Archivi tag: orso

Better known as Thanksgiving

A photo posted by Gaia (@homesweethomesick) on Sep 3, 2015 at 2:50am PDT


Six years: a graffiti audio-love story

When you say...

Anche se questo blog è più o meno in pausa, il post anniversario, c’è. L’anno scorso lo ha scritto Orso, quest’anno ve lo racconto io:  è un viaggio audio negli Stati Uniti, anche se si chiama Accidentally in Joburg

This blog is -more or less- on a hiatus. But there is this the anniversary post. Last year Orso wrote it, this year I… speak it: it’s a trip to the US even if it is called Accidentally in Joburg

Sunflower anniversary


To be or not to be (late). Five years with Tiger

I told Orso that if he wanted a “five years” post, he had to write it himself, this year. He did. And made a pretty good anniversary present out of it. 

Yes, he uses words like “tardiness” and “mundane” in real life, too. 

Bear holding a clock

“When I met Tiger exactly five years ago she made clear from the very start that she is reluctant to compromise. The two things everyone notice when she entered the room was her overdressed beauty and her being fifteen minutes late to a social gathering at her own office. No one cared, it seemed. Mind you, I did not care: I was already infatuated.
Whenever she would have appeared in my life would have been a perfect moment where mundane time-keeping did not have a place.

It soon dawned to us that Tiger and I share an inner sense of punctual tardiness. Id est: we’re often late. We need to submit to time in order to organise our daily social life but we revolt against this restriction of individual freedom. The result is that we observe our commitments with a moderate but steady infusion of tardiness. That means: we’re both always a few minutes late everywhere.
Over the years, Tiger turned around my perception of time when we embarked into bubbles detached from daily life, where keeping track of time was futile. Or otherwise said: we spent and we still spend loads of time just the two of us, oblivious of the world around us.

She also started offering me watches. Not one, but many. In accordance with our conflictive relation to time, these watches are fashionable accessories rather than useful time indicators. They came in all colours, materials and shapes. Most are flashy and bright to go with specific parts of my garderobe. What is more, there are my personal eye-catchers. Every time I check if I am on time to be late, I think of Tiger, who will manage to arrive just a few minutes after me.
In those five years there have also been times when I messed up our relationship so much I was afraid she would not be late but really never show up again. When she did, the happiness was too great to care about how much time I had waited for that moment to come. The time would always have been right.

In South Africa, a great number of public clocks stand still, reminding us that time is after all a human invention and a moral conception, which is not universal. One says it is always ten thirty, elsewhere it is never else than three. If you look closely: if time is just a construct – can we ever be unpunctual? Five years ago, Tiger was unpunctual but she was perfectly on time for me.

She always is.”

University of Pretoria clock

It’s always three thirty in this corner of Pretoria

(Tiger must be read with the German pronunciation as in “Der kleine Tiger”)

We’re heading South

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA Dedica Marco: se volete andare in fretta...


Spousal support

As my marriage is inspiring more and more posts recently, I grew hesitant about whether Orso was bothered by it. So I asked. Here is how it went.

“Don’t you mind me writing about our marriage in my blog?”

“No, I’m fine with it.

Anyway, it’s not like you’re successful or anything”

Even when I hate you. Street art in Bairro Alto, Lisbon

Street art in Bairro Alto, Lisbon

Siccome il mio matrimonio ha ispirato molti dei miei post ultimamente mi è venuto qualche scrupolo. Nel matrimonio siamo in due, e magari  a Orso dà fastidio. Quindi ho chiesto, ecco com’è andata:

“Non ti da fastidio che scriva del nostro matrimonio sul mio blog?”

“No, mi sta bene.

Tanto non è che hai successo, no?”

Scenes from a European marriage: Breakfast

[English text below]

Anche se non l’ha detto io l’ho capito, che oggi è stato il giorno più bello della sua vita. L’ho visto nei suoi occhi, quando mi ha detto: “C’è il Müsli in offerta al supermercato, non è mai costato così poco” Così abbiamo preso lo zaino, le borse, i cestini aggiuntivi delle biciclette. Siamo arrivati a casa con 14 scatole e lui, con ancora gli occhi che brillavano mi ha detto: “Io ci torno anche domani”

Orso and his Müsli at home
Sono sicura che se mai avremo figli Müsli verrà fuori nella rosa dei nomi.

Even if he didn’t say so, I knew it. I knew it was the best day of his life. I saw it in his eyes, when he told me: “The Müsli is on offer at the supermarket. It has never been so cheap!” We took the backpack, the bags, the additional bike baskets and we came back home with around 14 boxes of Müsli. His eyes were still glittering when he told me: “I go back tomorrow”.


I am sure that if we ever have kids, Müsli will come up among the baby names.

The balloon box

[Testo in italiano sotto]

I love balloons.

The balloon box: ready to celebrate

When Orso moved to Paris from another continent, I inflated 50 ballons. For our wedding we had balloons all over the garden. For my 30th birthday, I inflated a dozen ballons for myself, as Orso is afraid of balloons and he only inflates them to the point that they look… well, like dried fruits. Anyway, the balloons that I inflated for my birthday never deflated, or yes, they did, but very slowly. So we put them in a box that became the balloon box. From that day, every time that there is something to celebrate, a reportage sold, a contract secured, a cake well baked, I get a balloon shower and believe me, it’s the best quick celebration ever. It works like this:
-Close your eyes
-Have your celebration partner hanging the balloon box over your head
-Have your celebration partner turn the box so that the ballons fall on you and on that very moment…
-open your eyes and enjoy!
Of course, there is the deep meaning that keeping the balloon box is like saying: every day can be the day when I make it.
But the bottom line is: whatever happens, I kind of trust my future, I have balloons.

Io adoro i palloncini.

The balloon box

Quando Orso è arrivato a Parigi da un altro continente, ho gonfiato 50 palloncini. Per il nostro matrimonio c’erano palloncini rosa e viola in tutto il giardino. Per il mio ultimo compleanno, il 30esimo, ho gonfiato una dozzina di palloncini per me, visto che Orso ha paura dei palloncini e se li gonfia lui sembrano al massimo dei frutti secchi. Insomma, questi palloncini che ho gonfiato per il mio compleanno in Novembre, non si sono sgonfiati, anzi sì, ma molto lentamente. Così li abbiamo messi in una scatola che abbiamo chiamato la scatola dei palloncini. Da quel giorno, ogni volta che c’è qualcosa da celebrare, un reportage venduto, una torta ben riuscita, ricevo una doccia di palloncini colorati. E’ il modo più bello per celebrare in ogni momento. Si fa così:
-Chiudi gli occhi
-Il tuo compagno di celebrazioni deve sollevare la scatola dei palloncini sopra la tua testa
-sempre il compagno di celebrazioni ti rovescerà i palloncini sopra la testa, in quel momento…
-apri gli occhi e divertiti!

Certo, potrei dirvi che c’è un significato profondo. Tenere una scatola di palloncini significa che ogni giorno potrebbe essere il giorno in cui ce la farò.
Ma alla fine il punto è: qualunque cosa succeda, ho un po’ di fiducia nel mio futuro, ho i palloncini pronti.