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Avevo da poco compiuto 18 anni quando inizia a lavorare alla"PINETA"un piccolo residence nella marina tra Budoni e Posada.Avevo 18 anni e molto entusiasmo.Il lavoro non era certamente leggero,non vi era orario,nè giornata di riposo,inoltre lo stipendio non era granchè ed era tutto in nero.Ma nonostante ciò ero contenta,mi sentivo previlegiata per il fatto stesso di avere un lavoro.Le mie mansioni erano molteplici e a seconda dei bisogni,mi dividevo tra la sala ,il bar,la cucina e se vi era la necessità anche alla pulizia delle camere.Il mio carattere allegro rendeva facili e piacevoli (a few exceptions) the relationships with customers, with some regulars are born amicizie.Ricordo also beautiful with great pleasure that time because I started to grow and take conscience of the world, that outside the confines of the protective walls are in famiglia.Mi mind the many characters, so many funny stories, but maybe at that time did not take much to make us smile, summer nights, after a long day without a break, fatigue became mild and laughed, sang, told stories with clients (almost always were families with children). the next time you describe for the first few characters .... I like to remember the lovely German family in the picture, remember that they stood by us in a late afternoon early summer, and I Tonina the cook (we were all employees) with Santina, wife of the manager we were busy playing cards and Fritz joined us, his wife and daughter watched, they did not understand a word of Italian, nor a word of German .... we laughed like mad ... and with their noi.Ad one point we saw that Fritz waved and tried to tell us something, we did not understand and he waved at the end ... even more than intuition to understand ... .. just in time to inform him of the toilette.Una of the most unpleasant memories was a "lord" (so to speak) of Sardinian origin (called puddu) but I think he lived in Tuscany and traded in cheese, I think it was because winter was our single customer, was a burly big man and a little greasy, one day he showed me, with a big wink to the gold bracelet and asked me if I would have liked it .... I replied without hesitation that the gold leaves me completely indifferent and then ... no, I was not the least bit interested. I learned later that he had received the same .... Tonina offer.

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first job when I was little ...


The shell gave it to me my godmother when I do not remember, I was too piccola.Ricordo but someone told me it near your ear I heard the sound of the sea and the sea that I had not ever seen .... and I felt really imagined him as a great fiume.La shell followed me all my life, over time has lost much of its natural shine and you notice a lot of flashy signs, even my daughters approached the ear to hear the sea but they vaccations to their mother, did not need to imagine the sea.
Even the objects tell us about people and that there were ....

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the shell when I was little ..... seasons


When I was small there were still stagioni.Il view of the picture, what I saw from my house, aii first signs of spring is clothed in the white of the almond trees, the air felt a bouquet perfume that went from the myrtle, the wild mint, the narcissus, cyclamen and the river flowed placidly rosmarino.Il without turbolenze.L 'ear, not disturbed noise from aliens, register now the voice of the shepherd called to order the most unruly goats, now the sound of the bells of flocks at dusk fell the fold. The gardens near the houses, planted with beans, peas and potatoes ( the only things that did not need to water) were often the destination of our raids to stock up on beans and sweet keep piselli.L 'summer was still pretty hot, the river was to become the skeleton of himself, the absence of water put it to bare bones the rocks making them seem gigantesche.Nei small plots of land planted with grape vines colored the ... to the delight of the red fox (Marian) that sometimes you could hear the grido.Lungo the wayside blackberry bushes were covered with large, attractive fruit. and wild fig trees that grew in the bed of the river (now dry) that gave fruit was sweet to our goal and our theater antics often trsformavano in spectacular falls (fortunately without serious consequences always) The prickly pear intrusive preparing the fruit, but he expected it to rain so that they can eat, otherwise they would create intestinal problems .... (This was the old belief, strong experience) Autumn, it was often a summer will be able, but on a smaller scale for the change of light and the heat less intense, the air hung the smell of must but also of the loose soil by the plow and prepared to semina.L 'winter, his days in court asked to stay home near the fireplace where often it roasting chestnuts in the embers, dried beans and pine nuts, heavy rains ridavano heading to the river and the waterfall, the sound became the soundtrack of our days and night became a lullaby that rocked our sleep

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IN RIVA AL LAGO SI STUDIA IL MARE
Giornata sulla didattica della scienza il 29 novembre a Villa Brunati

L'Assessorato ai Servizi Sociali del Comune di Desenzano, in collaborazione con
il Cinsa - Consorzio interuniversitario nazionale scienze ambientali - e la
cooperativa City Service di Brescia, promuove lunedì 29 novembre dalle 9 alle
17.30 nella sala delle Muse di Villa Brunati una giornata dedicata alla
didattica delle scienze naturali, rivolta in particolare al tema dell'acqua,
del mare e del nostro lago.
Nell'ambito di questa iniziativa proporrò una relazione sulla scrittura travel entitled "Writing on the sea".

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Library of sea and sea coast


"All the stormy passions of humanity, ... are spent as reflections in a mirror, without a trace of the mysterious face of the sea "Joseph Conrad


With the precision and the synthesis of a sailor bound for the attention of the historian, David Gnola us back in a little more hundred pages of the exploits of Garibaldi, the man of the sea, like the headline in the first chapter of his new book, "Logbook of Captain Giuseppe Garibaldi" (Murcia, Milan pp. 208, € 17). That the General is in fact from birth to Nice July 4, 1807 "in a house overlooking the old port," the story of a child who decides to become the hub, then become a pirate captain and, ignoring his other numerous personal stories, and political revolutionary. Became the hub of choice, rebelling against his father, master marine, he would prefer not to see him come on board. The brig Constance was his first bridge, which looked at love with the "lean your tree, the spacious deck and up to your Pettoruto bust of a woman," referring inevitable figurehead. Research carried out by the Gnola huge bibliography dedicated to the hero, the little known State Archives of Palermo and elsewhere, have allowed for the first time to order the events of seamanship Garibaldi, as evidenced by Mino Milani in the afterword. The book page by page, or should I say, mile after mile, carry the reader away from the Mediterranean to the Black Sea and then over the Strait of Gibraltar to the ocean boundless horizons, in a continuous succession of stories and adventures, "men ( sailors, captains, ship owners, merchants, adventurers, etc.) and ships (sail, steam, propeller blades, clippers and again so on), taking the words of Melanie. The iconographic
gives us more than the stereotypical image of the heroic deeds of the General, also the least known of the fisherman and always imaginifiche cards Nautical far seas, navigation and combat man-Garibaldi. It was to this personal dimension is the result of an episode of senile age, when in September of 1867 escapes arrest in Caprera, on board a small "snipe" with which to reach a fishing boat that will take him on the Tuscan coast.
The book is complete with the transcript of the logbook of the ship's brig Georgia Carmen etc.., For the most part of Garibaldi's autograph, which besides being a useful tool for investigation of events, returns in its misspelled the "special" color "original."

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Uncle LINEDDU

What I'm going to describe is one of the many characters who have somehow been part of my infanzia.Tziu Lineddu, but it was not a relative at home was considered tale.Nei early years of my childhood, until I can remember, came on foot load of gear he needed to adjust copper pots but also pots, pans and cans of milk (sas lamas) Of Peppino the times my brother went to get the cart in Torpoint (which I assume came by bus) In that case led to sell copper utensils, but also bells (marrazzos) its customers were mostly small in stature with pastori.Era a huge head compared to the rest of the body, completely calvo.Mi can almost see him again, while under the large olive tata Canedda, run the tool that was used for rattopare "or stagnate. In the evening, finished his work, shared dinner with us, that it was time for a chat, news of the family of which he was particularly proud, I remember that often told his brother Maurilio who lived in America and was the writer, and then the four children who were studying at a profit, his wife Hope to brag about the great skill in making Dolci.A What I really liked listening to his story with great emphasis
(sometimes with some naive exaggeration) I remember how much laughter we girls ( I and my grandchildren) commented on its small habit, coffee was overflowing from the cup and saucer .. as in a ritual of drinking the first cup then drank one with great concentration of the dish, we, every time it his eyes were following the various stages, to hold back her laughter ....
the late sixties, there un'improvisa Acelera of "progress" and Uncle Lineddu it adapts, and takes the license buy a car, a Multiple six hundred, also diversified its business by bringing products to sell sweets from Uncle Lineddu-wife has never become a great rider and when we stopped by during his rounds to towns and villages, it took half an hour to maneuver and put, as he put it, the machine in place to start. Over time
completely abandoned his old profession, but does not give to go around, the old customers of offers to buy fresh produce and that his wife has become a real Uncle attività.Ora Lineddu is qulche part, who knows maybe a better place than this world, where friendship and solidarity have a meeting valore.Sono sure my father will not fail to tell, who knows with the pride of his daughter Marie, the little girl, who a few years ago won the Grazia Deledda with the book in dialect lugolesu "MELEDDA"

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Our daily

The banks of the sea: from public spaces in the maze of consumption, to paraphrase The Franco Cecla.
Could this be the last in a nutshell description of the Italian coast landscape horizon?
Sicilian anthropologist, author of, among others already known to "get lost. The man with no environment "(Yale University Press, 1998) and" Against Architecture "(Agence Basic Books, 2008), gives us the Friday of the Republic of 29 October 2010, a brief examination of the opposing Western ideas of public space. There are those who would like to control, commercially and police, every place and who believes that freedom is a concept to be applied in its unpredictable and anarchic solutions, at least to the spaces public. E 'Needless to say, first make every effort to replace consumers to citizens, while the latter can now be found on the barricades of civil resistance. This examination, which takes its cue from the new station in Milan for a broader view on public spaces (or trade?) Of other cities, is unfortunately more and more fitting for the shores of the sea, beaches are occupied by beaches, wild cliffs divided up into apartments or, equally dangerously, accessible docks to be transformed into an exclusive gated marina. Just do, or try to do often!, A walk in the Ligurian ports to realize how the logic of the maxi-boating is pressing all other forms of nautical passion, or try to get close to many beaches of Lazio, with no intention of paying the entrance fee or toll, however, in another form. If
as we always remember Franco The Cecla "The square is an Italian invention, the shores of the sea is a natural constituent of landscape quality peninsular. Do not forget that in the last fifty years most of the coast have been transformed into urban banks, declination of the Navy "urban marketing" now common in many parts of Europe. Of these urban shores, the sea remains the only horizon of freedom, so each faces, whether it's beaches or rocky coasts, roads or large, should be protected from the assault private, should be understood as a common good or public domain, to use a nineteenth-century definition that should be updated.
I will not tire of saying and writing that the individual claims of the free sea, as many small overlapping waves gain strength, they can become an irrepressible need for a collective reappropriation of the Mediterranean.

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Library of sea and coast


"All the stormy passions of humanity, ... are spent as reflections in a mirror, without a trace of the mysterious face of the sea. "
Joseph Conrad

I read these days is a short story by Ernesto Franco, "Usodimare. A story for solo voice ", published in 2007 by The Melangolo , finding the same fascinating and unusual sea air breathed in the first reading. I say unusual because Italians are very few novelists who have managed to restore the breath of the sea and the atmosphere on board. Different causes of this rare, when successful, attendance seamanship, beginning with the lack of knowledge of a world far from the historical land and even more than intellectual. To paraphrase the narrator of his book, the navigation is governed by autonomous laws, laws of nature, beyond the control of men. "
The protagonist, or rather its shadow, is Pepe Usodimare, solitary and mysterious commander who limps, not only physically, as the most famous commanders of the nineteenth century. We follow the last weeks of sailing aboard the Bahia Inutil , an old cargo ship to Bangladesh for scrapping. In a time suspended, marked by crossing with a fleet of catamarans ghost taken from a single macaque, by days of torrential rain and fierce dall'arrembaggio modern Piratas that refer to the epic adventures of Long John Silver and those concretissime of modern pirates. These, as Usodimare appointment, "have in common with yesterday's strategy of appearing from nowhere and from nothing and fade tactics never do the hostages. " A crew of Bahia to luck or the grace of an invisible underground, survived the attack and completes the final journey to "the endless beach of mud of Chittagong. But the real obsession Usodimare, which becomes one of each boat is tied to the search of "something" left by Nene, a woman who Pepe is "bound by a series of disincontri. ... the meeting that might have occurred. Indeed it would have happened. " A desperate search, which involves also the demolition until the last scrap, leaving only the "nail of God" who remains stuck in the stinking mud of this modern marine cemetery.