After months of waiting and amalgam Friday, 17 hours The immigration agent informs us that our tourist visa can not 'be converted into work and saw that we must leave the country for a while', and indeed, now that the deadline could see our visa had expired and were illegally in Australia and not return for three years. Che però si informava meglio. Tragicomico. Anni di infinitamente soffici sogni, mesi di intenso lavoro e integrazione per seguire quel che l'anima ti dice essere per te il giusto e poi così, per un cavillo burocratico se ne va affanculo tutto. Di venerdì, che significa lunedì. “Ecco cosa prova un negro” è stato il mio primo pensiero. Ma si, sti cazzi, andiamo giù in città questo week end, e quel che sarà sarà. Arrivederci e grazie.
Susy ci aspettava con le birre in mano e un concerto in divenire in quel di Perth. Un concerto di Music on the Swan River. For free. "Come on come on, I have a friend who comes to us." Bus-Train-Foot. At two stops, I say no two buses whizzing in front of us ignore our signs. Foot-Bus-Train-Foot. Reached the next stop walking, we perched on the roadside, ready to throw in the wheels for the cause of the collective. And this time, already late, so we do not let it slip. Had it not been for the unexpected. A yellow shirt flapping accompanies Matrioska before my eyes which looked like a body to say the least familiar. I get up, look at Erika, outreach, he breaks out, about Erika ... " MMMao, you Mao! " jump off the bus after two stops, with the agreement Ribecco wheel of the station. Let's go back and see him run Tugging like an orangutan than 96 years with a heart attack in progress. Hugs undertaken. Time the next bus and we salute you. See you later! the station in Freo, like Warriors The Warriors, the Eurasian met. Me and Dubay, cigarette in mouth and foot on the railing to make mention of Germany (2) which together with Susy, our colleague from the Black Forest, (but he lives in town) strides briskly toward us. Together with them a native no, indocinese, o qualcosa del genere. Lo sapete che nelle saghe serve sempre il diverso sennò non funziona. Scambi di abbracci e via, si va alla city a notteggiare. Sul treno si familiarizza e ci si carica per il concerto. Saltiamo giù e tipo squadrone della notte si mangia l'asfalto fino al primo take-away. Whopper, patatina, coca, rutto cavernoso sturatutto. Un must, per noi guerrieri metropolitani Riprendiamo l'attraversata, sbranando il cibo a passo spedito, giù fino all'esplanade. Giriamo l'angolo e una folla di famiglie placidamente appollaiate tipicamente australiane (che significa con frigo, birre e tavolini al seguito) ci accoglie e ci rispedisce all'ultima fila. Too late. But not for the concert, which begins ... uh ... I do not remember, then move on a. .. ahem ... and who knows ... even up to Va Pensiero, who are proud (and a little forced) hand to his chest in tune, the thought of being with one foot in the past and a future, which could be passed because of that visa, and then let us sing to the future, which questioned whether the new Italy, but also a bit ' the past is fine if you do not know already Australia or Italy. A concert of classical music. On the lawn of the Esplanade, all on the ground, running kids and parents to tease and sbevuzzare, night lights and shadows of the city. And behind us, the slow pace of the Swan River, sailor and ask for more? Un visto! Dopo il concerto la pattuglia si è divisa. Alcuni a casa, noi, irriducibili guerrieri delle lavande, siamo pronti a imbracciare numerosi boccali di birra. Noi, cioè E&A Susy e Michael. E Mao! Northbridge, il quartiere dei locali. Spalanchiamo le porte del saloon e conquistiamo il bancone. A noi la prima pinta. Che poi è stata pure l'ultima. Che I farmes alle 11.30pm sono già alla terza fase rem. Un sonno bestia tipo palpebre in ribellione che srotolandosi si accasciano fino a terra. Giusto il tempo di assistere alla prima scazzottata coi controfiocchi Far-East style con tanto intervento della polizia e leviamo le tende. Warriors retreat. A couple of Oretta and we will be at home. But today goes well. That is wrong. Train 40 minutes of waiting. Yay. Freo. Taxi. two and half hours of waiting. All queued eh. For heaven's sake, all kind, just a couple of scoundrels, but that I remember were the 2.43am when I nervously torn a kebab indecent. And there were still eight people before us. Ah! the cramp of the door! As such, the one that takes you back when you're in the queue at the counter of the post, you do not spring until you sit down. And who remembered him more '! was just before dawn when, shrunken and ruttanti (cursed take-away) we finally managed to conquer the bed. Surrounded by the naked silence noisy. Wow, how long is the life of the city!
- The Day After -
I do not know if it was two hours from our sleep when the phone rang. Rings to a four-five laps if they are facts. Until the Lake, hair and underwear semizampa, dragging behind her headaches and a dip feline manages to grab the phone and put an end to that tragic attack. By pressing the wrong button. "Hello?" Roger! How are you! "" Er, yes, Actually, the situation is ... I'll pass you Erika, I can not explain - and cowardly to leave the task Dubix, which sgrattuggia scalp nervously explains with clarity and disarming the situation in which Roger, startled, tries to make suggestions. What he leaves tomorrow Overseas.
That is Monday. The day of truth.
Concert at sunset ...
... and night
Mao one two three!
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