SANDRO of FRIZZ
I started in the early '90s, the beginning of telecrazia. Remember? Tangentopoli collapsed with a good group of judges and have the same faces of politics founded the "second republic" and is recycled
room, shouting: "We are advancing the new." But it smelled of mildew. Dc and Psi closed shop, also put on the ropes by a Northern League, which then support of Peter. The MSI applauded the magistrates in Milan, then. Things have changed eh? Craxi was not a martyr and was preparing to leave Italy on the sly with the spoils of bribes. Surprised him coming out of the nest and buried him with a shower of coins, on live TV. Italy wanted to grow. In Trentino ended up under house arrest the emperor Mario Malone (Dc), which shrank in a moment and seemed to disappear forever crushed by the courts. But it was an illusion ... But it nebulize its many voters (Italians are so volatile ...): no way to admit more than voting for him, seen or known. were good times. Riva del Garda in the 90s had 14,800 inhabitants, unemployment rate is virtually nonexistent, levels of wealth among the best in Europe 's e. .. will to live. I was happy to spend a thirty year old youth from a beautiful nature and urban entertainment. At the time there were two cinemas in Riva (Perini and Rome), an outdoor film club, three clubs (Tiffany, Apres, Spleen), pubs, bars and restaurants are crowded late, even in winter. The people descended from Trento and Rovereto in Busa to party and we are the envy of Riva for the life that never ended on the shores of the lake.
Mayor of the city became in 1993 the Claudio Molinari, a former Democratic alderman (ie, right) at age fourteen already dressed senator. He was among the first to recycle, self-proclaimed "champion of the Crystal Palace" (today it sounds like a gag in Albanian), and moving toward the center, he realized the only strategic move of his career, he guessed right in: the head of the procession marched oratory, shoulder to shoulder with the priest. A modernizer!
In those years, but I have left, out of curiosity. I wanted to poke his nose into the corners of the world (as a child I read Salgari and Jack London). Riva But I was never able to forget, or rather, I told a thousand times around the world. Among the victims of my stories around the lake there is also my daughter. She was born in Vancouver in '98, and I had to wait four long years before being sure that he could understand my language. Then I began with the fairy tale: the adventures of a boy who ran with carts down from the rampart, dips to the port to fish for Balest, night fishing for eels in Porfina ... Many fairy tales with the same background: Riva del Garda, a paradise for adventure. And here we approach the end of the story.
Last September my daughter asks me "the most important gift of his life: he wants to do a year of school in Riva del Garda. At Damiano Chiesa, my school. Brake tears, and after half an hour I hold two tickets for Lufthansa.
And we are in Riva del Garda, in 2010. The city now has 15,880 inhabitants, a few more than sixteen years ago but the concrete poured into the valley has increased dramatically (slope with your children in Santa Barbara, just look down and try not to feel guilty about a simpleton that you have not prevented!). The shopping centers and warehouses have sprung up like mushrooms defacing a suburb today sucks, as in the real city. There is a cinema and the clubs are gone. The bars and pubs close as they can to cut costs, and moreover there is no one around. On the beach in the evening they threaten teenagers who gather in numbers greater than one, the guitar is an aggravating circumstance punishable by fine and cycling a crime. The weekends are consumed in a desolate landscape, from the Bulgarian industrial hub: a few empty rooms, dim lights and small crowds of young people who want to entrust the offense to the bottle of Montenegro. Today we have to go to Trento Rovereto and to follow a bit 'of life. The penultimate and central library has closed alternate housing agencies and fashion stores by the balances of perennials. The oratory is instead pulled forward, with the football field covered with carpet and very few children left to play.
The mayor is always him, Claudio Molinari finally has done it: it is now a senator and then begins to dress young. Ah, I forgot ... has become a big shot of the PD, namely the left (when you say open to 180 degrees!). At his side there is another old acquaintance of Riva del Garda policy: the Adalberto Mosaner, Deputy Mayor for family tradition. Councillor Young Socialist Moreover Bassetti (DC) in the '80s, then disappeared from the political scene in the early 90s (also with Bassetti). It rematerialize together after the storm, to serve as "advancing the new." Mosaner betrays the old passion for the zoning. Reappeared in the province while another virgin, the Mario Malone (now PDL). And back in the light also of his forgetful voters who swear they have never doubted him.
In this afternoon of a cold February of 2010, I and my baby we're walking into a bank empty of people and content.
The city is nice and clean but begins to remember those towns in Germany where people do not leave the house for cleaning of the streets. My walks are pilgrimages among the debris of memories, past the carcasses of happy places of youth: the historic Teatro Perini, where once were performing companies magazine and some good content. Now is the gallery of the shopping windows and lights in an empty corridor. In the rich provincial who is already closed their doors for the absence of passers-by. Monument dullness of our politicians and speculators. And here's the Cinema Rome as a child it seemed huge and modern, the men came there with a tie and smelled of aftershave in the afternoon. Then they lit cigarettes and smoked with the mouthpiece to prevent us from hurting the children. And after the screening all at the bar: the scent of chocolate and tobacco smoking. Appetizers, laughter and joy. Now instead of the posters there are the estate. There was the Tiffany where they danced until the morning and where many young Rivani have learned what it was the other half of the sky. It 'happened to me. Claudio Molinari to believe it has not happened in there because he came there as a boy was a bit '... Senator. I look at the Tiffany
gutted with the workers who seem to dig up the skeleton of a dinosaur. Among the debris is around the ghost of Franco elegant Chemollo that resurrects the few surviving plants. In the background, beyond the gulf, there is a crater where it stood first après. He also danced there, and how, and DJ dance halls of the two pirates were happy that filled Riva Sound, hormones, noise. Of life. Now they are rubble left to bury the memories that I brought into the world for 16 years.
The fresh concrete is eating my valley was beautiful. E 'changed everything. Politicians and builders instead of nothing remained the same and have careers. There is an ugly silence in Riva del 2010. The note also that my daughter with the innocence of a young girl of twelve years, I asked: "Daddy, are you sure that this is the country's funny that I tell you in Vancouver?".
I wake up shooting: "What do you mean? Are you kidding? That was a beautiful place, we always danced ... I'll take you another year! "
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