Hermetic Poetry

I love translating poems I like on this blog, I really do. Translating is one of the most complicated jobs, because you have to help authors touch foreign readers the way they did with natives. Dealing with emotions is always challenging in itself. 

Italian hermeticism is obscure and difficult poetry, as of the Symbolist school, so it gets even more changeling because of the language and imagery that are subjective, and because the suggestive power of the sound of words is as important as their meaning. But Quasimodo is one of my favorites, I can't limit you with this joy to miss his little masterpieces of sophisticated style and abstruse symbolism.

So here I try ...

SUNKEN OBOE

Stingy pain, delay your gift
in this hour of mine
of whispered leave.

A cold oboe flutes
joy of perennal leaves,
not mine, and confuses;

It is evening in me:
the water goes down
on my grassy hands.

Wings oscillate in a dim sky,
labile: the heart migrates
and I feel rough,

and the days are a ruin.


IMITATION OF JOY

Where the trees still
make the nigh more abandoned,
the indolent last last step you took vanished
and it appears when the flower
limes and insists on its fate.

One reason for looking for affection,
experiencing silence in your life.

Another adventure reveals
this mirrored time. It mourns
like death, like beauty now
lightning in other faces.
I have lost every innocent thing,
even in this voice, surviving
to imitate joy.

ALLEY

Sometimes your voice calls me
and I forget that skies and waters
wake up in me:

a network of sunlight reflects
on your walls that were in the evening
a swing of lamps
late in the workshops
full of wind and sadness.

In another time: a frame pounding in backyard
and a cry was heard in the night
of puppies and children.

Alley: a cross of houses
that are called floor
and they do not know who is afraid
of being alone in the dark.

And then, my favorite: 

And then my favorite of all: 

MIRROR

And here on the trunk
the gems break:
a green newer than the grass
that rests the heart:
the trunk looked already dead,
folded on the ditch.
And everything sounds like miracle;
and I am that cloudy water
that reflects in bluer its piece of sky,
that green that breaks the zest
that even tonight was not there.

 

Crazy Riders

It seems that Spring is finally back, after so many weeks of chilly and rainy weather. Time to take our bikes out from their dust in the basement and ride in the sun in pretty landscapes, admiring this pulsating nature. 

There's the Treasure of the Umag Riviera trail in Croatia that looks pretty surreal. It's like cycling in an open air museum, with all those enchanting pieces of landscapes that look like paintings. It should be interesting to capture them at dust and sunset, so to have a collection of vibrating colors from the same place. So far, I enjoyed them on a perfect cloudy May 1 afternoon. Look how stunning some views are!

The light of the day wasn't impossible, actually those clouds made the atmosphere more dramatic. Too bad I couldn't take my reflex with me but I'll definitely go again, I don't want to miss anything about this lovely corner of the earth, Istria. Recently the route of the former railroad Parenzana has been turned into a real attraction for hikers and bycicle riders. We will be busy enough to ride on its trails for the whole summer.

So I'll keep you posted about my next riding adventures. And happy cycling to the ones of you who share my same passion!

Cultural Afternoon

Hey! I haven't disappeared, I've actually got at least a dozen drafts ready to be published, but for some reason I can't manage to create coherence for any of them. Too much creativity and distraction, too many ideas and very limited time to sit down and write. Before the situation turns into a serious writer's block, let me blog about the beautiful afternoon Ali and I had last Monday. 

With all her chores and social life, having her all for myself is more like a treat these days. I want to hope I won't have to book an appointment later when she turns into a busy teen LOL She also wants to know what we'll do and where we'll go now. Long were the days when it was just me to decide, whereas today it's all about objecting, inquiring and sometimes giving generous okays. Welcome to the life of a liberal parent!

Fortunately she loves art, so she had no objections when I proposed to view an exhibition. There's this Disclosed Horizon one on at the Salone degli Incanti here in Trieste until May that I wanted to see, partly because of my passion for everything Slovene (and the exhibition is a collections of paintings of various Slovenian artists who were active in the first half of the 20th century) and also because I try not to miss anything about this city's cultural life.

With my great pleasure, Alice appreciated the paintings a lot and even left an enthusiast comment on their Guestbook, with that handwriting that is getting more and more like her as months go by. 

These artists (Milko Bambič, Jože Cesar, Avgust Černigoj, Bogdan Grom, Robert Hlavaty, Avrelij Lukežič, Lojze Spacal and Rudolf Saksida) were influenced by post-impressionists, folk arts and symbolism and they continued to work with a certain degree of impressionism. It was nice to get to know how constructivism, futurism and surrealism were prevalent in their artsy paths and the way they developped their artistic expression under the influence of the European-wide avant-garde movement.

The focus of the exhibition is the close contacts these artists had with Italian artists, thus the title that generates it all. Disclosed Horizons, just like mine since I moved here to Trieste, borderline of these two diverse cultures. I feel lucky!

Big Ladies

"Mom, can you leave me here? I want to enter my ballet class on my own, so my friends don't see you. I'm big now!" 

The dreaded moment has arrived. Yiiiikes!

Long Nights

Tonight I can't sleep, so tonight you'll have to bear with me and my nocturnal soliloquies. Because when the mind can't rest multiple ideas cross it and don't leave you until you surrend.

Camomile and writing to battle insomnia

So, let me tell you that these days I've frequently thought what I could tell a priest. It's been so long since my last confession that my mind would go blind if I sat in front of him right now. The priest of my friend Lisa's local church in Northern London suggested parents to write a list of sins to make it easier for them, and for him. No need to waste time with ridiculous apologies. Reading is much better than telling. That old man is practical. 

A list. So how many papers should I use? It doesn't sound like the priest put any limit. The fact makes me smile a lot. Obviously, the world has gone by since I attended church as a teen and served as an Altar Girl. Is it ok if I blog about it? Maybe local church organizations should really consider social networks as a mean of public confessions. Who knows, maybe all those comments could work as a good deterrent. Public shame could work better than the usual quantity of assigned prayers for sure. I remember it's all we wanted to know about each other. 

Look, I'm lapsed now, but more Christian than some extremist I saw out there. Still, I get the looks if I send my daughter to mass with his dad only on Sundays. The moment the priest and all his assistants will make a difference with my baby, I'll take her out from catechism instantly. Be nice to me and I'll be nice to you too. That's all I know for now.

They already favour Religion too much in this country, if you ask me. They do 2 hours per week of it in public schools, which is okay to me, but then they only do 1 hour of Gym and 2 of English. And the silly Government supports the nosense, promoting useless projects in which they invest million of euros. Last year, for instance, they gave out boxes of fresh fruits two times per week, to incentivate its consumption. It ended up that the teaching was 'food mustn't be wasted' -but no worries, there's always some adult who eats not to throw in our family. 

Why didn't they educate parents instead? Italians eat better, we've a fierce tradition of millenarium healthy Mediterranean meals, kids only consume a little too much cakes nowadays, but whose kids doesn't like sweets worldwide? And mainly, why didn't they launch extra activities, especially for kids who can't afford them? Of course not. We must be equal to other more productive European countries. It doesn't matter if France offers 500 euros per month to housewives, bonuses for each extra child and free nursery. We must eat fresh fruits. Then ministers go home and cut off new schools. This coming September 4 institutes will be shut down in Trieste, with the dramatic consequence of migrations of students to other school and logical drop of quality in both teaching and organization. 

I remember my father's disapointment when I told him whom I voted for. For the two previous elections I had lied to him, but then all of a sudden I told the truth over dinner on a hot Spring night. He didn't say a word (not that he normally said many anyway) but he lost his usual voracious appetite that night. Another milestone in our estranged relationship. But I needed to scream out loud my beliefs. The way I'm writing them down now. 

{I just went and watched The Iron Lady, now I'm back. It's ouf of this world, the skill Meryl has. That woman knows no limits. I'll blog about her (again) soon.} 

I also found another stupid blog of mothers who insist behaving like their lives are still the same after a baby. Hell, it isn't, and if you don't try to adapt your world to your child's needs you shouldn't have had babies in the first place. That maid in The Help was so right. I mean, you can travel the world with your baby as a backpack insisting he likes it, but he bloody does NOT. Babies get bored, they want to be with other babies and unless they don't ask you to be taken to a specific place, please leave them alone.

You hear preaches from someone who took her baby to Morocco at 5 and who is preparing to tour Turkey in boiling August, but that's different. Alice is a supernatural baby. Extremely adaptable and considerably curious. And, mainly, she has parents who boards on travels with her specific needs in mind. Always. We don't go to spas just to babypark her for 8 hours a day because we want to go snorkelling or make love all afternoon. Well, I'd like to make love for hours, yes :) but that's not the point. You play with your child, you tell him stories, you pick flowers with him and you even are ready to have fun for 2 hours and queue for the rest 12 in Disneyland. Because having fun and mostly spending time with YOU is his right.

My parents never took me everywhere but the 2 times they did they made sure to remind me for the rest of the time I spent with them. 'We took you to Switzerland!' 'We took you to the Eur Amusement Park in Rome.' Go figure. The fact they left me with a working grandmother was never mentioned instead. I was ordered to stay in a bed filled with toys and books, with the specific advice not to go to the loo neither. I was safe, there was my uncle who popped up every other hour to check on me. I was 4 and those were my mornings. Are you shocked? I was for a minute when I found it out a few years ago, but then the feeling of finally placing the missing piece of my life jigsaw prevailed. It all made sense, even if it doesn't for you. Today such family could end in the news.

Neddless to say, I was a pre-reader, though I still don't know if I wet that bed. I was never interested to ask further. Bah!

Long nights allow me to feel ...
I'm falling ... I am falling
The lights go out
Let me feel
I'm falling
I am falling safely to the ground
Ah ... 

PS: Cou cou! You may thing I finally fell asleep? I wish I could, you guys, but in a few hours I'll have to wake up anyway so I better watch a movie instead. I'll save more stories for that next insomnic night. That's a promise!

Diva Aurora

You know, watching colors of the Northern Lights is one of the things in my MUST-SEE list. I'm so eager that I could bear being out all night with -15°C or less to watch this natural phenomenon, leave alone trying to capture it with my camera.

Please enjoy what my friend Marco wrote about it. Aurora is in his list too.

The Myth and Science of the Aurora Borealis

Walking in the freezing-cold darkness of the Circum-Polar regions during mid-seasons, one is likely to be lucky enough as to witness a phenomenon of a stunning beauty, the Aurora Borealis (or Australis, according to whether it occurs in the Northern or Southern Hemisphere of the Earth).

Named after the roman Goddess of Dawn, Aurora, and sometimes referred to as “The Northern Lights”, this display of colourful lights has for centuries left even the most brilliant of scientists clueless as far as its origin was concerned: Galileo himself observed and reported the appearance of blue lights over the polar regions of Jupiter, but could not come up with a scientific explanation. On the other hand, the native inhabitants of the extreme northern regions of Canada, Europe and Russia, intrigued by the beauty of the Aurora, have always attributed a mythical sense to it and have, over the millennia, come up with legends whose beauty often matches that of the Aurora itself. According to the Vikings, the Northern Lights appeared when the Valkyries were out riding their horses, while other populations thought this phenomenon was due to a dance of the Gods of Dawn.

Many scientific hypotheses were proven wrong in the 19^th and early 20^th Century until, in 1925, scientists at the Carnegie Institute in Pittsburgh determined that (as Tycho Brahe had pointed out some four centuries earlier without finding proof) the Aurora Borealis is indeed related to magnetism and, in particular, to its effect on the solar wind. This huge stream of charged particles emanating from the Sun is partially deflected from its path by the magnetic field of the Earth and a number of these ions is forced through the ionosphere, i.e. a layer of the high atmosphere very rich in gases that become bright and colourful when an electric current is applied to them (just as in any commercial fluorescent light). Indeed, the different colours that occur in the sky during an auroral display are determined by the chemical nature of the predominant gas in the ionosphere, with oxygen glowing red, nitrogen crimson and a mixture of the two giving the sky the most common yellowish-green colour.

As the origin of the Aurora lies in the ionosphere, that is between 60 km and 240 km above the sea-level, the impression that the lights can be so low as to touch the ground has to be regarded as a mere optical illusion, however beautiful. Auroral displays are most frequent in a thin region around the Arctic and Antarctic Circles, due to the particularly high intensity of the magnetic field of the Earth in the proximity of the Poles and its perpendicularity to the Earth’s surface. However, occasional occurrences have been reported as far South as Rome during periods of particularly intense solar activity. In the 16^th Century, in the dark ages of the Counter-Reformation and the Inquisition, a red Aurora appeared in the sky of the Papal City and caused major concern among its population.

A very intriguing phenomenon for photographers, the Northern Lights are most frequently seen in March and September-October in the freezing cold of the Norwegian, Siberian and Canadian countryside, as far away from artificial light as possible to avoid light pollution. Photographers and observers of the Aurora Borealis are therefore always warned against venturing into these areas on their own and groups have to bring powerful flashlights, firecrackers and sometimes even guns with blank rounds along in order to scare the occasional bear away and avoid potentially dangerous close-encounters. In any case, considering the awesome beauty of the Northern Lights, even someone most unwilling to take risks is likely to consider the possibility of defying the cold weather, the remoteness of the places and possibly an occasional bear or two in order to have a chance of admiring Aurora's Winter Waltz.
Marco Sinibaldi

So, what's on your Must-See List? I'm sure any of you out there can list at least 3 things. Though, when I asked my husband, he didn't know what to say. When inquired further, all he came up with was a  Champions League final at Wembley Stadium. And he was the one who suspiciously didn't like soccer when we started to date. Men! :)

Man of the Year

One of the movies I watched this week was Les Intouchables and I adored it. I love French cinema in general, I find it so innovative in plots, brilliant in style and with a great humour as a base that never exceeds. Accidentally, this is the film that sold more in the last years and whose actor, Omar Sy, won Les Cesars as Best Performing Actor.

There must be a reason if they let The Artist star and Big Oscar Winner Jean Dujardin out at the 37th annual César ceremony in Paris. Omar was preferred and with every reason. His acting in this film was extremely portentous, plus he's funny and talented (and, hell, extremely sexy.) He has a new fan now :)

via mymovies

The Award is the highest honor in France, the equivalent of American Oscars. Plus, Omar made history, as he was the first black actor to win it since the ceremony debuted back in 1976.

Now, seriously, this guy rocks. Watch by yourself in the speech he gave. He's so alive and charmant! :)

I highly recommend Les Intouchables. Behind Omar's sensational acting there's a great plot (based on a true story, by the way), which will lead you to explore unwanted zones of illness and friendship. Then come here and share your opinions with me. I'll be glad.

Spring, interrupted

I was in a state of catatonic torpor all week. I haven't stepped out once since we got back home on Monday, with the exception of a massive grocery shopping spree to stock up essentials and not being bothered anymore. I made the most of Alfie being off work. Being together during the day is such a rare event since he started with his new job. I loved being spoilt with a rich breakfast after he took Ali to school and jogged, then annoy him all day asking him the things he normally should do when he's here :) I felt at ease. Sometimes leaving the whole world outside is necessary. I also needed to regain my energies after wasting them so much at in-laws ha ha Naughty me. 

We tried to detox from all the cakes and extra food of Easter. Life has a whole new perspective with a flat stomach after a light supper. Who needs to go mundane when you've got all you need at home, new toys included?

Cold weather didn't inspire me to go out neither. The early debut of Spring we had is abruptly over, with drops of November temperature like. The green we are blessed to see from our balconies and windows looks so surreal, like that vivid, unexpected green of British country that always makes you wonder when you'll step out of the portrait. Luscious green like a punch in the eye with all that gray around. Radiant green as a sign of premonition, that Spring is still there, screaming to be liberated.

All this green also gives me hope that maybe things will finally change in this rotten, corrupted Italy of mine. Use of illicit funds scandal has involved one of the useless still major parties here, Lega Nord. Not too bad for a party whose ideology is based over a separation from dishonest Southerners due to notorious Northern transparence. The scandal led to resignation of his historic leader Umberto Bossi and his moronic retard  favorite son Renzo. I'm too happy to even wonder how such people governed us for so long. That would mean meditation and I'm not in the mood for it.

Maybe my daghter will live in a different Italy, saner and more coherent. If things truly change maybe we can even abandon the idea to be permanent expatriates in the future. Everything is possible and it's what I want to believe in today. Whilst waiting for a better climate, like a typical Italian obsessed with weather. Because, okay, I confess it, I wondered wether Ali should wear a hat yesterday. Despite all my endeavors, this is something I still have to learn to control. And in case the above mentioned articles made you curious, I 'only' have 7 umbrellas at home!)

Back for Good

Hey! I'm back from my Easter family gathering safe and sound. It was fine, not as bad as I imagined, with some aggravating facts but, well, I survived. And despite all the fuss about this controversial city, Napoli remains a beautiful place. 

San Gregorio Armeno

Stay tuned for my imminent travelogue!

Easter Away

Let me tell you something: I don't want to go to Naples this Easter. We will be boarding Alitalia from Venice at 7.55 pm tonight and I'm NOT looking forward to it. That's why I'm probably here blogging my head away about traditional cakes from my region. It's all about sweets reproducing forms fertility 'and prosperity' decorated with eggs in my area at Easter time. Boys (brothers, sons and nephews) get horses, girls (sisters, daughters, nieces) get dolls and beloved ones are blessed with hearts. 

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Baked by my friend Silvia. Aren't they amazing?

Ingredients are flour, toasted almonds, chocolate, sugar and eggs, and the forms can be enriched with candies. I'll miss these products this year. I will be eating cakes of the Neapolitan tradition but, believe me, they're not the same. And I don't want to be regionalist here. It's plain truth. 

Wishing you a peaceful Easter weekend, then. I'll see you all on my way back on Monday with more stories and photos and enthusiasm. I'm feeling low at the moment but, well, that's life. It is what it is and I better accept it. Have fun!

Battling Euphemisms

Guglielmo Oberdan was an Italian irredentist who attempted to kill Austrian Emperor Francis Joseph on his visit to Trieste for the 500th anniversary of the city under the Habsburg kingdom. He failed, but two innocents died, thus he was executed in the central square that carries his name. Just before the execution he cried 'Viva l'Italia!' (Long Live Italy!) and became a martyr of Italian Unification.

Pino Robusti wasn't a partisan but he was killed all the same, arrested and later burnt in the crematory facility down under. He was 22 and was waiting for his girlfriend Laura in Oberdan Square on a sunny Spring day of 1945. They never met because the moment the girl stepped off the streetcar, police arrested the guy. He wasn't working and the fact seemed strange, even if he legally was on a day off from forced slavery work at Todt Organisation. He had to be working and was killed because of that.  

Laura never saw him again. She only got a letter from him, one of the most innocent, powerful, true love letters ever written. 

"It feels weird that, while writing to you, in a few hours I'll be shoot to death. I feel calm, barely glad. The only thing that hurts is I couldn't enjoy you as I wanted to, the only and most desired reward of my youth years (...) Goodbye, my adored Laura, I'm going towards the unknown, the glory and the abyss. Be strong, generous, inflexible. Goodbye. Pino."
From his real letter exposed at the Risiera Museum. 

Cantico dei Cantici sculpture in Oberdan square

Marcello Mascherini probably had Pino and Laura in mind while creating this statue that was placed in the infamous square. It stands there, covered by Spring blooming trees, utterly slim and utterly tall, to commemorate the horrible events. You need to have a good eye to catch it, it easily camouflages with the pompuous renaissance style of the other buildings. And it's so so different from the usual sontuous dead people monuments 

You know, Trieste is a city that never ceases to fascinate me, because every building hides a fact, every statue means a legend and in every corner or street something happened. Its story is so complex and so full of obscure and obliterated chapters, that maybe it's a reason why people are so eager to populate bars and enjoy life. Because their past is full of tragic and complicated aspects.

Since I live here I can't separate the beauty of this place with its intricate history, so I had to visit THE place where Pino was killed. It takes you a long corridor to arrive, where footsteps echo makes the place even more sinister. Its walls are so high that even the blindest light fail to illuminate the way. It's the entrance to a national museum, which gives honour and respect to many victims today, but that was a gateway to hell for many people. It takes to the only death camp Nazi had in Italy.

Built in 1913 as a rice-husking facility (hence the former name that hides the shame, Risiera di San Sabba), during the Nazi occupation it became an efficient prison where to keep political dissidents of the regime and Jewish people, who were sorted out to be deported to Auschwitz. The premise also had crematory facilities. It's where Pino was imprisoned and burnt. It's the peculiar killing camp of ideas, not necessarily tied to the madness of Nazi racial doctrine.

The only photo I dared to take, from the cells room.

There never were official statistics about the number of people exterminated here (though it's calculated around 5000 victims). Germans were efficient in destroying records and Post-War Italy did very little to aknowledge and even commemorate the events. The Risiera was declared National Monument only in 1965 and still today, complicity of the locals make it difficult for tourists to reach and even know about the place for those who are unaware. It's like they're doing their best to avoid involvment in the holocaust.

Which isn't true, because we had our part in the horrors instead. I hate recalling this, but we were a puppet state of Nazi Germany. Benito Mussolini was largely dependant on them to maintain control, especially in areas like Friuli Venezia Giulia were partisans were very active and Slovene irredentism was causing trouble since the brutal italinisation of Istria started when fascism started to spread.

The dependance became even more inevitable when German Army liberated Mussolini, an action which helped him to build The Salo Republic. And as a sign of gratitude, territories that once belonged to Austria were given to Germany, so Trieste, Udine and Fiume, with their hinterlands, were abandoned to their destiny. And while Marshall Badoglio secretly began negotiations with the Alley to let Italy capitulate, we persecuted Jews and repressed partisans. And once these large portions of land were under the Nazi control, they immediately started up a detention and death camp, using an abandoned rice facility here in Trieste.

I was silent and watchful while I visited THE place. I felt like I could be caught any moment. When I arrived near the perimeter where the furnace was, I was attracted by the contrast that the red brick of the structure creates with the cobalt sky. I kept looking up, thinking of those swalloed bodies, people on their back who watched the sky for their very last time. I wanted to scream. I turned instinctively to the 'death chamber' instead. It's spacious and wide. There was enough room to cry.

Next, one after the other, the tiny cells with uncomfortable wooden bunk beds. Reluctantly, I forced myself to go. There are bars on the window. I snapped the only picture of my visit, an overview of the courtyard from behind the bars, the view that prisoners enjoyed during the one hour of exercise per day granted to them. I did not know what else to photograph to document the terror. The writings on the humid walls are enough to testify the shame. There's something horrible in these personal effigy's tombstones.

When I realized there was nothing more for me to witness, I took out my notebook and started to take note of all the possible sentences to document. The exhibit hall includes documents, letters, drawings, photos but, most of all, includes the smell of death. That's where I copied extracts of Pino's letter to Laura. I was alone and I felt the exact shivering terror of when I'm alone in empty churches. The documents distracted me. The thought of what to witness and then write about my visit kept me sane. 

"Goodbye Mom! Goodbye sisters! I'll be shoot tomorrow." Chilling like that. 


Roberto Benigni did a fantastic job in presenting a vision of the Italian humanity during the Holocaust experience, away from the violence perpetrated by others. His film Life is Beautiful perpetuated a stereotype of good Italians compared to violece used by others, and this costed him the claim to compromise historical horror, giving a feeling of Italian extraneity to the fact. To many it sounded like his sentimental optimism protects us, just like the Risiera signs. With all my respect and admiration for Benigni, I find it difficult to understand why he should chose such a theme for his humour. The holocaust was a tragedy without equals and I'm with those who find not nice at all the way how Guido was trying to protect his child from such atrocities.

All you need is a visit to the Risiera and you'll realize how we had our dose of racism too. There were anti-semitic laws in Italy, promulgated in 1938. We had our 'No dogs or Jewes allowed' discriminatory signs and Mussolini was guilty of crimes. The fact many Italian Jews survived the Holocaust helped us  avoid censure for involvment in the persecutions, yet fascist policies and attitudes had a devastating effect on Jews community here. In the case of Trieste, by May 1945 only 10% of the city's prewar Jewish population remained there.

The euphemism of the Risiera isn't the only tragic event we tried to obliterate. When Italy surrended, Tito was doing his best to anticipate the alleys and take possess of the territory. New Zealanders arrived and couldn't help much. Yugoslavs took revenge on Fascists, who had largely imposed brutal italianisation of Yugoslav population in the new territories annexed to Italy after the Absburgic end of kingdom, starting a massacre through foibes and then repressing and humiliating Italians in Istria and Dalmatia, one of the most terrible events of our history.

In those 60 days of Yugoslav occupation it's calculated that many people died, buried still alive and still we obliterated the facts. No single history book mentions about it. We had to wait for 60 years and a brave politician who was trying to run for prime minter to finally commemorate the victims. Isn't this a shame? Primo Levi said that "if we die silently like our enemies want, the world will never know what the man was and is still capable of is capable of." So why being silent?


The least I can do is being firm in my principles and scream the truth from this blog. So, when you come to Trieste, plan a visit to the lager in San Sabba. And remember, it's called Risiera (rice-facility). Ask locals once in the area, because signs don't help. Good luck.

PS:
I started this article a few months ago but found a way to finish it only a few days ago, inspired by the statue i photographed in Piazza Oberdan. Then I waited until today to post it, because Pino was killed on April 5 and I wanted to pay a tribute to him. I hope you appreciate.

"April is a promise that May is bound to keep." - Hal Borland

The prince of spring is the wisteria, with its shower of lilac blossoms, so intensely fragrant.

New Outings (and Plans)

The day started with a teeth cleaning at a new dentist who brought up bad news- sigh. I used our imminent trip to Naples as an excuse for some therapy shopping afterwards. I ended up buying a frugal pair of sandals I'll probably wear, let's say, twice this summer. But well. 

Fortunately the hours became productive because I got inspired for a new project while wandering as usual. 

 And I even spotted a place that furnished material for my next post (stay tuned for that!)

Considering that I also had a second breakfast in my favorite bookstore, as a sign of an ultimate consolation treat (more for Naples than for the teeth cavity itself), I can say it wasn't a bad day at all.

And then of course, Spring, Spring and more Spring shots, despite this drastic temperature drop (who ever said April's the cruellest month was right!) There was snow up in the Carso today. If you ask my grandmother, she says it's certainly not the first time and my friend Tiina from Finland reports they had a few cm snow all over again today. But hell! I'm not old enough to remember some moronic April snow and I definitely don't live (and don't want to) live in Scandinavia. I'm sorry, you Northeners, it's because I can't put up with cold weather at all. I've nothing against your lovely countries.

Back at home I spent a lovely afternoon with my baby doing Easter crafts and photoshooting Angelica, a cute friend's daughter, who photographed me and Ali back. Yes, this is all we like doing in this family. Somebody please remind my MIL, as she needs to get ready for a meeting soon :)

Angie helping us

Please, please, please, let me be like this with her forever!

Yeah, I know, I know, this post is about articulating my discomfort with my visit to in-laws. Please, be patient with me. You wouldn't like to be in my shoes!

People with Talent

Welcome to the rubric of mine where I spot interesting people and am lucky enough to interview them. The photo course I'm taking gives me the chance to meet so many talented people. One of the firsts I came across was Marco, one of the instructors of my group.

He recently got his Masters Degree in Naval Engineering here in Trieste and is now approaching his Doctorate. In the meantime, he keeps mentoring students development each step of the way at the Circolo Triestino, whose is an enthusiast member. 

What impressed me about this guy was is competence in camera knowing. Then, the fact he had a lot of hands-on time during our outings. His later acute critiques and commentary to our assignments made me brave enough to want to know him better. He's got me so intrigued.

Let's read what he has to say and share about his passion. I'm honoured to have him on my blog and if you enjoy the interview, let me know.

1. Hi Marco, tell us something about yourself. 

Well, I'm a 26-year-old Marine Engineer with a great passion for photography, Classical Music (especially Mozart and Beethoven) and History. Besides, over the years I became very keen on the English language and the culture behind it, which has prompted me to visit Britain many times, thus providing me with plenty of inspiration for my photography. I occasionally help some kids with Mathematics and Physics to earn a little money that I then mostly spend on photo equipment.

2. The first question is a must: how did you come across photography?

When I was 9, my parents bought me a 35 mm-point-and-shoot camera that I used for some years, until I became curious about my dad's reflex (he had a Nikon F3 at the time). So, when I finished Secondary School with distinction, I got a Nikon F70 of my own as a present and with that, I guess I built most of my photographic culture on my own.

3. Are there any experiences that influenced your approach to your artistic activity?

Strange as it may seem, I never attended a photography course, nor did I have any particular experience that influenced my early years as a photographer. After my father taught me the basics, I guess I built most of my photographic culture on my own.

4. Helmut Newton says taht "the desire to discover, the wish to move and the taste to capture are the three concepts that reassume the art of photography". What is your philosophy of photography?

For many years, photography has been for me mainly a mean to capture snapshots of the places I visited, thus sometimes resulting in somewhat postcard-like results. I'd say that, over the last 5-7 years, my approach has gradually changed towards a more personal approach, yet remaining a way of bringing something back home to remember the places I've been to.

5. What are your favorite things to photograph?

Architecture, animals and flowers.

6. What photographic equipment do you normally use?

I own a Nikon D700, my old F70 (which I have kept), two old rather cheap lenses (a 28-80 and a 80-200 mm), a fabulous 105 mm f. 2/8 Macro lens and a superb, incredibly sharp 24-70 mm f. 2/8; I use a tripod when the necessity arises. Oh, and sometimes I borrow my dad's 70-300 mm lens for some extremely long shots.

7. Is there a photo you're particularly attached to? And why?

There is. When I visited Tuscany in 2003, I spotted a small grove of cypresses alongside the via Cassia, near a village called 'San Quirico d'Orcia' and casually I took a shot, but without much confidence. The result was impressive and for this particular picture I was even awarded a prize in a photographic competition held at school the following year.

8. Does the eye with which you capture the world change depending on the subject, or do all of your photos reflect your personal vision?

Yes, and it's probably not a good thing. Many photographers can find inspiration also in desolate, dilapidated subjects, while I can't. Likewise, the weather tends to deeply affect my vision of the world through my viewfinder, therefore I love taking pictures on sunny days, but I often find it difficult to get good results on rainy days and it's almost impossible for me to take a decent shot on cloudy, white-skied days. That is when I find trustworthy ally in HDR photography.

9. Do you do much editing?

Not much: just some minor cropping and saturation/white balance adjustments. This is partially due to my poor knowledge of Photoshop. I occasionally do some HDR.

10. If you had to photograph a celebrity, whom would you choose?

This is a tough question. I would say a famous orchestra conductor.

11. What do you capture better and what would you like to improve?

Flowers and architecture are okay, but I still have to improve landscape and animal photography, as well as night and low-light photography.

12. Which photographers of the past, or still alive, have influenced the way you photograph? And whom do you admire in particular?

Unfortunately, my knowledge about photographers of the past is rather limited. Anyway, I have recently come across pictures by Jim Brandenburg, an American nature photographer who has worked for National Geographic for over 30 years and I found his work particularly inspiring. I also saw some extraordinary shots by Dr. Mike Maloney, an English photographer, who has recently had the privilege of being allowed to produce a photo report about the British Houses of Parliament.

13. Which books and magazines published your images? And where can we view your photos?

The previosuly mentioned picture of the cypresses was published in a book called "Gran Tour delle colline" some years ago. So far, no other shots have been published. You can view my pictures at my Flickr photostream (please note that this page also contains several images of my father and that almost all captions were written by him, so please don't hold me responsible for any mistake ...)

14. Woud you like to choose a shot from your portfolio and tell us 'what is behind' it?

Of course. When I was in Provence, back in 2006,  I visited a small village called 'Le Grau du Roi' and I spotted a young lady reading a book on a quay with her bike lying on some rocks next to her. The light was just perfect, as it formed a beautiful reflection on the surface of the sea. But, as I discreetely approached to take the shot, a cloud obscured the sun. Well, I was so determined to capture that image, that I waited for a good half an hour until the sun finally shone again and I could carry on with my intent.

One more? When I was in London in December 2010 I was wandering around St. James' Park when I spotted as quirrel that had just dug a piece of an orange out and was eating it and I stopped to take a picture of it. Suddenly a hooded crow landed nearby and tried to steal the food from the squirrel, only to be mercilessly beaten up by the angry rodent.

15. Finally, leave a thought or some advice to those approaching the world of photography today. 

Don't approach photography with the idea that "It's' digital, therefore I can take random shots and then edit them later".  Photo editing is great, but it works on a garbage-in-garbage-out basis: if the input is lousy, you'll never have a first-class output.

Thanks, Marco, for being with us today. Wishing you luck in your career and keep shooting, constantly experimenting and loving life!