India, incredible India

Where else you can get a picture like this?

Alta velocitá

A few reflections from my short trip to Italy.

Having lived out of Italy for more than ten years now, every time I go back to my home country I realize that, consciously or unconsciously, I often find myself comparing it with the other countries where I lived.

Well - you would say - having you spent most of your time in Africa, there shouldn’t be comparison.

Unfortunately, there is comparison - and the comparison is not always in favour of Italy…

Perhaps as a father that expects (or wishes) the best from his children, I admit I may be a bit too demanding in my expectations or harsh in my judgments. However, you can imagine how I felt when the taxi driver that brought me from Fiumicino airport to Rome, after having realized I was a ‘foreigner’, tried to cheat me (luckily my stays in Africa and now in India kept me well trained on how to deal with taxi drivers).

Likewise, you can imagine the frustration I experienced when it took me ten minutes (!) to reach the platform of Termini metro station from the surface, with my luggage on my shoulders and no lifts and half of the escalators out of service (and it was irrelevant at that point that I had to wait ten more minutes before the first train arrived). Some of my friends explained me that this is a temporary situation, as Termini station is under renovation - before realizing that it has been ‘under renovation’ for years, and nobody knows when exactly the works will be finished.

However, besides these bad examples that do not make Italy much different from Addis or Delhi, I have also to admit I witnessed a few good examples of efficiency and modernity. One above all: the high speed train that brought me from Roma Termini to Milano Centrale in less than three hours. On time, clean, efficient: worthy of his European brothers and sisters: the TGV, the Thalys, the Eurostar.

And while dropping asleep dandled by the swinging of the ‘Frecciarossa’ (the name is a bit pretentious, I have to admit), I was wondering myself what the real nature of my country is…

Incognito in Rome

After ‘incognito in DC’ (http://www.matteoandmathilde.org/2009/12/incognito-in-dc-2.html), incognito in Rome…

8 years later

Arnaldo & Lara (the Minuts), Marco, Federica, Loredana, Claudia... names that belong to the past, emails under the category ‘Ethiopia’, at most friends on Facebook.

During my stay in Rome I played the hermit: slept at the trappist monks (ref. previous post), dined by myself, informed only very few about my blitz in town.

You can then imagine my surprise when, at IFAD’s cafeteria, I heard a voice from behind: “Non ci posso credere! Matteo!!!” (I can’t believe it! Matteo!!!).

It was Federica, one of my first and best friends in Addis. Hugs, kisses, how are you, where are you now, what are you doing, let’s have dinner, ok.

I just had the time to return at my desk and check my email, that I found a message from Federica copied to half of my friends in Addis, now in Rome, saying: Matteo is in Rome, let’s have dinner together.

And the dinner (a special thanks to the Cerbos’ for hosting us) was an incredible ‘back to the past’: between old anecdotes and coffee tables, Debre Libanos’ pictures and ‘Zerihun’s’, we discovered that 8 years are just a blink.

And when we finally left around midnight, we were somehow disappointed we could not continue the evening at the Silver Bullet...

Dai monaci trappisti*

Have a look at where IFAD lodged me for these two days in Rome!

(At least there were no noises after 10pm...)

(*) Trappist monks

In volo

Matteo towards Rome. Mathilde towards Paris.

Goa - amazing food (certainly the best we had in India!)

Goa - deserted beaches and the romantic ‘end-of-monsoon’ atmosphere

Goa - a strange mix of palm groves, rice paddies, catholic churches and colonial mansions

Goa

We liked Goa.

Can’t really tell whether for the strange mix of palm groves, rice paddies, catholic churches and colonial mansions, for the deserted beaches and the romantic ‘end-of-monsoon’ atmosphere, or for the amazing food (certainly the best we had in India!).

Whatever the reason is, we liked Goa, and we are now divided whether to come back on the next long week-end, in November, at the beginning of the peak season, or not to risk spoiling the memory of this ‘special’ week-end - when we had the impression to have the whole Goa for us...

FRRO - one year later*

From the Indian Consulate in Washington to the Foreign Regional Registration Office (FRRO) in Delhi, passing through the Ministry of Home Affairs - after endless queues, countless hours waiting and waiting, dozens of unpleasant and arrogant officers, kilos of photocopies of our passports, visas, lease agreement, passport-size pictures, etc. etc. - we finally got our Indian visas extended.

Happy to be, finally (!), "registered foreign residents" for one year more!

(*) http://www.matteoandmathilde.org/2009/10/i-remember-during-my-times-at.html, http://www.matteoandmathilde.org/2009/10/officially-resident.html, and http://www.matteoandmathilde.org/2009/11/officially-resident-as-well.html

Back from Goa

Les M&M’s are back from Goa, relaxed and sun-tanned.

Account of the trip and pictures soon.

Good night!

Les M&M’s vont à Goa

Eid ul-Fitr is the day that marks the end of the Ramadan. For us it is, above all, an opportunity for a long week-end!

We are leaving to Goa - the former Portuguese colony on the Arabian Sea - for the week-end.

We will be back on Sunday night, with new memories to share…

La soluzione ai nostri problemi? (by Chiara)

Friends of Ants (no, it’s not the name of a new NGO...)

Help!!! We are invaded by ants!!!

Simple - you would say - you just need to go to the grocery and buy a product against them.

Well, that’s what we did: we went to a grocery and we asked for such product. We noticed however that the errand boys of the shop looked a bit puzzled, and we couldn’t understand why.

After they confabulated a bit among themselves, one of them came to us and said: “Sorry, we don’t kill ants...”

We knew, when we came to India, that cows were holy here. But we couldn’t imagine that ants were highly regarded as well!

But the problem remains: does anyone know a magic piper (un pifferaio magico, un joueur de flute) specialized in ants removal?

Look who’s on the front page of the Meghalaya Times

And it little matters that I didn’t say half of what is reported (title included). My ego feels so flattered, that in the end, who cares about taking a legal action against them?

Or should I? What does our family's lawyer advise?...

Discovering the North-East

It didn’t happen often in the past months, and perhaps precisely for this reason when it finally happened again it was pleasant.

In the past few days I went out on mission. Destination: Meghalaya, one of the seven States of that appendix of India known as the North-East.

Meghalaya, or ‘the Scotland of the East’ - not sure whether for its green hills, or for the unceasing rain. Mawsynram and Cherrapunjee in fact, two villages in this State, with an average of 11.9 and 11.4 meters of rainfall per year respectively are no less than the first and third rainiest places in the world*!

Mawsynram also holds the Guinness world record for receiving the maximum amount of rainfall in a single year (an incredible 26 m in 1985!), while Cherrapunjee holds the Guinness world record for receiving the maximum amount of rainfall in a single month (9,3 m in July 1861).

What to say? Well, that now that I am back to Delhi, the monsoons here seem drizzle to me...

(*) The second rainiest place in the world is Mt. Waialeale on the island of Kauai in Hawaii with a yearly average rainfall of 11.7 m.

Welcome to Silvia, Claudio and Henri

Les M&M’s welcome Silvia, Claudio and Henri among their ‘official followers’.

All hail to you - and keep on following us!

(Ps: Claudio, Martin, Brice, Laura, and Hu80: do add a picture on your ‘follower’ profile J )

Washington memories...

While wandering about places that after five years have become so familiar, and thinking back over all the memories that these places recalled, I was wondering myself which image - if I had to choose one - I would choose to synthesize our five years in DC.

As I couldn’t pick one, I select them all...

(Ps: have a close look, you may find yourself in one of them!)

Our last brunch in DC

2480 16th St., NW - Apt. 724: adieu

Our last night in our apartment...

Perpetually on the move

Emanuele, who left Washington to Maputo in June and went through all the moving process just a month before us, defined it ‘l’imbuto’ (the funnel)*. We rather called it ‘la centrifuga’ (the centrifugal-machine).

Different wording, but the same concept. Our last two weeks in Washington have been quite hectic. Close and return our apartment, disassemble and sell our furniture (and my Vespa, sigh sigh...), pack our stuff and organize the shipment of our boxes, renew our Indian visas, say good-bye to our friends...

If I have counted well, this was the eighth move in ten years, the eleventh in twelve years. After each of them I ask myself why the hell I didn’t choose to become a bank clerk in Milan.

But soon after I start thinking what the next destination could be...

(*) www.capobelsky.it

My first day at the Bank

Lasciate ogni speranza o voi che entrate

From my archives - a short story of my first days in Washington and in the US…

[…] let me now start telling you about my adventures here in the States. I know a story should start from the beginning, but allow me to start this story a few days after the beginning, and precisely on the day in which I reported to the office: Tuesday February, 22nd, 9.00 am local time.

The building at 1818 H Street, NW - Washington, DC - I have to admit - is rather impressive. It occupies an entire “block” (the basic road unit in the States) and it is surrounded by concrete fences and upright policemen. As an ancient middle-age castle, its shadow strikes the same fear on the neighbourhood. I was told that the former four independent buildings (the towers?) have been unified by a glass and steel structure to form the present building (the castle!). If the result, outside, is as I said pretty impressive, the interior is even more impressive. Because of this glass structure, the main hall is enlightened by sunlight, and there is a huge artificial waterfall in the middle of the hall surrounded by evergreen trees which creates a “tropical forest” ambience...

Still a bit confused in looking around, I showed my letter of appointment to the lady at the desk, asking where I should go. I was told that the African Region, the division where I’ll work, is not in the “MC” building (the main complex), but in the “J” building, just across the street. A bit disappointed for not working in that amazing environment, but still excited by my “first” day of work, I crossed the street and entered into the J building. The J building is definitively less impressive than the main one, but equally nice. The sixth floor (where I had to go) is full of well taken care plants and colourful African decorations, and the floor is covered by a “clean” fitted carpet (don’t be surprised if I was struck by this detail: I spent my last year in the UK!). The offices are not particularly spacious, but they all seemed bright. There, I met Beula, the unit’s secretary (or programme assistant, as the new protocol prescribes), that, after the usual welcoming ceremonials, told me that my manager was in a meeting for the whole morning, and offered to show me my desk. I will talk more about Beula in the future, because she is really worth an entire chapter. However, I don’t want to lose track of the events that so deeply characterized my first day of work, and, probably, my existence from now onwards…

We returned to the lifts, so I sharply deducted that my office was not at the same floor of my manager’s. Fair enough. I couldn’t see however which button Beula pushed because there were other people in the lift, but I immediately realized we were going down. Again, fair enough. The lift stopped at each floor to let the people in and out, and at each floor I was ready to go out. But Beula didn’t move. Fifth, fourth floor… nothing… Third, second… still nothing… I was a bit worried: the first floor here in the States is in fact the ground floor in the rest of the world. However I thought my office could be in another building. Logistically it wouldn’t have been convenient, but the idea that I could be sent to the main building relieved me a bit. But my illusion did not last long, just the time of one floor. We reached in fact the first floor, and still Beula didn’t go out of the lift… Only when the door opened at the B1 floor (the basement) we finally went out and only then I realized with horror how terrible my days at the World Bank would have been…

As in a probably worst version of Kusturica’s “Underground”, the office (?) was situated completely under-ground. The first thing that I noticed was that there were no windows at all, and the only sources of light were a sequence of greenish, cold, trembling neon-lights. As in Kusturica’s “Underground”, as in Dante’s Hell, as in a medieval hall for torture, a dozen of employees (slaves?) run here and there in this dungeon, more similar to mice in the subway’ rails than to human beings. In this miserable environment I was desperately looking for a sign of humanity, but nobody did pay attention to me, probably because the hostile environment had already taken away from them any residue of humanity. Only my two neighbours raised their tired and heavy heads from the screen of their computers and turned to give me a sad welcome. And only then I noticed with disgust and terror their grey faces and their glassy eyes - as that of those creatures that live in the abysses of the oceans and have altered their physical structure to make up for the lack of light and to adapt to the eternal darkness. I screamed in terror and turned around ready to escape, but Beula had already left, taking away any remaining hope that I would find my way back to the surface again…

In this hopeless framework, only two things partially comforted me. First, as all American happy end stories want, it doesn’t matter from where you start, but where you arrive. American stories are full of self-made people who started at the very bottom before building their empires, and “democratic” Americans seem to like this kind of stories and these kind of modern heroes (it’s sufficient to spend half-hour in any American bookshop). So, if I have to adapt to these new rules - and if this is what future puts aside for me - well, I believe that B1 is bottom enough. Second, and at this point probably more important for my spirit, there are two floors below mine: B2 and B3. That is to say: it could have been worst!

Washington is not Libreville

And this is, on the contrary, the first picture I took in Washington, when I arrived in February 2005.

Mathilde had just moved to Libreville, Gabon, and was complaining about the heat...

(The below is the second picture I took in Washington...)

Washington, adieu...

My last picture of DC: on the Memorial Bridge, from the taxi on my way to the airport

Our last two weeks of July were spent to close - this time seemingly for good - our chapter in DC. And while this time the moment of parting has been less emotional than that of one year ago*, probably because in the past months we slowly got used to the idea and therefore arrived better prepared to it, the general feeling remained the same: we will be missing DC.

At the same time, while queuing in an ordinarily way at the traffic light or in a shop, while roaming in well-stocked supermarkets and in green and clean parks, while calling a green number to have a service immediately done, a subtle conviction progressively anchored in our minds. That it’s true, we will be missing DC: we will be missing the ‘easiness’ and the comfort of it - but to grow we needed to leave it and experience the other side of the moon as well.

Therefore, adieu, Washington: we will be missing you, and perhaps one day we will be back. But today we don’t regret our choice...

(*) http://www.matteoandmathilde.org/2009/09/10-reasons-why-we-will-be-missing-dc.html

Ladakh today

Having still vivid in our mind the images and the memories of our trip in Ladakh, we could not remain indifferent to the recent events that hit Ladakh.

Beside the incredulity, the sorrow and the feeling of impotence we felt watching the images of these beautiful places completely devastated (places that we feel a bit ‘ours’ now), what grips our stomachs and our hearts is the uncertainty about (and the impossibility to know) what happened to the people we met and with whom we shared a few moments of our recent life. Pemba, Pemma, Dorge. But also the people whose name we don’t even know or remember: the yak-herders near Sumdo Chimnu, the lady that sold noodles and coca-cola on the way to Dung Dung La, the families that opened their homes and hosted us…

But even if these people happen not to belong to the 160 or more that died during the flooding, an inconvenient question still tortures our minds. What will it happen to them now?

The Ladakhis live a decent subsistence economy in which the food and fuel produced during the short growing season is stored and consumed during the long and harsh winters.

The harvest for this year is gone, the small-scale water channels and the other mud-brick infrastructures destroyed, and it will probably take several years before they are re-built and become functional again. And I doubt these people have savings or own other resources or alternative livelihoods that would allow them to cope with the consequences of a disaster of such magnitude...

What will it happen to them now?

10 reasons why we liked Ladakh

(1) Because I could finally trek without being wet during the day and frozen during night (ref. Iceland & Alaska) (Mathilde)

(2) Because I could finally trek without carrying all my stuff on my shoulders (ref. Iceland & Alaska) (Mathilde)

(3) Because I enjoyed the sense of peace, solitude and seclusion that I have been missing since I arrived in India (Matteo)

(4) Because we looooved the Ladakhi food (particularly the momo* soup) (Matteo & Mathilde)

(5) Because I trekked higher than the Mount Blanc! (Mathilde)

(6) Because in the deep of my heart I always dreamt of being a mountaineer (Matteo)

(7) Because after four months in Delhi at temperatures ranging between 43^o and 48^o, the average 26^o-28^o in Ladakh (5^o-7^o over night) seemed heaven to us! (Matteo & Mathilde)

(8) Because I was allowed not to shave for an entire week! (Matteo)

(9) Because after 7 days trekking I didn’t have a gram of cellulite anymore J (Mathilde)

(10)Because we have never seen so many stars as in the Ladakhi sky over night... (Matteo & Mathilde)

(*) dumplings

Next challenge?

Stock Kangri, 6,137 m, the highest mountain of the Stock Range.

Imposing.

Technically not too difficult, I estimated it takes nine days in total (from arrival in to departure from Leh - including acclimatization, etc.) to climb it.

Targeted for summer 2011.

Anyone interested in joining*?

(*) Mathilde already said she will be waiting for us at the Maldives.

Above 5,000

Crossing the invisible line of the 5,000 m

Les M&M's on the second highest motorable pass in the world (Taglang La, 5,359 m)

Towards Tibet

The last few days in Ladakh allowed us discovering another incredible part of this already incredible region.

After having obtained - not without difficulties - a special permit to be able to get close to the China border (there has been a war between China and India on these mountains in 1962), we left Leh and with trusty Pemba we went up the gorges of the Indus river towards East - until when the landscape begun to progressively open out, and the horizons to extend.

We had reached the far-east part of Ladakh, almost at the border with Tibet: the region of the yaks and the nomads, the region of the Tso Moriri* and of the Tso Kar lakes - a barren plateau (we were almost at 5,000 m asl) surrounded by more gentle peaks than those in the Stock and Zanskar ranges.

If Ladakh looks desolate, this part of Ladakh seemed even more desolate. When we finally reached Kozok, probably the only existing settlement near the Tso Moriri, we really had the impression to have reached the last stop before the end of the world...

(*) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O5zxrbvRRdM