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The eternal cycle of seasons

trees the color of fire
days shorter and shorter
Cold wind and leaves on the ground
guys who try to sell through the entrance of the Communist struggle.

Yes, it's autumn.

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Laughing to keep from crying

Milan, one day every week, about 18. For those accustomed to the geography Milanese, intersection of Via Melchiorre Gioia and the pursuit of street Vitruvius, direction to Central Station.

in all directions, as far as the eye, rivers of cars, each filled with its load of hysteria compressed and immobile. In fact there is little of the river, the river flows, and the tangle of sheets is stopped, paralyzed unable to move thousands where you could go into a maximum of ten. Without a static noise, pollution, thousands engine running at thousands of rpm, which makes millions of rotations per minute, which I do not know how many, but so many gallons of gasoline burned only to stay there. Fermi. Thousands of metaphorical balls that rotate in the illusion of machines from 180km / h forced in anger still.

From the train runs into a bus Melchiorre Gioia, sadly also kidnapped in the selfishness of the thousands of individuals who snubbed the public transportation in favor of private block. On the side of the image of a young man, jacket-tie-briefcase, breathless in the race (for the bus seems to sense) on the one hand, clumsy and wobbly on a bike on the other. The slogan gives him hope: "Buy a car, costs less than you think!" . The bus is even sadder.

The traffic light is green, go back in the saddle, with An easy ride dribble the two parked cars in the middle of the intersection while motorists behind me pushing on clacsono and dream that the sound wave can erode their own kind that prevent it from proceeding, only to hang themselves in the middle of the same intersection. Step and accelerated the car still pulling to the left.

And while I pedal over the tangles out of breath I think the young man who can finally buy the car and stuck in traffic, but no more breathless hysterical and angry as befits the modern man. And riding smile.

And while I pedal I think that if a giant sale on-line use this message is because know that will be useful to rely on the desires of the young men of this city and not only civil and Europe. If you go by bike or by the means you are a loser, someone who can not afford a car, an inconvenient: the home is there, at hand, costs less than you think. Yours, of ease. And if this city becomes unlivable what interests you when your horizon stops at your cabin? And riding cry. I entered the PM10 in the eye.

Week Before Period Bloating

emergency landing

Technical problems have forced the plane to Berlusconi to make an emergency landing at Linate: the Hostess both had more than 19 years and think it was a bit 'barge.

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Today Groane wore autumn. The

Groane, understood as the Groane Park, is one of those paradoxes of space-time that travel along the high Po plain in Lombardy, in a land locked in the grip of some of the most terrible highways entire panorama Italian road-there Axis crossing the Simplon, Varese, Comasina, Milan-Lakes and Milan-Turin, Milan-Meda, Monza, Saronno and Saronnesi where clusters of warehouses crammed into the spaces that the proliferation of houses not yet occupied, incredibly open cracks green carved over millennia by rivers and streams (Bozzente, Lura, Lambro, Seveso, Olona) and, perhaps because they lie just below the horizon (the plain, events, civilization), survivors of the cement.

The Groane are the best and the worst of this land of its inhabitants.

are crossed by roads that are laying eyes on one side and the other on the campaign of 4000 meters of Monte Rosa, but at 8 am the slowest of the roads are clogged with cars looking for a utopian escape from the road main.

are a maze of paths out of this world, mindful of a plain deserted and foggy, but you often have to take them to turn around a prostitute who takes advantage of this secluded world to do its job, on the edge of city \u200b\u200bwith the hypocrisy away, but not too much.

are mud and earth, but also tires and rubble that have lost their way to the landfill.

are farms and domestic and wild fauna, but also a dormitory town, called only "satellite city", not even the dignity of a name-and shadows that roam the forest without an apparent purpose but rather doubtful.

And if we gave the contract to land management in Switzerland?

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the Danube

It 's a savory brioche dough, suitable for both the Danube utillizzi for all that is required.

The recipe can be simplified, taking after lievitino, a single mixture (in this case, omit the butter) and avoiding the rest in the fridge, but try at least once to follow this procedure;)

Ingredients: 700gr flour

W 300 (manitoba commercial alternative, cut with a 40% 00 11 - 12% protein)
200gr
water 4 eggs + 1 egg yolk 70g lard

15g butter 60g sugar 14g salt

10g fresh yeast 10g

extra virgin olive oil 1 tablespoon + 1 teaspoon of acacia honey.

Preimpastato prepare a warmed with water, 200g of flour, honey and yeast Cucchini. Let inflate (approx. 40 ').

Beat the leaf, add 120g of flour, an egg and 15 grams of sugar. Prepare to veil. 1.
When the mass has taken the body, insert the butter too soft and let absorb.
attach the hook and let go and veil. 1.5, up to curvature.
Cover the bowl and leave to triple to 28 °.

Reboot the machine with the hook and as soon as the dough will be wrapped in this, add an egg, followed by 1 / 3 of sugar and a dusting of flour. We continue in the same way, leaving the end that will put the yolk with the salt. Finally add the honey, then the absorption, the remaining flour.

impasto strung, add the lard rather cold and when it is absorbed, place the olive oil flush.

Impastato at high speed, often reversing the dough until smooth and semi-gloss will occur.

We test the veil e, se c’è, interrompiamo la lavorazione.

Lasciamo riposare coperto per 15’, diamo un giro di pieghe di tipo 1

trasferiamo in un contenitore sigillato e sistemiamo tutto in frigo, a 4 – 5° fino al giorno seguente.
Riportiamo il contenitore a temperatura ambiente e riprendiamo la lavorazione ai primi cenni di lievitazione: appiattiamo l’impasto con le mani e diamo un secondo giro di pieghe di sovrapposizione , curando di non incorporare aria.

Copriamo a campana.

Dopo 20’, break it into portions of 30g and avvolgiamle ball loosely.

With the closing high, and appiattiamole farciamole as we like most.

sealed as shown in the picture.

have the balls well apart in a buttered mold

cover with plastic wrap and let double to 28 °.

Brush with egg white and bake at 170 degrees until completely cooked (approx. 35 - 40 ')

Alternatively, we can form of braids Stuffed

or cow eyes.

What creates this?

be'......... I tell you the next time;)

Lip Piercing And Bumps

Paradise Lost Due to popular demand

Given the multitude of requests to do so flocked to our staff (2), XC like every news organization (not) respecting transfers to the lure of mass diffusion and allows room for their soft-porn images absolutely devoid of any relevance to the subject matter for the sole purpose of gathering as many readers as possible.

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Each cow (Friesian) is an island

If like me you thought the Frisian cows were Bergamo, well, you were wrong. The Frisian Islands are, and what is more Dutch. Then the Dutch and Bergamo, understood as languages, are often indistinguishable, both among themselves and in a general sense, this is true but is another aspect of the problem.

Another aspect of the problem is the equally widespread belief that Holland, or rather would say, the Netherlands, are essential to identify in termini di:

• Per il turista debosciato italo-spagnolo: Amsterdam, canna, prostituta, funghetto, "Cioè noi in tenda cioè si sta male dopo qualche giorno sai no cioè l'umidità che poi mica ti puoi portare tutto no cioè che qualcosa lo devi lasciare a casa tipo noi si è lasciati i materassini !!!" (Premio Bagaglio Essenziale 2010)
• Per il turista italo-giapponese: Amsterdam, canale, bicicletta, mulino a vento, tulipano.

La verità è che un'altra Olanda è possibile, fatta di vento e bici, quelle si, e anche di mulini, ma con l'aggiunta di dune, foche, uccelli strani, isole selvagge, sbarchi di carrette del mare, amphibious vehicles, storm, countless dams, geese, rabbits, camping style woodstock, albino insects, and much more, but for which no one has Verman want to read now.

All

Get your

Wanting to avoid the cliché of the comments then slides the holidays, whereas in google earth panoramio and anyone can see the photos anyone anywhere, without quandunque (and also the fact that we had two cameras in two for a total of 500 photographs according to a conservative estimate), and noting that the Lonely Planet guide Holland provides the most information about the posts in question would simply offer some tips and observations to a condensation of the most significant images.

Frisian Islands are megalomaniacs of the sandbanks off the north coast of Holland.
total of 5, but reached the last two cases (from west to east, and I would recommend going to forget the contrary, the wind could make meatballs you unceremoniously) becomes more difficult since direct connections island-island for the latter there are only one or two during the entire summer and on land, at least one day a bike to go after boarding. We had to give it up for time and money, and perhaps also because after the first three already offer an overall more than satisfactory: this is the tour we did (click and download the GPS).

Texel, the eldest, is a kind of rural Holland in miniature, with dunes protect it from the open sea and poulder the inland sea, the villages are nice and there is something for everyone, from holiday like Rimini (in the North Sea have a theoretical kinship with the Adriatic and the Dutch average a purely phylogenetic relationship alivello of ribosomal DNA from the Italian Riviera with beef) the gem Lovecraftian gods populated by fishermen and the cycle Chtullhu. Do not miss the boat and transfer by road to megacamionjeepanfibio Vlieland, to book as places are just (ask the local tourist offices, give you useless info that could be obsolete tomorrow.)

No, come on, can not be to the ferry ...

Uhm, the cartel seems to prorpio yes ...

Vlieland, the child should be a pristine paradise of peace and harmony away from everyone. BALLS: it is actually an island prison where they are confined to all teenagers in the Netherlands for exceeding the threshold of hormonal guard, crammed into a huge camp in Oost-Vlieland, run by ladies and antipaticissime ignoble and expensive as hell (there should be two more camps island in the middle, perhaps there is better, if you were to see let me know). The island is so much to go through all the arrival of the ferry from Texel to the departure of Terschelling, then you've seen everything. One night is the necessary price to pay, but fled before you. From the northern tip of the island, with a good pair of binoculars you should be able to see the seals.

is about 10km from Terschelling Vlieland: just to understand the distinguished navigator who took care of us during the week, landed on the island, said that as the crow flies to the nearest campsite was on the island last year. Too bad that we used to get 3 hours and a half (and 70 € total) ferry port on the mainland: for the direct transfers are only on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays, so be careful. Terschelling is Eden. Instead of apples are the fruits we call berries but they are not blueberries, people go around dressed normally (or rather, as we

The proof that we are a pussy people, including me ...

in November we would go around the sun, too bad there in August and the sky was threatening and sometimes torrential rain attuasse) and God does not come to hunt (but Restaurant De Heren Van Der Schelling Oosterend to eat divinely). But Eden remains. Provided that your idea of \u200b\u200bparadise does not correspond to Ibiza, here. Suggest di attraversare l'isola e sistemarsi in uno dei due campeggi di Oosterend, quello suggerito dalla Lonley Planet è fantastico. Giusto mix di grandezza dell'isola e aree selvatiche, dune e campagne. 2 notti potrebbero lasciarvi il desiderio di rimanere ancora.

L'inferno in terra è una diga controvento . Se dovessi dare un suggerimento direi: partite da Amsterdam, andate in treno fino a Den Helder, fate il giro delle isole, se riuscite andate fino a Groningen e poi tornate ad Amsterdam in treno. Ma se come noi decidete di lasciare la macchina a Den Helder, fate una sosta a Makkum la sera, perché il giorno dopo vi attende la più dura delle salite: la terribile Afsluitdijk, 30km di diga assolutamente pianeggiante e dritta ma che 364 giorni l'anno è sferzata dal vento che soffia da ovest, e voi dovete farla da est! E se la sofferenza fisica non è sufficiente come deterrente, sappiate che dovrete anche sopportare gli sberleffi degli allegri 80enni che procedendo sulla pista ciclabile a favore di vento vi sfrecceranno di fianco a 50 all'ora senza la minima fatica. Ovviamente se avete culo piove, altrimenti diluvia.

Considerazione finale : la quota media delle isole, dune escluse, è qualche metro sotto il livello del mare, i ghiacciai si stanno sciogliendo. Morale: se dovete programmare un viaggio in zona, spicciatevi.

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everyday heroism

I live in a country where, going by bicycle to go to work in a rainy day does not have the impression to lead a dangerous fight for whatever noble ideal.

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Belt Syndrome victim

Colleague: I would never want that give me a dinner service of some value ... No, because then you know dishes out of fashion ... "

Sometimes I have the distinct impression to live in a parallel universe. Parallel to the logic that is.

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return

Italiot life return to normal after 2 weeks in Holland is very problematic.

Not for capillary bike paths that take you everywhere, however, rather than protected by friendly drivers, while yesterday to do three miles to Milan, I risked my life four times.

Not for the delightful towns, neat, clean. For the perfect little houses all decorated with taste that seems c'abbiano the employee spectacularly square lights that the lampshade.

Not for the music festivals at each stage of the road where you will find hundreds of people of all ages busy to drink their beer and join that compares our teenagers look like wax statues.

not for the happy family of German cycling holiday, parents and three children each with its beautiful bags on the luggage rack.

Della serie: un'altra infanzia è possibile.

E non perché noi in quanto di ciclisti borsati venivamo regolarmente scambiati per tedeschi, e dalla seconda volta ho cominciato a dire che sì eravamo tedeschi, almeno non mi associavano al berlusca e amici dittatori vari, ma sto divagando.

No, tutti questi sono solo dettagli. La verità è che non posso sopportare di lasciare un paese dove quando ordini una coppa di gelato GROSSA, ti portano questo:

For the first time I felt understood, understood. I felt at home.