivi in Spagna.
Dopodiché abbiamo mangiato una crepe salata in un ristorantino un po' troppo brulicante di gente nella stessa strada del cinema.
Poi due passi per il centro. E altri due verso casa per vedere le statue in bronzo che stanno collocando di notte (a partire da ieri notte) nei dintorni del prado, sull'omonimo Paseo del Prado, per essere precisi. Sono tutte opere di Igor Mitoraj, scultore polacco con studio a Pietrasanta. Se non mi sbaglio era quello che aveva fatto quel volto enorme e altra sculture per l'aeroporto di Pisa circa un anno fa. Le scritte sulle casse che contengono i pezzi sono tutte in italiano, e i tir che le trasportano anche. Shanti commenta: ma non avrenno paura che qualcuno le rubi, così lasciate in giro di notte? Certo, come no.
Notte.

Suddenly Queasy

Well, as it appears the result of the poll isn't very clear. Three people said I should write in English. Three other people said quite the opposite. What to do, what to do? I guess I'll just do whatever I want, as usual.

It's been quite a week, the one that's finished last Sunday. My group and I managed to hand in the so-called trimestral on Thursday evening. Well in advance on the deadline (Friday morning). I'm not used to such timeliness, so I was quite surprised at how it went. Being very organised paid well in the end.
Next Friday instead we'll have to face the dreaded tribunal, three people of the school who will judge our performance in presenting (i.e. selling) our work. Hay que venderles la moto. We are planning our strategy and preparing all the printed and digital material we'll need for the presentation. That includes a black t-shirt with a black and white picture of a 50's woman showing her tongue that's supposed to summarise the whole philosophy of our work. Enough said.

What else. Oh yes, almost the entire class went out last Thursday night to celebrate the end of an endless trimester. We met at 10.30 at metro Tribunal. From there we went to 4 or 5 bars, it's hard to remember them all. Around venue number 4, we lost two good soldiers to the puke. But we marched on recklessly to the next place, only to be inevitably disbanded by adverse bouncers, unbeatable sleep and a surge of drunken quarrels. I came home at 5 in the morning, walking back from Chueca in the pleasant chill of a deserted Paseo del Prado.

On Sunday, we finally got rid of a sister of a friend of Pablo's, who had been haunting our house for a week. She was supposed to look for a room to rent for her four months of studies in Madrid. The thing is she was a weird combination of picky and lazy. And that doesn't help when looking for a place to stay, especially if you're staying at some quasi-stranger's, not to mention eating my cereals. OK, I seldom have cereals in the morning; actually I hardly ever have breakfast at all: I wait for the half-hour recess at 11 to eat a nice croissant a la plancha. Still, I want options, alright?

On monday, Pablo's Mum arrived from Germany (no, she's French but she lives in Germany). She's leaving tomorrow. On Saturday, Shanti's cousin from Connecticut (the land of the Girlmore Girls) is coming to stay. But just for the weekend.

Stay tuned.

Ps. I know, I got a bit lazy with Verboxes, but who reads them anyway? (Thanks to Marco, for he does).