Japanese Molisted On Train

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Esiste una spiaggia la cui sabbia è fine e bianca, una spiaggia così bella che le stelle marine la scelgono per arenarsi e così lasciarsi seccare dal sole quando esso è alto nel cielo.

E' qui that every day come ashore several glass bottles stoppered with a cloth and sealed with a flow of liquid wax, the ones that bored or desperate shipwrecked sailors adrift at sea filled with yellowed scraps of paper written with shaky difficult to interpret.

Not just notes but shreds of life trapped in the glass to which they are entrusted with memories and hopes, regrets.

Secrets.

words never passed through the air, shouted phrases eyes.

requests for help.

A small red crab along its trajectory bizarre encounters the remains of a flask first damaged by rocks, ora abbandonata in grosse schegge sul bagnasciuga. Il contenuto sta per andar perduto, inumidito dall'acqua salmastra che diluisce l'inchiostro nero dissolvendolo in tante luride lacrime che sporcano la carta e confondono le righe.

Accompagnata dal petulante sciabordio delle onde, la macchia rossa si muove rapida sul fianco fino a che si sofferma brevemente sul foglio quasi a volerne leggere il contenuto prima che il messaggio vada perso per sempre:

Scrivere.

Chi non sa leggere non sa scrivere.

Scrivere è dire, è dare un ordine al sentire, è comunicare il brivido che deriva dal capire.

Writing is thinking, evaluate, compare

E 'minds that they neglect to bother thinking.

Writing is proceeding, is a viable alternative to cry, you have shortness of breath without running.

Writing is like life, sometimes you need to make a point.

It wraps and start again.

Starting with a letter.

Shift, strictly and unquestionably capital.

Now comes the long-range wave other bubbles and sand on the shore, then changed his mind and goes back, taking with it everything in the sea in its withdrawal.

Some messages have the time to read them and catch them by providing a unique opportunity.

When this fails, sorry to have to recognize the fact that he missed an opportunity.

Not bad.
At this moment, somewhere in front of an empty glass bottle, a pen is lifted from the sheet, leaving just one last point impressed.

Return.

Getting Pregnant Game

And finally a bit of relaxation!

The second quarter ended a couple of weeks and I must say that to be a woman seven months pregnant, "I am enjoying the pretty! Finally a little 'relaxation of mind ... I needed.
These three months have marked a turning point in my pregnancy: the transition from fear to serenity. Sure, a little 'stress is always there, but after all ... the creation of a new life is not something from nothing!

L ' amniocentesis marked the beginning of the second quarter. Examines not funny which is followed, instead of total rest for a couple of days come tutti raccomandano, una mattinata in giro per l’ospedale per avere la puntura che ti fa diventare il sangue positivo! Si, perchè il mio fattore RH è negativo e questo potrebbe danneggiare il feto, quindi mi devo fare questa puntura tutte le volte che ho un sanguinamento o un piccolo intervento e poi una alla ventottesima settimana che mi copre per il parto.
L’ecografia dettagliata che ha preceduto l’esame è stata indimenticabile, quasi scioccante: per la prima volta ho visto il suo viso in 3D, i suoi piedini perfetti, già con le dita, le sue braccia, tutto. Un essere umano completo, perfetto, nella mia pancia. Li, in quel momento, ho pregato Dio che fosse normale, perché un aborto dopo quelle immagini would have been impossible to deal with.

But that August 26 was also the day when we found out the sex a girl! Not that we preferences, but know for sure you can start to dream, plan, buy! Scott has already planned his whole future ... I speak of "college" and "what do we do if he wants to marry someone we do not like," and when he wants to go out alone? "! Yes, stuff like that. I come to the dressing room furnishing, delivery, next summer in Italy and volendomi just push away, kindergarten!
And then there was the carousel of names. In fact we already the favorite names, especially for women: SOFIA (or Sophia) topped the list, followed closely by Chanel but not convinced by the fact that, well ... CHANEL ... you must be a model since birth! It 'difficult to choose a name for someone who does not yet exist physically. And then, still do not feel it moving, my belly was not that of a pregnant woman .. well, do not you imagine!

The result came on Friday of next week, ahead of our expectations. I remember the moment perfectly: Scott and I were on the bed chatting when ... DRIN! I recognize the number on my phone but I do not have the strength to answer and I talk about him. I was paralyzed from the stress! Not even 10 seconds and I see him smile, then attacked me and said, "Did you see .. all right. " I let myself go into a liberating tears in the arms of my husband who gently told me: "... we must relax and this child will be beautiful." The fact was that my placenta previa, that is very low, did not bother me one bit '. I felt good.

And then there was the ' Italy. Well .. explain such a thing as "failure", the nostalgia of your life is not easy. After all the struggles to get a green card every month and remain dedicated to pregnant, I had it done. It was time to go a little 'home, to reconnect with my world, see my loved ones and especially to share with them the joy of my pregnancy! The morning of my departure I had control of the placenta. I smiled a bit 'nervous at the thought that put me totally at rest and think, "yeah, sleep is ok, after a pleasant trip in calm air. Because I ANDRO 'IN ITALY! ". I was quite good, I have only said no sex (but with all the care and intervention, we did not madness) and the rest "take it easy"! Certoooo .... Very easy ... in Italiaaaa!

20 settembre- 20 ottobre 2010. Il mio quinto mese di gravidanza l’ho passato a farmi coccolare dalla mia famiglia e dai miei amici. E’ stato bellissimo. Scott mi ha raggiunta per 2 settimane. Siamo stati divinamente e…la mia pancia è esplosa! Non so ancora quanto fosse Sofia che cresceva e quando fossero invece le delizie italiane che ho ingurgitato quotidianamente e che mi erano mancate così tanto!! Fatto sta che al mio ritorno la bilancia mi ha guardato malissimo!!


Le ultime settimane del secondo trimestre sono passate tranquillamente, anche perché al controllo placenta tutto è andato per il meglio e la dottoressa alla fine della visita mi ha detto “you are a free woman! Non fare i salti mortali ma puoi riprendere una vita normale perché la placenta è risalita e si è posizionata bene”. Io e Scott ci stiamo dedicando all’arredo della camerina… cioè, io compro e lui monta! Nooo scherzo… è bravissimo. Lo adoro perché è partecipe in tutto. Ora la nostra Sofi si muove tanto e lui le parla avvicinandosi alla pancia, a volte gioca con lei muovendomi piano piano la pancia, è sempre presente...e a me continua a dire che sono bellissima, anche se adesso sono più larga che lunga!!

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Women, du du du

Talking with women

Too many males approach to women swinging between extremes. Or love or despise. They want to dominate or be dominated, as they do a lot more difficult to pose in front of them in equal conditions.

is typical of the weak and complexed deify the unattainable and humiliating available. It happens to everybody, adolescence. The trouble is when it continues to happen next.

For most people keep on talking to women, but almost never with women. For this reason, know that bad. Why not listen. Eppure basterebbe poco. Leggere i libri scritti dalle donne: lì si impara tantissimo. E sfogliare qualche posta del cuore, che invece tanti maschi snobbano con un’alzata di spalle.

Entrare nell’animo femminile, individuando i meccanismi che lo guidano, è un viaggio affascinante che rende più completa la vita di chiunque abbia il coraggio e l’umiltà di compierlo. Si impara a considerare le donne per quel che sono: non creature da venerare o giocattoli da usare. Ma esseri umani come noi, solo più complessi di noi, perché oltre al meccanismo razionale del vivere sviluppano fin dall’infanzia quello intuitivo, che non si nutre di parole e schemi prefissati, ma di energie e suggestions.

There is more attractive for a male universe, knowing that only women can go to discover its hidden part, and so complete and evolve. For millennia, the macho culture opposed to the comparison with a wall of clichés imposed through force. But now that wall is crumbling, and some men grow at last the desire to know the women, which until yesterday were afraid.

He meets one too. Provided you do not feel neither a victim nor un'incompresa.

Massimo Gramellini

La Stampa, 28/11/2010

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The Little treats for film buffs

Paolo Sorrentino , attualmente impegnato nella lavorazione di This must be the place con l'attore americano Sean Penn , è senz'altro uno dei registi italiani più apprezzati all'estero. Poetico e particolarmente attento ad un'estetica che rasenta la perfezione, ho sempre creduto sin da quel suo Uomo in più che Sorrentino si distacchi di molto dal modo di fare cinema italiano dei nostri tempi. Il suo ultimo lavoro, Il divo , è stato definito da Variety un "capolavoro" (Jay Weissberg, 22/5/2008).

In a nice cameo granted Boris (Series III, episode # 12) - Italian comedy television series - was a hilarious gag in which Sorrentino (actor if 'itself) was trading for Garrone, author of Gomorrah. How to prove an embarrassing ignorance film ironically, behind the scenes of the TV.

last Thursday to Annozero something happened like that, but with the Minister for Arts and Culture . Maybe it was just a misunderstanding on how television and times, but the effect and matching is truly remarkable.

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Green Grub

I got up early, before the bells ringing, because I knew it was there and wanted to get there before the crowd.

I've done it.

Here it is: the lawn.

What impression along the cable. Yet it is grass, grass easy, but to me it really seemed to walk "sull'ova. I

walker far and wide across the Piazza del Duomo, which was not doing this for years because that is the undisputed territory of tourists and Florentines we just pass you if you must, between an elbow smadonnando and another, and appearing in an incredible amount of photos that depict us in every corner of the planet.

A really great consolation.

Behind the Baptistery, there is also a post:

is the twin of the column next to it. It is said that during the funeral of Zenobi, beloved bishop of Florence (fifth century AD.), Then made a saint, the coffin has hit a dead tree standing near the Baptistery and this has put back the leaves. To commemorate the event was erected where there was a column the tree (I hope once dried up permanently) and today we have a new post, too.

Then there's David. Well, not HIM a copy.

Made of plastic, but same size. In this regard there will be a conference on the future of art in plastic. Yes, because the plastic after a few decades we start to crumble and is then irretrievably lost a fortune. But if the artist uses plastic has probably come to terms with its perishable essence, has taken into account the fact that not long remain in the collective memory, at least the tactile, physical. So his business, no?

You do not like plastic, he had understood.

So today there is a lawn around the Duomo.

We're not thinking about how much it cost and how those could have been used otherwise €.

Let's enjoy the countryside.

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Model

Two weeks of rehearsals for a performance at the library, the reading group. Folk songs and short monologues about events and characters of the site.
I call to play the guitar as accompaniment. A director
pignolissima you replace a "but" with a "but" at the last moment, the appropriate clothes to make the story-tellers, to find in the back of drawers or buried in the closet, picked up a handful of which are each on I have her and I trailing behind inventing arrangements then and there.
And finally you go on stage.
And everything is wrong: the words, timing, attack, fall leaves, you stumble in skirts.
But suddenly the audience applauds at the end: he has not noticed anything?
does not matter, we liked him. We were bene.
Che figura, però.

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Marathon Man

His is a truly unique event.

What engages him for a long time, years.
now in town everyone knows, there are not any more.
He is part of the landscape, there has always been and always will be. Bizarre
course, with this his infinite run, run ... but ultimately harmless.
E 'is passing now, here it is.

His is a frenetic race, the muscles of the legs in an extreme stress theory, the shortness of breath e al tempo stesso l’assenza nello sguardo della benché minima volontà di fermarsi.
Slalom tra le decine di bambini che escono da scuola, attraverso il semaforo rosso schivando le auto in velocità, nessuna rilevanza agli insulti ricevuti.
Il sudore impregna la maglia e imperla il suo viso mentre un vecchio scuote la testa sconsolato.
Lustre vetrine scorrono colorate ai lati del campo visivo, chissà quali meraviglie racchiudono, comincia a piovere.
Tanto meglio, non vi è ora ragione per rallentare, il fresco agevola la prestazione fisica.
‘Che ci fa qui in centro tutta questa gente?’
Una ragazza di bell’aspetto si pone timidamente sulla traiettoria: immobile, esprime un sorriso sensibile e comprensivo. Pare voglia dire qualcosa.
Schivata.
Ora nel parco, la strada sterrata con la pioggia si è trasformata in una poltiglia melmosa, il cane di un passante abbaia furiosamente qualche secondo per poi acquietarsi.
Si unisce un altro ragazzo in tuta, sembra tenere il ritmo fino a quando sfinito, capitola con il classico ‘non ce la faccio più’. Il corridore saluta gentilmente. Con un cenno della mano, senza voltarsi.
E’ una fortuna non sentire la fatica. O meglio, sentirla e ignorarla come una canzone che non ti piace.

Concentrato sulla corsa, l’uomo in fuga non ricorda più perché abbia un giorno iniziato a correre, da dove sia partito, da che cosa is really running away, running away is always the case.
The fact is that even if you ask.

happens that, during his remarkable marathon, realize that could go where he wants behold, those are the moments during which he experiences a fleeting sense of freedom. Other times
wonders where he is going . But only for a moment.
immediately looks down and increases the pace.

When you stop?
do not know.
There are days when the sky is clear and the trees of the avenue are dressed in white, if you see one of those moments pass, approached him and watch it in the smiling eyes:
understand that his dream is the finish line.
wherever it is.

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The thief bouquet

Quasimodo è il gatto della mia vicina di casa. E' bellissimo, pelo beige gonfio e morbido, occhi azzurri incantatori, tranquillo e caparbio, curiosissimo.

Ovviamente non va d'accordo col mio che si è visto spodestato del tetto di cui ora non è più l'unico passeggiatore; appena lo vede gli soffia e spesso ho trovato ciuffi di peli variegati neri e beige in casa mia, segno di lotte finite zero a zero.

E' evidente che Quasimodo, infischiandosene della cattiva accoglienza, entra a suo piacimento anche nel sancta sanctorum del suo dirimpettaio nero.

L'altro giorno che avevo lasciato inadvertently open the door of the room, on my return I found some items moved and seemed to me that he lacked even a bouquet of dried flowers which retain for some time and several times I thought about trashing. At the time he threw away the doubt of it has come back and I'm done with this issue.

Last night the neighbor heard me coming, he opened his door and said:-Look, excuse a moment, but this is yours?

was the bouquet. In practice it was that happened one morning while he was washing his face and was so slow without it 'goggles, he saw his cat appear with something in his mouth and immediately thought it was a prey tettaiola maybe still alive. He then locked the cat, he is armed with goggles, gloves and rags and reopened the door to the cat.

That was always there behind that looked a bit 'offended, widening the famous blue eyes and in her mouth .... a bouquet of flowers. For her.

He confessed that he had even moved.

And then I had to do? Take back the flowers? No, it was his now, a tribute to the cat's Quasimodo, thief bouquet.

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eyes of a child before sleep

read these lines is one thing they can do all.

Being able to grasp the seriousness of each claim is however, a privilege that belongs to those who choose to examine the eyes of a child .

Who knows, if they did in many, perhaps we would live in a better world.

However it was, no one should forget their own childhood. None.

"Children are not afraid to weep

piangono con spontaneità e non sfuggono ai colpi della vita

poiché amano il colpire e affrontano il rischio di essere colpiti.

E vengono colpiti dalle mani degli adulti,

dalla loro indifferenza,

dalla loro disattenzione mascherata di pazienza,

dall’ottusità delle loro buone intenzioni.

È facile colpire i bambini.

I bambini giudicano senza mai giudicare.

Quel che somiglia a un giudizio è per loro

soltanto un modo per abitare la paura.

I bambini considerano i genitori degli dei:

li temono, ne invidiano l’apparente omnipotence,

always justify them,

who bear any weakness.

not let them hurt

their soul is the soul of the world. "

Maria Rita Parsi

Manifesto of the Movement Child

"If a child lives with criticism, feeling, learn to condemn.

If a child lives between hostility, he learns to hit.

If a child lives feeling ridiculed, learns to feel guilty.

If a child lives in the middle of the tolerance, they learn to be patient.

If a child lives being encouraged, learn to trust.

If a child lives with praise, feeling, learn to appreciate.

If a child lives in the middle of fairness, he learns to be right.

If a child lives feeling safe, learn to trust.

If a child lives feeling approved, learns to be himself.

If a child lives between acceptance and friendship, he learns to find love in the world. "

Doret's Law Nolte

"Children should never go to sleep, wake up one day older."

Johnny Depp

Neverland - A dream for life

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Out door

Yesterday I met some wonderful people: I am mother, daughter and son, are farmers and live in an old farmhouse on the outskirts of Florence. The house if they date back to the '600: is the payment the meal tax. Now it is shaded by the high structure of a multiplex cinema and a mega hotel. The family land has been expropriated since it is considered "public interest". Yes, next to their garden now passes for a highway that chance, thanks to some fortuitous circumstances sound, does not hear the constant noise of traffic. But the machines are there, you see.
Just beyond the yard stands a rather tall tree, a maple, planted there by any grandfather early last century. And 'now a rare plant, its branches will support the planting of vegetable gardens, and the son we climbed to escape the school and some smack. It is now unattainable remained oltre il recinto, dalla parte del cinema, nel megaparcheggio asfaltato. Lo si può solo vedere. E rimpiangere.
L'orto vicino a casa, ridotto ai minimi termini, adesso ospita solo qualche fila di pomodori, pochi olivi e un fico. I proprietari sono stati costretti a comprare altrove ulteriori appezzamenti se volevano continuare la loro attività.
Ma nonostante tutte le angherie subite, quella gente è allegra; di più, è gioiosa. E generosa, ma in un modo che mette quasi a disagio noi cittadini abituati al mondo limitato del dare-avere.
Ci hanno tagliato grosse fette di prosciutto casalingo, affettato salame, formaggio e pane toscano, sfornato crostate alla marmellata fatta in casa e torte di mele.
E quando abbiamo asked why, they replied that they do with those who are sympathetic.
Probably the people of the City (at least the first) there has never set foot there.

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horrible things

exciting moments

each burst of wind that was blowing on my face.

People

and dreams and thoughts and prejudices

the relief of not having understood anything

presumption can do it alone

pathetic illusion that it did not need anyone

The confusion you feel after suffering a blow to the heart

which can not control but that arrogant, always trying to control he

Stockholm, yellow snow at sunset

friend who will never know it was this

hidden shame, I did not want

Since you do not mind being on my side, I do not like you to follow me closely, now disappear. I thought about it for you: your way is another.

success that you would prefer not to share

leave their jobs to return to work

Brilliant.

Thanks. Pray.

Please. Grace personified.

disjointed phrases, verbs, adjectives and subject to the bulk, commas, full stops.

E 'curious, more than the mind is tired it is hard to keep up.

runs fast and does not want to give explanations.

One ring, the phone.

The alarm rings.

Good night.

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Intelligence edelweiss

Three days in the mountains: Small Dolomites. Small because there's little more than 2000 meters, are considered trinkets from the crowd of mountaineers in the summer that they prefer the Dolomites true, and thus have the advantage of being uncrowded and only by locals. Me and my group were an exception:-Where are you from? Toscani? - Yes, Florence! - Ah .- Faces surprises. We come from so far away to walk in that place little-known, well, that strange people.

Per aggiungere stranezza all'inconsueta situazione abbiamo anche fatto un lungo sentiero tutto saliscendi, con roccette da arrampicare e decisamente ripido. C'eravamo solo noi.

O meglio, noi e loro: le stelle alpine.

Ma quante! Milioni di stelle alpine. Erano dovunque. Avevamo paura di pestarle. E io che credevo fossero una specie in estinzione, un parto dell'estrosa fantasia di botanici visionari.

Macchè.

Le abbiamo immortalate in non so quante foto e credo che a più d'uno di noi sia venuta la tentazione di coglierne almeno una. Ma nessuno l'ha fatto; sarebbe stato come profanare un terreno sacro.

Poi, arrivati in prossimità del rifugio e di sentieri più frequentati, sparite. Come fossero state un sogno.

Non credo sia un caso. Forse ci "sentono" e ci evitano.

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trifles

Buffo come basti a volte solo un piccolo particolare per dare la felicità. Un gesto spontaneo anche piccino, uno sguardo ridente, una piccola frase urlata a mo' di saluto, come stasera è successo a me. -Ciao, come sei bella in bici!-
Figurati come sono bella in bici. Eppure in quel momento era davvero così, non lo ha detto tanto per dire, no, ci credeva ed è stato questo a farmi stare bene.
Adoro i particolari.
:)

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not for me

Detesto le persone egoiste. Se ne trovano ovunque, are always ready, like thieves. But there are people who do not know why, attracts them in a special way. No, not me, fortunately, I return to the standard, a friend of mine, someone whom I very well. The fact is that she almost does not make us any more. I'm there I feel bad for him. Fool. Yes, maybe.
Sometimes he complains of this, it is true, but then accepts the situation as inevitable in life: they ask the most absurd things, at any time, repeatedly, and she's there. But how?
But perhaps found a way to let it go and I know that ultimately makes the pleasure to be useful to someone.
I got to do that?

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MY FIRST "fear" quarter.

2 Giugno 2010. Festa della Repubblica?! Non soltanto!! Per me è stato soprattutto il giorno del mio TEST DI GRAVIDANZA ! Yes, after 11 days of endless waiting by the installation of my 2 embrioncini, this was the day of truth.
In fact, I felt a bit "pregnant" (mainly dizziness), but I thought it might be just my suggestion. I perfectly remember the phone call to Kim, the nurse at the clinic. When the phone rang I was looking for parking close to the work of Scott ... we decided to have lunch waiting for the result. "Hi Kim " I said, putting on the second row and not caring about the traffic. My heart was in 3000 and the only thing I added was a long time: "Soooo ???". And she said one word: CONGRATULATIONS! I can not explain the emotion of that moment, I just know that I was holding the phone and my hands were shaking so I could not even call Scott!

After the test on June 2 I had to do another two days after confirming the pregnancy (because you take hormones during the IVF cycle can "distort" the result) and then started the ultrasound to check the settinamali development of the fetus until the eighth week.
The first question was: "They attacked both the embryos? I have a twin? ". But you have to wait until the first ultrasound, after about ten days of testing. What stress! What I would have preferred? I can not say. What is certain is that after all I've done, they went very well 2, so I thought I removed all at once. But the first inspection only one bullet was throbbing, one little heart. Relieved? Disappointed? I do not know. The only real thought was: "There is a cuoricinoooo ... I AM PREGNANT! . When they made me feel the beat, the next week, was an incredible emotion .. that "tu-tum, tu-tum" enters your ears and heart and do not go away!
In the two months that followed I had one great moment of terror when I've had some losses. I spent an afternoon in a desperate and sleepless nights, but the next morning to he still had control, the red dot pulsing strong in my belly! In mid-July
Dr Greenseid said: " our work is about to end, gradually diminish the dose of hormone injections and hopefully you can go to a gynecologist normal." Eh, 2 months of daily injections of progesterone were not then the pleasure! Scott has become a model to infer what is not e. .. you would in certain situations: Scott delayed one day and the bite are made by me alone! But it was worth it :-)

all'IRMS last inspection the day I brought chocolates for everyone: nurses, sonographers, medical receptionist ... I can not never thank them enough!


But FIRST QUARTER of pregnancy was not so fabulous. One says: "Ok, you made all this difficult path, but now you're pregnant, relaxed." Well, not so easy!. The word FEAR best describes this period. During the first week I lived in terror of being able to have an abortion, since the risk is high, both for the fact that the age of insemination. I waited for those weekly visits to the clinic as the manna, worried that something might not go, do not be normal. And every time I went out with an ultrasound of my baby in my hand ... at the beginning it was just a circle, ma ogni settimana si avvicinava sempre più all'immagine di un bambino!

Ho vissuto 2 mesi e mezzo terrorizzata che qualsiasi cosa che facessi potesse farmi abortire. Praticamente ho messo in “stand by” il mio corpo, la mia vita. Niente più scuola, niente più ballo, niente più uscite di nessun tipo...L'unica cosa che mi sono concessa sono state brevi passeggiate. E giuro che per un tipo “non casalingo” come me è stato pesante!
Ho letto molto sull'argomento “gravidanza”, cercando però di non abituarmi troppo all'idea.
Anche la ricerca di un ginecologo e la scelta dell'ospedale dove partorire non sono state facili, vista la mia inesperienza locale. Il primo ginecologo che ho visto mi ha voluto fare un pap test e mi ha fatto sanguinare così tanto che sono finita all'ospedale disperata!!! Quindi ho subito cambiato e il nuovo, un filippino di nome Ernani, me lo sono fatta andar bene. Dopo un po' si comincia ad essere stanche.
Poi c'è stato il GRANDE PASSO : il superamento della 10° settimana. Da questo momento le possibilità di aborto spontaneo diminuiscono drasticamente e mi sarei dovuta sentire sollevata.
Ma il timore dell'aborto è stato rimpiazzato dalla nuova paura: SARA' SANO?
Con l'età aumenta il rischio di avere un bambino con Sindrome di Down o altre malattie cromosomiche e io mi sono fissata su questa cosa. Durante le ultime settimane the first quarter you can make a series of tests that give you a percentage of risk that your child has problems. I refused to do it. What I care to know that there are 1 in 20 chance, or 1 in 40 or 100 ... Only amniocentesis can give you a certain result and I will do that. So needless anxiety to undergo further exams by the first.

So LOOKS . I look amniocentesis August 26 and then the result will wait two weeks.
Mmmm ... Perhaps that is why we say: "I'm waiting" when you are pregnant ... WHY 'IS ALWAYS WAITING FOR THE RESULT OF SOME CONSIDERATION!

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Inception, clutch

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Giza. الجيزة Al-Gizah for the inhabitants of these places.

For now, even today, July 3, 1916 but tomorrow is coming , the sun is leaving this world weary sighs, resigned to the restless night breezes.

I am writing this sitting in the doorway of my tent while young and old Bedouin light the fire Mystics look ageless questions the horizon orange, his chin dropped into a grimace on the handle of gnarled sticks.

This tent is the house that I chose as the sand that the dress is the guest who can not hunt.

These lines contain signs, words and letters at random and unknown players which I hope with all my heart, finding this sheet rolled through the cracks carved by time and the elements in the granite of this necropolis, decide to entrust them with a sense.

What he likes most, it does not matter.

The search for meaning is itself light.

not like told us, hell do not live underground while ravaging the surface of our world and beyond, where the meanings are not of any importance, where what matters is not understanding and not heard: where it takes is being able to breathe moment more of your enemy: Hell dwells on the battlefield and down in the trenches.

My name is Patrick Linton Allen, is an explorer and I'm English, noble blood, dubious reputation. Carry on my shoulders the shame of having left my place in the army, the war and the horror of a family brutally torn apart by bombs, hoping to spend what remains of my life, rather than to bury comrades and loved ones, precious treasures to unearth evidence of worlds and now lost.

keep trying, three months ago through the ice of the Norwegian fjords, now dragging me under the sun of Africa.

I see with the mind process, rework and then write from the heart.

disseminate my thoughts, my feelings in the places I visit, leaving here and there short notes on sheets torn from that agenda without knowing if anyone will read.

Perhaps it is mere vanity, in fact I wish this was my way to return to what these places I have donated free of charge: a

speranza.

Ho abbandonato tutto, le mie tenute, le scuderie e la servitù e sono diventato un disertore, un fuggiasco, un infame senza valore e senza dignità.

Non capiscono, accecati non vedono.

In queste ultime settimane ho risalito il fiume prendendo qualche appunto che qui riporto:

Sono le 3 del pomeriggio il sole è ancora alto; fin dove l'occhio giunge nessuna nuvola, solo un ibis attraversa l'azzurro del cielo limpido e si posa sul letto del Fiume, immergendo nervosamente il capo sotto il pelo dell'acqua.

Un vento caldo soffia sul viso abbronzato mentre passo dopo passo, cercando di non affondare nella sabbia incandescente, riesco a raggiungere la sommità della duna.

Ora che la prospettiva prende forma, la vista che mi si offre è unica ed emozionante: quattro statue alte venti metri sorvegliano l'ingresso di una tomba.

Abu Simbel, finalmente: mi rendo conto che le raffigurazioni riportate sui diari di viaggio che avevo consultato prima della mia partenza erano del tutto fuorvianti.

Mancavano i colori e le ombre.

Rapito, incapace di una qualunque reazione che non sia la muta ammirazione, contemplo la pietra gialla attraverso le lenti scure degli occhiali; quando torno in me prendo dallo zaino un'agendina nera dalle pagine del colore di quella pietra e scrivo una breve frase con una matita rossa.

E' qui davanti a me e la riporto su questo foglio, la mi mano trema ancora:

"Non serve l'uniforme, non serve l'odio, non c'è necessità di uccidere. Annientare il prossimo è fuggire da se stessi e non voler accettare che

in verità, le battaglie più grandi si combattono dentro di noi" .

Sir Patrick Linton Allen

Esploratore, uomo, battlefield

Military unarmed

What Are Some Good Mom Doujinshi

ovvistolamadonna

ma non credo che lei abbia visto me. forse mi aspettava nella valle rossa, avevo detto che sarei passato da lì, poi miha chiamato isa dandomi indicazioni come solo lei non sa fare... è come seguire un navigatore che dà i comandi in ordine casuale, e non si sa cosa viene prima e cosa viene dopo. per fortuna le salite si riconoscono dalla fatica, e le discese dalla paura. la salita del santuario di altino è dura, durissima. e per giunta con un asfalto pessimo. buche e ghiaia a non finire. talmente ripida che a trecento metri dal santuario, a forza di tirare sul manubrio per far andare giù i pedali, la bici impennava. non mi era mai successo. scendo dall'altra parte ma mi perdo il lago di endine, forse è troppo piccolo o forse ho sbagliato strada. vado verso bergamo, chiamo per avere indicazioni e finalmente trovo tommy che mi chiama dalla finestra. senza di lui sarei tranquillamente andato oltre cercando il bosco che avevo alle spalle. mi ficcano barrette nelle tasche, cercano di convincermi a mangiare un piatto di pasta, se l'avessi accettato mi avrebbero legato e portato in montagna con loro, e magari sarebbe stata anche una buona idea.
invece riparto, torno a nembro, fatico a trovare la salita per selvino ma alla fine ce la faccio. per fortuna è molto più dolce dell'altra, salgo sciolto col mio passo, che è molto più lento di quello degli altri ciclisti (tranne quelli con la maunteinbaic, che si portano dietro peso e gomma inutile sull'asfalto, ma va di moda...).
a selvino chiedo a un signore da dove si scende per gazzaniga, lui mi dice eh no, prima deve salire! ma come... io credevo... tutta questa fatica... affronto l'erta finale come fantozzi, la guardo e non ne ho voglia, preso dalla voglia di girare la bici e rifare la strada in discesa mi volto, ma dietro di me c'è un altro ciclista. non si rinuncia davanti a un collega. stringo i denti e altro, e arrivo all'osservatorio. è un posto splendido: la strada è stretta e rovinata, ma all'ombra del bosco oltre i mille metri, con valli a strapiombo sulla destra. riesco a fare fatica anche in discesa, così ripida e con l'asfalto rovinato, ma ne vale la pena.

n embro-altino-trescore-nembro-selvino-gazzaniga-nembro
80 km
4h 06 '

average 19.51 km / h 56.23 km / h max
1,657 m altitude
154 bpm average

Kidney Stone Stuck In Your Bladder

Mostar-Sarajevo-Mostar makarska


I have no illusions on either downhill or on the cool: Mostar is only 50m altitude, and the sea is 50 km. armed with patience birth after a hearty breakfast, here are the brioche with sour cherry jam (Visnja), which are a delight, but you have to go to the baker to get it because the bar just make the coffee.
after the valley of the Neretva Mostar slips back into a groove, though larger than those of yesterday, and the wind is heard but does not bother me, it's as if he had changed and smell attracts me. finally vedo i primi gabbiani, il mare si avvicina... pedalo allegramene fino a opuzen, un paesino di pescatori nel largo estuario della neretva. mentre entro in paese vedo che sto compiendo il millesimo chilometro, esattamente nel momento in cui sono nel punto più a sud di tutto il viaggio. il vento che fino ad ora ho avuto contro mi aiuterà nella risalita verso spalato? mi fermo a mangiare a ploce, so che sono solo a metà tappa e anche se sono sul mare non è ancora finita. la costa qui è molto alta anche se poco frastagliata, e la strada non è tutta in riva al mare come la cartina farebbe pensare. a solo 100 m dalla costa ci sono montagne che passano i 1000 metri! il bello della dalmazia è questo, che ha spiagge bianchissime e acque tranquille protette dalle isole. per questo i boschi scendono fino a un paio di metri dall'acqua, il verde si rispecchia nell'acqua. sono cambiati i profumi, invece degli abeti sento il ginepro e la resina dei pini, invece dei piccioni i gabbiani. non sono ancora a spalato ma sono già felice di essere sul mare, è già un traguardo raggiunto.
la partenza da trieste sembra lontanissima, eppure sono solo due settimane. il cambio del tempo la fa sembrare ancora più lontana. per dare un'idea, avevo azzerato l'altimetro sul molo a trieste, ora che sono di nuovo sul mare dovrebbe segnare 0 ma dice che sono 361 metri sotto il livello del mare. di tanto è salita la pressione. non so cosa significhi, ma mi diverte.
decido di lasciare la statale ogni volta che c'è un paesino in basso sulla costa, per vederli (dopotutto sono anche un turista) e per stare più in basso possibile. purtroppo mi frego da solo: a Igrane non trovo la strada per tonare sulla statale, che nel frattempo si è alzata di 150 metri. per recuperarla devo scalare una rampa durissima, mi devo fermare più volte a riprendere fiato e ogni volta ripartire è una sofferenza. quando arrivo alla statale sono così esausto che per dare precedenza a una macchina in arrivo mi sbilancio, metto giù un piede ma il bagaglio tira giù la bici di lato, cerco di tenerla in piedi e mi slogo un dito. che idiota. la lezione del giorno è che se tu sei in piedi e la bici vuole cadere, lasciala cadere. tanto di graffi ne ha già in abbondanza.
makarska is small enough to be nice and big enough to find what you want to do, I'll stay here a few days, I will go only to split to catch the ferry.

mostar-makarska
127 km
6h 4 '
20.93 km / h average 871 m altitude

138 bpm average

Canadian Driver License Generator

map it all seems simple and beautiful, Sarajevo is a city on the river stretched miljiacka , just follow it south to take the road to Mostar. and the surprise on the way out from the city: the road becomes a freeway, complete with a sign forbidding. two lanes with no hard shoulder. I go back, try an alternative, but I can not find anything. by a request from a gas station, which is straddling the street of small houses and the highway. I confirm that the only way is to go through the highway, but that ends after a couple of miles. I see that highway entering the gas station there is no ban, and I decide that it is not a highway, and if someone stops me at least I have something to appeal. I walk five miles of pure madness in motor speed, in apnea. Fortunately, there is little traffic. time seems lenient, there are clouds that threaten rain but shelter from the sun. the first fifty miles are nice, so I expect a pass at 1000m, but Sarajevo is already quite high, so the climb is also nice, to parte gli ultimi due chilometri, dove la strada si allarga ed è esposta al sole. in cima c'è una sorgente, io ho fatto buona scorta di acqua e non mi fido, anche se c'è un bosniaco che è salito con la famiglia e i bottiglioni a prendere l'acqua di sorgente, e dice che è buona. quando scopre che sono italiano vuole chiacchierare, dice che ha un fratello a senigallia, parla un po' di italiano. ci metto un po' a capire che siamo stati a konjic a mangiare cevapi vuol dire stiamo andando, e che mi sta invitando a pranzo. dice che sono ancora venti chilometri, e mi conferma che è tutta discesa. dopo il ponte a destra, dice. la cosa mi diverte, e accetto volentieri di mangiare e chiacchierare con uno del posto.
la discesa è exciting. will be that between the UN, NATO and the European community unesco Bosnia is all rebuilt, but the roads are the most beautiful I've found since I left, the pavement is perfect and are pretty broad. also the machinery is much more modern in serbia, I smoked less and I get the impression that motorists are also more educated and more I pass away. but maybe it's just an impression that I have. the mantra of the day is that the civilization of a people can be seen from as respects cyclists. however, the cartel after the passage marks a 9% drop, I'll jump without slowing, with a limit of 40 go to 65, no machine behind me and luckily did not encounter even before, I l'imbarazzo di doverle sorpassare. forse arrivo a konjic troppo presto e il tipo non mi aspettava ancora, fatto sta che faccio quattro giri del paese (insignificante, ma con un bel ponte trecentesco sulla neretva) e non lo trovo. fuori da un locale che fa cevapi vedo una macchina che potrebbe essere la sua, mi fermo a mangiare ma non si fa vivo. caro amico bosniaco, se mai leggerai queste righe sappi che io c'ero!
dopo konjic passo un colle e sono sulla discesa della neretva, che mi porta fino a mostar. la parte alte della valle è spettacolare. il paesaggio cambia completamente, sembra di essere sulle dolomiti: una stretta gola circondata da vette rocciose verticali, sono a solo 200 m di altitudine ma ci sono cartelli che indicano le piste da sci. purtroppo la strada spiana dopo una ventina di chilometri, ci si aggiunge il vento contro e nonostante la bellezza del paesaggio l'arrivo a mostar è una tortura di caldo. nonostante abbia acqua a sufficienza mi fermo tre volte in tre baretti a prendere una limonata. da queste parti si usa quella vera, limone acqua ghiaccio zucchero, ed è buonissima.

sarajevo-mostar
141 km
6h 27'
21,89 kmh medi
64 kmh max
803m dislivello
141 bpm medi

Materials Needed To Make A Model Theatre

Novi Sad, Belgrade-Sarajevo-Osijek-Novi Sad

sono giorni senza bici, quelli che si passano con gli amici, e la figlia degli amici e gli amici degli amici. dovevano essere quattro a novi sad e una scappata a belgrado, invece un cambio di programma improvviso, di ones that make you make things more interesting but that you can not rejoice, because they are caused by bad news.
but first things first: Novi Sad is a beautiful city, with a small center (two way) nice, too full of coffee which is only possible go drink coffee with milk or beer, but you can not eat. prime time to make ends talk to Serbs returning from Italy, Prendes around the languages \u200b\u200band do rounds of beer and cevapi. sociable, the Serbs. Who says we 'take a beer "the offers to all. Unfortunately I understand or I am being told too late, and too visitor and lose the opportunity. but the company is nice. The same scene is repeated in Belgrade, a local fantastico pieno di elegante paccottiglia, di quella che i romeni portano a vendere sulle statali del veneto con i pullman, ma alcune cose sono pregevoli, e loro nemmeno lo sanno. vecchi dagherrotipi, macchine per scrivere antiche, vecchie insegne di stazioni. un pavimento fatto di travi senza impiantito. questo è il wonder bar di belgrado, quello che non troverete su nessuna guida.
a belgrado ci arrivo in bus, perché la notizia della morte del collega di ashen ci prende impreparati, perché fa troppo caldo per fare cento chilometri di spietata campagna piattissima e deserta. nessuno si stupisce che io porti la bicicletta sul bus. paga come un normale bagaglio, 50 centesimi.
il giorno dopo mi affido a naden (il nome è di fantasia, non I managed to learn it), I scarrozza for the ups and downs of old Belgrade, for the new cycle of Belgrade, Zemun on the hill where you can see the whole city. rite chat with the bartender between loving Italian who arrived by bicycle, and again for ciganlia ada, the lake made from a branch of the Sava, with filtered water, beaches, bars and bike path, finishing at lunch in a restaurant River. a memorable day.
then I take the bike. or at least I try, I start early Temento the heat, coming in a hurry to Obrenovac pulled by a man who does not realize that I'm behind and goes to thirty per hour, when it stops to turn back was amazed to see that c ' I was that I was behind with the bags and everything. Obrenovac to do a little break and run away, absently. too casually, only ten kilometers after I realize that I am not seeing signs with the number of my state, the first country to try the name on the paper and chill me: I am completely off track, and the shortest way is to return to Obrenovac. At that point I threw out twenty kilometers an hour, it's almost noon and I am still missing 120 km, and there are the usual 36 degrees fixed: I decide to return to Belgrade, I buy a bus ticket to Sarajevo, I start at ten evening and night journey. I am waiting approached by a Norwegian teenager, probably attracted a mature man with a beer belly and a beard ... but never mind.
border Bosnia with the policewoman is nervous, perhaps because at night time, perhaps because it must be for trade. first mishandles a English girl who had switched places and was not with the friend who had his passport, then he takes my passport and says something very worrying, judging by the tone. I know that not having stayed at the hotel I should go to the police to report my movements, I also know that I did because it would be a mess for danilo, I surprised the face of the tourist with a clear conscience and does not understand, the girl mumbles something and walks away. unfortunately I do not see anything, but the crack of dawn I show a spectacular landscape, which has sinned too sleepy to enjoy it. return, maybe in the car.
Sarajevo is a city of contradictions: women veiled their faces with makeup that walking with friends in hot pants and vest. churches built next to mosques. muezzin and rock concerts on the streets, banks and modern buildings next to the ruins partially destroyed by the war. The guide says that there are almost no more roses, in Sarajevo, but in twenty-minute walk, I see dozens of them. are the marks left on the streets of mortar shrapnel during the siege of 1992-1995

Fire Prevention Slogan 2010

mica understand why the Serbs should use the Cyrillic alphabet, which we understand so well without them. but first things first. I can finally make a decent breakfast, even a Inglese own breakfast, con uovo pancetta salsiccette (le adoro) caffé succo di frutta pane di un sacco di tipi diversi formaggio prosciutto salame. bis di succo di frutta. è il vantaggio di stare nella pensione della dependance di un hotel a 4 stelle.
parto abbastanza presto, ma fa già caldo. 30 gradi già alle nove del mattino, e niente vento. il ciclista è una bestia strana, riesce a lamentarsi di tutto: se fa freddo perché fa freddo, se fa caldo perché fa caldo, se piove perché si bagna e se non piove perché suda. se ci son le salite perché si fa fatica, e se c'è pianura perché è monotono, e quindi faticoso. i primi quaranta chilometri sono così: una strada tirata con il righello in mezzo alla pianura più piana del mondo. vado in trance al terzo chilometro, mi sveglio a vukovar. non so a quanti dice qualcosa, ma a me il nome risveglia ricordi di telegiornali che elencavano numeri di morti come numeri al lotto. 78 giorni di assedio hanno lasciato il segno, eccome. già prima di entrare in città vedo palazzi bombardati. quello che fa impressione di un palazzo bombardato è che non è un cumulo di macerie, è un palazzo reso grigio dall'abbandono, e bucato come un gruviera. magari la struttura portante regge, ma un angolo sembra mangiato via da un'enorme bocca dentata. mancano dei pezzi qua e là, grandi pezzi circolari asportati come con precisione. intorno, palazzi abitati con ancora i segni delle schegge delle granate. per terra, un buco rattoppato, surrounded by a halo of Prick. mortar, perhaps. downtown, next to crystal palace buildings (which in the past must also have been nice) bombed and abandoned. in the central square a monument with fresh flowers, I'm closer to see and I'm surprised to see that it is a bust of Tudjman, who else is considered a war criminal almost like Milosevic. the edge of town, what looks like a huge monument to the siege: the gigantic column of water tank, high and mighty, riddled with bullets that go from side to side. you see the inside of the tank, the fifth column that are supporting Mr. Smangle by a huge monster, it seems impossible that he is still standing. I can think of that it is perfectly logical: if you besiege a city the first thing you do is remove the water. if there is a tank, the bomb. I refrain from photography to shame. After Vukovar
find another cicloviaggiatore, the first of this trip. we stop for a chat in the middle of nowhere, is a Japanese who is from Vienna and went to Belgrade. is dressed in an eccentric way, with the sunglasses worn on the contrary, eyeglass lenses and raised at that point are under the eyes. gives me his business card, I write my mail. seeks to iLok, missing a few kilometers. seems surprised when I tell him that tonight I will be in Novi Sad. I wonder if I ever hear anymore.
the Serbian border police officer greets me a beautiful smile and all martial perfect mouth, hello, welcome, stamp, thank you, goodbye.
decide to go south of the Danube, the map looks like a river. instead is a kind of plateau, occasionally swooping to pass a stream and then riarrampicarmi other side. descents and ascents diligently reported, all of 8%. the curse. in this heat arriving in Novi Sad exhausted.
luckily I know I'll spend the night and the next day with friends, just go see them all, I embrace them even if I feel sweaty and dirty, welcome me with a pizza and a shower. I have never felt better.

Osijek-Novi Sad
126.31 km
5h 51 '
21 km / h average 660 m altitude

141 bpm average

How Can I Clear My Babies Flem

Virovitica Zagreb-Virovitica-Osijek

I have never rode a step flatter than this. the highest and longest climb was a bridge over the railway. I started with the altimeter to 110, marks the arrival 113. probably a bit 'dropped the pressure ...
delivery later than expected because I want to have breakfast. Yesterday evening I saw a coffee with a semblance of a pastry counter, and let me fool you. palacinke ask, but do not do (even if there is a parchment on display from our sample). I take a tiramisu, but I leave half the mascarpone knows why ricotta, and I fear for my gut. I have not yet figured out how to do it here, to order a black coffee. not an espresso, American coffee as they do in the world, black. without milk. mljeko kava say it, and bring me a coffee stained warm. I had sent back to Zagreb this morning I do not want and drink it, because it is genuinely good.
after only seven kilometers (thankfully, the air was still cool), here it is: the first hole of the trip. I go back two hundred meters to take advantage of a convenient bus shelter with benches and shade, and dismounted. I find the hole, I can not find the cause. the lesson learned today is that it is better to keep the box of tissues detergents in one of the pockets of the bags, or after repairing the holes must ravanare hands dirty clothes washed in the middle of the night before, and it is beautiful.
the wind is against me for the entire stage. when it is not, is absent. in any case did not help me for a meter.

being Sunday, I do not rely on restaurants to open there is a lidl Virovitica, and I decide to buy enough food for lunch, afternoon snack and dinner. it's hot, very hot. I make out the two bottles, the bottle of apple juice bought at Lidl, a Coke and a huge ice cream found on the road to Donji miholiac, very good. known in these parts as they are all much more polite than by parts of Zagreb: people greet me on the street (probably talking about me for weeks, only to have seen me go), motorists do not make me the hair shops appreciate my efforts to speak Croatian (to, ne, dobrdàn, Hvala , dovidjenja) and I are meeting with gestures, or inglesco.
I decided to change course, to pass near the Drava. I was hoping to see her, instead you just guessing, funny how the great rivers have their own smell. I sense that that line of trees that runs through my left and Hungary. Valpovo step, it seems insignificant, like all villages in the area, but has a beautiful castle in the middle, but interesting Malten: surrounded by a moat, then walls, and the walls were used as a basis for a castle and a church. all have something grotesque and fascinating. in front of the castle-like part is a garden, all in all decent apart from the mosquitoes. it's hot, very hot. much water goes Coppino paid on or about the gloves, I found that it is a great way to freshen up wasting very little: take the gloves wet with a few drops of water. it is so hot that when I arrive I realize that the cheese was melted by lunch it is literally ...
last night on television gave perfume: Very bad movie from a bad book. the smell of the day is that of the carcasses of cats along the way.

Virovitica-Osijek
124.58 km
5h 44'
21,67 km/h medi
223 m dislivello
140 bpm medi (il caldo e il vento contro...)

How Can I Make My Hair Look Messy

voglio vivere così, col sole in fronte
finalmente il sole! ormai non ci speravo quasi più.
parto presto senza aver deciso con certezza la destinazione: vorrei arrivare a virovitica, ma non escludo di fermarmi a djurdjevac se il tempo, le gambe, il vento, le salite, la fame, gli alberghi, la voglia.
rientrando in ostello dalla colazione incontro il coreano conosciuto ieri sera che esce per andare al colloquio di lavoro per cui è venuto a zagabria. non sono riuscito a decifrare che tipo di colloquio sia, ma è nervosissimo. ieri sera ha passato an hour to rebuild the trick, he smeared the face of a pharmacy has been in bed with a kind of beauty mask. This morning he woke up at five and a half to go out at eight, because he had to repeat the operation. when the bathroom was occupied (by me) was sitting on the floor in the hallway, surrounded by a lot of bottles, and in front of a mirror smeared his face with care. when I met him dressed and polished one was chiederrmi how he was. of course I told him that was a marvel, though it was ridiculous and had a stain on the lapel of his black jacket (just a Korean or English can go to a job interview in a white shirt and black suit). We took a lot to me know that the tie he wore was Italian. I refrained from telling him that his tie was invented in Croatia.
about the meetings in the hostel in Zagreb, on the three English girls (who later turned out to be Canadian, Quebec City) do not say anything, tickled the imagination of the reader.
exit from Zagreb as bad as the entry, plus a paved road badly, in fact cement slab, hateful, with joints every twenty feet (I'm going to count the revolutions of the pedal and to calculate the evolution of relationship, to know). I except for a few miles riding on something between an emergency lane and a drain, which is always concrete, but has the advantage of being more regular, and more to keep me away from trucks. the pain lasts for about twenty miles, up to Dugo Selo. then magically all get better: smooth road, wide streets and little traffic. Unfortunately, I have a weak but steady headwind, which wearies me much more than I had reckoned. Bjelovar
to find the first signs of war: bombed a site outside the city, whose ruins, together with the charred stumps of trees around him, have been converted into a monument. the sign reads "spomen produčje barutana, Bjelovar 1991." I have to look up the meaning.
feared that the high peaks, including Bjelovar and Đurđevac, are nothing more than soft hills planted with wheat and corn. Before addressing Find a restaurant, but I find one, where they are rehearsing dell'orchestrina for a dinner of ceremony, but I say they can not even make me a sandwich because they have the power, and can not slice the ham. I smile as if I did not think badly of them, and go on.
go into a bar. Slovenia and Croatia, the bar serves coffee and beer. After a few cocktails. but ask him a toast, croissants, sandwiches, potato chips, and look at you amazed with the air of one who thinks that only an idiot would ask for a sandwich in a bar. goes on.
decided that if I find something to eat, I stop to Đurđevac. right just before the country, I see a restaurant. I try, without much conviction, and yet despite and the desert is open! I order a shnijtzel, if only because it is the only thing I know the meaning rule (which usually do not follow, I order things because I like the name, so I eat everything) and I'll get a roulade of veal and pork literally drowned in a sauce of mushrooms. good and heavy, just what it takes me. refreshed, I decide to go because now they are in the valley of the Drava river, the wind would be behind us and instead cease altogether, better than nothing.
Virovitica (pronounced virovitiza) is anything with a name from the city. I entered a written sobe, which means the rooms. three stars. I get close, it seems the entry of a garage, and closed with a strong odor urine, and a sign with a number to call. I try another, but can not find anything. I do not want to go back 15 km to the hotel **** mozart. name. I say the only word I know: sobe. in two minutes a guy comes to me that opens, do not speak Croatian, but I want more than just a room. looks clean and tidy, the room is small but it should be fine. for 200 kn (24 €) is a luxury. pay, there is also the self-service breakfast with Nescafé for tomorrow. the guy makes me compliments on how to speak Croatian. it takes no time to be in a good mood.

Zagreb-Virovitica
148.22 km
6h 49 '21.70 km / h average

600 m altitude
142 bpm average

Broken Front Tooth Cost

Novo Mesto-Zagreb-Ljubljana



we're not made of sugar
as I was saying? the bad the rain is that it rains. low sky, dark, rain from the start and stop for more than half. the beginning is a latch that would also be leisurely if dry. then absolutely flat, are in the valley of the Sava, Drava you throw in that you throw into the Danube. into practice tomorrow with a few hills, the slopes are finite up to Belgrade.
a step up in the woods, the woods here are beautiful. animals feel to pass cars on the road and if they stay away, but when passing a bicycle does not scare them, and remain close to the edge of the road until the last minute. after the deer the other day, I see a hawk up close, or an eagle, I do not know I do not mean. fattosta wonder that decides not to want to rise above the trees, and is more convenient to fly along the road through the woods, do at least two hundred yards ahead of me flying a few meters from the road. wingspan huge, occupying almost an entire lane. bottom of the hill I stop to put on, I do not mind getting wet but I'm afraid of the cold. are now well prepared for the ups and downs with the rain cape, sleeveless shut down and open up, not drenched in sweat does not freeze up and downhill.
after the border between Croatia and Slovenia, the contrast is striking: the road is old and shabby, full of potholes and patches that do nothing but worsen the situation. motorists Croatia, and Slovenia were completely right, they get into the race to pass me closer. win those with SUVs, of course. I can not complain too much after all, is exactly what I am used to in Italy (and this is why I do not travel in Italy).
zagreb is not as bad as I have said or as the guide suggests: the center is beautiful, lively and picturesque with old pedestrian streets that climb into the hills. More ... well enough not to go.

Novo Mesto-Zagreb
86.96 km
4h 51 '
19.62 km / h average
381 m altitude
130 bpm average

2010 Backpack Echo Blower

or the baptism of dirt
beautiful stage. labor under the threat of rain, thunderstorms expected damage. the beauty of the time, compared to rain, is that they are small and fast moving, so it may seem to play hide and seek for a half day, and do not know if they come out completely dry or soggy. in any case, I prepare for the deluge. The important thing is to start with the dry: wet to get on it already is much more unpleasant than getting wet while you are riding is already overheated.
departure from Ljubljana is facilitated by a path that is little more than a line drawn on sidewalks, but at least there is (which is rare in Italy to say).
few kilometers leave the state, and I venture down a side street, fortunately the roads here are all reported very good, and I do not run the risk of having doubts about the path. the road goes as planned, but all of a sudden, surprise: clay. not bad, like dirt, smooth smooth and slightly uphill, but still is dirt. I am very happy I changed the tires, smooth running with those I had to go back. Instead I go on to seven kilometers thick in the woods, does not pass a car, it's raining and the dirt is wet, but I am calm. no smell of mushrooms, over the trees are beeches and larches, under There are raspberries and ferns. top of the hill at 490 meters, and the descent is not as beautiful as the climb, the road is steep and bumpy and rocky outcrops. Luckily I do not take too much speed and concentrate on avoiding the larger stones, the loose gravel and potholes, especially those filled with water: one can not know how deep, and there may be hidden inside the monster mangiagomme, not leaves no escape.
added to the asphalt just in time to take a good wash, I sheltered under the canopy of a farmer, whose dog barks twice and then I calmed down.
the route selection is judicious from there on, it's all down the river Krka in Novo Mesto up. I stop to Žužemberk to see the castle, I'm lucky: a group of Austrians is coming, and the guard gives me two minutes before closing, it is nice and we chat. whenever they feel they are Italian, the answer is always the same: ah, italijani, milenovecientoquaranta three, Kure, Fascists, boom! boom! yes, it's true. There was the eighth of September, a few years ago. then maybe some other things have happened, eh. Oh well.
Novo mesto is a disappointment: nothing to a town founded by the Austro-Hungarian Empire which was to make a mark not to be forgotten, he tried to give his name to the city, but has always remained the new city, Novo mesto. is in a fantastic location, the center of a deep bend of the river, like Ljubljana. but it is Ljubljana. is anonymous, and sad.

Ljubljana-Novo mesto
76.91 km
3h 49 '
20.10 km / h average
484m altitude
141 bpm average