The other day I went to the consulate to subscribe to ' AIRE . The consulate is in the midst of the French Concession, where several houses between two and three stories from a skyscraper appears suddenly as boldly, "The Center", where the 19th floor there are offices all.

And so on with address, passport, miscellaneous data, filing, identification, and so on. All done. Questions?

Only one: in every document it comes to health coverage in Italy on a sheet of release of the consulate. Here's the surprise last-yes, but only if you are employed in Italy and the company pays contributions to the NHS. And so, even without the amazing health machine, are just an immigrant now.

Oh well, I've got support here documents (driving license, passport, ...), proof of my residence abroad in case someone asks me taxes, and a bit 'of peace in view of the Olympics. You never know in the end.

If ever I needed the NHS, apart from "you know, we have to transmit this information to his city, the City Council to ASL, ASL update his status ...", I can once again become resident in one day with a new identity card. Hurrah the holes in the system.

I run. I have a train to Beijing and are incredibly late.

And 'with embarrassing delays that tell you something that was written. That comedy relief my friend Alberto, an occasional chat Intercontinental, I asked if considering that he met the legendary Prof. Biffis in London I had a message for him.

As is common knowledge at Ca 'Foscari University of Venice, the professor is an authority. Even more crucial, is responsible for many of the compulsory examination and a rock called "Economics of Financial Intermediaries" who can deal with the book is so obvious that you do not pass the same. There are three types of results: trombati be loud (majority), enough to get by (majority of non trombati) or go with a good vote (elect children of enlightenment, future men-mastrino-finance). For the avoidance of doubt, this paragraph is in the historic present, I have no idea how are the exams now.

Anyway, I passed the test pile. At registration the personality of the professor can be discovered. "What do you want to be?"'re Ready to be something that wedges cold in the mind of one who would only register a vote. The look that compares the response to the final grade is eloquent.

The professor, however, is also the one who beats on learning English, what the end of the course will send a clear idea that banks are always ready to take advantage (I keep ...), he tells you to go a bit 'out to experience and purchase securities knowingly do fruit more of Tiscali. It is also the one who asked for a table of AIESEC spritz a little bar in Venice at San debut Job "AIESEC in my day was a mafia." In short, a character.

And 'all this in mind I wrote two lines to Alberto and getting a laugh. A week later I remain surprised to receive an email from the professor, who has not only received the message (Alberto ... I know), but invites me for a drink off in Shanghai.

Professor, I do not know what the exact message delivered by the London-based character, but that did no compensation. As I said, it is rare to remember something studied at university, this is already an achievement!

However, it was a very pleasant chat, and view "prosecco" included. He talked about how it Foscari, Italy, the Italians here. There was talk of a private, he said of China. And thank you for the prosecco that I violate the Privacy naming imaginary people and events related to non-random events drawn from the last disclaimer of Paramount Pictures. Anyway, thanks for chatting Professor.

Only yesterday were proclaimed three days of national mourning for the victims of Sichuan. Three days to think of the victims, those 2, 4, 10, 30 and those not yet dead, but also to those who have lost everything, or someone.

In one of my schools I arrived breathless at 14:18, by the way today's examination and testing of crisis management on the hell with the fire alarm sounded. Do not exercise, only an effective way to call everyone together. One of the principals to tell the time, to bring figures, reminding us of that school of 800 students where there are 650 deaths, with 28 of the 45 professors. And with more than 6500 school buildings. They leave three minutes of silence at 14:28, hours of the earthquake. 30 seconds unreal. Friends around the city tell me that the majority of people have simply stopped. And then the one, two, ten horns, and air-raid alarm in the background. Human silence, screaming horns. Interesting collision of concepts at a time to remember.