‘Albiceleste’

As a woman who believes I have without a doubt been born in the wrong era, I have a lot of idols from a lot of movements which, sometimes contrary to each other but I try to get from them as many positive qualities as possible… Who am I kidding? Most the people I love and admire from history are depressing and suicidal writers, rebellious musicians and the people who fought for my country’s independence.

It makes sense to me. The last ones gave up their lives on behalf of the future generations’ freedom, the musicians that I admire made history by using music to refute the government’s actions and to confront evil corporations, or classical musicians that discover unimaginable sounds and created compositions with a touch of divinity. And some kick-ass writers that weren’t afraid of digging deep inside their souls to bring to life the most beautiful sonnets and their darkest devils.

I must admit that my idols are somehow different from most of the people, who usually admire people like Ghandi, Mother Teresa or Joan of Arc and if it all goes wrong, people would just admire any cutie from Hollywood. But this is not the case of my boyfriend. I am sure that it’s because he’s a man, but not sure if it’s because he’s Italian or specifically Neapolitan, but my boyfriend’s idol is MARADONA (written in capital letters, because if he’s reading this, he would probably get a stroke if I didn’t)

Maradona is in most cases a shame for South America, he is like your mother, when you are a teenager and the boy you like comes to your place and your mum brings out the family album and shows him 40 pictures of yourself as a baby, running ass-naked around the house or having a bath in a bucket: Embarrassing! I must admit, not all the times, but when he does it, he does it Big Time!

I am a woman that doesn’t care much about football, but I must admit that is exciting, sometimes so exciting that I cheer to both teams during a match, Oops!! And has anyone seen Pelé playing on the World Cup Mexico’ 70? WOW! Or Higuita doing the Scorpion?! Mind blowing! But this is for me the only space where I can expose my football feelings because at home, Maradona is a semi-god, and it would be heretic to even talk about his belly. We have agreed on not hanging anything from the walls at home and keep the decoration minimalistic, otherwise I wouldn’t be surprised if one day I would find a picture of Diego Armando wearing the ‘albiceleste’ t-shirt of his times playing for Napoli, hanging on the wall.

Life with an Italian

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