Ellys

Tanti auguri

A compilation of Mika's writings for XL Repubblica

Hi everybody,

in my previous post we were talking about Mika's articles written for XL Repubblica.

I wanted to put them together to read as a book. As @Ellys had the same idea, she compiled them in an PDF file to print them.

I am sharing it with you as I hope there are more fans (older and newbies) willing to read Mika's thoughts and opinions.

23 articles : 16 in English and 7 in Italian.

If we find some more or translations from Italian into English we will update the file.

Let's consider this compilation as Mika's unreleased book  Better this than nothing 

Enjoy!!!!!!!!

MIKAforRepubblicaXL.pdf

Below links to the Forum threads for those of you  who would like to digg in for more details and conversations.

A compilation of Mika's writings for XL Repubblica

Hi everybody,

in my previous post we were talking about Mika's articles written for XL Repubblica.

I wanted to put them together to read as a book. As @Ellys had the same idea, she compiled them in an PDF file to print them.

I am sharing it with you as I hope there are more fans (older and newbies) willing to read Mika's thoughts and opinions.

23 articles : 16 in English and 7 in Italian.

If we find some more or translations from Italian into English we will update the file.

Let's consider this compilation as Mika's unreleased book  Better this than nothing 

Enjoy!!!!!!!!

MIKAforRepubblicaXL.pdf

Below links to the Forum threads for those of you  who would like to digg in for more details and conversations.

I can't stop laughing!!!!!

I returned to read old Mika's articles for XL Pop Up column and I am on the "My Family and Other Animals".

It's about holidays. I think Mika told this story even with more details at one of his gigs. 

Enjoy and relax during this hot hot hot day of holidays (for some of you) . 

"Once upon a time there was a boy who was angry with everyone and everything around him. So angry, that one night he decided to run away. Whilst preparing his bag to leave home he thought about what he would need. He packed his clothes but then his books and games. Fearing discomfort he packed his bed. Fearing loneliness he packed his dog. Worried about what he would do with his clothes once they were dirty, he packed his mother, who in turn packed their washing machine and her daughter, his little sister. She, then packed their father, who in turn packed his desk, television and his favourite armchair. Not to be outdone, his mother then packed her dressing table, her curling irons and her set of knives. She also suggested to the father that he pack the barbecue. The boy stood and looked at his now empty house and saw his favourite apple tree, alone in the garden and he felt sad. So he took that too. In the end the boy ran away from home but without knowing it he took all of it with him. Except for the gold fish. Everyone always forgets the bloody gold fish, he died. This is my life.

The idea for my holiday this year was a pretty normal one. To get into a car from London and drive through France and Italy, stopping in various places along the way. The only unusual thing about my trip is that I took my whole family with me, all 18 of them, and not only that, but my Dog came too as well as a few friends, my goddaughter, her parents, my grandmother, her nanny (I’ll come back to that) and of course a couple spouses and partners. The grand total? 26 people, 8 cars, 48 suitcases, 1 dog bed and a Magi-mix (for the dog). The story about the boy, is one that I used to read often as a child. Clearly it had more of an influence on me than anyone could have predicted.

To be fair, of all the places we have been in this enormous group, Italy has been the most welcoming and un-afraid of my Godzilla sized family. In France, I couldn’t help but feel like we were as welcome as a barbarian invasion. The only Barbarian in the group to be fair is my grandmother. Although she is more like a Trojan Horse. She enters a room with a coy smile and hobbles with her walking stick, as slow as possible so as to maximise exposure. Slow movement is one of the more refined weapons in her arsenal. As soon as the stranger, often a waiter, is out of site, she accelerates like a lizard in the sun, devilishly cruel and funny in equal measure. This time round I decided to temper this duality with a professional nanny. So I hired a trusted, former Soviet Block drill sergeant to keep her in check, it has worked a miracle.

Looking back on my trip and all the places we have gone to, I realise now that I did something that is extremely Italian. I displaced myself for the summer and brought almost a whole town with me. However the way we did it was very Lebanese. Where as other more sensible groups would have travelled in a coach with a guide, we all wanted to feel independent and free. However, we all wanted to be together all the time and we all wanted to have whatever the other had. You cannot imagine the scene we caused when we would descend upon a small gas station or invade a local coffee shop, demanding espressos, all at the same time. The dog: water; the granny: a toilet; the aunties: space; the walking sticks (three by the end of the trip): always left behind; the secret smokers: behind a bush; the secret eaters: also behind a bush; the under eaters; the over eaters. We were a moving tornado of functional anarchy. What we lost in organisation and calm we gained in joy and that was worth far more. Did I mention the best part of it all? Out of our army of 26, there was only one person who actually spoke Italian and that was me. I am Lebanese, French, American, English and after this trip I can’t help but feel like I have become a little Italian also."

Mika

I can't stop laughing!!!!!

I returned to read old Mika's articles for XL Pop Up column and I am on the "My Family and Other Animals".

It's about holidays. I think Mika told this story even with more details at one of his gigs. 

Enjoy and relax during this hot hot hot day of holidays (for some of you) . 

"Once upon a time there was a boy who was angry with everyone and everything around him. So angry, that one night he decided to run away. Whilst preparing his bag to leave home he thought about what he would need. He packed his clothes but then his books and games. Fearing discomfort he packed his bed. Fearing loneliness he packed his dog. Worried about what he would do with his clothes once they were dirty, he packed his mother, who in turn packed their washing machine and her daughter, his little sister. She, then packed their father, who in turn packed his desk, television and his favourite armchair. Not to be outdone, his mother then packed her dressing table, her curling irons and her set of knives. She also suggested to the father that he pack the barbecue. The boy stood and looked at his now empty house and saw his favourite apple tree, alone in the garden and he felt sad. So he took that too. In the end the boy ran away from home but without knowing it he took all of it with him. Except for the gold fish. Everyone always forgets the bloody gold fish, he died. This is my life.

The idea for my holiday this year was a pretty normal one. To get into a car from London and drive through France and Italy, stopping in various places along the way. The only unusual thing about my trip is that I took my whole family with me, all 18 of them, and not only that, but my Dog came too as well as a few friends, my goddaughter, her parents, my grandmother, her nanny (I’ll come back to that) and of course a couple spouses and partners. The grand total? 26 people, 8 cars, 48 suitcases, 1 dog bed and a Magi-mix (for the dog). The story about the boy, is one that I used to read often as a child. Clearly it had more of an influence on me than anyone could have predicted.

To be fair, of all the places we have been in this enormous group, Italy has been the most welcoming and un-afraid of my Godzilla sized family. In France, I couldn’t help but feel like we were as welcome as a barbarian invasion. The only Barbarian in the group to be fair is my grandmother. Although she is more like a Trojan Horse. She enters a room with a coy smile and hobbles with her walking stick, as slow as possible so as to maximise exposure. Slow movement is one of the more refined weapons in her arsenal. As soon as the stranger, often a waiter, is out of site, she accelerates like a lizard in the sun, devilishly cruel and funny in equal measure. This time round I decided to temper this duality with a professional nanny. So I hired a trusted, former Soviet Block drill sergeant to keep her in check, it has worked a miracle.

Looking back on my trip and all the places we have gone to, I realise now that I did something that is extremely Italian. I displaced myself for the summer and brought almost a whole town with me. However the way we did it was very Lebanese. Where as other more sensible groups would have travelled in a coach with a guide, we all wanted to feel independent and free. However, we all wanted to be together all the time and we all wanted to have whatever the other had. You cannot imagine the scene we caused when we would descend upon a small gas station or invade a local coffee shop, demanding espressos, all at the same time. The dog: water; the granny: a toilet; the aunties: space; the walking sticks (three by the end of the trip): always left behind; the secret smokers: behind a bush; the secret eaters: also behind a bush; the under eaters; the over eaters. We were a moving tornado of functional anarchy. What we lost in organisation and calm we gained in joy and that was worth far more. Did I mention the best part of it all? Out of our army of 26, there was only one person who actually spoke Italian and that was me. I am Lebanese, French, American, English and after this trip I can’t help but feel like I have become a little Italian also."

Mika

I can't stop laughing!!!!!

I returned to read old Mika's articles for XL Pop Up column and I am on the "My Family and Other Animals".

It's about holidays. I think Mika told this story even with more details at one of his gigs. 

Enjoy and relax during this hot hot hot day of holidays (for some of you) . 

"Once upon a time there was a boy who was angry with everyone and everything around him. So angry, that one night he decided to run away. Whilst preparing his bag to leave home he thought about what he would need. He packed his clothes but then his books and games. Fearing discomfort he packed his bed. Fearing loneliness he packed his dog. Worried about what he would do with his clothes once they were dirty, he packed his mother, who in turn packed their washing machine and her daughter, his little sister. She, then packed their father, who in turn packed his desk, television and his favourite armchair. Not to be outdone, his mother then packed her dressing table, her curling irons and her set of knives. She also suggested to the father that he pack the barbecue. The boy stood and looked at his now empty house and saw his favourite apple tree, alone in the garden and he felt sad. So he took that too. In the end the boy ran away from home but without knowing it he took all of it with him. Except for the gold fish. Everyone always forgets the bloody gold fish, he died. This is my life.

The idea for my holiday this year was a pretty normal one. To get into a car from London and drive through France and Italy, stopping in various places along the way. The only unusual thing about my trip is that I took my whole family with me, all 18 of them, and not only that, but my Dog came too as well as a few friends, my goddaughter, her parents, my grandmother, her nanny (I’ll come back to that) and of course a couple spouses and partners. The grand total? 26 people, 8 cars, 48 suitcases, 1 dog bed and a Magi-mix (for the dog). The story about the boy, is one that I used to read often as a child. Clearly it had more of an influence on me than anyone could have predicted.

To be fair, of all the places we have been in this enormous group, Italy has been the most welcoming and un-afraid of my Godzilla sized family. In France, I couldn’t help but feel like we were as welcome as a barbarian invasion. The only Barbarian in the group to be fair is my grandmother. Although she is more like a Trojan Horse. She enters a room with a coy smile and hobbles with her walking stick, as slow as possible so as to maximise exposure. Slow movement is one of the more refined weapons in her arsenal. As soon as the stranger, often a waiter, is out of site, she accelerates like a lizard in the sun, devilishly cruel and funny in equal measure. This time round I decided to temper this duality with a professional nanny. So I hired a trusted, former Soviet Block drill sergeant to keep her in check, it has worked a miracle.

Looking back on my trip and all the places we have gone to, I realise now that I did something that is extremely Italian. I displaced myself for the summer and brought almost a whole town with me. However the way we did it was very Lebanese. Where as other more sensible groups would have travelled in a coach with a guide, we all wanted to feel independent and free. However, we all wanted to be together all the time and we all wanted to have whatever the other had. You cannot imagine the scene we caused when we would descend upon a small gas station or invade a local coffee shop, demanding espressos, all at the same time. The dog: water; the granny: a toilet; the aunties: space; the walking sticks (three by the end of the trip): always left behind; the secret smokers: behind a bush; the secret eaters: also behind a bush; the under eaters; the over eaters. We were a moving tornado of functional anarchy. What we lost in organisation and calm we gained in joy and that was worth far more. Did I mention the best part of it all? Out of our army of 26, there was only one person who actually spoke Italian and that was me. I am Lebanese, French, American, English and after this trip I can’t help but feel like I have become a little Italian also."

Mika

I can't stop laughing!!!!!

I returned to read old Mika's articles for XL Pop Up column and I am on the "My Family and Other Animals".

It's about holidays. I think Mika told this story even with more details at one of his gigs. 

Enjoy and relax during this hot hot hot day of holidays (for some of you) . 

"Once upon a time there was a boy who was angry with everyone and everything around him. So angry, that one night he decided to run away. Whilst preparing his bag to leave home he thought about what he would need. He packed his clothes but then his books and games. Fearing discomfort he packed his bed. Fearing loneliness he packed his dog. Worried about what he would do with his clothes once they were dirty, he packed his mother, who in turn packed their washing machine and her daughter, his little sister. She, then packed their father, who in turn packed his desk, television and his favourite armchair. Not to be outdone, his mother then packed her dressing table, her curling irons and her set of knives. She also suggested to the father that he pack the barbecue. The boy stood and looked at his now empty house and saw his favourite apple tree, alone in the garden and he felt sad. So he took that too. In the end the boy ran away from home but without knowing it he took all of it with him. Except for the gold fish. Everyone always forgets the bloody gold fish, he died. This is my life.

The idea for my holiday this year was a pretty normal one. To get into a car from London and drive through France and Italy, stopping in various places along the way. The only unusual thing about my trip is that I took my whole family with me, all 18 of them, and not only that, but my Dog came too as well as a few friends, my goddaughter, her parents, my grandmother, her nanny (I’ll come back to that) and of course a couple spouses and partners. The grand total? 26 people, 8 cars, 48 suitcases, 1 dog bed and a Magi-mix (for the dog). The story about the boy, is one that I used to read often as a child. Clearly it had more of an influence on me than anyone could have predicted.

To be fair, of all the places we have been in this enormous group, Italy has been the most welcoming and un-afraid of my Godzilla sized family. In France, I couldn’t help but feel like we were as welcome as a barbarian invasion. The only Barbarian in the group to be fair is my grandmother. Although she is more like a Trojan Horse. She enters a room with a coy smile and hobbles with her walking stick, as slow as possible so as to maximise exposure. Slow movement is one of the more refined weapons in her arsenal. As soon as the stranger, often a waiter, is out of site, she accelerates like a lizard in the sun, devilishly cruel and funny in equal measure. This time round I decided to temper this duality with a professional nanny. So I hired a trusted, former Soviet Block drill sergeant to keep her in check, it has worked a miracle.

Looking back on my trip and all the places we have gone to, I realise now that I did something that is extremely Italian. I displaced myself for the summer and brought almost a whole town with me. However the way we did it was very Lebanese. Where as other more sensible groups would have travelled in a coach with a guide, we all wanted to feel independent and free. However, we all wanted to be together all the time and we all wanted to have whatever the other had. You cannot imagine the scene we caused when we would descend upon a small gas station or invade a local coffee shop, demanding espressos, all at the same time. The dog: water; the granny: a toilet; the aunties: space; the walking sticks (three by the end of the trip): always left behind; the secret smokers: behind a bush; the secret eaters: also behind a bush; the under eaters; the over eaters. We were a moving tornado of functional anarchy. What we lost in organisation and calm we gained in joy and that was worth far more. Did I mention the best part of it all? Out of our army of 26, there was only one person who actually spoke Italian and that was me. I am Lebanese, French, American, English and after this trip I can’t help but feel like I have become a little Italian also."

Mika

I can't stop laughing!!!!!

I returned to read old Mika's articles for XL Pop Up column and I am on the "My Family and Other Animals".

It's about holidays. I think Mika told this story even with more details at one of his gigs. 

Enjoy and relax during this hot hot hot day of holidays (for some of you) . 

"Once upon a time there was a boy who was angry with everyone and everything around him. So angry, that one night he decided to run away. Whilst preparing his bag to leave home he thought about what he would need. He packed his clothes but then his books and games. Fearing discomfort he packed his bed. Fearing loneliness he packed his dog. Worried about what he would do with his clothes once they were dirty, he packed his mother, who in turn packed their washing machine and her daughter, his little sister. She, then packed their father, who in turn packed his desk, television and his favourite armchair. Not to be outdone, his mother then packed her dressing table, her curling irons and her set of knives. She also suggested to the father that he pack the barbecue. The boy stood and looked at his now empty house and saw his favourite apple tree, alone in the garden and he felt sad. So he took that too. In the end the boy ran away from home but without knowing it he took all of it with him. Except for the gold fish. Everyone always forgets the bloody gold fish, he died. This is my life.

The idea for my holiday this year was a pretty normal one. To get into a car from London and drive through France and Italy, stopping in various places along the way. The only unusual thing about my trip is that I took my whole family with me, all 18 of them, and not only that, but my Dog came too as well as a few friends, my goddaughter, her parents, my grandmother, her nanny (I’ll come back to that) and of course a couple spouses and partners. The grand total? 26 people, 8 cars, 48 suitcases, 1 dog bed and a Magi-mix (for the dog). The story about the boy, is one that I used to read often as a child. Clearly it had more of an influence on me than anyone could have predicted.

To be fair, of all the places we have been in this enormous group, Italy has been the most welcoming and un-afraid of my Godzilla sized family. In France, I couldn’t help but feel like we were as welcome as a barbarian invasion. The only Barbarian in the group to be fair is my grandmother. Although she is more like a Trojan Horse. She enters a room with a coy smile and hobbles with her walking stick, as slow as possible so as to maximise exposure. Slow movement is one of the more refined weapons in her arsenal. As soon as the stranger, often a waiter, is out of site, she accelerates like a lizard in the sun, devilishly cruel and funny in equal measure. This time round I decided to temper this duality with a professional nanny. So I hired a trusted, former Soviet Block drill sergeant to keep her in check, it has worked a miracle.

Looking back on my trip and all the places we have gone to, I realise now that I did something that is extremely Italian. I displaced myself for the summer and brought almost a whole town with me. However the way we did it was very Lebanese. Where as other more sensible groups would have travelled in a coach with a guide, we all wanted to feel independent and free. However, we all wanted to be together all the time and we all wanted to have whatever the other had. You cannot imagine the scene we caused when we would descend upon a small gas station or invade a local coffee shop, demanding espressos, all at the same time. The dog: water; the granny: a toilet; the aunties: space; the walking sticks (three by the end of the trip): always left behind; the secret smokers: behind a bush; the secret eaters: also behind a bush; the under eaters; the over eaters. We were a moving tornado of functional anarchy. What we lost in organisation and calm we gained in joy and that was worth far more. Did I mention the best part of it all? Out of our army of 26, there was only one person who actually spoke Italian and that was me. I am Lebanese, French, American, English and after this trip I can’t help but feel like I have become a little Italian also."

Mika

Hi everyone

I'm looking for a book to complete my collection : "Journal d'un optimiste accidentel" (september 2016).

Unfortunately, I can't get it in store because they don't have it anymore in my country

Someone wouldn't have one to sell?

Thank you

Hi everyone

I'm looking for a book to complete my collection : "Journal d'un optimiste accidentel" (september 2016).

Unfortunately, I can't get it in store because they don't have it anymore in my country

Someone wouldn't have one to sell?

Thank you

Ciao a tutti! Cosa posso fare per ricevere la spilla di MFC? grazie mille 

Ciao a tutti! Cosa posso fare per ricevere la spilla di MFC? grazie mille 

If you could look into the future, would ya ?