CLAUDIO BAGLIONI - RAGAZZE DELL' EST / VIDEO
I know it's wrong to explain things.
But in 1982, I didn't feel like doing anything, so I was convinced by a former Padovano lawyer turned brigatista, who was dating a stunningly beautiful and cultured woman, sister of the first prototype of a Nerd I had ever seen, whom I was very close to, to spend three months in the "Eastern countries."
A refrigerated van with a double bottom filled with blue jeans, nylon stockings, BIC pens, and ten cartons of Marlboro.
I thought it was nonsense, which is why I accepted unconditionally!
I had no idea that his last name was Rossi and that we had just won the WORLD CUP, so at every border everyone would say to us: "Rossi, Paolo Rossi! Forza Italia!" and they probably let us pass because they were as unaware as we were that the party of the mephitic dwarf from Arcore was yet to be founded.
To make a long story short, we sold the blue jeans (brand Lee, I remember) on the black market, and with the rest, we splurged on the trip, accommodation, and all sorts of indulgences.
I felt embarrassed giving a pack of cigarettes to a waiter, a box of stockings to a cloakroom attendant, a pen to a concierge: it seemed ridiculous to me.
But no.
Truly poor people.
A small portion of caviar cost us 150 lire, while a kilo of oranges cost them 7000 lire.
In Prague (after Vienna, the most intense European city I have ever visited), a car would pass every fifteen minutes on a Sunday, but no one complained.
Oh! I won't even tell you about that farm in what was then Czechoslovakia where we stayed for two weeks: the head of the family had four daughters, and I & the Nerd justified our reputation as latinlovers, to the dismay of their two boyfriends who were kind of envious.
But let's get back to the point.
Far from me to speak well of the Agonia Baglioni, but let's be honest, here he perfectly captures what those girls were like.
I saw them, and not just that.
I know it's wrong to explain things.
But in 1982, I didn't feel like doing anything, so I was convinced by a former Padovano lawyer turned brigatista, who was dating a stunningly beautiful and cultured woman, sister of the first prototype of a Nerd I had ever seen, whom I was very close to, to spend three months in the "Eastern countries."
A refrigerated van with a double bottom filled with blue jeans, nylon stockings, BIC pens, and ten cartons of Marlboro.
I thought it was nonsense, which is why I accepted unconditionally!
I had no idea that his last name was Rossi and that we had just won the WORLD CUP, so at every border everyone would say to us: "Rossi, Paolo Rossi! Forza Italia!" and they probably let us pass because they were as unaware as we were that the party of the mephitic dwarf from Arcore was yet to be founded.
To make a long story short, we sold the blue jeans (brand Lee, I remember) on the black market, and with the rest, we splurged on the trip, accommodation, and all sorts of indulgences.
I felt embarrassed giving a pack of cigarettes to a waiter, a box of stockings to a cloakroom attendant, a pen to a concierge: it seemed ridiculous to me.
But no.
Truly poor people.
A small portion of caviar cost us 150 lire, while a kilo of oranges cost them 7000 lire.
In Prague (after Vienna, the most intense European city I have ever visited), a car would pass every fifteen minutes on a Sunday, but no one complained.
Oh! I won't even tell you about that farm in what was then Czechoslovakia where we stayed for two weeks: the head of the family had four daughters, and I & the Nerd justified our reputation as latinlovers, to the dismay of their two boyfriends who were kind of envious.
But let's get back to the point.
Far from me to speak well of the Agonia Baglioni, but let's be honest, here he perfectly captures what those girls were like.
I saw them, and not just that.
macmaranza
7 nov 23
DeRank ™: 31,63
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