Rex † 08.26.2002
I dΛnke you for DΞin VΞrtrΛuΞn. In
mΞinΞm HΞrzΞn will you unvΞrgΞsslich
mΞin wΛhrhΛftigΞr King sΞin
I dΛnke you for DΞin VΞrtrΛuΞn. In
mΞinΞm HΞrzΞn will you unvΞrgΞsslich
mΞin wΛhrhΛftigΞr King sΞin
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Aoe2multiplayer Mediashare
© Himp VΞrgΞssΞn ΞinΞ is FΦrm dΞs VΞrrΛts
Me intΞrΞssiΞrΞn Λuf DΛuΞr only "bΞsΦndΞrΞ" MΞnschΞn
DΛs WΞrtΞsystΞm dΞr mΞistΞn vΦn Ξuch for me is just Ξin lΛchhΛftΞr, vΞrlΦgΞnΞr, hΞuchlΞrischΞr, kümmΞrt SΞlbstbΞtrug
Ξs WölfΞ not wΛs SchΛfΞ dΞnkΞn
KΞin WΦlf Ξin SchΛf hΛt to FrΞund
SchΛfΞ ΞrkΞnnt mΛn Λm VΞrrΛt
WölfΞ Λn IhrΞr TrΞuΞ
KΦnzΞntriΞrt Ξuch Λuf jΞnΞ diΞ blΞibΞn,
Not diΞ Λuf, diΞ kΦmmΞn and gΞhΞn
I jΞdΞn bΞwundΞrΞ, dΞr in dΞr LΛgΞ is mΞin WΞsΞn to ΞrkΞnnΞn
In mΛnchΞn BΞrΞichΞn I'm sΦ zΞrbrΞchlich in ΛndΞrΞn UnΛntΛstbΛr
Only gΛnz dürfΞn wΞnigΞ me bΞhΛuptΞn kΞnnΞn to
JΞsus würdΞ me sΛgΞn "GΞh and frΞuΞ you, DΞinΞ hΛt LiΞbΞ you gΞrΞttΞt" I do not
lΞbΞ WΞlt in ΞurΞr I lΞbΞ in SΦdΦm and GΦmΦrrhΛ
KΛtzΞn unsymphΛtisch to me, not to me siΞ pΛssΞn ΞinfΛch
MΞinΞ KindhΞit wΛr Ξin KriΞgsgΞbiΞt
I vΞrtrΞtΞ dΞn UndΞrgrΦund
Is DΞin WΦrt wΞrt nothing, nothing Λuch DΞin LΞbΞn WΞrt
Fuck NΦrmΛlity
I'm stΦlz dΛrΛuf sΞin to 'ΛndΞrs "
I liΞbΞ SchnΞΞ and NΛturkΛtΛstrΦphΞn
I wurdΞ niΞ ΞrwΛchsΞn
For diΞ mΞistΞn I blΞibΞ Ξin unlösbΛrΞs RätzΞl
MΞinΞ FrΞundlichkΞit future only nΦch jΞnΞn diΞ kΦmpΛtibΞl applies to me are
WΞnn mΛn to nΛch FrΞundschΛft sΞhnt, dΛrf mΛn sΞinΞ ZΞit not vΞrschwΞndΞn Λn undΛnkbΛrΞ dummΞ MΞnschΞn, dΞrΞn HΦbbys VΞrrΛt and HΞuchΞlΞi are
WölfΞ hintΞrlΛssΞn immΞr ΞinΞn blΞibΞndΞn Ξindruck,
SchΛfΞ not
MindΞrwΞrtigΞs Λuf DΛuΞr hΛt kΞinΞn BΞstΛnd
Ξin WΦlf kΛnn dΞin bΞstΞr FrΞund sΞin,
ΦdΞr dΞin schlimmstΞr FΞind.
DΛs ΞntschΞidΞt dΞr WΦlf
Ξin WΦlf kΛnn dΞin bΞstΞr FrΞund sΞin,
ΦdΞr dΞin schlimmstΞr FΞind.
DΛs ΞntschΞidΞt dΞr WΦlf
Monday, August 9, 2010
Salary Of A Pilot In Canada
Tappa 5: Rome
Oh, how wonderful, I think, as I beisiete push the curtains from the window of my castle bower look and the sun is already high above the level that I now must cross - a stage yet, one only, then I'm in Rome. What prospects?
I have breakfast with the two American women who are visibly excited about my outfit Cervélo road bike. Apparently, the two athletes only know from television, perhaps a reason why they treat me with such respect. If only they would know that my leg today should be only 50 km ... but even silly 50 km for the SUV-dependent Americans probably a number of impossibility.
cereal, coffee, sausage sandwiches, juices - has the buffet all that goodbye does my heart so I squat well fed on the narrow saddle of my bicycle, me of the wonderful hotel whose guest I was allowed to be today and step inside: Roma, the eternal city calls.
The departure of Civita Castellana is on the other side of the mountain - the road that I had yesterday fought their last strength up, I have to go back, fortunately not. rewarded me with a God of the stages-rich serpentine, steep descent, which is surprisingly completely car-free.
up close to 70 km / h I come, crouch down on my road bike, head down position - only offer so little air resistance as possible! Apparently I'm
but not awake enough for me when I brake in one of the narrow hairpin turns in, and I notice that the curve is too tight, I'm too quick, troubled, pull hard on the brakes, the bite immediately into the flanks of my wheels that block again - I slide around the curve, drift, uncontrolled and thank beating heart to God that he has just this moment a car in the opposite lane can go.
Otherwise I would be dead now
WAKE UP!
The shock runs deep, but evaporates quickly. For soon I reached the wide plain outside Rome and drive to the SS3, a small side road to the highway, which - then one assured me - should remain relatively spared from the daily madness jam to and from Rome.
it remains - but it must be my wheels and my Butt with the worst street fight, I have seen since the fall of 1989: The road is so fragile that it seems that I drive on a loosely defined mosaic. Every few meters gape thick, long, deep holes, some deep enough to 20 cm into the lower bed of the street, holes that were washed out by numerous showers and surprise each axis that has the misfortune of her having to neck breaks .
I can hardly get over 20 mph and must alpine slalom to me not to ruin my Carbon. The SS3 to Rome is hell!
It takes a solid hour, until, in a village on a major road, turn finally get passable asphalt under the tires - but I find myself in a never-ending stream of stinking cans again greet Rome can!
First, I take a little break at a gas station, fill in the already badly battered drinking supplies, eat a bite and throw myself into the jam: one to pass laws for the good clay here in Italy and so I cough myself carefully past the line of cars - certainly not without now and again overtaken by the snake to be.
It must be somewhere right here! Rome is here somewhere!, I think, than the road sometime back as a highway looks like the lanes are divided, left and right grow up noise barriers to be me overtaking cars faster and faster and all that is slowly no longer looks like a rural Italian idyll, but rather according to European urban gridlock.
But it all has its advantages: I can finally scratch again to connect the 30-marker, and can use my bike as such! Fast it goes to the sedate street canyon views to the left, sometimes twining right.
Then a tunnel is long and dark ...
... and at one time I'm in Rome! Middle of it! Unprepared no sign, no entrance, no nothing, I'll shoot out of the tunnel from the left and right, up and down roads coming into my SS3 to lead, buses, vans, army of scooters and cars galore come to mind once on the lanes, all honking, all gestures, all pushing and pushing and that which is now Rome! AchdumeineGüte!, I think quickly and can not even think as fast as I have to cope with the Babylonian traffic chaos.
Goethe The Lord has certainly shocked no dark tunnel and wild Fahrmaneuver - be rode into the city was more well:
"The desire to come to Rome, was so great was growing so much every moment that no stay was longer. Now I'm here and quietly and, it seems to calm my whole life, "
As calm as it is with him, not me standing on pedals I have to fight my way through the chaos -.. And have no idea where I am at all.
lights are well-meaning advice. A red ... well, let's say, red recommends now perhaps even stop. Why, of course, hardly anyone has. The Italians will stop at red lights only when the others are taken off. As long as the crossing is still free, he drives.
Okay, I quickly understood and I believe it. could
road markings are, well, instructions on how to use the available asphalt . But the Government has of course not counted on the cleverness of the car, bus and Scooterfharer, because the roads are much too wide, as that could be just the two ride side by side. No, the Italians, the available width of the road uses much more efficient, and travels to fourth in a row on two tracks.
Ah, jo, or understood, no problem!
So I fight my way about half an hour through the honking, deafening chaos of the metropolis, 'm still very excited about the fact that I - as an orderly and law-abiding German, moreover, the son of a police officer - do not see an accident when I reach the Tiber.
Tiber, water and lifeline of the city. The river, which will bring me to the center. For orientation I've long run out. And to read the signs stay with this traffic is no time - even inadvertently looked up and they will find themselves again under one of the smelly diesel buses.
As if by magic, unplanned and even more fascinating, I get some time from racing, turn around and ... raced right by the entrance to the Castel Sant'Angelo. Well, I call intuition!
I have the road to which I have on a Google-expression of it, but I'm so overwhelmed by the impressions here that refuses my brain, I thought to be associated with operations.
I give to my navigational efforts and ask one of the many Carabinieri who are at a crossroads. The smiles and points to the opposite road: to Campo di Fiori, it is probably only a few hundred meters.
I only have to cross the Tiber and walk a few minutes.
I am pleased once again had a super intuitive, sending Vittorio, the owner of my studio, a text message that I would soon be there, and move on my road bike clattering hucke the wing, this historic stone slopes - now totally fascinating - City.
Italians are crazy racing. I know - not for nothing is the Giro d'Italia to boot people as sacred. While experiencing the Italian road bike sports a similarly deep crisis as here in Germany - but less for the reasons that this country an ARD has moved to phase out all racing activities, but rather on a completely ruined youth system that has worn out his driver even before these are professionals in general.
And so it will not be surprised that I hardly bicycles - see - let alone road bikes. Rather, a scooter follows the other.
I cross streets quaint. Wow, I think me and can not close my mouth out of sheer fascination - this is Rome? I almost feel like in this small, picturesque villages, a documentary on arte culinary delights of the most remote regions of Europe - but not as central Rome.
sound is there, too busy. But in some streets, it is only the clacking of my cleats, making the noise. Where then is my loft?
At last - well, let's say, not 45 minutes later than agreed - Vittorio get to the Campo di Fiori, greets me exuberant and nods approvingly at me: "Did you ride your bike in Rome with"
he asks.
"Of course!" I reply. And I know what he thinks now ... Crazy German, you have no idea how lucky you were!
We go another 400 feet, turn a few corners and are available at some time in front of a house that has the same color as Vittorio's perfectly fitting shirt: "Here is your studio," he says and raises his hand.
He closes on the first floor of a small apartment in the house. A two-room apartment, very smart, a galley kitchen - the refrigerator is full - a shower room, a futon and a Seating area. All the fun for 100 € the night.
Perfect!
Vittorio wishes me a pleasant stay in Rome, goodbye, put his 200 € and a roar - of course - like on a scooter.
once I open all the windows. The noise of the nearby highway crashes in the flat, but the midday heat and the smog of this juggernaut.
showers!
None 2 hours later I'm back on the road. Amazing that there are up to the Colosseum than 2 kilometers. It is afternoon, actually I will wait until tomorrow to use my day off for a sweeping blow through Rome, but it is burning inside me. I will see it! Will, Will!
Fast overjoyed I stroll along the Roman Forum. So here. So here it was above 2,000, 2,300 years ago, where the almost mythical Romans have laid the groundwork for their empire, which still shapes all over Europe today. have Nero, Caesar, Trajan and the rest of them prevailed, - It was here where all of them. No - where they themselves are changed. Their feet, their feet on this genuine polished marble stones down there.
Fascinating!
The Colosseum me out of my shoes. It is bigger, more beautiful, more impressive than I ever imagined. It is touching, poignant. If one of the flanks This stadium looks up, one can only wonder say "Ahhh." Nothing more.
is not to make more. Unheard of this service. Unheard and immeasurably the times that lie in these stones. Unbelievable. So wonderful. So inspiring.
I remember as I sat back in the fifth grade in school and in history class literally had swallowed all that concerned the ancient Romans. Romulus and Remus, the founding myth of this city, climb to the greatest power in the world, the conquest, the emperor and Tribune, the limit and eventually the demise of the republic, the empire fragmented, merged into East and West Rome.
And now? Now I'm standing here. Finally, almost 30 years later, I see everything with my own eyes: Colosseum, Roman Forum, temples, columns. I'm impressed. Speechless.
begins As the sun slowly go down, I'll be on my way home. Not without some goodies in the Carrefour supermarket for a hearty pasta shop.
home runs on Euro sport - of course - cycling, dancing in the oven spaghetti in boiling salted water half naked while I brush my Cervélo and an ice cold Nastro Azzuro drink.
Sure, the stage today was not worth mentioning. But today was not a racing day. Today was the day when I was in Rome, the city the eons, and I'm ridden for a little while back was allowed to be children.
with dreams.
with stories.
with heroes and myths.
morning, I know, as I prefer to 22 clock the thin blanket over me and try to sleep despite the noise, tomorrow I will run my feet sore and take everything what I can offer this great city here .
stage 5 - Civita Castellana-Rom
Stage length: 55.06 km
gross travel time: 2 h 30 min journey time
net: 1 h 56 min
section: 27.8 km / h
. 
Oh, how wonderful, I think, as I beisiete push the curtains from the window of my castle bower look and the sun is already high above the level that I now must cross - a stage yet, one only, then I'm in Rome. What prospects?
I have breakfast with the two American women who are visibly excited about my outfit Cervélo road bike. Apparently, the two athletes only know from television, perhaps a reason why they treat me with such respect. If only they would know that my leg today should be only 50 km ... but even silly 50 km for the SUV-dependent Americans probably a number of impossibility. cereal, coffee, sausage sandwiches, juices - has the buffet all that goodbye does my heart so I squat well fed on the narrow saddle of my bicycle, me of the wonderful hotel whose guest I was allowed to be today and step inside: Roma, the eternal city calls.
The departure of Civita Castellana is on the other side of the mountain - the road that I had yesterday fought their last strength up, I have to go back, fortunately not. rewarded me with a God of the stages-rich serpentine, steep descent, which is surprisingly completely car-free. up close to 70 km / h I come, crouch down on my road bike, head down position - only offer so little air resistance as possible! Apparently I'm
but not awake enough for me when I brake in one of the narrow hairpin turns in, and I notice that the curve is too tight, I'm too quick, troubled, pull hard on the brakes, the bite immediately into the flanks of my wheels that block again - I slide around the curve, drift, uncontrolled and thank beating heart to God that he has just this moment a car in the opposite lane can go.
Otherwise I would be dead now
WAKE UP!
The shock runs deep, but evaporates quickly. For soon I reached the wide plain outside Rome and drive to the SS3, a small side road to the highway, which - then one assured me - should remain relatively spared from the daily madness jam to and from Rome. it remains - but it must be my wheels and my Butt with the worst street fight, I have seen since the fall of 1989: The road is so fragile that it seems that I drive on a loosely defined mosaic. Every few meters gape thick, long, deep holes, some deep enough to 20 cm into the lower bed of the street, holes that were washed out by numerous showers and surprise each axis that has the misfortune of her having to neck breaks .
I can hardly get over 20 mph and must alpine slalom to me not to ruin my Carbon. The SS3 to Rome is hell!
It takes a solid hour, until, in a village on a major road, turn finally get passable asphalt under the tires - but I find myself in a never-ending stream of stinking cans again greet Rome can! First, I take a little break at a gas station, fill in the already badly battered drinking supplies, eat a bite and throw myself into the jam: one to pass laws for the good clay here in Italy and so I cough myself carefully past the line of cars - certainly not without now and again overtaken by the snake to be.
It must be somewhere right here! Rome is here somewhere!, I think, than the road sometime back as a highway looks like the lanes are divided, left and right grow up noise barriers to be me overtaking cars faster and faster and all that is slowly no longer looks like a rural Italian idyll, but rather according to European urban gridlock. But it all has its advantages: I can finally scratch again to connect the 30-marker, and can use my bike as such! Fast it goes to the sedate street canyon views to the left, sometimes twining right.
Then a tunnel is long and dark ...
... and at one time I'm in Rome! Middle of it! Unprepared no sign, no entrance, no nothing, I'll shoot out of the tunnel from the left and right, up and down roads coming into my SS3 to lead, buses, vans, army of scooters and cars galore come to mind once on the lanes, all honking, all gestures, all pushing and pushing and that which is now Rome! AchdumeineGüte!, I think quickly and can not even think as fast as I have to cope with the Babylonian traffic chaos. Goethe The Lord has certainly shocked no dark tunnel and wild Fahrmaneuver - be rode into the city was more well:
"The desire to come to Rome, was so great was growing so much every moment that no stay was longer. Now I'm here and quietly and, it seems to calm my whole life, "
As calm as it is with him, not me standing on pedals I have to fight my way through the chaos -.. And have no idea where I am at all. lights are well-meaning advice. A red ... well, let's say, red recommends now perhaps even stop. Why, of course, hardly anyone has. The Italians will stop at red lights only when the others are taken off. As long as the crossing is still free, he drives.
Okay, I quickly understood and I believe it. could
road markings are, well, instructions on how to use the available asphalt . But the Government has of course not counted on the cleverness of the car, bus and Scooterfharer, because the roads are much too wide, as that could be just the two ride side by side. No, the Italians, the available width of the road uses much more efficient, and travels to fourth in a row on two tracks. Ah, jo, or understood, no problem!
So I fight my way about half an hour through the honking, deafening chaos of the metropolis, 'm still very excited about the fact that I - as an orderly and law-abiding German, moreover, the son of a police officer - do not see an accident when I reach the Tiber. Tiber, water and lifeline of the city. The river, which will bring me to the center. For orientation I've long run out. And to read the signs stay with this traffic is no time - even inadvertently looked up and they will find themselves again under one of the smelly diesel buses.
As if by magic, unplanned and even more fascinating, I get some time from racing, turn around and ... raced right by the entrance to the Castel Sant'Angelo. Well, I call intuition!
I have the road to which I have on a Google-expression of it, but I'm so overwhelmed by the impressions here that refuses my brain, I thought to be associated with operations. I give to my navigational efforts and ask one of the many Carabinieri who are at a crossroads. The smiles and points to the opposite road: to Campo di Fiori, it is probably only a few hundred meters.
I only have to cross the Tiber and walk a few minutes.
I am pleased once again had a super intuitive, sending Vittorio, the owner of my studio, a text message that I would soon be there, and move on my road bike clattering hucke the wing, this historic stone slopes - now totally fascinating - City. 
Italians are crazy racing. I know - not for nothing is the Giro d'Italia to boot people as sacred. While experiencing the Italian road bike sports a similarly deep crisis as here in Germany - but less for the reasons that this country an ARD has moved to phase out all racing activities, but rather on a completely ruined youth system that has worn out his driver even before these are professionals in general. And so it will not be surprised that I hardly bicycles - see - let alone road bikes. Rather, a scooter follows the other.
I cross streets quaint. Wow, I think me and can not close my mouth out of sheer fascination - this is Rome? I almost feel like in this small, picturesque villages, a documentary on arte culinary delights of the most remote regions of Europe - but not as central Rome. sound is there, too busy. But in some streets, it is only the clacking of my cleats, making the noise. Where then is my loft?
At last - well, let's say, not 45 minutes later than agreed - Vittorio get to the Campo di Fiori, greets me exuberant and nods approvingly at me: "Did you ride your bike in Rome with" he asks.
"Of course!" I reply. And I know what he thinks now ... Crazy German, you have no idea how lucky you were!
We go another 400 feet, turn a few corners and are available at some time in front of a house that has the same color as Vittorio's perfectly fitting shirt: "Here is your studio," he says and raises his hand.
He closes on the first floor of a small apartment in the house. A two-room apartment, very smart, a galley kitchen - the refrigerator is full - a shower room, a futon and a Seating area. All the fun for 100 € the night. Perfect!
Vittorio wishes me a pleasant stay in Rome, goodbye, put his 200 € and a roar - of course - like on a scooter.
once I open all the windows. The noise of the nearby highway crashes in the flat, but the midday heat and the smog of this juggernaut.
showers!
None 2 hours later I'm back on the road. Amazing that there are up to the Colosseum than 2 kilometers. It is afternoon, actually I will wait until tomorrow to use my day off for a sweeping blow through Rome, but it is burning inside me. I will see it! Will, Will! Fast overjoyed I stroll along the Roman Forum. So here. So here it was above 2,000, 2,300 years ago, where the almost mythical Romans have laid the groundwork for their empire, which still shapes all over Europe today. have Nero, Caesar, Trajan and the rest of them prevailed, - It was here where all of them. No - where they themselves are changed. Their feet, their feet on this genuine polished marble stones down there.
Fascinating!
The Colosseum me out of my shoes. It is bigger, more beautiful, more impressive than I ever imagined. It is touching, poignant. If one of the flanks This stadium looks up, one can only wonder say "Ahhh." Nothing more. is not to make more. Unheard of this service. Unheard and immeasurably the times that lie in these stones. Unbelievable. So wonderful. So inspiring.
I remember as I sat back in the fifth grade in school and in history class literally had swallowed all that concerned the ancient Romans. Romulus and Remus, the founding myth of this city, climb to the greatest power in the world, the conquest, the emperor and Tribune, the limit and eventually the demise of the republic, the empire fragmented, merged into East and West Rome. And now? Now I'm standing here. Finally, almost 30 years later, I see everything with my own eyes: Colosseum, Roman Forum, temples, columns. I'm impressed. Speechless.
begins As the sun slowly go down, I'll be on my way home. Not without some goodies in the Carrefour supermarket for a hearty pasta shop. home runs on Euro sport - of course - cycling, dancing in the oven spaghetti in boiling salted water half naked while I brush my Cervélo and an ice cold Nastro Azzuro drink.
Sure, the stage today was not worth mentioning. But today was not a racing day. Today was the day when I was in Rome, the city the eons, and I'm ridden for a little while back was allowed to be children.
with dreams.
with stories.
with heroes and myths.
morning, I know, as I prefer to 22 clock the thin blanket over me and try to sleep despite the noise, tomorrow I will run my feet sore and take everything what I can offer this great city here . stage 5 - Civita Castellana-Rom
Stage length: 55.06 km
gross travel time: 2 h 30 min journey time
net: 1 h 56 min
section: 27.8 km / h
.
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