Venice

The Countess is Trying to Kill Me

Yet I survive.

At this moment, Joanna and I are guests of the Countess Lieta in her apartment in Garmisch-Partenkirchen, Germany. She has been gracious and kind enough to bring us with her to Germany, yet I fear that subtley she is trying to kill me.

On June 12, Joanna and I were making lunch. Soup and Sandwiches were on the menu and I was in charge of the soup, since I am an expert on opening cans and pouring their contents into a pot.

I bent down to grab a pot from the lower cabinet, but little did I know that the Countess had been in the kitchen only minutes before and had left the upper cabinet open. In Germany the bottom of cabinets are reinforced with two thin parallel strips of hard metal.

Finding the appropriate pot for soup, I arose. Now, anyone who has seen me perform with THE HABIT knows, when I stand up, I mean it. So, as is my custom, I stood up with great force.

"FUUUCCCKKKKKK!" I screamed as the parallel strips of metal gouged into my head.

"Are you OK?" Joanna inquired, unsurprised that I had managed to hurt myself again.

"Oh yeah baby, I´m cool," I replied, trying to play the role of tough guy, I gathered myself from the blow and even managed to get the soup on the stove top.

I then touched my head to check for a bump. Blood.

"I´m bleeding," I said as casually as I could muster. "I´m gonna go wash this out of my hair." I went to the bathroom to find that I had two huge gashes in my head. The type of wounds if one had insurance, they would surely go to the doctor to get some stitches.

I came back to the kitchen and sat down still trying to be cool, whilst I waited for the exciting conclusion of Soup and Sandwiches Germany 2006. I found that my hunger was waning and I was feeling a bit light headed.

"You look really pale," Joanna observed, now getting worried, "your lips are turning blue!"

"I think I´m gonna go lie down," I said woozily. Slowly, unlike my custom, I tried to stand up, swaying from side to side as if I were on a space-boat, unfit for space. Joanna flanked me from behind. I headed for the door, which was actually a cabinet, my sight was going blank white. Reaching for the cabinet, I passed out. Joanna caught me just before I went head first into the kitty´s litter box. I am allergic to cats and their poop.

I know that my hair is slowly receding, but I hope it doesn´t go too fast. In addition to my large funny shaped head, complete with flesh mohawk (see pointy skulls like Kareem Abdul Jamar, Alien 3, or Vitaly Potopenko) I now have two new fresh scars to go with my childhood scars.

Back to the Countess. Further evidence that my life is in danger is that on April 2nd when I was staying in the Countess Lieta´s basement, which was my temporary bedroom, I stepped on a rusty staple which was protruding from the pan-asian rugs that covered the floor. There was no antiseptic available, and it hurt like hell, but naturally I played it cool. It still stings. I haven´t had a tetnis shot in ages, but it hasn´t turned any funky colors yet, and after all it only hurts when I WALK!

Yesterday after the Countess left the apartment with the dogs, she left the burner on. Curious? But even worse the day before she gave Joanna and I a salad with raw fennel. You probably haven´t had raw fennel before, and there is a reason for that. It is deadly. In Italy they call fennel, finocchio, which coincindentally is also an Italian vulgarity for a gay man. For more on Finocchio.

So now I . . . am . . in


Feeling .

Woo

Zee . . . . wee . . . look at the lights . .

Mmmmm.

Sorry, uh, yeah, OK, hmm, MEANWHILE!

Naturally the Countess can mean me no harm, she is one of the sweetest, not to mention most intelligent people I have ever met. It is simply a matter of physics. Since Joanna and I have relied so heavily on the Countess and her family to make our trip easier and more comfortable, chaos theory would dictate that it would also bring us a equal amount of pain and discomfort. In other words, that´s Karma biting me in the ass.

Germany is fucking fantastic. I am really loving it here. This town is so gorgeous with it´s milky white rivers, steep rocky gorges, and gigantic mountain peaks. I almost feel as if I´m betraying my Italian heritage, enjoying it so much. Maybe it´s just the delicious huge beers, or the fantastic food with heaping helpings of meat and potatoes, or maybe it is that the cars actual stop for pedestrians, or that they actually wear traditional bavarian garb (just for the tourists? who cares they look so silly and cute in LederhÖsen), or that everything is clean, or that the hills are covered with wild flowers, or that everyone speaks impeccable english, or that the hills and trails and mountain pathes are covered with beer hauses every 30 minutes, or that the tempature hasn´t dropped below 80 yet, or that they take more holidays then anyone on earth (enough with the bells already!) or that the lakes and swimming pools are pristine and picturesque. I love it, I almost feel guilty. How will I continue making fun of the Germans as I have all these years? Easy. Their language.

Seriously, the silliest sounds known to man come out of these people, you haven´t lived until you´ve seen a Sylvester Stallone movie dubbed in German.

Joanna and I have a new favorite past time. When we pass a couple of Germans on a trail and they are going on with their "SlÜssen FlaÜssen Flaäuuenn Gruben Doctor Wigger Strauß. Fläbben glockön traben."

We then counter with the funniest sounds we can think of, Northwest city names and tribes.

"Snohomish, Sequim hoquim mukilteo," says Joanna.

"Sealth Sealth, Quinnalt makah tacoma," I reply, the super affluent Germans are flustered that can´t make out or language.

"Puyallup jim jam skykomish!" Joanna can´t resist the old jim jam.

I throw the Germans a quick and friendly, "GÜs got" which means "God greets you," and then agrily lauch back into Salish with Joanna.

"Kwaka ´waka ´waka kwawa" which is an actual BC tribe, "Haida Hoh."

"Chehalis tulalip mukilshoot."

"Tukwila my ass!" and with that we watch the perplexed Germans head over the meadow to another beerhaüs.

Gotta go now, the old internet cafe is shuttin down, plenty of awesome pics await you next week o´ ye devoted dozen. Gonna try and catch a couple of World Cup games next week.

Peace be with you.

I am 30!

We had a party at Angelo-s amazing apartment, in the toast above, you will notice that it looks like I am the only one having fun! Which at that moment was probably true, but I assure that 30 drinks later, things got ca-razy. Or so I have been told, since I can not remember much. Franco, although he is not pictured here, was the star of the party, since almost everyone there were his friends. Cool people too, I am really impressed that Franco does not hang out with any of the mullet touting, ripped shirt losers that you see all over Italy. About 15 people showed up and we really did have a great time, and I scored 5 bottles of Italian red wine to take to Germany with me.

Franco encouraged me to drink, a lot! So much so that I couldn-t even handle a game of Foosball. Too drunk to play Foos? It is true. I tried playing ping pong and I couldn-t even hit the ball. It was like I was on a boat in space, and it wasn-t even a space boat. Somehow I made it up the stairs and passed out. I never puked, but Joanna said hi to Ralphy the Clown for me, he said happy birthday bllggghhhhlluuugghhh! cough cough, bluggghhh, cough, flush! Blugghhhh!

I have to run, below are some teasers of the new disc of photos we just got. 1. Joanna at Pollara, 2. explosion at Stromboli, 3. Grand Canal Venice

I-m afraid I have a ton to do today before I head to Germany tomorrow, so there is little time for blogging. This is just a taste of the photos I just got back, and trust me they are beautiful. When I find a good internet cafe in Garmisch, I will blow your mind with dozens of amazing photos. Hey, I know at least a dozen people read this thing, get in on the comments section, its your chance to make fun of me and trust me, I deserve it! It will not give you spam so do it, Dobosh! Plus you can make fun of Erika the Kougar and Jeff the magic Schell if you like too.

Barcelona

Spain was fantastic, but it is good to be back in Italy where I know at least 200 words, I know about 15 in Spanish, it was ugly. What wasn-t ugly was Casa Bastllo *pictured( above. Damn these keys#@%&%^*($EWS"A:>?>S"?>"{}:"_+236

The food in Spain was great, I had a bunch of Paella negro. That-s right, we are talking squid ink negro. Squid juice color my rice black, negro, the way spy hunter smokes out the gangsters.
This is scattershot I know, I have only a minute left.

Italy rules, spain is not as good. Apperitivo is better than Tapas, and risotto is better than Paella, even if Risotto does not afford me the chance to use the term negro extraneously.

What else to say .. Oh the pressure. Germany will win the world cup, Brazil will come second, they have too many one name stars . . RONALDO, Ronaldhino, Rubinho, Kaka, Adriano, Negro, Ichirono, Aquaviva, Vidalsassoono . . .

OK they are closing. Hey Italy and Europe, I know you love American inventions, you-ve really taken to the car, and you can not get enough of the cell phone, but how about trying the shower curtain and the dryer!

SPAIN!

Joanna and I flew into Sevilla, Seville, Seviglia, whatever and when we got to the airport, the bus never came. Fifty people on the curb for an hour for a bus that never arrived. There was talk of a strike, so we caught a cab. When we tried to get downtown to the bus station, we couldn't make it because the road was blocked off. Just then we heard explosions in the distance. Then some people running with banners reading "COCO" and some distant chanting. Protest! Riots surely to follow, we decided buses weren't going to make it out of the protest gridlock, so we got on a train for Grenada. I'm with you protesters, I hope you get that Coco, but I got shit to do. Sorry Sevilla, maybe next time.

Grenada is a cool little city with a Morrocan Arabic flavor to it. It's like visiting the middle east, without actually having to go there. We visited the Alhambra, a 13th century Moorish palace that the conquering Christians had the foresight not to destroy, just expand. After the heavy deluge of Jesus inspired architcture, it was nice to look at something so different.

However, our exploration into Islamic design has come a disasterous price. The good Lord, blessed be his name, has struck Joanna with a terrible blight. In punishment for so thoroughly enjoying Muslim patterns and designs, the Lord has given Joanna the dreaded MOSQUITO STIGMATA!

It began with a bite on the hand, and then another on the palm of her other hand. Then mysteriously at night, two mosquito bites on the tops of her feet appeared. Just like the wounds of Jesus Christ, only itchier.

She is only one wound away from full Stigmata. The Vatican is monitoring the situation carefully, the Pope has been notified, and all of Chistendom is praying for her salvation. I have spoke to the Pope and offered my services.

"I sir, will give her the fifth wound," I declared.

The Pope responded with a puzzled silence.

Switching subjects entirely: Grenada is hella cool, but the place is packed with white people with dreadlocks. I can't stand that, it's like Burning Man TM out here.

Why do they do it, they look so bad on white people?¿?¿?¿ (LOok out spaÑish keys?Ç¿?) Honestly, they are more annoying then a bus full of old Germans tourists, mainly because old Germans don't hang out getting high on the corner, letting their manegy dogs crap in the middle of the sidewalk.

These people (I've had a few friends, my apologies to Kari, Tabasco, Firebone, etc.) say they're doing it to make a statement, to stand out and be proud of being an anti-social outcast, when really they just want to hang out with other people like themselves. Having dreadlocks is like a beacon to these new age hippies, (Soilies, I have heard them called but I like to call them soap-dodgers) think about it, it's much easier than taking out a personal ad.

Single White male, seeks single white female for companionship and drug use. I am into bad hygiene, awkward piercings, and fire. You- should wear baggy dirty clothes, enjoy smelling like sweat and incense, feel animosity towards capitalism, and have a vague sense of eastern mysticism. Please contact me if you would like to walk around with my dog and hang out on the corner with my other friends. P.S. I have tattos on my face.

OK that's all the blogging I can handle tonight. Next time TAPAS TOUR 2006 (tapas not included)

I got a bunch of stuff to do before I turn 30!

I should have listened to my friend Erika, she said *Go to Lake Como, it is frickin beautiful* and yesterday I finally did. It was the apotheosis of lakes, this photo barely does it justice, since you can-t see the snow topped mountains and beautiful villas that actually enhance the scenery. We hiked up and around that giant rock and I got to see my first waterfall of Europe! Hooray!

Damn I am gonna be 30 on June 5 in 2 weeks. I gotta get to Spain, like tomorrow.

I am flying to Seville, travelling to Grenada, exploring from the mountains and beaches. Then we head to Barcelona, and fly back to Milan, all before I turn 30! If you have good Spain advice, leave it the comments. Then we will have a little party on the 5th, since I nearly have 6 or so friends in Milan now, and the next day we will go to Venice!

If anyone actually calls me on my birthday, I will get you an amazing present in Italy, anything you like. It is 9 hours ahead. We will be up late. 0039 347 2401259.

Franco asked me if I want to go into business with him. I could set up a market for Fantini-Cosmi (That is the Thermostat company that they run) find them some clients, research the area, hey no problemo, right. I love the idea, and I love the life style even more, but I don-t know anything about business.

Actually as far as the soul?searching ^who loves the crazy puncuation% I am thinking about . . . Returning to theatre!!! Boring.

Quiet, clean, and orderly Rome

What!? Huh? Get the fuck out! You're joking. Sto Scherzando. Nilla please. Rome quiet? I've never heard anyone describe Rome as clean? And orderly, I thought Rome had the worst traffic in the world? WTF?!

It's true people. After travelling first to Naples, and then to Palermo, Rome seems tame. The scooters and motorbikes and cars in Naples were non stop, you could hardly cross the street, or walk down one without getting run down. Palermo had trash all over the place. When the wind blew in Palermo you had to sheild your eyes or else be blinding by flying debris. Naples and Palermo had honking scooter assholes driving down the middle of busy markets packed with slimy people. (Did I mention that my family came from Sicily and Palermo, says a lot) The streets were wet with fish juice.

Then I took an overnight train to Rome. Ah Roma . . . Even though there is no bridge from Sicily to the mainland, there is a train, and there is no tunnel. You take a TRAIN-BOAT. I had hoped to tell people more about this amazing TRAIN-BOAT on this blog, but in truth it still remains a mystery. Their are no pictures of this alledged train boat on Google, and I couldn't see a damn thing in the dark from my sleeper car. This is truelly amazing because once you've taken any kind of boat or ferry in Europe, you will see that they are kinda haphazard about docking. They just pull up to a port, back it up a bit and let down the hatch. Their are no rigorous docking procedures, or carefully placed barriers to ease you into the perfect position for docking. In Europe, its more like a van pulling up to the curb to drop of a stack of papers. So, how the hell do they line up a boat with the tracks of a train?! I had hoped to know. It is like a puzzle wrapped in a enigma tortilla, deep fried in olive oil, stuffed with ricotta, and baked in a duct-taped sealed pan. And how do they have a ferry long enough to hold a 12 compartment long train? I heard the clanging, banging, and grind of great macinations at work; I felt the sea as our train swayed back and forth. Still, I didn't see a thing, and I don't know how they did it. It's like a puzzle, stuffed in a tortellini, swimming in tomato enigma . . . Their is only one reasonable explanation: The Germans built it.

Rome was fantastic. I spent four days their, and I would need at least 4 more monthes to see everything. I saw the Sistine Chapel, the Vatican, The Forum, the Colesseum, dozens of huge obelisks, scores of beautiful piazzas, some the greatest fountains ever constructed, 3,600 different depictions of Jesus Christ, but my favorite was Raphael's School of Athens. I didn't know I was going to encounter it in the Vatican Museum and I had always thought it was a painting. The School of Athens is a two story Fresco that is tremendous to behold. I had studied that painting in school and I love how Raphael used his famous Renaissance artist friends to pose as the great philosophers of ancient Greece.

(Movie announcer voice) This summer, from the people who brought you CHRIST!, the Vatican presents SCHOOL OF ATHENS! Starring, Leonardo Da Vinci as Socrates, Donatello (?) as Plato, Raphael as Aristotle, and Michalangelo as some brooding gay guy on the steps.

I am not trying to get myself killed!

I'm simply drawn to danger.

What is it about Palermo that makes me want to smash someone's face in? My rage is building and I need to find an appropriate outlet before I take out some rude honking scooter punk with my umbrella and end up in jail. Oh Palermo, I'll get to you yet!

The past week and a half since Napoli I have been trying to get myself killed. Joanna and I set sail for the Aolian Islands after wandering the streets of Naples with a full back pack and a map out in the middle of the night, walking down dark alleys, just like the books said not to do. I got to see the great Vesuvius, and I wondered why no one learned their lesson from Pompeii, when that sucker goes off again, Naples will be fucked!

The Aolian Islands is a chain of freakishly beautiful volcanos that lie just north of mailand Sicily. Joanna and i spent the first week camping on the isle of Salina. They used to make salt, now they make sweet wine that is just a bit too strong. Even though this is a typically very quiet little place (except July and august) we were there during the "Festiva della Birra" (Festival of Beer!) In Naples I had purchased a bottle of Absinthe (it had a gorgeous art nuevou label) because I wanted to try it since it is illegal back home. Damn! It tastes like a strong spicy Jaggermiester, and hits you pretty quick. Joanna and I had a few sips and we started trippin immediately, everything around us took on an eerie and particularly facinating presence. Maybe we were just psyching ourselves out or it was a particularily creepy night, but we headed back to the festival with more than Birra. To our delight it was KARAOKE night! Joanna immediately took to the mike and wowwed the crowd, they actually applauded her between verses. The girl can sing yo! She has mastered the Flashdance theme on Swidler's playstation game. I unfortuately went back to the Absinthe and hit it hard. Memory fails me at this point, but we were not lynched by the hundreds mobbed in the tiny square. Somehow I convinced Joanna that together we should sing the theme to FAME. Needless to say Fame was Lame. My absinsthe induced opening sank the ship before Joanna could take the helm, and at that point the crowd had turned, and the good will that she had accumilated in her first song was gone. I don't even remember how it ended, we just needed to get out of there quickly.

Salina was a particularly lush island with two volcanos and some great cliffy coastline (its featured in Il Postino, but I can hardly remember that film. We spent one afternoon on a beach below a spectacularly steep cliff with a little island in front of it. Another acient crater that reminded me of the pics I've seen of the hawaiian coast. It was rocky, but hey what do you expect, then we realized that the rocks we actually falling on us. Just little pebbles at first, no big deal. Then one hit my shoulder. Then my leg. Then a large boulder crashed a couple meters behing us. We'll be OK, what are the odds. "Ouhh" Joanna cried as a medium size boulder bounced off her boob. WHY ARE WE THE ONLY ONES ON THIS BEACH? We quickly scurried away, I don't remember any landslides in il Postino.

Before leaving Salina, we climbed the taller of the two to get some great views of the whole Goomba archipaeglio. We could see Stromboli smoldering off the distance, beckoning us (you love magma!) I suggested we head down the other side of the mountain so I could go to a cash machine. We kept trying to take shortcuts that nearly ended our lives on numerous occasions. Cliffs look scalable from a distance, but the footing was pebbly, my mom would have freaked, we nearly ended up in a ravine.

Then to Stromboli! We took a guided hike to the top. Easily the toughest hike I've ever done, the wind nearly blew us off the top of the mountain, we had to rent boots and helmets and flashlights for the dark walk home. Our tour guide had awesome english. "Witha no-a Sciarra" (Sciarra is the place where the lave flows down to the water) "Da persone of dee-a village-a woulda be-a die"

We actually climbed above the crater where the explosions were taking place. I thought we would have to watch it from a great distance, but no, lets get in for a closer look on the side of this windswept little ledge. At this point, if I were to die, i wouldn't want people to feel sorry for me, just shake your head and say. What a moron. I asked for it, like people who like in Florida each year with their hurricanes, or the people of coastal Bangladesh with their monsoon flooding, or the people of Pompeii, they should know better.

The lava really was amazing. So many explosions, and magma shooting high into the air, its red spew smoldering on the black mountainside. It was without a doubt- the coolest thing I've ever seen. Joanna and I hiked halfway up the Sciarra the next night to watch the evening pyrotecnics and it was even better. The clouds lit red with lava bursts. it looked like Mordor for you dorks out there, I'm not kiddin.

Then we sailed to Vulcano. It stank! Sulfur mud pools are the big attraction here. I went in it and it was nasty, my clothes still reek. Then Joanna and I climbed up to the big crater. it was one smelly bitch. Toxic sulpheric fumes pluming right out of our pathway, my throat still feels weird, but it was something to behold. If you enjoy beholding yellowcaked green stanky sulpher spewing craters.

Finally we sailed and trained to Palermo, with a quick stop in the picturesque Cefalu. Oh Palermo! Damn you for bringing me here. My name sake SIANO is from
Palermo, and let me tell you one thing, I know why my great grandfather got the hell out of Palermo. This city makes Naples look romantic. I should have gone to the eastern Ionian coast of sicily with Syracuse and Taormina and Mt Etna and amazing ancient Greek amphitheathers on cliffs above the Mediterrean.

But no, I need to know where my family came from. WHATEVER! This place is a hellhole with some nice Cathedrals and good night life. Last night I watched the cops chase some guys in suits, run right in front of me. Tires screeching, people yellin, it was cool, but damn, Mafioso stereotypes may never die here.

Anyways that's it for now, I gotta go pay too much for dinner and get nearly run down by a dozen scooters. Oh and the hostel here charges 30 Euro a night for a dorm bed, what the fuck! I pee on your "youth hostel" with great force and I hope the powers of erosion find you quickly, I'm going to stay at the dirty loud Hotel regina, cause I like springs in my back! Oh Sianos, rejoice that Palermo is no longer your home.

Stomboli- sweet Magma honey

Drunken Bloggin

Hhheeeeyyyyyyyyyyyyy!

What is sup! Damn!

I am in an internet cafe in napoli, or Naples for you fans of large areolas!

What did that mean?

Don't ask me, I'm plastered.

I am unsure what they put in the pizzas in Napoli, but it is delicious. My theory is that they coat the bottom of the oven with crack cocain. I want more! Crack infused pizza dates back to the ancients who lived in Pompeii, who were punished by god for having so much premaritial sex and living next to a huge delicious volcano.


Speaking of Volcanoes, I'm going to Stromboli tomorrow. Stromboli is the most active volcano in the World with lil eruptions every 10 minutes, but will they give me a tour to the crater? It is not tourist season yet. but damn it, i will see some magma before I leave if it cost me a limb.

I donàt need my left foot anyway.

Blam! I love writing that. Blam. Blamooo Blam!

Naples is actually dirtier than New York, bet you didn't know that. I hope I don't git mugged on my way home.

Tomorrow the islands. Peace.

I've been a bit distracted lately

Bologne- Piazza Maggiore, site of the best fountain EVER!

Finally- MARZO

It's hard to keep drawing, when there's so much cool stuff to do. We had to take a photo since a scanner wasn't available.

Let's get Awesome!

Hello to the boys in the band "Awesome", kick ass at On The Boards with your new show. Joanna says hi, we listen to your album all the time in Italy.

Bologne- death by pork

Sure the sights are amazing, but the best part about Italy is the food.

My towel smells like olives.

I'll write more when Iàm not spending hours downloading photos.

Lucca- View from the tower

Sunshine (techno beat) On my shoulders, makes me happy!

Florence-Arno River

Real World XIV Florence Pose

Portofino- Turisimo Amore

Torino at night

Lucca- On the City Walls