Places, Uncategorized

The OFFington Post

Dear readers, 

I am glad to announce you that the work on the OFFington Post is successfully in progress. Please subscribe there just by email to receive the news! 

If you are interested in a specific cathegory you can just write the name of it down on the otherwise facultative comment. 

Follow on http://www.offingtonpost.com

Thank you,

Dott.ssa Alessandra Cantini 😉 

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Lifestyle, Places

Hangover in El Prat

(This post was due yesterday but inexplicably it wasn’t published)

A souvenir that I leave behind me each time I go through Barcelona is feeling hangover wandering around its airport. Behind me, memories of a remarkably funny night. Today I am coming back from England after having participated the 17th of March to one of the most proper British custom, the horse race in Cheltenham-Gold Cup! English people are totally nut for horse races, they take it very seriously, it’s an upper class obligation to attend and get the most expensive tickets as possible; it’s a true status. Indeed there are also common people getting 60£ tickets and eating fish&chips… but even then, 60£ for entering a horse race seems a lot to Italians like me, attending (before it closed) in Livorno some basic horse races with a 10€ tickets and betting hard instead. Then in England there is, as all should know reading gossip and watching films such 4 weddings and a funeral, the dress code is particularly strict, whichever tickets you get. In Cheltenham tweed and trousers can be okay, but in Ascot God forbid wearing dresses shorter than 4 inches up the knee-and no black! The Queen shall inspire all with her pastel dresses, so when I saw something of the kind I bought it immediately after having submitted my choice to my mum in law. They are bringing me in the Royal enclosure, 4 inches to the Queen literally, so I shall be more perfect than usual… In Cheltenham I was dressing a leopard dress which despite being aggressive as it should, is particularly chaste with its details. Hat and high-eels completed the outfit. So we had lunch in the 3 michelin star restaurant go Albert Roux overlooking the race field.


The day before my birthday was more filled with celebrations then the day of my birthday i.e. yesterday March 18th. After trying to organise something in Monaco, London and Amsterdam, we took it easy with custom fight and making up in Mellor Knowl- Charles’s reign. But when you forget to book the flight back in the turmoil of disorganisation-Charles is probably right attributing this to me I ought to say-Barcelona is the obvious place to stop 3 hours before getting to the right airport. I remember getting to El Prat at 5am after having partied all night with my friend Camilla, who graduated in podology at the Universitat de Barcelona. I was mad at her or week not bringing me to party because she was too stressed to have a nice discussion of her dissertation-opposite to me, that need to party in order to forget it. She took me to study (!) and sunbathe in spartan towels in the beach of Badalona-Spanish are so socialist that there is no private beach there, so imagine my joy…plus she kept far from someone I knew with whom I could have had some fun, mischievous Camilla who thinks I am that naughty. No more than Camilla’s mother, a fantastic woman to whom I have a lot in common, starting from Louis Vuitton to crazy romanticism and a flair for art-the visit of Gaudi’s Battlo house together was unforgivable. Ultimately after graduation we had some hangover night, one in a Hawaiian bar where I got so wasted I picked up a huge sombrero from the bin holding a rose in my mouth and slept covered by it on the sofa the night before the hyper serious ceremony. The same day we went on celebrating in a crowded with hipsters and teenagers club (I would rather have gone to the way-classier Carpe diem but ultimately I had no panic attacks) and I went straight to the airport afterwords.

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Battlo House

Studying and playing with condoms from the distributors in the university

Teaching Camilla the holy rule on how to behead a bottle

A girls night out

The next day

Graduation ceremony

So 1 hour after the last photo was taken I roamed around there 2 hours before the flight and landed in Nice with a killer mentality. My driver (name has been changed) got it wrong wanting to bring me for breakfast. Nevertheless, in the afternoon I was partying again in Nikki beach at the “Peace and love” party. And I got some peace and love even when Italy lost to Germany in the world cup, as Ronaldo scored and Portugal won; seeing Germany losing in the final was even more priceless! Parallels is that I am going to celebrate more tomorrow  and be fresh and I expect my week will be made by the online deposit of my thesis! Today we are going to have a nice time in El Prat, smoking cigarettes in the open smoking area and remembering the beauty of the most fantasious city in a most odd trip, this time with a King all along. I post photos of that day at the airport (that sombrero became my travel buddy!) and in Nikki beach immediately after with photos of me yesterday, so you can see my unscathed youth and resistance to champagne turning one year older! The difference between then and now is that whilst before I would have roamed between shops and get crazy to find the smoking area-which in this amazing airport is an open air space with Haagen Datz and a gazebo-,now I sit calm at the lounge drinking martini in this 3 hours wait. But I am still wearing no make up, I come back from partying and I will be partying even more, and after posting this reflection of my status I will go shopping-careless if I look like a ghost and conscious of my weight loss.

Turning 1/4 century

In Manchester airport I brought turmoil to the luxury lounge while collecting food and explaining how sorry and confused I am after the lovely party for my birthday I was told that “celebrating 21 is always massive.” This is the age most people give me, and I want to stick to it-hungry and foolish. So are my business plans of making of Charles a pop star and myself acting in the videos as his muse. Oldish Alessandra’s wife plan is to support him enjoying myself and being happy and not difficult indeed… I will fit this role,I like being Brit way more than being french!

 

 

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Lifestyle, Places

Road trip to Kitzbühel

This year I had the most perfect ski holiday in Kitzbühel with my English family, which I have no words to thank enough. We are all in one piece (unlike my daddy who broke his femur at the beginning of the year skiing) and the ski holiday came back to be my favourite from a long time. From the beginning it was a great adventure, so I must write  step by step to share all those dots that made the greatest of holiday and could be your tips:

  • Charles and I were in Livorno, so we had to hire a car.
  •  We left on Friday 17th and stopped in an amazing resort over lake Garda. It was quite hard to join as it was high over a hill after Salò and I understood why Mussolini chose to build his last republic in 1943 there. Those places are so charming. The Lefay resort is a luxurious bulwark in the middle of nowhere with the most charming spa: several swimming pool, but I especially liked the outdoor heated one, with all the colours changing and jets of water over the lake; then the salted lake with the big moon (a kind of Dead Sea); the gym overviewing the lake; the charming oriental style hammam and the sauna with the iced lake… A perfect place to refill the energies and have a huge breakfast in dressing gowns.IMG_6182.jpg
  • The road to Kitzbühel the next day was very pleasant. 3 hours run fast under the sun bordering a beautiful lake such as the Garda. I was impressed entering into Kitzbühel to drive past the building in which Spectre was turned: remember when 007 (Daniel Craig) has to find the blonde Bond girl to be who knows about Sceptre (Léa Seydoux)? Then Kitzbühel, which I liked at first sight with its coloured buildings containing the kind of shops that I like, QUALITY ONES (we had Louis Vuitton, my favourite, right in front of the hotel ;)). The hotel Zur Tenne is the kind of place you can miss all the year, with its woods, spacious rooms, pleasant charming spa, interesting guests, kindness of people working there and especially a bar where you can smoke into and a Russian bartender which of course was of help in practicing my Russian as I spent the week tracking Russians and asking them about Dugin, Putin, what they think about Trump etc. I decided that instead of even trying being a diplomat and be obliged to go living in Rome (chaotic hell!), I will definitely do the exam to be a journalist. And anyway, I am already to an extent and intend to surmount the profession with a huge boost to this blog once I am done with the dissertation (end of April nearingggg). Such a great time in all senses. Skiing was lovely, we found great weather and surviving the terrible moguls in the soft snow showed that I could ski everywhere. But if ski is a pleasure, going with my english ma shopping and having the nails done was of course even better – the cherry on the cake! Skiing must be balanced with a great town where to walk and find interesting spots. Spa is not enough. Life on the mountains is the most boring if there is no decent shopping to do but just restaurants to be hangover out of pure boredom. That’s why Kitz is so great – there is everything, and I could sincerely live there for periods. We missed the casino as there is more than enough to see and buy!
  • Heartbroken to leave that paradise, Charles and I left on Saturday 25th and stopped this time in Verona, where we had a romantic walk around the arena and Juliet’s balcony before going to eat Asian food (we missed it after all) and getting lost in the daedalus of streets on the way back to the hotel.
  • On the 26th we were back in time for lunch to celebrate fish daddy’s birthday.

So we are back to the “routine” of me finishing the thesis and being somehow stressed (actually, I went nut in Kitz on Tuesday when skiing I was obsessed on finishing the last chapter and in fact did it the same day). Charles was the usual angel in accompanying me to the university yesterday… Meanwhile, Cheshire is under the snow and I miss my English parents. I send them lots of thought and love, I am the luckiest girl on planet to have such an in law family!

And of course to all readers!!!

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Lifestyle, Places, Politics

First class ending

London is calling and I am joining the City with my perfect gentleman on the same trip that J.K. Rowling did when she had the inspiration for Harry Potter. This year was very unique, and like 2015 it is ending in a way I could have never expected. 2015 was memorable because of the political campaign, but it had many downsizes and low moments. I started a life in Monte Carlo that was perfect only the first months but not even, a warmy apple was under my roof, someone who I tried to help that cheated on me repeatedly ruining my relationship and eventually stealing me a Louis Vuitton bag. Whatever. I got a new one and was covered with luxurious ubjects up until now, so fuck yourself you useless poor thing. 2016 started in New York in a nice way and is ending in London in a nicer way, at a proper party in black tie and long dresses. The magic of this year was my salvation, my growth in choosing the right partner. I broke a huge barrier I had. Love doesn’t really have age barrier, a younger man can be more mature than the woman; and viceversa. So if it is about choosing a partner for life, think about the beauty of growing up together instead of dealing with the past of the other and eventually dreadful children. Building empires and making your own legacy instead of getting a legacy is priceless. I made mistakes that wouldn’t have brought me anywhere, so I must end this fabulous year thanking the Lord for giving me the opportunity to give a true sense to my life shifting my destiny toward the best. Thank you for having sent me such an angel as Charles, and let me recognise and remember of him at the right moment, before I could eventually make the mistake of stepping back. I have had subsequently such inspirations as the LSE and boosting this blog with his help as he is a successful businessman in softwares. But he is also an artist, and so I am, and in 2017 we shall surprise the world with a few creations. A relationship shall bring the best out of you, give a sense, build. 2016 opened my eyes to what I truly deserved. I shall thank who made me sad choosing unnaturally a selfish daughter, not caring and noticing about the fact that I was having a life meanwhile thanks to what I was provided. I met my happiness because I was as careless at the end. Sorry if in the path I broke your heart. It was not my intention. It was God’s plan. It was Karma. Apart from my personal life, which I shall protect, karma in politics kicked out Clinton, Sarkozy and Renzi; while I’d spare the latter, the first two and Obama I hope in 2017 will have what they deserve even more violently. That idiot of Obama lifted useless sanctions against Russia yesterday I shall say no more, as they comment itself. The worst president in the history of the USA is about to go, finally, and even there he can’t help but deluding. If only he could be flushed in the toilet like what his skin colour looks like. I am sorry if I have been racist but he is the first coloured president and instead of being thankful and cheer the Nobel prize of peace I think we should all examine his catastrophic presidency and blame it of having been the least peaceful. ISIS was created with the disruption of the Middle East, Israel is not an ally anymore, and we were on the edge of war with Russia – if in 2002 Putin announced a “cool war”, here the “cold war” was at its peak. It shall be no more like this in 20 days. Even if this was George Michael’s Last Christmas and the end of love for Leonard Cohen, we have good elements to cheer the New Year.

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My sweetheart. If we were all lucky like me there would me no ugliness and anger in the world. But I guess I am lucky because I am brave enough to embrace my destiny and dance with it. It is not difficult to be lucky, it’s about to choose happiness. Never to be a nurse or a martire. Do what fulfill you, and everything around you will flourish. If you can’t be loved as you wish, be feared. I wish everybody a happy new year, filled with fun, courage, determination, self-esteem.

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Places, Politics

I could easily have been there…

But I was not. 

It’s shocking to see a place where you have a lot of happy memories – on skates with my parents as a child, on romantic and chilly Sunday promenades etc. – shaken by a horror like this. It’s shocking to know that I could easily have been there with a group of friend, and for sure faces I crossed on the streets are not on this Earth anymore. That even if all of my friends are safe, some of them lived the attack, another one jumped on the beach with dead kids behind and some other lost their friends. I’m tired to write posts on terrorism and on the beauty and bliss of feeling safe in Israel. But I can’t retain myself. 

I’m angry. Angry of Europeans not understanding and talking of tolerance, of France with its miserable controls. I’m sorry to say I was right fearing Nice (yes, I wouldn’t have been there as yesterday I had a feeling something would happen in France on July 14th), right of being always  so paranoid  to almost never get out of Monaco area (with this I mean Rocquebrune to Villefranche, 2km2 are an exaggerately small golden cage). 

How couldn’t the police think that something would have happened on their national day? How that truck driven by a French Tunisian could enter the Promenade des Anglais? How long are we waiting to enter the Israeli method? There’s no space for tolerance, there’s no space for stupid flags on Facebook’s profile picture. 

France is not my dreamy romantic land anymore, some bastard who shouldn’t be permitted to be called French destroyed it… Even if the French sky is red of innocent blood, I must keep away with this souvenir:

  
A blue sky,warm weather, a happy family on skates running for kilometers and finally enjoying a Crepe suzette at the end, or a hot chocolate in the luxurious hall of the hotel Negresco. 

❤️💔

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Culture, Places, Politics

Indipendenza e forza: Israele

Buonasera a tutti, sono di ritorno da una bellissima settimana in Israele… Ho festeggiato la festa della memoria dei soldati e quella di indipendenza di questo fiero e difensivamente forte (non userei infatti più l’aggettivo aggressivo) Stato. 
Tengo ancora a esprimere la mia simpatia nei confronti di una terra in cui Stato e religione sono fusi in una iper democrazia; talmente vera che vi sono un numero impressionante di moschee e indicazioni in arabo, e perfino tanti piatti sono gli stessi (hummous, crema di melanzane, burrekas etc), anche se ovviamente ci sono cose che si mangiano solo in Israele – mentre il contrario non sempre è vero (a parte forse New York, dove ci sono più ebrei che a Tel Aviv). 

Essi sono uniti, generosi e festosi. Il servizio militare è obbligatorio per 3-4 anni sia per i maschi che per le femmine finito il liceo.

Bandiere di Israele sventolano ovunque, ci sono dei controlli efficaci ed è un posto sicuro. La popolazione è giovane (in media 35 anni). Nel territorio israeliano ci sono patrimoni e paesaggi in quantità indirettamente proporzionale alla sua grandezza… La sua capitale è la culla delle tre religioni monoteiste che governano il mondo – la loro è sicuramente quella più efficiente. 


È bello avere a che fare con un popolo che non si suicida ma preferisce farsi uccidere da un compagno piuttosto che finire schiavo dell’invasore – questo è l’esempio di Massada, portato ai giovani quando iniziano il servizio.

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Places

Morte in prospettiva

Risorgo da una morte, letteralmente!

#UmbertoEco è morto, e ne ho avuto il sospetto sia ascoltando troppe notizie dalla Francia oggi sulle sue opere in uscita, sia leggendo tante citazioni su Facebook. Quindi ho consultato l’ Huffington Post (cosa che di solito faccio quotidianamente) e ho avuto conferma del nero presentimento. Ma perché non ci sono mai presentimenti buoni quando abbiamo a che fare con i media? Stavo meglio senza sapere che Umberto è morto – anche se l’unico approccio con lui non fu proprio gradevole, dato che fui obbligata a leggere “come scrivere una tesi di laurea”. Ma anche dovendone giustamente essere al corrente, è ingiusto per un artista essere citato con frequenza solo al momento della propria morte. Se tutto è effimero, questo è oltretutto infausto.

Perché non dedichiamo notiziari su opere e musica, invece di parlare sempre di morte, morti e catastrofi naturali? 

Pensiamo a quanto è bello il mondo e non facciamo i sensibili sull’ennesimo personaggio che ci lascia perché al momento del suo ultimo respiro c’era chi lo condivideva davvero come lui, ma c’era anche chi lo provava per la prima volta. 

Spazio ai giovani e alla creatività, e impariamo ad amare tutti gli Echi passati, presenti e futuri!

Inventiamo un gioco, ogni giorno celebriamo un personaggio, per lettera alfabetica. A ad esempio come Adriano Celentano, Alessandro Magno, Alexandre Dumas, Abraham Lincoln, Alessandra Cantini…. E via dicendo 😉

  
È comunque sul tanto citato discorso sulla morte dell’autore che mi ispira questo post: credo che capire presto che questo mondo è composto perlopiù da coglioni, fa vivere e accettare meglio il presente. È stato anche statisticamente dimostrato da Pareto e posto in grafico da Cipolla (sul quale credo di aver già scritto un post in proposito ai miei esordi ma che ripeterò poi).  I più pericolosi di cui gli intelligenti sono coscienti sono i coglioni falliti che si credono intelligenti. Da persone così meglio starne alla larga e non litigarci – per non finire al loro livello ed essere battuti dall’esperienza.

Trovo questo discorso davvero sciocco. Dove sono tutti i carpe diem della storia? Umberto Eco era convinto della sua immortalità evidentemente… Perché l’articolo spinge a vivere da capre, da filosofi naives in un quieto vivere che quieto non è, perché se tutti credessero che le persone citate dall’autore stiano facendo qualcosa di buono non ci sarebbe neanche l’illusione di potere davvero tu individuo uscire dal magma e fare qualcosa di davvero buono. Nella prospettiva che il domani davvero non è certo, e questa è l’unica certezza che che un saggio può avere. Osando, vivendo e distinguendosi oggi facendosi sentire e rendendosi utile – o almeno pronto a morire coerente, unico e fedele con sè stesso fino all’ultimo respiro, che ohimé e per fortuna non sappiamo quale sarà ma avendo vissuto riesumerà tutta la meraviglia che è la vita. 

E Umberto Eco non doveva permettersi di criticare l’unicità del mio relatore, Marco Tarchi! Intellettuale coraggioso e unico, una rarità universitaria. Gli mando un caro saluto se leggerà. Grazie per l’ispirazione. 

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