Living traveling, Tripluca.com

Who of you has been to Prague, Krakow or the like in 1989 and 1990, I will understand when I say that this is a frontier land.
Or, even better, smaller cities like Wroclaw, Poznan and Brno, places where being a foreigner was in itself interesting and engaging.
Here at Far West Novosibirsk feel I have given the wardrobe, those ladies who are waiting at the entrance of the most lowest and also that you keep loving the leather jacket made of cow in Argentina.

For example, one of the first night and I PaoloAttachment (a friend since 1989, in fact, thrives on light reflected their holidays and follow me in my travels, ultimately posing even per employee), we ended up in an Italian restaurant for a beer and make cool, and we had to do two gays on leather chairs, surrounded by couples in love (because sometimes you really need a local guide).
The sixty-check girl asked us where we were and when we discovered the origin is almost dissolved in tears, as, indeed, in the old days when you had only to say "For from venis em (well, from constituents chiloimters venis)" to inspire dreams of romantic bliss between bottles of wine, sunsets over the Grand Canal and kids running the tender grass of the Tuscan hills of Asolo.
And more years passed and not heard those groans were enough to force us to censor "from constituents chiloimters venis" approaching our increasingly virtual home in Rialto, and inventing ever more opulent details.
A comedy that lasted until the sad day when the mother of a friend to our Polish phrase "Ui are from Venise" replied: "Ah, Venice. There have been three times stinks. "
Shit, he lived in Głogów.
However, officially declared the end of an era.

Last night instead of the cloakroom, after asking me where I was, she smiled and when later I went to fetch the cow Argentina came up with a smile and a "singing", borrowed from our "let me sing" of Cutugno that there is still a hero.

(Note post-socialist, the first girl at pains to point out there has to be a university professor of Russian literature to supplement his meager pension board. And the fact you read a certain elegance in the face and eyes a certain depth and sweetness that only intimate knowledge of the great Russian authors can give.
Sad fate of those who believed in the primacy of culture and found himself betrayed by a tiny pension.)

In confirmation of the climate of the border met with an Italian Pub nell'Irish that saw us and said:
- "But as we're finished here?"
- "We took the wrong train"
and this was "the start of a beautiful friendship" with him, which brings us around, asking us the telephone number and introduces us to his friends.

And also in the relationship with the company, I notice a certain air of novelty, of good and important guest to follow to protect.
Thing but sometimes flows into the ridiculous. Read on:
My Customer Care Manager, that the girl who follows the project from the point of view of the relationship with the customer (in case the project manager to forget about me), I found the apartment where I live, I came to get to 'airport at 5 am with her husband and the Project Manager (the one that follows me from the point of view of the project where the programmers forget about me), and he even made the first shopping (very good choice of tea to fruit of forest).

The poor girl is required to report to his superior in the Customer Care Department all my activities ... even after work.
So you create some strange situations with her that she looks up from the laptop and asked me:
- "Luka, who have plans for next week?"
- "Well, I'm adjusting the specifications for the Calendar Management System and widgets, so I think that ..."
- "No, that is, after work"
- ".. Ie Ehmm the evening?"
- "Yes, evenings and weekends ..."
- "Mmm ... I do not know, except for the -20 to survive, I think I'll decide from day to day."
Moment of panic ... do not know what to say ...
- "Ok ... um ... is that the headquarters and ask me what do I have to say something."
It occurs to me, I can not do without it, the KGB. Bad feeling.
- "Ehmm ... ok, what's to do in Novosibirsk?".
- "The Zoo". Happy, already imagining to fill the report in a professional and satisfactory to the head.
- "The Zoo?"
- "You want to see the zoo?"
'Geez I care to me in the zoo.
- "Ehmm ... ok, that animals are there?"
- "The Liger"
- "Oh ... what is it?"
- "A cross between tiger and lion"
Holy shit I have to see the result of half incest.
- "Ok, and Siberian tigers?"
- "Sure."
- "Ok, go to the zoo."
And I hope to be in place.
Silence. Then he says:
- "When?"
- "Like when?"
- "What day?"
Now I understand the current climate and answer:
- "Tomorrow from 14:30 to 17:30."
- "Ok".
Relief for both.

A couple of days, looks up from the laptop:
- "You went to the zoo?"
Holy shit the zoo, I had forgotten.
- "... Ehmm not, for reasons of force majeure."
And I realize I have to use a language Kafkaesque.
- "Oh ... okay.". Writes something to the computer.
- "And when you go there?"
- "Sunday".
- "Ok.". Writes something to the computer.

On Sunday Paul and I go to the zoo, we do not find the Liger, the Siberian tiger is in a heated room attached to the radiator (I swear) and the Bengal tiger and African lion in a cage outside at -20 C (I swear again) .
All in all very nice and at least we got the balls removed from the Zoo

But it is not over, there's Syndrome Mother Siberian Apprehensive:
Every time I bring out or accompany me somewhere. As the Customer Care KGB lives very close to me (I'm sure I saw from his window and as I write these lines controls), we descend from the taxi together and say goodbye.
From that point on my winter residences there will be a maximum of 200 meters. I have to cross the street, make twenty meters, passing under an arch, turn right, to fifty feet and enter the door. Maximum of 3 minutes and 24 seconds.
Then, go down and greet the taxi:
- "OK, spassiba, see you tomorrow"
- "OK, send me a sms when you arrived"
I stop and look. The wind is blowing from the Siberian steppes, and enter into the periphery to the center city untamed and cold, bringing the smell of wolf hunting.
- "Arrived where?"
- "At home"
- "Ehmm .. sms? Why? "
- "So I'm quiet"
I would tell you that the undersigned has turned the Malaysian jungle barefoot before there was any guide Fulvio, faced angry Shaolin monks to the rising price of bread and has survived three months in Brazil even without being part of an assault on the mulatto of hungry white skin and blue eyes.
But the look in your eyes and see the apprehension of the Great Mother Russia which then is nothing more than the apprehension of the Great Mother Earth, the same does not sleep sweet dreams to all the mothers of the world, and that perhaps is the real glue of human society. The same one that drove my mother to explain how to take the bus to Venice Scorzé forget to stamp your ticket and get off at Piazzale Roma, but my first day of school, but a week after returning from around the world solo with even the scars of whips of shaolin visible under the right eye.
And in the night Siberian son back for a moment, even though he is 29 years and a fine boy of 6 waiting for her at home, and I get emotional.
I greet you, walk for 3 minutes and 40 seconds, take the elevator, open the door and send a text message:
- "I arrived. good night and thanks "

I look out the window of this apartment on the ninth floor of a remote Siberian city, and say out loud (yes, I often speak on its own):
"We sleep peaceful, men, mothers watch over us."

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