Tips for men on how to talk to women, and especially what NOT to say

I listen to the Finnish Radio Aalto in the morning. There's this group of 3 people in the studio, a woman who's a real power house, a guy who's just been divorced (or separated anyway) and a gay guy. They have the weirdest and funniest conversations and they often give me something to think about.

This morning they talked about a list that was called "19 tips for men on how to get along with women". It wasn't surprising that there were 19 tips, after all it was a list made by women, and therefore totally without any logic to begin with. A man would have listed 10 or 20 tips, a woman lists 19. "Because it's our right to list 19 tips if we damn well want to". Yes yes just do your freakin list.

in an emergency you can try bribing
the woman with a childish toy

Anyways, they picked one tip from the bunch and started talking about it. "If a women has a problem, don't try to fix it, just empathize". Apparently this causes a lot of problems to many couples, and I can totally see why, even though my reasons for getting angry about this matter are totally different. See, if a woman has a problem, she just wants you to feel sorry for her, to let her know that you feel her pain and that you understand perfectly why this matter is indeed a problem for her. Even if the problem she has is "oh my god I ran out of cotton balls today and had to use cotton sheets instead" or "oh my god my favorite shirt that I had picked out to wear today has a stain and now I have to change the whole outfit". If she sees these things as a problem, so should you. And you should be supportive.


The worst thing you can do is try to fix the problem without first showing that you understand it. A man sees a problem to be solved, a woman sees huggykissytime. If you try to fix the problem, you're depriving the woman of her problem, and therefore depriving her of huggykissytime. Also, it shows that you haven't been listening to her and her needs. She's not looking for a solution, she just wants your big arms around her for a second. When you've done the consoling part, then and ONLY THEN can you go about suggesting a solution to the problem.

Now I personally don't need so much consoling,  nor do I need a solution. If I tell you about a problem I have, it's mostly because I need to talk to someone about it in order to fix it in my own head. You know how talking to people about a problem sometimes helps you clear your own thoughts and suddenly you've resolved the problem by yourself?  That's what I'm after. When a guy starts telling me how to fix my problem, I feel sort of invaded and also a bit offended about the fact that clearly he thinks I can't solve it by myself. I get even angrier when a guy insists that his solution is the only one and that if I don't do as he says, I will continue to have the same problem. Oooooooooooooooo this really gets me mad. If I tell you about a problem, just listen. Now, if I go out of my way to ask you for advice, I'd appreciate to have your take on it, but only if you don't make me accept your opinion as the absolute truth on the matter.

There's also the I-told-you-so-factor. Never tell a woman "I told you so" if you don't want her to rip your eyes out. If there's an I-told-you-so-situation,it means that there's already enough trouble, the woman is feeling vulnerable and she doesn't need a man to tell her that his solution would've been better. Especially because you don't know if it had been better or not. So just keep your mouth shut and let me feel your compassion.

... or you can give her candy.
Mmmmmm.... caaandyyyyy.....

It all seems to boil down to not-wanted-information. A man mistakes the woman's worrying as a request for advice, when that's not the case. Sometimes the man gives advice even when the woman is not worried or expressing that she has a problem. I'm not sure if that's a man-thing or a person-thing in general, still, I've had this problem only with men and never with women. Or at least women stop doing it if you tell them that you don't need their advice, where a man will do it over and over and over again.

I change my hair often (like explained already before). When I go out with my new hair, I don't expect to get commented on it. That's because we Finns often don't make such comments because we feel that we might be putting the other person in an awkward situation. If feel the need to make a comment, just say "oh you've cut your hair". That's nice and neutral and doesn't imply anything about whether you think the hairdresser has done a good job or not. Still, at least here in Italy, I've found that men feel the need to make a proper evaluation of your new scalp. They will also tell you that it sucks, if that's the way they feel. And that would be totally fine had I asked for their opinion, but since I hadn't, they could just keep their opinion to themselves. I don't need the positive comments either, since they make me feel awkward (like a true Finn). If I hear "oh but you looked so much better before" one more time, I might just kill someone.

So, to sum it all up, don't give advice to a woman unless she specifically asks for it. If she asks for advice, and you have some advice to give, please serve it with a nice "well, in my opinion you could..." and not with "here's what you have to do and if you don't then well you're just stupid".

That's not too hard is it?
Yes, now I'm asking.
You can leave your comment here below :)

The difficult life of Lady Gaga

When I was 17 and an exchange student in the USA I had this bracelet that said "What Would Jesus Do?". It was the hip thing those days among the teenagers to wear these bracelets to demonstrate that in your mind Jesus was the right person to turn to when you needed advice. This lasted about 3 months, and then I came to the conclusion that the advice of Jesus was somewhat outdated and I would be better off asking someone else. Like the neighbor. Still, for about 3 months I asked Jesus for advice when I felt confused.

"wait what I have to eat THIS?"

This past week I've found myself in a few embarrassing and confusing situations.

Like when I was at the gym, sweating my ass off and breathing heavily like a professional call girl, and in walks this gorgeous guy I know. And if he usually doesn't talk to me, NOW he decides that it's time to know me better and stops for a chat as I'm leaving a puddle of sweat the size of Texas by my feet.

Or when I found out that my kittycat had worms and decided that I needed to be de-wormed as well (you can never be too careful with these things), and when I called the doctor for some medicine she wanted to know all about my bodily functions and if my ass had started to itch. Not exactly the conversation you want to have with a complete stranger, especially if you're making the call from work. Even if she is your doctor.

And FYI, no my ass hadn't started to itch, and no I didn't have worms.

Still in the middle of these embarrassing situations I always manage to console myself saying "don't worry, it could be worse, you could be famous". In these embarrassing situations I ask myself what would Lady Gaga do?

Lately I've been thinking a lot about famous people. I'm wondering why anyone in their right mind would like to famous these days? If I, a total nobody, feel awkward in these above mentioned everyday situations, it must be twice as hard for someone famous. Can you imagine Lady Gaga at the doctor's office explaining that she's constipated? It's like having to talk to the doctor about your itching ass knowing that tomorrow it'll be all over the news. Who the hell wants to live like that?

I have this reoccurring nightmare about being filmed or photographed in my sleep. Imagine if that was your reality? That there really might be someone who wants a photo of you sleeping. I also used to worry about what people thought about me and my decisions, and was convinced that people were talking about me. That ended very quickly when a friend of mine said to me that people don't have time to discuss my life because they are too busy worrying about their own, and do I really think that I'm that interesting that people would spend hours and hours discussing my life?  That cured me right up. But what if that WAS the case, what if you were famous and people WERE discussing your life and your actions? Every little thing you do is discussed in online chat groups and analyzed to the last tee? It's not paranoia like in my case, it's what's really happening. They're watching you, and you should be very, very scared.

I don't know why I think about Lady Gaga so often. I'm not a fan or anything, nor do I hate her either. I just seem to think that her life is more difficult than that of other famous people. When Lady Gaga puts on a dress made of meat, are we interested in Lady Gaga's "latest fling", or are we interested in the weirdness of the  dress? If I put on a dress made out of meat would it even be interesting, or just stupid?  What's more interesting, Lady Gaga wearing something weird and outrageous, or Beyoncè walking on the street with dirty hair? I believe the latter one is more interesting to most people. That's why I think being Lady Gaga is really difficult, because having dirty hair won't get you anywhere anymore. If she wants to be noticed she has to butcher five cows and wear them on the red carpet. That's more than an every day's honest work I think. She's reaching the point where nothing she does is interesting anymore, because she's already done it all.

my morning cup of tee

Does Lady Gaga do normal things anymore? When she wakes up in the morning, does she drink her coffee from a normal cow-mug like everyone else, or does she have to have a mug made of tinfoil and baked eggs? Does she own one of those rolling-things with velcro that remove the cat hair from your clothes, or does she use some other battery-operated sticky thing with Swarowsky crystals on it? Does her remote control run out of batteries like mine and therefore for one day I need to walk up to the TV in order to change the channels, or does she have some satellite observing her from the space who sends a signal to a representative of Duracell who changes the batteries while she sleeps?  Does she have any normality in her life anymore, or is it all just animal carcasses and hats made of yesterday's garbage?

Any person's life is difficult. A famous person's life is very difficult. Being Lady Gaga has to be a constant struggle and a real pain in the ass.

Of course there are also super famous people who you don't see in the headlights. Ever. Until one day they come up for air and appear on the cover of some magazine saying "I never talk about my life". And yet there they are, talking about it. These are the stupidest people ever, because you had it all: you're famous, you have a luxurious life and still you've managed to keep your privacy. And now it's gone, and you're in the magazine talking about your kittycat's worms. No more sweating at the gym without worries, it's all ruined.

So the next time you're in a pickle, just think about the fortune of not being famous. 
I feel lucky already.

Relight my fire.

Tonight I went to see a DJ set of weird electronic music, a sort of musical voyage type of thing if you will. Usually I'm not too interested in electronic music, but I went because it was organized by my friends and because it's good for you to listen to new things. 

What I'm about to say is in no way related to tonight's events, and reflects in no way my opinion of the artist. It just that I had about 30min of time to think about stuff while listening to this musical ambient created before my eyes.

Recently I've noticed that I can go see an art show, a musical performance, a theatrical experience etc. and get very caught up in it, so much that I believe it's the best thing ever and I'm so fortunate to have been there to experience it. I even buy the CD or the painting or whatnot. By the time I get home I'm already thinking that it wasn't actually that cool, and by the next morning I'm trying to sell the CD that I'd bought. 

That's me these days. Dazed and confused, so lost that I'm willing to accept anything as my savior, so desperately trying to find something that anything will do.

This applies to almost everything in my life at the moment. Work, place to live, languages to speak, interests in general etc. I don't know what I want, so just to be on the safe side I want it all.

I've been trying to figure out how this thing works. Am I just someone who gets bored easily? Maybe once I was sincerely interested in X, but then over time lost interest? Or is it that I never really was interested in X at all, but I reallyreally wanted to be so I made myself believe it? Am I wagging the dog's tail or is the dog wagging me? Like seriously wagging, as in taking my head and hitting it against the wall until I pass out? I truly believe that over the years I've become the master of auto-convincing. The problem is that fake-enthusiasm never lasts, and in the end the truth always comes out.

With guys it works a bit differently. I'm not saying that it's fake, that I auto-convince myself to start a relationship with people I don't care about. When it comes to guys/boyfriends I'm always in it with my whole heart. I only start to auto-convince myself when things start to go badly wrong. I'm missing the WTF-effect I usually get with other things!! I get the WTF -effect only when it's already too late, as in when we're already broken up (not because I wanted to, but because he wanted to). Of course this doesn't apply to all of my relationships, I've had nice ones too. Well, I've had A nice relationship anyway.

I'm wondering if this is a defect of mine, or if it's a phenomenon of society today. The media throws so many things at us in such high velocity and with nice vibrant colors that we're left catching them left and right, not having enough time to concentrate on anything. So we try to suck it all in, inhale, exhale, and just to be on the safe side we hit the like-button with all of them. It's only afterwards that we start to think if we actually like it or not. Sometimes I feel like a helpless child in my crib, watching the mobile above my head, not understanding what I'm seeing but still feeling extermely excited about it. Until the mobile slows down and I see that it's just a bunch of bears and rabbits and flowers and shit.

This thing is starting to bother me more and more, because I'm starting to get to the age where I would like to have certain things decided and clear in my head. Like what my career will be and where do I want to live. But I seem to have a new diehard idea about these things every 5 minutes and it's getting a bit hard to decide anything. And the more I question the more confused I get. Someday I'll run out of new mobiles and I'm afraid I just have to pick the less boring one to hold on to for the rest of my life.

Is that what life's all about? Choosing the less annoying alternative and sticking with it? 

Can't be. I will keep searching and changing my mind until I find what ever the hell I'm looking for. It might get me an ulcer, but if it means being happy in the end, then it'll be worth it. And I will get there. One day the mobile will stop spinning and I'll like what I see. 

And it's not going to be bears and rabbits and flowers and shit.

The orange moose tries to save his friend

"Just play dead Mr. Parrot, I think he's about to fall asleep"

The orange moose takes up joga

"My back hurts, Mr. Parrot"

Play that funky music....

Italy is the promised land of little musical groups. Or at least the place where I live in. This has many advantages, but also many disadvantages. One of them being that you have to listen to a lot of shit.

When I lived in Finland I sang in a Gospel choir. I had one solo-performance every year. That was in Christmas when I got to sing Noel Noel, a cover made famous by Whitney Houston. It was great, but unfortunately one song a year was all I got. 

I also sang in a pop/soul/rock group with four 15 year old dudes. The age wasn't a problem, they were really talented and all, but it was up to me to go get us gigs. I didn't have the faintest idea how to go about this, so we played outside the rehearsal room only a few times. That made me a little sad. The problem is, or at least was, that there aren't many places for up and coming groups to go play. The pubs and restaurants just aren't interested, they want professionals.

Then I move to Italy. After about 8 months I find a guy, a guitar player who wants to play with me. And he's super talented too, so I'm wondering what the hell is he doing playing with me?! After about 5 months of practicing we do our first gig. 2 weeks from that we play another one. In the year to follow we play lots of gigs in the neighborhood and some out of town. We played pubs, events, weddings, reggae festivals, birthday parties, even this big rock club had us play 2 times. To me, that's amazing. It's amazing how willing people are to give you a chance to play, and sometimes they don't even ask you what it is that you do. "Yeah yeah, I trust you, you'll be great, just go for it". 

The problem with that is that not everybody's great. And not every type of music goes with every venue. So a lot of times I've walked into a bar, listened to the group for 5 minutes and said "what the hell...?"

I'm certainly not saying that my duo's all perfect. No no. Once we played at this rock bar that book only cover groups, and they prefer groups that dance on the tables and do drugs in the bathroom. So when me and my guitar player showed up and started to play Björk, they weren't too happy. Mind you it was valentine's day and they had said that what we did was ok and cuddly, but then again....not. Worst gig ever.

You never know what people are looking for these days anyway. There are some pubs that want you only if you play your own stuff. Doesn't matter what kinda stuff. You can sit upside down on a chair and make music-like noises from your ass hole, but as long as it's original, you're good to go. They prefer to have bad non-cover groups than good cover groups.

Then there are the places that only want cover groups. The cheesier the better. They ask you to play Hedonism by Skunk Anansie and Hand in my pocket by Alanis Morrissette. They want to sing along. They don't want to hear anything that they haven't already heard a million times. It's like group karaoke.

To me that doesn't make sense. You should want any group that's good to play in your club, and someone original in their own way. Don't be so black and white about the genre or cover/non-cover -issue.

We (me and my guitarist) try to be something in between. We do covers of songs that nobody else does. We try to add something of our own in them. We use effects or change the rhythm or something. We also have a few songs of our own, just to spice things up a little. And we've also added one or two of those cheesy songs that everybody plays, just in case we run out of songs before it's time to finish. Still, we get comments like "it's too slow", "it's too artsy" or "it's too sad". You can never please everybody, but that's ok.
And more importantly what matters to us is to play songs that inspire us. It's the only way you can go on for years without getting bored.

Still, I have to say that I prefer the music scene here. I like the fact that you don't have to be a professional in order to score a gig. People want to see the little artist grow and develop into something great. Or not, that's ok too. I like going into a bar and not knowing what I'll find. I can always leave if 

I don't like what I hear. 

Or I can just close my ears and get a beer.

Shiny happy people

It's weird how sometimes you wake up in the morning and you don't even know that something very cool is about to happen.

On Monday morning I found a message from the web-site I had logged on a while back but then forgotten about it. I remember that even at first glance it seemed like something totally new and interesting, but then something came up and had to do this and that and in the end I sort of forgot about the whole thing. You know how it is.

Anyways, on Monday there was this message in my e-mail that XYZ had "liked the way I roll". Whaaaaaaaaat...? That's what I call a far cry from the usual boring messages you get from other networks, such as "Marvin has liked your photo" or "Donald has sent you a new message". I see the good people of FB have really brainstormed over these. So naturally after having received such an intriguing message I had to go see what was going on.

I logged in and found my empty page with just my profile picture on it, and with a notification that this nice lady had started following me. Wow. Somebody's following me based on my picture and it's not even a guy. So I started to go around the site to remind myself what it was about again, and basically it's this forum for people all over the world who want to share things about their work. Not like LinkedIn where people come off as robots and it's all about titles and prerequisites, but real people sharing little pieces of their work life via short messages and photos. "Now that's pretty neat", I thought.

So what do I do? First of all I change my profile picture. It sucked, even tough it had brought me my first follower. Second of all, I start posting my Mr.Moose-photos on the site. Actually they're not called "posts", but "sparks". It takes only a second and this nice lady who had decided to follow me decides to comment my spark. "That's funny, what's this project about?". I couldn't believe my eyes. First of all it was really nice that someone was interested, and second of all it was amazing that someone called it a "project". I start to explain how it all came about, and she asks me if I have some other projects going on or if I've worked on something interesting in the past. I sit there for a while and think that I must be dreaming. So shyly I explain that a few years back I worked as a dubber and did a Barbie-movie playing Barbie's best friend. She said that that sounds amazing, and that maybe I should share that story also with others (*bling* there was a link to this page where people were talking about the projects they were proud of). And so I did. And from there.... a new world opened before my eyes.

On this website there are people who are happy with their job. People who are so enthusiastic about what they do for a living that they want to share it with others. People who make pancakes for breakfast because they're happy to be up and running, and ready to start a new day. People who have meetings in coffee houses or they have an afternoon beer at work, because they can, because their boss did it too 5 minutes ago, and because it's kinda silly to not do it considering that one beer doesn't make you drunk unless you're a 4 year old child. These people are full of ideas and love to work with other people who are as full of ideas as they are.There are no titles, no degrees, no pressure. It doesn't matter what you've studied or not studied, it's enough to be good at what you do and especially have a positive attitude about it.

I didn't think people like this existed anymore. And yet, there they were, hundreds of them right before my eyes. And the best thing is that they welcome you with open arms. They're interested and curious to see what you're about. Need some help? Here you go, join this group over here and see what tips they can offer you. Want to share something you made? Here you are, this group here wants to know all about it. Want to just share your good mood and positive thinking? Go ahead, it's simple, you don't even need a group for that!

Now, more than ever, I'm convinced that I will find my dream job. And it'll be legendary. And I'll spark you about it.

The orange moose has a fight

"Please don't leave..."

Ei ole koiraa karvoihin katsominen, in other words, let's talk about hair

I have a special relationship with my hair. Not hair in general, but hair as in the ones on my head.

You can tell what's going on in my life by looking at my hair. When there's some kind of a good change in my life, I don't change my hair but I take extra good care of it. If there's a negative change in my life, I change my hair drastically. If there's not enough change in my life, or I'm not achieving the change that I'm looking for, I change my hair, because it's something I can control (= if I can't control this thing that I can't achieve, at least I can control my hair). If I'm stressed out or busy, I let my hair go and it looks horrible (like now).

I've had all kinds of hair. Up until I was 18 I had long blond hair. I always wore it up because otherwise it stuck to my head and looked horrible (yes I'm lucky to have "Finnish hair", which means that there might be lots of them but by god they are tiny and weak and prefer to stay nice and flat on your scalp). After I returned home from my exchange year in the USA, I discovered that while I was away all my friends had cut their hair short. So, encouraged by their great bravery I did the same thing.

And it's a good thing I did. Apparently I didn't look half bad with short hair, even if it took a month for me to learn how the hell to fix it. And no, having short hair doesn't mean that it's easy to fix, "just wash and go", na-a. Say bye bye to a life without hair products. Say ta-taa to a life without hair dryer. In general, just say goodbye, because the people have already gone while you're still fixing your hair.

After that I've had red hair, violet hair, brown hair, fake hair a.k.a braids, black hair, a sophisticated mo-hawk, yellow hair (by mistake though) and every 3 years or so I try to grow it long but never succeed. About six months ago I had extensions to help me grow out my hair. Didn't work out so after 6 weeks they were removed. Painfully. Now, I'm in the "I'm too busy to take care of my hair"-stage.

In Finland I used to go to my favorite hair dressers every 6 weeks. I would be "handled" by the same person every time, who knew everything about my stupid Finnish hair and how to operate it. She knew what colors we'd used before, and she would think beforehand about new cuts and ideas to propose, and she would also bring me coffee while I was waiting for the color to take effect. It cost a bit more than the other hair dressers, but by god I knew that I would walk out of there with a smile on my face.

Here in Italy it took me about 2 years to find a place that suited me.

The first problem is that nobody here has naturally blond hair, so they don't know how to color mine (which is naturally blond), and it always comes out yellow.

The second problem is that you have at least 10 people buzzing around you, and none of them know what the other one has done, so it's all just a nice big mess. One person welcomes you, other one takes your coat, one person washes your hair, there's one that applies the color, one the cuts it, one that dries it and in the end arrives yet another person who does your hair up in a way that I have to run to the car in hopes that no one sees me.

Finally I found a place that has max 2 people working on me, and they are passionate about NOT making my hair yellow.

When it comes to hair, I'm all for drastic changes. The words "I think you'd look good with XYZ" is all I need to hear from my hair dressers mouth to change my style completely. If I'm not up for a change, there's something dead wrong or I'm super duper happy. Usually the first. I love big changes, not because of the attention, but because it's hair, it grows back. It's like god saying "don't worry, go crazy, I got this!"

My hair is super important to me, even if it doesn't always look like it. Cutting my hair short made the boys look at me for the first time. Having that mo-hawk made me feel powerful after having suffered greatly due to a bad breakup. Dying my hair black made me feel more intelligent, and dying it silver made me feel Finnish among all the dark haired Italians.I don't express myself via clothing (or if I do it's not intentional), instead I do it via hair.

Wanna know what's up? Check out the do' of the day.

Biennale at Venice 2013

Like promised, I took a little trip yesterday, seeing as the weather didn't suck. Actually the weather was
amazing and we head out without wearing jackets (the guys were obviously in t-shirts because they're real men). And like you probably already guessed we went to Venice to see the Biennale.

What's Biennale then? Practically it's a huge exhibition of art from different countries spread all across Venice. Since we only had one day to spend, we went to see the exhibit at Giardini, a huge park about 1km away from the St.Mark Square. In the park there are about  20-25 pavilions (that's just a guess folks, don't sue me if that's not the correct amount), each one housing an exhibition from different countries in the world: Spain, Poland, Russia. Egypt, Greek, Austria, USA, Venezuela.... and of course my beloved Finland. If you still didn't get what it's all about, check out the link below!

Biennale 2013

Following is a "foto-vomit" from yesterday, so take a deep breath and jump in!

where to go..... ??

little streets near the university of Venice

if you want to look like a tourist,
take a ride on the Gondol...

.... or just walk around taking 1000 fotos like me :)

ah, here we are!

 It took us about 2 hours to get from the train station to the Giardini. Not because it's that long way away or because there were so many tourists that we couldn't walk faster, but because we stopped 2 times to get "a little something to drink". Obviously. Can't go to the Biennale if you're not a bit tipsy.

And here's what we saw!

Spain had rooms filled with gravel. 

If I remember right this was Holland...
it looked like they hadn't quite finished yet

The "general exhibition" had a room full of little German houses

Czechoslovakia?
A wall of little Mickey Mouse wannabees

still the same pavilion, a wall of tortoises

and again the same folk,
this time with a wall of little leathery animals

Now, this was Poland. Don't go in there, unless you want to
be stuck in a room for 20 min listening to church bells ringing
and some weird noise from the loud speakers.
Sometimes you just ask "why?" when you get out
of a pavilion. This was one of those times.

The Nordic Countries... always a mess

This was actually not in the Giardines,  but we went to see it anyway.
Chairs stuck in the ceiling.

Venezuela's theme was street art

....as you can see

The French had nicked the chair-idea from the dudes outside
the Giardini, but still, very cool

Of course we saved the best for last.... Finlandia!!!!!

some moron outside the pavilion
(copyright Erica Mononoke, all rights reserved)

the moron is also a tree hugger
"but it's a birch, we love birches!"
(copyright Erica Mononoke, all rights reserved)

Finland showed this video about a dude who had
decided to build an island in the lake from sandbags.
Only a Finn would do such a weird thing, so good job guys!

There were many other things to see as well, but a lot of them aren't worth photographing, in a sense that you can't transmit the emotions and overall experience through a photograph. Or I can't anyway. You have to be there in person to get it. 

Like true Italians we didn't go straight home from the Biennale, nooooooo. We took our time to get to the train station (4 hours this time) and did some more wine tasting and nibbling on local appetizers. Venice has some cool street art as well, so here's how the rest of the evening went.

local election

The Left Wing party in Venice is going strong,
and they're also great fans of Mr. Guevara

arrrrrrrrrrrright, moving on...

made me miss my cat...

laundry day...

laundry day part 2

when the night, has come... and we're starting to get
tipsy again...

St Mark's Square

St. Marks Square

Nighty night...

 So go see the Biennale, it's jolly good fun! And if you can, reserve also some time for the Venician traditions (= bar hopping) because it's jolly good fun as well. Just remember to check when the last train leaves and give yourself enough time to get from the last bar to the station, otherwise, well, you're up the shit creek without a paddle.

In this case, you're up the Gran Canal without a licensed Gondol-driver.

Teaser..... maybe.....

Tomorrow, if the weather isn't totally shitty, there might be a trip in sight to a city that looks a little bit like this..... stay tuned.....

copyrights Macs da Rodda, all rights reserved

copyrights Macs da Rodda, all rights reserved

copyrights Macs da Rodda, all rights reserved

copyrights Macs da Rodda, all rights reserved

Eat, love, and pray that you don't get fat

The reason why Moosey wasn't featured last night was that I was at a huge dinner party until 1am. If there's something the Italians like to do, it's to eat together for hours. Me likey.

The town I live in is fairly small, but the people in it are super-active. Or so it seems to a Finn, since we spend half of the year trying to figure out if it's safe to even go out without freezing to death. Here everybody plays in a band, they paint or take photographs and there's always someone's gallery opening to go to or some hip-hop-hippeti-hop band to check out.

copyright Macs Da Rodda, all rights reserved

There's also this little group of people, friends of mine, who organize once in about every two months a huge dinner party for 40 people. The idea is to have people try new wines from the area, from these little wineries that sell 50 bottles a year total, and who still use the stumping technique to squeeze the wine from the grapes (not true but a cute image nonetheless). They combine these wines with local dishes, good fresh food grown in someone's back yard (or by COOP but still excellent!) that go well with the wine that they naturally choose separately  for each dish. You start with the little nibbly things and a glass of prosecco, and once everybody's arrived and we're all sitting around the table, the chief comes out and gives a little speech about the theme of the night and why certain foods and wines were chosen. Usually there are about 5 different dishes to eat plus desert, so in the end you're gagging for air and trying to find some little corner in your stomach to put the last bite in.

Also, there's always an artist who's painting or drawing or dancing or singing or whatnot, everything of course linked to the theme of the night. Local artists, some unknown, some already masters at their profession.

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All of this is wrapped up in a cool location. Last night we were at this old warehouse turned into a photography studio. Obviously there were lots of photographers around last night so everything was documented with the coolest photos ever. Before that, in July, we were at this little house in the countryside, up on the hills with a view that overlooked the whole city below. And before that, we were at this little pub where the whole idea was born, so even though the place wasn't spectacular in itself, it had a lot of significance to all of us.

I still feel stuffed from all the food and have the taste of the last dish in my mouth. I'm not used to eating so late, so naturally I'm also very tired from having tried to digest it all during the night. So, fat, tired and with a smelly breath. A real dreamboat eh?

Still, its all so worth it!!

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PS. The kitty-cat vomited tonight AND this morning, still on the same white rug. It could've been some side effect of the rabies-shot we gave her two days ago, or she smelled the stink of food in my mouth and got jealous. I opt for the second.