A thunderous bolt of lightning, said to be sent direct from the heavens above as a warning, hath struck a residence not more than a kilometer from here. This is the very same residence that is within the city limits (barely) and thus receives the free internet. This is the same residence that beams said free internet signal via satellite to us here at the Farm, where we, as a multi-national company use it "strictly for business purposes."
Seriously. Lightning hit the house we pirate internet off of. It entered through the phone satellite and burned up the entire wiring system. My boss Igor went over to check it out and he said he picked up some in-line converter, like the black box in the cord of you lap top, and he shook it and it sounded like it was full of sand. If the lightning is anything like the robbers that have been supposedly creeping about at night, we might be next. Sorry for the webXXXsites Little Baby Jesus.
Here's a little video of the storm when it was still just a bunch of amazing little fluffy clouds.
In the week that has followed things here have been pretty chill. I finished a heavy book on a metaphysics of quality I have been reading for the last year. woah. I prepped a whole bunch of hybrids for a tour we are throwing together for the Slovakian Government so they can see how awesome riding a bike is for a city, in hopes they will promote the bike as Italy has done. I cleaned up and organised stuff at the farm, caught a show at HannaBi, kicked it on the beach one afternoon, rode into town for a cafe, and oh yeah, last weekend hopped a train south on the advice of a couple kids from a cool clothing store in Forli. They told me there was a week long festival wrapping up on sundan, with music, and food, and vendors of all things vintage. They said their boss had a booth all set up and if I wanted to sell them some clothes I could talk to her there, but it was worth a little looksy.
I grabbed an early train south along the coast to a place called Senigallia, where I was greeted with the sights and sounds of something akin to the Adams Avenue Street Fair in SD - it was a rock-a-billy greaser showdown!! I couldnt believe it. The beach was packed with kids who looked like my friends in SD did 10-12 years ago! Greasers, tattoos, vintage american clothing, chain wallets, hot rods and old scooters and motorcycles! It was crazy and I felt so much at ease. There were folks on the beach in vintage swimsuits, wicker picnic baskets, and parasols. There was only DJ music left but it was still great, and the people there were all dressed in the apropriate costumes. (Zoom in on the pics to get a good look.)
The last day of the week-long party they have an "open car boot sale." A car Boot for those who dont know is the term for the trunk and the idea is you open it up and sell out of it, sort of an impromptu swap meet of one. Its free on sunday at this party and you can bet your sweet asses I will be dragging the lot of my vintage shit here next year and make a killing off of it. They were selling shirts THAT I OWN for 95 euros! And the cowboy shirts were fetching a handsome reward, not many of them either.
I also got to spend some time with Igor this week, with the Sunkels on vacation in Sardinia scuba diving (expect a guest-blogging from them soon) and it sounds like they definately want me to come back next year. This has been a good job, a fun job, and in the heat of the summer with all kinds of required adaptation last minute - its been a tough job. But I know its not the way it usually is, and the folks here have been awesome about soliciting from us what we think might make it work better in the future. They are receptive to our ideas and can tell us what has worked and what has not in the past. Igor and I are working out some things that should help the flow of the job be manageable and easy, especially in a second year sense when you already have been to many of the deliveries, and you know how it works, and when things get real busy. Im pretty excited and the thought of settling into a more professional role here, and showing a different side of my employable personality will be fun. These kind folks have earned a little stepping up on the professional game from Olde Hank. There is a lot of trust here, and I'm still a little suspicious, but I think I can take a summer gig and make something more long term out of it. Which means you all better start putting a 20oz latte a week on hold, and saving that dough to come visit!! With the Sunkels out, Jonathan and Eliza moving into their own place to have a baby, and me building a loft bed, the Farm will have tons of extra space next year. 13 beds!
Which means I will have more people to play a little game we call "SPRITZ!" with.
Spritz is a drinking game, so let the weak of constitution be forewarned. Spritz is a tasty evening aperativo beverage that is way to effeminate for the US markets, but is consumed regularly here in It-ly. Here is a little history... The Sunkels and I have discovered a cheap, sugary version of the bev in bottles at the store for the paltry price of ONE EURO! Thus the game was afoot. The game is loosely based on a lame frat-house game involving 22oz bottles of Smirnoff Ice, called "getting Iced" but those are dumb, and expensive, and have no class. Spritz on the other hand is a drink of royalty. Especially first thing in the morning...
The game involves hiding a bottle of spritz where you friends and co-workers might discover it at some point in the day. When they do they usually exclaim "DAMNIT!" and the proceed to bring it to the Spritz-er and chug. Easy. Except for the aforementioned "stepping the professional game up" thing. So we have since made amendments to the rules...not in personal space (I didn't want the Sunkels rummaging through my room for a good hiding place and stumble upon all those embarrassing stick figure drawings)... not in the shop between the hours of 9-6 (or whenever people are here working)... and not in places where James will accidentally chuck the bottle across his room and shatter the sugary goodness all over the place (as he did in the first round with the one I put between his two pillows noticing his bed needed to be made) So far the Sunkels are TERRIBLE at this game, making trips to the store alone (group grocery shopping is too tough to hide the evidence of whats to come) and returning without one single spritz! Having the weekend-long opportunity to stash them all over while I was away and not making good use of the time. They have also been known to walk into the shop, warm Spritz in hand, having just been Spritzed by the soap caddy in the shower (good one!) and complained that it was too warm or they were not in the mood to chug a Spritz. THAT'S NOT HOW IT WORKS!!! No one got to the Olympics cause they trained when the weather was right or they felt in the mooooood! You have to be willing to play and you have to be willing to suffer!. Above all you have to have some sense of creative sportsmanship! (Shelly and I went so far as to move the one I had hid in the toilet when we were drinking beer with James cause he kept going outside to pee in the orchard (an Italian thing). We quickly suspended the Spritz with rope and bungee, wrapped in an ice pack near where he was pissing outside. That's playing right!
Why just yesterday morning, I dreamy eyed from excellent sleep and feeling peaceful from watching a sun rise with my coffee,
...remembered laundry soaking from the night before and sauntered (cause you know how much I LOVE to saunter) into the laundry room to finish the job. There in the laundry tub, wedged between my wet undies and running shorts was a warm, soapy bottle of orange-ish golden torture! No one awake yet, no one to encourage such behaviour, and nothing but bragging rights and a mild headache waiting at the bottom of the bottle, I chugged like a team captain!
Let the Game BEGIN!!!
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