Lord of the rings was propaganda

To hide the truth, Frodo didn't destroy the one ring to rule them all. The proof was found here in Rome, on a bumbersticker in the queue at porta Metronia this very morning:



No doubt that the fact that the truth surfaced here in Rome, is a proof that evil is taken place in the most sacred of places. The Vatican. And while on the subject why is it that the Peters church resembles a space ship from a distance...



Coincident I think NOT.

Ladis and gentlemen, we will return to you with more snapshorts of the REAL truth.

The priest (s) and Jason bourne

Last week we went to went to the cinema to watch Jason Bourne, we were late and came running, from a parking post, just in time to see a man in a dress along with two men showing their tickets. The person in the dress was not a transvestite but in fact a priest in uniform, one of those kinds that looks more or less like the one Keanu Reeves is wearing in Matrix Reloaded (no two).

As I have mentioned before I think its strange to see priests in uniform doing normal things, in this case going too the movies (even being late like us), in full suit. Wearing a costume to the movies seems very strange, any costume... On behalf of him I felt a bit like somebody dressing up as Darth wader for a star wars premiere, and then by mistake enters the cinema with a Disney cartoon.

Since the last post I have learned that its actually bad luck to meet a single priest, so luckily we discovered that one of the two others, were also a priest, but dressing in the more casual black shirt, with the white thingey around the throat.

I will spare you the sight of them exiting the movies, taking about cool explosions which freaked me out.

Im starting to wonder, are those catholic priests really just human beings with a long old education in dresses...

Mike Hammer morning

It was a cold morning, the rain seemed to keep the city in twilight. It was one of those mornings when you couldn't tell whether is was actually raining or just so humid that it felt like it. The streets was half empty, well half empty in roman standards. the newspaper man was smoking, and the women at the bus stop looked cold.

I rushed down into the metro station, careful not to make the same uncool sliding - almost fall, that I saw a chic lady do, in heals the other day (I'm not wearing heals). As I went down the escalator, a woman came running down behind me shouting, and pushing me a side... I arrived at the tracks just as a train was parting the station, seeing the crazy lady banging on the automatic doors. I was not in the mood to fight with crazy Italian lady so I sneaked past her, and moved on, but she followed me, shouting at either the arriving metro or the one which had just left - had to say since none of them were actually there.

At that moment, it arrived, the oldest type of metro trains I have ever seen here in Roma, it had no lights, no people, couldn't even see a pilot. It halted, Everybody looked a bit uneasy about the idea of getting on this train, even the crazy woman had stopped shouting. It went in motion again, and that was when I saw it. The trains destination was Moscow.

Standing baffled, the next train arrived, carefully choosing another door than the lady, I entered a train with more than double the amount of people as the one I just missed, before the ghost train. Entered was maybe and overstating, since I squished into the small space that would occupy the door in seconds. But it would thereby push me into the train.

After two stops I had pushed my self a bit longer into the train, and found steady ground. Had taken my book out and disregarded the Idea that I was actually the main character of a crime novel, when this man entered.... He had a cap on, made out of shiny leather, glasses was round and thick as bottoms of old beer bottles. With his eyes, he searched the train and meet mine, He looked like he found what he was searching for and kept staring at me, like the evil Nazi from the first Indiana Jones movie.

Luckily he got out before me, and getting out in the light again, walking the rest of the way to work, decided that I might needed to sleep more, and not read mystery books all night, even though its hard to put down "The shadow of the wind" by Carlos Ruiz Zafón. Or maybe Nazi guy just decided that I made him, and made a colleague take over, which I haven't noticed.

Thanks god its weekend soon.

Gone hiking

As I mentioned in this post (link), I was going to for a 5 hour hike. Sadly the guide cancelled because of bad weather (something about a flood), but since Sara had a group of Spanish exchange students to entertain, we decided to go for another walk, on a track called the "throat of hell"(le gole dell'infernaccio). Which was unlike its name very nice. Maybe a bit like hell for southern Spaniards, who are use to a desert climate, not rainy Autumn in Italy. And it did rain all four hours we walked. which we (Sara and I) enjoyed a bit, since the exchange students had been out partying all night, so it was only fair we dragged them for some good exercise :-).

Even without of the please of torturing the Spaniards a bit, I enjoyed the rainy weather more then just a bit, it reminded me of Denmark - now you Danes would probably say, that you will never miss weather like that, but after just one summer here, more or less without a drop of water, I am craving for it, and a hole day of walk, being probably dressed (finally), was fantastic:



The boots were perfect, I wasn't cold, wet or anything at any point on this trip. So james bond go home.

It was that kind of beautiful, where you want to take a picture every 10 meters, and I would have, if it wasn't because of my love for my camera, and my respect for it hating water, that I didn't. But the name and the fog gave some parts of it, a bit of a gloomy atmosphere, the person who came up with the names for this place must really have been in a bad mood. there is a place where there is a series of narrow waterfalls. This is called "Pisciarelle" which basically means "small pees". Its also very beautiful, and I didn't take a picture of it.

I did however take a picture of the cliff right next to it. which can be seen here:


Its a bit to the right.

Funny enough we went through a place where it looks completely like the forest I used to run around in, in Denmark.
, well except for all the hills. and the missing beach.

Like so many other places I been before, I hope I will be back to enjoy it again... hopefully we can hope for a good rainy weather like this time, sadly its just as hard to plan for a rainy day down here, as it is for a sunny day in Denmark.

I am sorry about the quality of the pictures. But I am still afraid of using the flash after scaring some nuns the other day (link).

with alot of concentration

I succeed in eating todays pasta in my white sweater without spotting it. This might not seems as a great feat, but try eating a spaghetti con tonno (tuna and tomato sauce), where the spaghetti is not broken before being boiled (as my dad always did) and without a knife, and only a plastic fork to role it on. I am proud of myself.



Here in Italy, we sadly don't have nice lunch arrangements as in Denmark, or a large cantina. But the Butcher at the corner makes pasta every day (except for Tuesday, which is their closed day). They make two types, one white and one red. The white one is either with oil or butter (Both is surprisingly good) and my favorites the red ones. The sugo ( the sauce ) varies, from only tomato to tomato with tuna or meat.

Mostly I try to bring lunch, but when it doesn't happen, pasta is nice. And then on Thursdays we all go for icecream.