Sunday, June 1, 2008
Future?
I have just signed a paper that means living in another city, again. Lima seems to be in my future. Maybe it was not mentioned before, that I live now in Santiago (and this is written from Geneva, where I was living before.)
Postcard from Italy
Suddenly, I was in Italy. It was unclear why my mind and body had landed there on a beautiful spring afternoon. Where was my soul, by the way? Well, there was a secret agreement with myself not to ask too many questions. And then, the doors opened and I walked into the first of many trains towards the northern part of the country. Final destination, Geneva.
^^^^
Padova, silent and rainy on a Saturday afternoon. Very little people in the streets, but the situation changes as the night falls. Sidewalks are covered by arcades or ‘porticos’, and following those I get lost into the night. Then there is a bridge, and a very quiet river surrounded by many trees. There is a medieval quality to this city, even stronger in the darkness. Where is the people? asks another wanderer. Back to the central area, that’s where they are, in the bars around the market, or drinking outside the duomo. Many are university students. There is an amazing café, called Pedrocchi. Is like being transported to a very different and aristocratic past, except for my old jeans and sandals. I order a beautiful gin tonic.
^^^^
When it rains, Venice has another kind of beauty. Well, maybe if it rains for a while, and not the whole day like it happened that Sunday. My umbrella was broken, my clothes wet.
^^^^
Some nasty words are printed too often in the papers of this Italy of 2008. The words are: racism, xenophobia, facism. The extreme right is in power, and many people are talking about how illegal migrants are ruining the country. They call us ‘extracommunitarian’ a term that is negatively charged. New laws for migrants and visitors are announced. Gipsy camps were burned here and there. Skinheads take control over public squares, specially in some cities of the North of Italy. They use sunglasses, even during the night. And in spite of all the things that Italy has given to the world, of the amazing ideas, and the beauty of the landscapes and the cities, of the nice bookstores, I feel uneasy, and disappointed, and sometimes even afraid. And think a lot about the future.
^^^^
In a small bar in Venice I make some friends. If it wasn’t raining we could go to the beach, said one of them. Then we start talking about crime. And I mention that Padova seems to be a very safe city, but still they are organizing civilians to patrol the city at night. It is absurd, in my opinion. One of them agrees, but says that there ire always some unsafe places, mainly because of the extracommunitarians (like me, by the way). My answer is that I am more afraid of ‘communitarian’ civilians patrolling the streets. My feeling is that they wouldn’t take me to the beach after that comment. Voilá.
^^^^
Italy is amazing in many senses. People, monuments, food, rural landscapes, old cities, expresso coffee, history everywhere, art, architecture and design, fashion, football, Mediterranean sea, rivers, and so many others. One thing that is always surprising to me are the bookstores. So many, so huge, and so full of books. Of a kind that is difficult to find elsewhere. How many Italians read? Friends tell me very few. But I can’t believe it. And it is in these bookstores where I find refuge. Last time I got a CD. The famous Berlin Concert, piano played by Glen Gould, local orchestra directed by Von Karajan, composer Beethoven. And a few books too.
^^^^
‘Gomorra’ seems to be the book of the moment in Italy. It is now a movie too. I open it in a train: the author, Saviano, gets a job with a Chinese that is somehow connected with the mafia in Naples, known as Camorra. But they call themselves ‘The System’, he says. And the book is about the activities of this System that seems to permeate everything. The shocking part is that this is not a fiction book.
^^^^
In the centre of Bologna, everything seems to be happening. Or… it’s just a feeling. For some reason that I am not quite ready to explain, this city makes me (and many others) feel good. Walking around again. Lots of students in the street. Endless arcades (or porticos). All kinds of red paint in the walls of houses and buildings. Some places from where you can spy the many canals under the streets and buildings that also contribute to the peculiarity of this city. A good novel about Bologna, ‘Almost Blue’. Some cybernauts using the wireless connection in the courtyard of an old palace. Aperitivo hour strictly respected. Famous foods too. Memories or the partisans who fought against facism. A fantastic Neptune statue right in the middle of the city. Lots of memories from previous visits, for example the very first time in 1991 or 2 when the winter was almost there and the streets were invaded by the coldest of winds. And even then, and many years later in the summer, and a few days ago in the spring, the two old towers that are characteristic of this city, one of them tall and straight, the other one shorter and twisted.
^^^^
Read in a newspaper in Padova: he suffered and ‘electric death’. Wow. Do they mean a short circuit in the heart?
^^^^
Near Pisa, the chocolate factory. We wanted to see the Amedei house because they are making the best chocolate using Venezuelan beans from Chuao. The factory is in a Tuscan hill, surrounded by vineyards. They don’t open the door, so pictures have to be taken from outside. In Chuao is completely different, in the middle of a Caribbean tropical forest, all doors seem to be open, while the cocoa beans are being dried in the patio in front of the church.
^^^^
Somehow I find myself in a place called Imola. Sunday, nothing to do. ‘This the Ferrari town’, says the tourist office. Couldn’t care less. So I sit in a cafe and think about god. Being an atheist, that could mean anything.
^^^^
Finally I was in a train going north, to Geneva.
^^^^
Padova, silent and rainy on a Saturday afternoon. Very little people in the streets, but the situation changes as the night falls. Sidewalks are covered by arcades or ‘porticos’, and following those I get lost into the night. Then there is a bridge, and a very quiet river surrounded by many trees. There is a medieval quality to this city, even stronger in the darkness. Where is the people? asks another wanderer. Back to the central area, that’s where they are, in the bars around the market, or drinking outside the duomo. Many are university students. There is an amazing café, called Pedrocchi. Is like being transported to a very different and aristocratic past, except for my old jeans and sandals. I order a beautiful gin tonic.
^^^^
When it rains, Venice has another kind of beauty. Well, maybe if it rains for a while, and not the whole day like it happened that Sunday. My umbrella was broken, my clothes wet.
^^^^
Some nasty words are printed too often in the papers of this Italy of 2008. The words are: racism, xenophobia, facism. The extreme right is in power, and many people are talking about how illegal migrants are ruining the country. They call us ‘extracommunitarian’ a term that is negatively charged. New laws for migrants and visitors are announced. Gipsy camps were burned here and there. Skinheads take control over public squares, specially in some cities of the North of Italy. They use sunglasses, even during the night. And in spite of all the things that Italy has given to the world, of the amazing ideas, and the beauty of the landscapes and the cities, of the nice bookstores, I feel uneasy, and disappointed, and sometimes even afraid. And think a lot about the future.
^^^^
In a small bar in Venice I make some friends. If it wasn’t raining we could go to the beach, said one of them. Then we start talking about crime. And I mention that Padova seems to be a very safe city, but still they are organizing civilians to patrol the city at night. It is absurd, in my opinion. One of them agrees, but says that there ire always some unsafe places, mainly because of the extracommunitarians (like me, by the way). My answer is that I am more afraid of ‘communitarian’ civilians patrolling the streets. My feeling is that they wouldn’t take me to the beach after that comment. Voilá.
^^^^
Italy is amazing in many senses. People, monuments, food, rural landscapes, old cities, expresso coffee, history everywhere, art, architecture and design, fashion, football, Mediterranean sea, rivers, and so many others. One thing that is always surprising to me are the bookstores. So many, so huge, and so full of books. Of a kind that is difficult to find elsewhere. How many Italians read? Friends tell me very few. But I can’t believe it. And it is in these bookstores where I find refuge. Last time I got a CD. The famous Berlin Concert, piano played by Glen Gould, local orchestra directed by Von Karajan, composer Beethoven. And a few books too.
^^^^
‘Gomorra’ seems to be the book of the moment in Italy. It is now a movie too. I open it in a train: the author, Saviano, gets a job with a Chinese that is somehow connected with the mafia in Naples, known as Camorra. But they call themselves ‘The System’, he says. And the book is about the activities of this System that seems to permeate everything. The shocking part is that this is not a fiction book.
^^^^
In the centre of Bologna, everything seems to be happening. Or… it’s just a feeling. For some reason that I am not quite ready to explain, this city makes me (and many others) feel good. Walking around again. Lots of students in the street. Endless arcades (or porticos). All kinds of red paint in the walls of houses and buildings. Some places from where you can spy the many canals under the streets and buildings that also contribute to the peculiarity of this city. A good novel about Bologna, ‘Almost Blue’. Some cybernauts using the wireless connection in the courtyard of an old palace. Aperitivo hour strictly respected. Famous foods too. Memories or the partisans who fought against facism. A fantastic Neptune statue right in the middle of the city. Lots of memories from previous visits, for example the very first time in 1991 or 2 when the winter was almost there and the streets were invaded by the coldest of winds. And even then, and many years later in the summer, and a few days ago in the spring, the two old towers that are characteristic of this city, one of them tall and straight, the other one shorter and twisted.
^^^^
Read in a newspaper in Padova: he suffered and ‘electric death’. Wow. Do they mean a short circuit in the heart?
^^^^
Near Pisa, the chocolate factory. We wanted to see the Amedei house because they are making the best chocolate using Venezuelan beans from Chuao. The factory is in a Tuscan hill, surrounded by vineyards. They don’t open the door, so pictures have to be taken from outside. In Chuao is completely different, in the middle of a Caribbean tropical forest, all doors seem to be open, while the cocoa beans are being dried in the patio in front of the church.
^^^^
Somehow I find myself in a place called Imola. Sunday, nothing to do. ‘This the Ferrari town’, says the tourist office. Couldn’t care less. So I sit in a cafe and think about god. Being an atheist, that could mean anything.
^^^^
Finally I was in a train going north, to Geneva.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)