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the aerobatic

the time we had suggested his friend Sergio,
we were at dinner, we chatted about this and

of less

the school was about to be born, still some adjustments to make digest the two sections of the CAI of Trieste School of touring was not property nor the one, but neither of the other children of both, and then ... ... we

Piero, Rado, Pino, Diego Franco, Lucio and I , excited about the new game, listened eagerly to the tales of what was, at least on paper, our first director, waiting for us to become an instructor National conditio sine qua non , to direct a course or a school of the Italian Alpine Club.

... in our school do so ... it's better this way ... so there are fewer problems, but one must pay attention ... ... and ... that time, a series of recommendations, directions, rules, anecdotes and various stories.
"and the most imbranatelli skiing," he said, "need special attention, it's always people going in the mountains, people are enthusiastic, not too comfortable on skis but still able to give great satisfaction to an instructor, people who do not spring "and ... is that night was born aerobatic .

a course in mountaineering, as in many other courses, divided into six autonomous small groups, some students and an instructor, sometimes with an assistant instructor.
but the acrobatic team was not the group most coveted by any instructor or aid, "even on a Sunday and so I forget how to ski" Franco had begun, a day after taking out the acrobats piles of snow patches of dwarf pines that had suddenly moved!
and then, more than once, the night shelter, the students now in bed,
the acrobatic team, thanks for a glass of wine,
we play to our instructors notice.

then, over the years, the team was dissolved, new teaching methods required that the breed was mixed at each exit, that there are no fixed groups.
some faces I did not never see her again, others have continued the struggle with the alpine, alpine skiers are now in name and in fact, over the years we have come along beautiful trails, and some of them, perhaps, have never known to have belonged
once a
aerobatic, I do not remember, is
been too long.

Why Do Wool Sweater Shrink

... mus with me, you with the tram ...

... probably lost, indeed, surely lost on the instructions of a dentist, German, albino, drug addict, homosexual and his concubine who is a lifer ...



the stupid joke of the cult film Marrakech Express continues to haunt me,
to turn around wildly for the head ...
are the last hours of the night or early in the morning if you prefer, out of a
Casablanca still asleep, I fall asleep too in the departure lounge, waiting for the first train for Fez;

I'm going, once again, to lose in Africa.

through the ville nouvelle of Fez, as is usually called here, in North Africa, the European part of the city, through the Bab Bou Jeloud later, in the medina, the old town, the Arab side, still surrounded by high walls, on which open doors impressive still used as reference points, this is the living part of town, narrow cobbled streets, where shops are in full swing, a succession of botteguzze selling food, meats, poultry, vegetables, clothes, textiles, handicrafts, and all sorts of ... Maroquinerie ; on every corner and shabby makeshift banquet, amid an overwhelming flood of people who contracted, screaming, purchase, pushing carts, catching unsuspecting tourists - and then again mopeds, vans, cars filled to capacity, overloaded donkeys, kids ... he who hesitates is lost ... in the end, the opposite end, tanneries, guided by the smell you coming, in huge tanks, work immersed to the waist, tanned and dyed - using lime, dung and urine as fixers for the colors - the smell is nauseating.

the following morning on the terrace for breakfast, with his usual calm throughout Africa, a woman comes to clean it - it had rained the night - and finally, then, the breakfast - I find his out to my cost not buy anything to eat or to drink until the evening, we are right in Ramadan.
'm going to explore the medina, I just hook up the usual faux guides , looks like a cute little boy - but it just seems - it combines more than Bertoldo, better change your job.

the early hours of the afternoon driving with liquid and return the sum agreed in the medina, I saw a nice pair of earrings and I want to see to negotiate the price.
during the negotiations also led me to see the goldsmith - occupational safety and 626 are the masters!
shortly after a violent storm broke out which quickly transforms the streets into torrents - I look around, a roof, a step that seems high, there is no one there, I take this opportunity - I find myself almost immediately with the water to the ankles and wait for a ray of sunshine ... that's why there was no one there!
the storm ceases, around a little, 'the song of the muezzin is already my legs under the table outside a restaurant while another storm is about to erupt; soup, brochettes de poulet , rice, french fries, horn gazelle - it rains heavily.

races are at the dawn routierre , the bus is there, get ready ... 8.00 am before you start.
I enjoy, in the meantime, the people who get on board to make the rally, a blind preacher at first, then a seller of snacks, and more another vendor that demonstrates the properties of its miraculous cream - no one is left cheated - most recently a salt
vu cumprà original Moroccan with a large collection of watches and sunglasses - and also manages to place someone.

travel flows peacefully, people going up, people are coming down, the usual bickering ... arrival in Beni-Mellal, continues to Azilal now ... is about to burst yet another time, like yesterday Fez, in short, becomes a Azilal stream.
still fifty kilometers to Zouiat Ahansal, I have an appointment there,
a bit 'higher up, the village of Taghia;
but the road is paved, there is a step to overcome, given the weather situation in the last few days are hoping to find a grand taxi - a taxi - to go up: I immediately remove any ambition - the road is broken, in poor condition - no part.

exchange program, I get on a bus to Marrakech;
go down to the races routierre main orient me, I know a little 'the city, there have been other times, I try to reach Diemme el-Fna, after a while 'I see Kartoubia, unmistakable arrived.
Square prepares for the evening jugglers and snake charmers give way to the multitude of food and wine kiosks , once reserved for local use and consumption now to more adventurous tourists.

the next day I wake up in a Marrakech unusually quiet, deserted, sleepy, request an explanation of one of the few shops open, "today is a holiday," he said "yesterday is over Ramadan."
vague for a city unknown to me, different, anonymous, no guides, no canvassers, the square is empty, even the snakes are still asleep, I wander to the souq, deserted streets, too broad, few tourists, perplexed, almost the disarray;
transformation in Marrakech I know only begin when night falls, the square
light, becomes a chasm,
the Marrakech ever - again,
after more than two decades, Africa has managed to amaze me.

Sgambati a good morning coffee, the ticket ..., the bus leaves almost immediately, and the trip is pleasant, rushing out of Morocco - Essaouira
, Terraudant, Ouarzazate -
back of the bus in a hen starts to squawk while, during the stops, giving way beggars, blind, and even a minstrel, the jimi hendrix , pulling notes out of tune crawling and grinding with a bow on a rough mandolin and tastings are accompanied by a chant - the end reproaches and curses, directed at those who did not gives a dime!

always on the bus, go to the High Atlas, just off the rocks and stones, el ' argan , similar to the olive tree, extremely versatile, feature of this area of \u200b\u200bMorocco, which is vital for the local economy ; provide firewood, fodder for goats, and a precious oil is extracted from its nuts, always Berber women use it for cooking, as an ointment spreads to body care, excellent for wounds, rheumatism and say, delicious on salads.
ground at all, just rocks and stones, poor goats, here you see them climbing trees to eat the leaves.

Ouarzazate is a quiet, untouched only marginally from tourism, is a starting point for excursions and trips in the desert.
Tinerhir the road continues and the Gorges du Todra - trovererò there my friends?
insh'allah


are 15 km away, the game here at home, I climbed more than once in the past Todra, dust off the memories

... with a grand taxi go up to the throats, I do not recognize the road! a succession of auberge, hotel, restaurant, camping, maison d'hotes ... the taxi gets me to the gorges, alongside a hotel, I can hardly remember how it used the retreat / auberge de Mansour , the most dilapidated of Gorges of the three shelters, of those times, we have only the name.

... across the river, there is now a wooden bridge and no more kids ready to help for a few coins, they were only the ones you sell camels made with woven leaves - at a fixed price!

... later the other two historic lodges, hotels have now become;
have paved the way for a coming and going of trucks, vans, trucks , motorcycles, cars, quads and immaculate toyota tourist agencies.

... friends see me, I come to meet, Mauro look at him, and I seem to see myself in the mirror in her eyes I see the Gorges disconsolate as they were only 15 years ago.
"do not climb any more," she says, "the bolts are rusting, the lowest on the souvenir sellers have their awnings barracchette attack," and shakes his head.

... we go up the road,
behind the curve it seems to me that he saw an old woman incites his donkeys Berber full of charm, I hasten, I want to take a picture - I realize that it is only a mirage -.

... climb a bit 'in Petites Gorges, they all stopped to watch and photograph, - now a climber is a rarity in these parts, even for those who live there.

... Then dinner - still remember - just get hurt!

Sub Urethral Cyst Removal

... and the thermos? did you get it?? Eritrea

first winter ski mountaineering climb Ararat, read the invitation sent by the Turkish friends, and addressed to the representatives of various European Alpine Club, a rising international mountaineers from all over Europe and Russia also .
A moment's hesitation, and then we decide to unite the heterogeneous group of Italian ready to leave, three Milanese, a Genoese, a Val d'Aosta and why not, two of Trieste.
skiing and backpack are always ready, the last shopping, films, the curtain, well everything, starting from Ljubljana; flight with the JAT is among the cheapest but there comes a day before, we will visit Ankara.
the day of departure the weather is lousy, we're going to Ljubljana but hopeful, too much fog, canceled flight. With the money of the ticket
restituitoci drown despair into a gargantuan meal of fish and, at 23.00, we are back home, disappointed with the beautiful voyage vanished.

The next day the phone rings that are still in bed, "but you will not be mica idiots!"
Piero is the friend of many downs as well as African inveterate traveler, "you will not let an opportunity like this slip mica ?? there's always time to fill the drawer of missed opportunities, there is still time, tomorrow, the first flight to Rome leaves at 6:00 and from there you are in Ankara during the day. "

Two days later we are with others in a hotel in Dogubeyzit, bordering Iran and Armenia, Western Anatolia, on the slopes of Ararat, Agri Dagi as the Turks call it, and the final preparations in full swing.
"you got the stove, and the can stock, and batteries and a spare pair of gloves? do you have the rope? did you get the energy bars and a thermos? "
" ... what, a thermos, you know I do not use it, not ever brought me, when I walk I prefer a nice coca-cola. "

A wounded beast scream shakes the hotel, "but how you get there, walk all day without the comfort of a hot drink, but what kind of climber you are, but who taught you to ride a mountain?? "
" You really do not worry, we have the stove "I say," and the night in tents, we will have plenty of time to make us a hot drink "
" does nothing, but during the day, with twenty degrees below zero, You do not want drink coca-cola?
"... fortunately, I have my thermos, but do not ask a single drop of tea" and so saying, he turns to take, but it accidentally bumps into a thermos and falls into a thousand pieces.
"here, now we do not have your thermos, but do not worry, I'll give you a bit 'of my coca" the cry escaping from the room followed by a ski boot. Ararat

Then we managed to climb it anyway, it was a nice climb, after twenty years ... I smile and remember those moments: during the two days of turmoil, in the past four in a tent for two, at 4,000 meters , a bit 'of hot tea ... I would gladly drink!

Precision Xt Heart Rate Monitor Manual

2007

ERITREA ... ... ... former Italian colony, has always been synonymous with war ... the exact opposite quiet holiday by the sea ..., place to be adventurous travelers

... these are the definitions, not very encouraging, given by tour guides, even though since 2000, after the peace agreement signed with Ethiopia, the country began to open up the world with all its beauty, with all its hospitality.

David meeting by chance on a site of passengers to the end of the year wants to visit Eritrea, I do not miss this chance.


early morning, the airport of Asmara welcomes us cold and wet and with a myriad of forms and controls,
few people out, too few taxis - petrol costs 2 €, start the engine is a luxury that few can afford.

Asmara, is very Italian in all, a roma African the little Rome called, Italic and the footprint can be seen in every corner: in architecture, urbanism, public places, stores, and furniture, not least in the way of "living " - it takes me a few minutes to settle: the wide avenues, the modern bar, coffee Rome, the Empire cinema, the opera, the Fascist-style buildings, the old signs, ...
Almost all speak a bit here 'in Italian, or understand it, the old really well, you see them on Sunday, Elegant in jacket, tie and vest, even though the cut of a little 'retro , address and courteous manner, gladly exchange a few words: we see that they are educated, their Italian is perfect, a bit 'archaic, an Italian of the past, learned in school and not in the street, is a source of pride for them to have attended the Teacher training college. I would say they are proud of their city, their country and as the Italians have left everything.

From Asmara, at almost 2,400 meters., I get off the bus to Massawa to the sea, and almost beside the rail road runs a dream, an apparition that only someone who has been in Africa can think you've seen, and perhaps later, even believe it.

Built between 1897 and 1911 by Alpine and sharpshooters during the colonial period, the narrow-gauge railroad jointing, with its 120 miles and a hundred bridges, viaducts and tunnels, the Red Sea with the interior plateau, a bold path, a masterpiece of design, an Italian engineering pride.

The locomotives and Ansaldo Breda first, and then two modern Littorine continue along until the '70s.
Then, during the thirty-year war with Ethiopia for independence, was dismantled and reduced to " iron mine," the rails and sleepers removed to obtain shelter, protection and anti-tank obstacles, and wagons converted into homes or stores.

Following independence, however, the mid-'90s, thanks to the efforts of the newly formed government, the rebuilding begins, is traced the missing material, all of those sleepers scattered and abandoned trenches, to restart the Littorine, the Ansaldo Breda and are invoked in the railroad service at the time, average age 70 years, Italian media names and Eritrean media, a "crew " and proud of old pensioners.
And the miracle happens, the Eritrean Railways operate again.
Rail is solid, the Italians have built.
hundred years ago.

Outside, all around, Africa.

Pinewood Derby Superhero Templates

Timbuktu or Tombouctou, tombutto, tumbutto, tumbyctu, tumbuktu ... if you prefer,
no matter how you write, what fascinates is the
knowledgeable beyond the reach in the footsteps of the first Europeans who arrived in the nineteenth century, the Englishman Gordon Laing who did not return, the legendary René Caillé, French who came disguised as a poor Arabic and wrote back to an end on that veil of mystery and wealth which was surrounded, and even the famous German explorer Heinrich Barth who went to Tripoli after starting to cross the Sahara and reach the Gulf of Guinea.

I read somewhere that there are two Timbuktu, the first is a quiet desert town with narrow streets full of dust and sun, the second
identify the other hand, with the idea of \u200b\u200bthe journey that everyone is to achieve something ... unattainable, or that sign
the output of Zagora, in the deep south of Morocco, on the outskirts of the desert, put there to warn the traveler who takes 52 jours de chameau to reach it - and the imagination soars.

following the road that runs from Mopti to Gao, Douenza reached, we leave the asphalt and, to the north, we begin to follow the trail, at first easy to Moud Barbara, and then the desert. The mind flies back in time, one thousand nine hundred, we had to climb on Main de Fatima, from there we focused directly on Timbuktu, five friends, an old toyota bj, the crumbling of Gourma Rharousse barge, the Tuareg with the toy cassé in the desert, the remains of the helicopter by Terry Sabine ... but that's another story.

here all of a sudden, after all, the Niger, the ferry, the first houses, and after a few kilometers the mysterious Timbuktu; hundreds of years ago stood on the banks of the Niger, now is 15-20 km and the desert continues to advance. On the right the airport, we happened down there in '88 to coincide with the Paris-Dakar, the old Paris-Dakar, the race for gentlemen drivers, where the important thing was coming, and the premium for all was the legendary beach of Lake Rosa.

turn to the different lanes, it all seems like then, I make friends with Kalil, I'm from driving during the usual few things: the beautiful wooden doors, the three mosques, the houses where he lived the early explorers, the source (well) Tin Boutout that gives the city its name, the sign, each year more faded, that says a city of 333 saints ; Deeper into an internet point: The third millennium has arrived here. The next day, still
around the alleys, and the market, I am writing a postcard arrives?? Kalil
greeting, he asks for his services a few francs, we exchange the mail, it's been five years but his wish bonne année arrives on time, every January.

write and think, dream ... they said that those who dream with open eyes traveling twice ...