If I'm not mistaken (or if you do not confuse me with "Police Story" which I think was something else) was the opening theme: zaza-Za-za-zaaan Tarara tarataratara zazazà zza zzààn ...
Ah, memories ...
What am I doing now on the streets of San Francisco did not exactly know either, the fact is that I am here to follow in the footsteps of ... dude ... diobòno that .... there will be someone who has gone a bit 'of footprints here in San Francisco, so that I can follow, no? Boh, in other words if you can think of, I'm going over those tracks.
If I go back, it means that those who go through now I'm leaving, so to be safe.
The journey begins with a chilling wake up at 4 am, waiting for a jolly fellow who, at the wheel of his taxi - and not the substance of his alarm clock which, alas, forgets his duty and not dozing also zuòna - leads us to Florence, from the name that suggests an airport scorreggina (as indeed it is, proof of the facts).
Training Travel terraced proven pair me-Ciccio, former star of other expenses, with the aim of showing the whole world the wonders of virtual museums that even skeptics can experience. And there is no way to say, nor joke: santommasi novel, thanks to a shrewd and wise use of our technologies, we can let you touch the statues before you could only see. On this occasion, to give proof of this possibility, we have to carry around a robotic device whose name is Phantom.
Now, this Phantom is a kind of plastic Pallozzi which shows a kind of rigid tentacle broken into 2-3 parts. Let's face it: not the most reassuring thing to see in a device in the hand luggage X-ray
As expected, therefore, an amiable cop says to me: is this your bag? I nodded and said to me: follow me there.
Ossignùr we ...
The policewoman asked me: but exactly, what's in here?
course, the question catches me off guard did not mean any technical or other authoritative definition is likely to be counterproductive ("robotic device", "haptic", "device of interaction, all things that make you pick up your passport) as a dare: is like a mouse, a little 'detail.
The policewoman, who looks a lot like a nice one of the hyenas, I look at all convinced and passed a strip, I suppose, in the detection of explosives on to my trinket (no second sense, talking about the above-named Phantom) and, on the safety rassicuratasi unit, let me pass. In all this, is already Ciccio di là del bancone che mi aspetta con fare fraterno.
Il volo prevede uno scalo a Parigi, nel quale si ripete l'ambaradàn.
Ma i francesi sono tecnici.
Il mio bagaglio passa nello scanner fra l'indifferenza generale (mi immagino il pensiero della poliziotta d'oltralpe, all'apparire dell'inconsueta sagoma sul suo monitor "Ah, oui, le phantòm, mais bien sure, a-pfff") mentre, per par condicio, Ciccio viene fermato da una tutoressa dell'ordine che gli intima di svuotare tutto il suo parco mutande a fini ispettori.
Ogni paese ha le sue tradizioni.
Tirerò veloce sulle 14 ore di volo, passate tra libri, cibo airfrancese, alcuni episodi dei simpsons e una lunga partita a "Chi vuol essere milionario" that the French version appears to be "Who wants to win a million" in collaboration with an Indian from India who regularly gave us the wrong answers.
In two hours of game cocks are not even pretending to be millionaires.
Eccheccòsa.
arrival in California we are surprised by the absence of noisy taxi, after waiting half an hour, proved all together in twelve causing scuffles in the crowd waiting. With great nonchalance take care of it and we do a run around our hotel in the heart of downtown San Francisco (down downtown), in Union Square. There
receptionists welcome us as brothers and we propose two connecting rooms (my receptionist says to me: if you're afraid, close the door - I did not know that San Francisco is the gay capital of the world) of which we take over with ease.
After a short plug of knowledge, we are going to register for the conference received a moderate amount of documentation and a few gadgets, after which we return in the rooms to take a nap, because basically we do not sleep too long.
Come back in the room suffers from a strange smell, an experience that is repeated on successive days. I decide that the custom here is that mid-afternoon, rather than let the chocolate on the bed, you shit in the room, as a kind of graceful tribute. In reality there is no trace of artifacts, then the hypothesis more likely it is that there is a central alluvial whose flavor is released into the rooms through the ventilation system.
Beyond this small, the room is equipped with every comfort, but all strictly fee. In the wardrobe there is also an iron, but I suspect that is in need of pennies to operate, so I avoid any type of experiment. We do
strength to overcome sleep in order to recover a little 'jet-lag and stoically resist until the dinner, which pleased risalutiamo Sbrusa, one of our old acquaintance, who for a while' is working and married here. Sbrusa and her husband are hosting us for dinner in a lovely Moroccan restaurant in Connecticut Street (Well yes, I admit, is very cool tumbler addresses of this type, although it tended to americoscettico: years and years of movies and TV shows leave a mark and say a taxi driver: "seventinain eveniù fift 'is something completely different" Via Alberto Mario ").
we meet with the topology of San Francisco, all ups and downs so exaggerated that I think that they are wanted and artificial), and I must admit that from a distance the skyline at sunset makes his pig effect. Actually I expected something more "American", more excessive, but instead it is a polite major city not too different from London, say. Satisfied, and dinner, and the company and the city we drag our king-size bed to enjoy the first few hours of sleep for three days now. The rest is
Ronfo.
![[info]](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/blogger_img_proxy/AEn0k_vgZ-flz_jfzdJ-TN0k3YTR3kQDML_ZzDWd7z1m7STUIbtdwTewFymJGqEMefpgITBNOWcKcj1i6Mxc0UhoR9EkbCqLe9llIruH0eWv3fHmh44rww=s0-d){kind=small}