FRIDAY 'Tosca: AMSTERDAM, Dostoyevsky and the vibrator
Gabriel and' a nice-looking and good-natured Leghorn dall'approccio cosmopolitan: it is the president of Italy, an Italian language school for foreigners with thirty locations in Italy and abroad. It is located en route to Belgrade, to Ukraine and Romania: its aim is to enable students to Belgrade to study in its schools by offering affordable rates and some scholarships. E 'Belgrade on Friday afternoon and the sun shines: the Institute is not much to do, so we meet for a coffee waiting for the reader, with which and he 'failed to remedy an appointment to present its activities'. A nice long chat ended with the exchange of numbers: "Call me tonight that maybe you go out." Finally she left, the famous destination SPLAV Amsterdam.
SPLAV. For this word does not suggest anything more, and most obviously they are right, but this is a word that can put the chills. SPLAV especially to those who have tried them. Why? What the fuck are SPLAV? Apart from that we could also express a bit 'of grace, however, are the SPLAV of barges on the Danube that serve as bars and restaurants during the day to become dance halls during the night. Out the window you see the city reflected on the river, but inside there is live music and even the setting seems fairly treated. Drinking, dancing, singing, laughing and joking, all at reasonable prices. Everywhere there are mind-boggling necklines and huge tits: true or false? But who cares!
looks like a "perfect world" especially for us Italians, who are unlikely to set up a rudimentary reasoning just imagining forms of Cristina Del Basso. The fact is that if you are neither deaf nor Yugoslavia, the opportunity to enjoy a pleasant evening falls, on the other hand the risk of shattering the balls (sorry for the profanity) is really high. Why? Why of course the live music ranging from rock to pop-Serbian Yugoslav Serb-Yugoslav, Serbian-Yugoslavian music dance to the songs of the folk tradition Serbian-Yugoslav, Serbian ska-pop to the Yugoslav-Serbian Yugoslav. The result is that all these songs Serb-Yugoslav damn soon become all the same: The people, on the other hand, knows them all by heart, he sings, whether dancing, laughs, has fun and if it enjoys. After half an hour, you do not have eyes for the cubist Ass marble, obviously provocative disproportionately on the windowsill.
Just to be clear: the Italian counterpart of SPLAV could ideally located in Rome (capital, as Belgrafo) on the Tiber (the river of capital). The advantage would be to have the background instead of Castel Sant'Angelo Saint Sava (with all due respect, you would like to?). The downside? Having to cope with the live orchestra that fires one after another, "the great classics of Italian music, with songs taken from different eras, different regions and different genres, a bit 'as it happens in marriages, but with the addition of something relatively modern, something relatively older. Rich and Poor, Peppino di Capri, the choirs of Alpine, Ligabue, Celentano, Gigi d'Agostino, Raoul Casadei, Nino D'Angelo, the Tazenda, Toby Lightman, 'Nduccio, Negramaro, Raffaella Carra, Tiziano Ferro, Nilla Pizzi, a bit 'like the soundtrack of "Dancing with the Stars" but only with Italian pieces. Behold the most fun parties of Serbia is in our country. If
Alexander, faithful "squire" in the "mission" of Gabriel, has left the eyes on a brunette boobs not bad, Gabriel is smoking a cigarette before getting back into the car, we are in the alley for access to a parking lot, just to few steps from the river. Accelerated
, nailed, bang: the motion to strip the land for more than twenty yards, leaving the classic strip of oil, ruin the rider to the ground, of course without a helmet, avoiding little impact with parked cars. A bunch of people, including us, is close to the boy who remains conscious, despite the bleeding head, the height of the forehead. Some girls, visibly shocked and worried, they evacuate, lift him off the ground by putting it in some way sitting: they have a cell phone, make some calls, but it's not clear who they are calling. An ambulance? Ratko, a sort of "Virgil Serbian" Gabriel, says no: the kids are medical students, and everyone knows everyone. "How do you know?" Alex asks, "What might understand the conversations?" Gabriel replies, smiling. In a minute the boy stands up and, with a pace caracollante but not too bad considering the bang, goes to satisfy the conditions of the bike.
The Idiot - Dostojevskj would say - had not seen the bar lowered output of the car, he accelerated and then braked suddenly and lost control of the bike. Unleashing a dubious sensitivity to the situation, we will run "as sunflowers" to greet the passage of three other girls who fall for home. While we wonder whether he banged his head to the bar (my answer is no, the bar is clean: it would also be dead!), The idiot in the car with the aspiring doctors (including "very bone" observed since our point of view, but perhaps put behind a star to this lily so stupid) leaving the parking lot and take him away. And we are in the car, without aspiring to be doctors, ready to return home.
Two curves and there was a police patrol. "I think they stop us": the fact that the vibrator that the policeman's hand glows red. Gabriel is not flustered and immediately show your passport: "I am Italian." Ratko whether it should translate, Gabriel says no "It 's good that you think we're foreigners." Here also shows that license and registration certificate. "Did you drink something?" asks the policeman, "no" replies dry Gabriel. The policeman makes documents and salutes.
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