The Smell. And the Light. This is the South.

The smell. And the light. That seems to set the South apart. Today was an extremly hot and humid day. The sun burned down on our souls forcing us to take refuge in the air-conditioned dorms at Duke. I took a walk at seven, went down to the stripmall to get something healthier to eat (quite a challenge over here), and, while I crossed the bridge that goes over the highway not far from where I live, I could smell the humidity that preceeds the summer rains. The hot asphalt seemed to be begging the pink sky for a shower, and so it came, half an hour later, pouring down on the Raleigh-Durham delta. I enjoyed the sight, the drops of fresh rainwater on the skin, and the cute girls running across the parking lot to find a dry shelter. Smiling at all of it, I realized how casual and easygoing this weekend was. Time passes by at another pace, not the one we ought to witness in NY, Paris or Francfort. Time seems to be a lavish good down here. I can take advantage of it without ever having to make the most of it.

The soul of the South?

[...] Touched down in the land of the delta blues, in the middle of a pouring rain [...] Yeah I got a first class ticket, but I'm as blue as a boy can be. Then I'm walking in Memphis, was walking with my feets ten feets off of Beale [...] Saw the ghost of Elvis, on Union Ave, followed him up to the gates of Graceland, and watched him walk right through [...] But there's a pretty little thing, waiting for the King, down in the Jungle room [...]

Here I am, finally, down in the south, heartland of the USA. I landed in Raleigh-Durham almost 14 days ago, and I can tell you, this has been an adventure! Bruce Springsteen and his "Walking in Memphis" was my shadow during these days, the time flying by, and mine witnessing everything around me with wide open eyes. .

The first time I saw North Carolina, it was through that tiny loophole of a window in a plane ten thousand feet above ground. What I could see, I can resume it in a single word: forest! All over the place. That green vegetation we city-lovers only rarely witness. So it was, at first, a frightening sight. I couldn't see any skyline, no big buildings, no lights whatsoever, no huge highways blocked by traffic jams. The same was confirmed over and over again as I drove with the cab from the tiny and pretty airport of RDU to Duke University, my host for the coming two years.
My good friend, Rossi, who was making the journey with me, was having a good time reminding me that I declined an offer to study at Columbia, at the heart of the most amazing city West of... well, everything.
But that feeling of lost-ness (??) was quickly replaced by a thunder of excitement once I discovered all those flush bars along the roads in close proximity to the campus. Bars and restaurants, plenty of them, very affordable and crowded by young folks.
My desire to escape the trivial temptations of the larger cities (and the even more oppressing career in finance) was well served in finding a place where time matters less, and where human interaction (that means bars and friends and girls) seem to matter more.
I love this place. As far as I can tell, life is smoother, more relaxed, more enjoyable in a place where you mean something to people, and where they mean something to you. This is so radically different from anything I experienced in Frankfurt in my days as financial investor that it came as the most pleasant surprise. Back there, in ole' Europe, relationships were a result of tight cost-benefit analysis and break-even considerations, where the break was more a calculation of the minimum wage a girl is expecting you to earn before she dare date you.
No one is quite interested in what your career path is, but rather in what motivates you - your passions, your aspirations. I can only hope this proves to be true!

Better not take your gun...

Even in America, there are places where guns are not welcome...

Moving solution for the lazy-ass

Have you ever been too lazy to pack your stuff into boxes when you thought about moving? Wanna leave North Carolina for Florida without the burden of dragging tables, chairs, TVs and other things with you? Well, then, here you go you lazy bump.

Those crazy marketing nerds

I'm a goddamn food snob. I dreaded the day when I would have to set foot in an American supermarket. Unfortunately, that day came with its apocalyptic might, and I went to the local food market. I turned pale, and blue, and pink, and almost passed away. I don't know where American marketing folks went to school to, but they certainly must all be victims of some crazy sort of virus that made those people color blind. Why would an otherwise sane person put orange juice into vivid pink jars?
And for God's sake, who needs 500 Aspirine pills? And for God God's sake, who the hell is buying creating and cookies from the same shelf? And ... and ... who is buying frozen Margarita in a plastic container? Did I miss something? Am I born on another planet? Or was it some kind of big sized joke? You got me, you got me... I need, I really have to ask: What the F*ck came across your mind?

America, our hot hot cousin

America. That vast land over there, across the pond, is to us French like a distant cousin. A girl we hear a lot about, but barely know. A girl we want to make out with, but don't have the guts to date.
She's HOT, but is she TOO HOT? Can we handle her? To the French, that American cousin is definitely excentric. She lives a material, abundant life. She likes to show her well-rounded breasts and her tight butt to the world. She's tempted by many sins, sins we ourselves long for but lack the guts to pursue. She's a party girl - with her, you always get to eat the dessert first.
The Frenchman feels safer at home, with his ole' fat lady, that obligant, exceptionally brilliant and well educated 'thing'. She's long past her best-years but preserves a certain charm under several layers of make-up and parfume. "L'exception culturelle" still sees herself as a patron of arts and fashion but has obviously lost the vigor of her best years.
Now, I want to get rid of my ole' fat lady and go after that hot cousin named 'America'. See you over there for future reporting live from North Carolina!