Ha Noi – one month

Diary

Ha Noi. One month. I look from the window of my office at the 12th floor of the Vietnam Academy for Social Sciences. Hi see high rising buildings that are being built all around the town. I hear the beat of the town, the ten of thousands of motorbikes and the car of this town which has about 2ml inhabitants. The sky has been gray most of the time. It is winter time and as back home the sun hides behind the clouds. It is one month and I find it still difficult to put together my thoughts about this town (I do not speak of Vietnam as this is a large country and so far we have only been in Ha Noi). On the one hand it is a familiar place. We visited here when Olga was about 1 year old. We went to Ha Long Bay and enjoyed the sea. At that time two things surprised me very much: the traffic and the fact that people do not usually smile as in Cambodia.

These two things have remained with me even now. The comparison with Cambodia is inevitable as that is the country I have been living with Katja have been for four years and which represents to me the term of comparison for this part of the world. Cambodia, Viet Nam, Cambodia, Viet Nam. Country side, town. Hot, humid. Green, gray. Poor, richer. The more I will learn Viet Nam the less, I think, I will compare it to Cambodia. But at the moment this is the case. Cambodia is somehow like home. Ha Noi and Viet Nam are still to be discovered.

Writing soon….

Hyväranta

Diary

Our new sauna/mökki in Heinävesi, Finland.
The name is Hyvaaranta. Welcome!!

Inferno

Diary

Non é da poco che vivo in Finlandia, ma ci sono ancora momenti come quelli vissuti questo pomeriggio che mi lasciano stupefatto come se fossi appena arrivato in questo paese del nord.

A un chilometro da casa c’é il lago Näsijärvi, uno dei più grandi del paese. Dopo un lungo periodo di chiusura dovuto ad una ristrutturazione, hanno da poco riaperto la sauna pubblica alla spiaggia di Kaupinoja (http://www.talviuimarit.fi/sauna_in_english/). Si sono andato per la prima volta questo pomeriggio alle cinque. Faceva giá buoi..

Lo spogliatoio per uomini é spartano. Non esistono armadietti e si appendono i vestiti ad appositi ganci al muro. Una volta che si si é cambiati e si é messo il costume da bagno che é obbligatorio, si passa in una mini-stanza con tre sole docce. Dalle docce si passa alla stanza pre-sauna nella quale ci sono panche di legno lungo i muri per sedersi e rilassarsi tra un giro e l’altro. Ho subito notato che il grande tavolo al centro della stanza era invaso di birre e qualche bottiglia d’acqua. Da lí si passa alla sauna. Ho atteso qualche istante prima di entrare per famigliarizzare con il luogo. Entro: Boom!

Mi ritrovo in una grande stanza con due file di panche ai lati disposte su quattro livelli che possono senza dubbio tenere ottanta persone. Quando sono entrato io erano forse quaranta. All’altro lato della stanza una enorme stufa a legna di quasi due metri di altezza altrettanto di diametro emana un calore atomico. Sassi di 5 o 10 chili sono messi in cima alla stufa per raccogliere e trasferire il calore del fuoco. Ai piedi della stufa socche di un metro attendono di essere buttate nella fornace.

Mi guardo attorno e decido di partire con il quarto livello, la panca piú in alto. Mi arrampico con la mia tavoletta di legno sulla quale sedersi e non scottarsi. Appena seduto, mi devo subito abbassare sulle ginocchia per resistere alla temperatura atroce. Resisto tre minuti e volo fuori. Fine del primo giro.

Esco all’aperto. Il sudore sulla mia pelle fuma a più non posso. Un vapore che riempie l’aria fredda e che insieme a quello degli altri clienti viene illuminato dalla fotoelettrica sul tetto della sauna verso il lago e genera una immagine quasi dantesca. Decine di persone fumanti in costume da bagno, alcuni con berrette di cotone altri senza che si muovono nella penombra e che vanno e vengono verso il lago un po’ come il lago come lungo una catena di montaggio.

Rientro in sauna. Sempre con la tavoletta e decido per un cauto secondo livello. Mi guardo attorno. Non c’é termometro: Strano. Ma forse é perché la temperatura é sempre al massimo e quindi non serve a niente. Si apre la porta della sauna ed entra la signora alla quale avevo pagato il biglietto e che si occupa del posto. In tuta da lavoro blu, enormi guanti di pelle tipo macchinista di locomotiva a vapore con i quali apre l’ enorme bocca della fornace e alimenta il fuoco con cinque o sei socche di quelle toste.

Nel frattempo un tipo seduto al quarto livello con berretta azzurra di cotone, capelli a spazzola cortissimi, viso segnato dalle rughe, panza, una vita passata in sauna si impossessa del mestole lungo due metri con il quale alimentare il löyly da una vaschetta piena d’acqua attaccata alla stufa. Si lascia. Non due o tre löyly, ma dodici in una volta!!!. Deposita il mestolone e si siede mani sulle ginocchia guardandosi attorno con aria di sfida. Altri finnici lo guardano un po’ di traverso. La temperatura già torrida, sale ulteriormente. Qualcuno al quarto livello vola fuori, il tipo con la berretta azzurra resiste. Al secondo livello la botta arriva dopo, ma arriva. Devo uscire di nuovo.

Respiro a pieni polmoni l’aria fresca e ma avvicino alla scala che porta al lago per il bagno. Una scala rivestita di gomma che scende dolcemente verso l’acqua. Larga un po’ più di un metro ha uno scorrimano nel centro: A destra dello scorrimano si scende verso il lago, a sinistra dello scorrimano si risale verso la terrazza di fronte alla sauna. Siamo in fila . Conto tre uomini davanti a me e due dietro. Scendiamo. Conto gli scalini, uno, due, tre, quattro … divento nervoso … dieci, undici, dodici … inizio ad avere paura ma non mi posso tirare indietro …. venti, ventuno, ventidue …. l’acqua nera é vicinissima … venticinque, ventisei … gli scalini entrano nell’acqua così come lo scorrimano … ventotto, ventinove … ecco ci siamo … trenta: la botta!. Mi sento come trascinato da quelli davanti a me che senza problemi nuotano i due interminabili metri fino alla fine dello scorrimano e poi tornano indietro per risalire lungo la scala. L’acqua é una mazzata, supero quello davanti a me che nuota una rana rilassata e mi guarda con curiosità. Passo attorno allo scorrimano e spingo sugli scalini per uscire dall’acqua. Ho dolori dappertutto. Risalgo lentamente e quando arrivo alla terrazza della sauna due clienti parlano della temperatura dell’acqua e uno dice all’altro: oggi é calda, no?

Rientro in sauna. Il tipo con la berretta non c’é. Mi siedo di nuovo al secondo livello. Parecchie persone portano scarpine di gomma per windsurf, ma a giudicare dall’età e stato fisco ben pochi lo praticano. Quindi vanno magari definite scarpe da sauna invernale. Alcuni tengono le berrette anche in sauna. La porta si apre, entra la berretta azzurra e va di nuovo ad impossessarsi del mestolone al quarto livello. Altri e non solo io lo guardano male. Di nuovo dodici o tredici löyly micidiali. Più che facce rilassate vedo facce sofferenti attorno a me. Comunque resisto: Sento di avere preso il ritmo giusto. Sauna, seduta all’aria fresca, seduta in stanza riposo davanti alle birre, e di nuovo in sauna. Un ritmo più rilassato e più adeguato. Faccio altri quattro o cinque giri. Alla fine sono così stremato che neppure il tipo con la berretta azzurra mi fa più paura.

Ultimo giro e doccia. Apro il rubinetto, c’é solo acqua fredda a temperatura di lago. Ma ormai questo é niente.

 

Born this morning

Family

Hi everybody I was born this morning at 05:31 with 4,2 Kg.
My parents have not yet decided my name but I am not in a hurry.
I met my sister Olga as well.

Remember

Diary

As I just heard in the radio, almost everybody can remember where they were on 9/11/2001. Details, small stories, memories that contribute to the collective remembrance of that day. A day that has been described as the day that marked a change in history, a day after which the world was no longer the same.

I was in Berlin. Attending the preparation training with the German Development Service as I was due to leave for Cambodia at the end of September with my family to start to work in a rural development project. Days in Berlin at the training centre, located at the outskirt of the two in Kladow were a bit dull, morning session on various development topics and afternoon more or less free. That day I stayed in and red something in the room. I went a couple of times in the main building and walked the long corridor passing by the entrance of the library. I remember noticing that the library was open and people were inside though it was past the closing time. I did not go in thinking that there was a training going on. After some time I went to the PC lab to read emails. A find was also sitting there . As I sat and started to type in my passwords, he turned to me and said: did you hear that a plane flew into the WTO in New York?. I though imnmediately of accident and browsed to the homepage of a Italian newspaper. There was the picture of the burning tower and the still small news that a plane had crashed into it. It was still not clear what had really happened. I realised then that the people in the library had gathered there to watch at the big TV there.

I walked back to the main building and entered the room. I remember how people were silent. All concentrate don the chilling images coming from New York. Some holding his hand on their mouth, all eyes to those images that seemed still a movie. The silence, everybody with his or her thoughts, shaking head in disbelieve. The second plane had already crashed. Smoke was coming from the towers. Similar to some volcanic eruption, that all of a sudden breaks out from the earth surface.

I do not know how long we stand there. At some point somebody left. It was just too much. news were coming in of people jumping from the towers. Than a plane had crashed in the Pentagon.

I left and went out, and though about my wife who was in Finland, my mother, my brother. Family. I wanted to hear their voices and phone them.

With few other colleagues taking part in the training we had organised for that evening a dinners at a Vietnamese restaurant in town. We gathered outside the library door to decide what to do. Go? Stay? Cancel? Opinion were divided. In the end we decided to go. I guess we did it because in a way life must go on, but more importantly, at least for me, was that I had the need to stay with people and talk with them about what we had see, and what had happened. Probably for my fiends was the same. So we reached the Vietnamese restaurant in a unreal atmosphere and mood. We ordered our food and talked New York, but also about our departure to Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos and our expectation about the two years we were supposed to work there. Life and plans were back. Life was there.

Back to my room I switched to BBC World Service and listened for hours the news. There I was alone with this terrible reality. Then came the next day. Training started, we decided to move on. Later I went back to Finland. We left for Cambodia. And here I am five years later, back in Finland, remembering that day.

What has changed? has everything changed? It may sound rethoric, but there is a lot of heatred in the world as the gap is widening between the haves and the haves nothing. This needs to change because we are all one, on this one planet.

Turku archipelago

Countryside
Archipelago of Turku | Finland 2006

Turku achipelago

Sea
Archipelago of Turku | Finland 2006

Terzani

Diary

Perché le parole di Terzani colpiscono così a fondo? Perché parlano al cuore, vengono dal cuore. Affrontano le nostre incertezze, le nostre debolezze, la nostra paura atavica della morte, ridimensionano la civiltà occidentale e la confrontano con un Oriente con la O maiuscola. Un’ Asia che, nonostante progresso e sviluppo economico, riesce a mantenere una dimensione spirituale. In alcuni paesi più che il altri.



Home

Diary

This is how it feels. These are the moments when I miss home, Italy. I am writing from Finland, nice summer evening, sun falling slowly at the horizon, families in these block houses where we live that are having dinner. In few minutes will start the final of the World Cup, Italy-France. I know I will miss the Italian summer, the voice of TVs coming from neighbouring flats where the open windows make fresh air to flow in the rooms. TV getting louder the closer the match, friends gathering together to watch and shout and curse. This is what I miss now. While living abroad often it is easy to compare and write about what works here and what does not work back home. But these are the moments when I feel I pay the price. I miss the friends, the possibility to go to a bar to watch and exchagerate every comment, the glass of wine, the talks, everybody transforming himself in the Italian trainer. I do not know how it will go, in the end it does not matter so much. But if Italy scores, I will have the same feeling as in the semi-final: two minutes to go before the end of the second extra time, Grosso on the right end side of the penalty area. Converge to the centre; kick the ball with his left foot. A smooth shot that goes right in the goal, too far for the goalkeeper, the net that moves as wind. I stand up, got o the balcony, wanted to shout and what I can hear is the great silence of the night, a distant silence. Though inside, I heard the shouts from home.

Mountaineering or editing

Diary

I am working on my PhD dissertation. The last stage. Putting things together, trying to fit into a readable text experiences, books, articles, and data collected during the last four years in Cambodia. I have met many people who have gone successfully through this stage and they all described it as a difficult, challenging, intense, lonely, frustrating time. However all agree that it is worth it.

I have been thinking which metaphor better describes this period. I am divided between two: the mountaineering or the movie editor. I have not yet decided which one is the most suited.

Let’s start with the mountaineering one. The whole research process is like going uphill; however the climbing gets really steep only in the end. At time sit is possible to see the top, but the come the clouds to cover it. Then again, another sunny day, the top still there. Solid, not to far, but still a steep climb. Then again clouds and sun. I started the last stage with a heavy rucksack on my shoulder. Too heavy, in fact. I brought too many clothes, tent, trangia, shoes, etc. While climbing I decide to leave things on the way that I may or may not recover when and if I will come back the same way. Day after day I have the feeling that I have the right amount of stuff in the rucksack, but you can never be sure with those clouds coming and going.

I am not a movie maker and neither and editor, but I certainly like movies. I imagine the making of a movie. Kilometres and kilometres of film that is recorded: lines with actors, landscapes, details of a house, the skyline of an American town, the sun and clouds, the wind moving tree tops. All this to be the moved around in the editing room to make the story. Find into all these kilometres of film the right shots, images, lines, actors’ expressions to make the final story. This is more or less what I am doing now: search in all the papers, books, articles, digital data, hardcopies, and choose the quotes, the references that will support my ideas and make the story about Cambodia and their people that I am writing.

Yet I ma not sure what is the most appropriate metaphor. I have the feeling that once I reach the top of the mountain, I will see many more mountains all around me, until the horizon. All the things that, through this research, I leaned I do not know and would like to know. In the editing room, the kilometres of film can get entangled and something useful and interesting that I once noted down, may slip away in the pile of the material I will not use.

What to do? I do not have an answer, yet.