Old habits

The day after driving across Europe in 18 hours, I got on my bike for a ride in the woods. I kept glancing up to check the rear view mirror.

A few days later, I felt really pleased with myself when I managed to park my bike in a shady spot – that could be a make-or-break moment in the day when I lived in Rome.

Another Roman hangover came when I gave my mother-in-law a white knuckle moment as I executed a nifty left turn across oncoming traffic to nab a parking place.

“We don’t do that in the Netherlands!” she shrieked.

I´m also a little tongue-tied, beginning sentences with allora, and concluding every exchange with, perfetto! err … perfekt … err … Prima!

Now after three weeks in the Netherlands, I’m so used to cycling that I always think about tucking my trouser in my sock before I get in the car.

This post’s listening pleasure is brought to you by the Jongo Trio and their 1972 version of Água da Março.

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Some might feel the cuica is overdone, but I don’t care. I want one for christmas.

Still, I’d settle for the cowbell, or even the triangle in Tito Puente’s band.

I once asked my mother why she hadn’t married a Brazilian percussionist. She said there weren’t many around in Glasgow in the 1950s.

Tech note: My first upload of this track failed because of the non-English characters (accent and cedilla). Can only use standard English characters.

6 thoughts on “Old habits”

  1. Having only this morning listened to a class of 3-4 year olds doing the Kitchen Sink Department, I couldn’t face any more percussion. I was wishing I had a bike though. In the Netherlands. Too hilly here.

  2. There are probably ‘anger management’ courses which may help you get over all that pent up drivers rage you accumulated in Rome ;-)

    PS Thanks for the link and great to see you bloggin’ on after the ending of the Roman holiday.

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