Alpe della Luna: l'inverno che fa l'amore con la primavera

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La traccia GPS dell'Itinerario sull'Alpe della Luna 

(fonte Wikiloc @Mattia Foschi)

The Rice and the Bean

Inspired by the journey of the prophet Mohammed

Story designed and performed

at the First Workshop on Christmas Tales

Italian Storytelling Center

Once upon a time, there was a quiet house on top of a rounded hill. It was a big and colorful building. The roof was red, the walls were white and the arched wooden doors were green. The surroundings were a kingdom of colors. The house stood on fresh bright grass and the sun was bright in a deep blue sky.

The colorful house was a place of calm and peace. Down the road, at the bottom of the hill, a glass door – at a time transparent and strong – protected the house from the troubles of the world. No threats could interfere the slow pace of time nor could strangers alter the habits of the inhabitants.
There lived a large and happy family. People were helpful to each other, smiling and energetic. They were a festive folk. They often enjoyed rich banquets, eating, drinking, and partying together. They biggest dinner was at Christmas. In that special occasion, other relatives and friends came to celebrate the holy day. Each year the same tradition was renewed. They all sat around a rectangular table and, by the end of the Christmas’ dinner, they all shared some steamed white rice.

The arrival of the rice was a moment of joy. Everybody welcomed the rice with respect and enthusiasm. Yet one boy at that table felt a little anxious. He was as happy as the other people about the rice and the Christmas, yet he could not stop wondering whether that was the only way to celebrate Christmas. He was curious and he had no way to stop his dream of novelty and discovery.

One day, this dream called him to action. He took all of his courage, prepared his backpack, walked down the hill, opened the transparent and consistent door and set forth his journey through the world. He sailed the seven seas, walked the desert dunes, marched the tropical forests and climbed the highest mountains.  Then again, he came across seas, dunes, forests and mountains. That was a long solitary exploration, until, on the other side of the earth, he ended up in a new community.

At first, it was hard. He could hardly understand what the new people said and did. Soon, however, he gained confidence, learnt the language and got used to the local new habits. He was quite surprised to see that those new people, despite all the differences, were as festive and friendly as the people he had grown with. The visitor and the locals became quickly so acquainted that, when Christmas came, the locals invited the solitary traveler to join their dinner. Everything was as he remembered from his old days at home. Only two details changed. They sat around a circular table and, by the end of the dinner, they shared some steamed black beans.

For the visitor, that was a great news. He was enchanted by that discovery and for several Christmas he sat happily with his new fellow friends to enjoy Christmas at the round table eating black beans. He was happy and proud of his discovery. Yet, again, he started to feel anxious and sorrow. He thought about his people on the other side of the earth and he dreamt to share his discovery with them. How nice to let them know that there were people celebrating Christmas with black beans instead of white rice.

One day, eventually, his anxiety called him to action. He prepared his backpack and set forth his journey back home. He climbed the highest mountains, marched the tropical forests, walked the desert dunes and sailed the seven seas. Then again, he came across mountains, forests, dunes and seas. It was a long journey, until he came to the door of his colorful and peaceful house on top of the hill. He opened the door and, thrilled by the emotion, walked up the road.

After great celebrations, his family asked him about his journey and discoveries. They asked where he had been and what he had learnt. They were surprised to hear that there were people so strange to celebrate Christmas with black beans. They actually were very skeptical in the beginning.

Nonetheless, they felt curious as well. After a while, they asked how those beans tasted. Then, they dared to prepare them. At that point, one of community asked to travel seas, dunes, forests and mountains and meet those people eating beans. Several long journey were undertaken, untill the time when the two communities became friends.

They became so close to each other that they decided to celebrate the next Christmas together. They arranged a rectangular square and joined it to a circular one. Then, they sat all together and, by the end of the dinner, they shared and exchanged white rice and black beans.

While eating, they considered that there in the world so many more seas, dunes, forests and mountains to explore and maybe people celebrating Christmas with peas or lentils or chili peppers. They were charmed by this perspective and they redesigned their kitchens to make room for all the legumes and the vegetables they could think about.

They were eager to discover these new people and share Christmas with them. That was when they looked down the road at the door and they thought that it was of no use anymore. They walked down and removed it that is why our roads are now free and our journey across Europe without frontiers.
They just saved the door handle in in the memory of the old days, when the door was closed and the rice the only way to celebrate Christmas. They say you can still find it in a secret kitchen somewhere, close to the rice, the beans, the lentils, the peas and all the other vegetables and legumes.

Acquacheta: la panchina nel bosco

Acquacheta: tramonto sul torrente innevato

Campo di soia ghiacciato verso la collinaccia

Cervia - Magazzini del Sale

Giorni di convivio

Dopo giorni intensi, obiettivi chiari e agende intense, mi sono regolato alcuni momenti conviviali.

Ho bevuto whisky con sommelier americani. Ho fatto assaggiare la piadina a storyteller inglesi. Ho iniziato alla fiorentina commercianti arabi, introdotto al gutturnio ex clienti tedeschi e "coccolato" vecchi amori olandesi.

E tutto è successo in soli pochi giorni e non mi sono dovuto neppure muovere.

Irlanda: the Rock of Cashel

Irlanda: Antrim Coast

Irlanda: lungo la Antrim Coast

Val Formazza: Passo San Giacomo

Orridi di Uriezzo: Ponte di Balmasurda

Cascate del Toce

La tonnara di Vendicari

Storie di Vendicari
"Il sardo sotto il carrubo di Sicilia"

Il sardo sotto il carrubo di Sicilia

Il fumo della brace sale ancora tra le foglie del carrubo, così come l’odore della carne riempie ancora l’aria. C’è poco vento nella costa a sud di Siracusa. La brezza dal mare spira forte, ma poi si perde tra le frasche degli agrumeti che circondano il maniero. Nella radura, dove di giorno i muratori lavorano al recupero della vecchia scuola, c’è aria di casa. Sapone, shampoo, sale, caffè popolano gli scaffali vicino alla tenda dove i muratori si fermano anche la notte. E’ sabato e la radura si è vestita a festa. Dalle campagne, altri amici, altri conoscenti sono scesi per condividere la carne alla brace che la squadra di lavoratori prepara per le sere di libertà.

A mezzanotte, la cena è finita da poco. I bambini guardano costruire palloncini artistici; era il lavoro di uno dei muratori. Alla destra del carrubo, seduti sulla calce, due ragazzi preparano una canna. Il gruppetto più grande è attorno alla luce di un piccolo faro, chi sorseggia l’ultima birra, chi bagna la frutta con un moscato secco e forte.


Nell’angolo più buio, a sinistra del grande albero, invece, un uomo sardo di mezza età parla a bassa voce con una ragazza dai capelli rossi. Voci basse, la ragazza chiede, l’uomo risponde.
“Ho comprato un pezzo di terra in Sardegna – dice lui –. E’ fuori città, in un luogo tranquillo. C’è un guado da attraversare per arrivarci, ma l’acqua non è mai troppo forte”.
“Vuoi costruire casa, una vera, in mattoni” sopraggiunge lei.
“No, nessun mattone. In paglia e pietra. Costruirò una pinneta, con gli stessi materiali che usavano i pastori per la transumanza. Quando erano in viaggio, i pastori trovavano solo pietra e paglia e con pietra e paglia costruivano le loro dimore. Avevano il fuoco al centro; le usavano anche come caseifici. Anche la mia avrà il fuoco al centro”.
“Faccio fatica a immaginarla – commentò la ragazza -. Non ne ho mai sentito parlare”.
“Come la iurta dei nomadi delle steppe. Solo più solida – precisò lui -. La iurta doveva smontarsi, mentre la pinneta è una costruzione permanente”.
“Sai già quando ti trasferirai?”.
“Non ancora”, temporeggia lui, mentre ispira forte e la canna brilla nella notte. “Per ora voglio chiedere ai muratori se posso vivere qui con loro nella loro tenda. Devo restare ancora in Sicilia”.
“Perché l’hai scelta?”.
“Non l’ho scelta. Il lavoro mi ci ha portato. E il lavoro ancora mi piace nonostante tutto”.

L’uomo inspirò l’ultima erba e si alzò. Si incamminò verso la sua tenda, a un paio di chilometri oltre la strada. Il giorno dopo, vestito da soldato, l’attendevano sulla sua nave arancione per il soccorso in mare. Di nuovo verso Lampedusa, il suo mare e i suoi barconi.

Ridracoli - Rifugio Ca' di Sopra: Daino al Tramonto

Il thè dell’Asia e la Menta di Romagna

24 ore, una persona, due messaggi. Nel primo, via Facebook, mi ha invitato alla riunione dell’associazione a cui entrambi apparteniamo; nel secondo, via email, mi ha intimato un omissione di atti di ufficio.
Il flusso degli eventi è proseguito coerente a questo inizio.

Ancora pochi minuti e ancora due messaggi. Due email questa volta. La prima mi ha inserito in un settetto magico, chiamato a portare il mondo in un piccolo spicchio d’Italia. La seconda mi ha invitato a trasferirmi in Irlanda per farla esplorare a piccoli gruppi di italiani.
E così ancora pochi minuti dopo. Altri minuti due messaggi ancora. Uno per accompagnare dei canadesi in Birmania; uno per accompagnare dei Birmani in Italia.

Nel thè verde asiatico aromatizzato alla menta romagnola mi chiedo se, come the Yes Man, anch'io posso dire di sì a tutto.

Myanmar. The Blue Sky and the Golden Land. Shwedagon Pagoda

Myanmar. Pindaya Cave

More on the Pindaya Natural Cave

Myanmar. Bagan. Sulamani Pahto

More on the Sulamani Pahto