Is Collaboration the Meaning of Life?

I've been wanting to write a new post for a very long while. I even started to write various posts about different things. I'll try to see if I can merge everything into a single entry coherently.

First of all, some background.

During one month in Catalonia (September 14^th - October 16^th) I re-encountered, met, got to know and —in general— loved a lot of people while living in 4 different places. 1) Mas Franch, 2) S. & H. F.'s place in Barcelona, Mas Franch, Barcelona, 3) Can Masdeu, Barcelona, 4) Kosturica and one last stop in Barcelona. I also visited other 2 projects (J. C.'s place + Can Manent), attended meetings of Permacultura Barcelona, the food forest group, and so on. Coming back to Italy I had the opportunity to meet old friends and to straighten some old scar tissue with L. B. in a very civilized way. The other night while writing this post I've also been listening to the EP of the Collective she's part of. My favourite song is n. 4, Calexico-ey and melancholic.

And now this new adventure: starting from last Monday I'm living for two months with two good friends in a very small, beautiful Italian town working in exchange for food and accommodation.

Very many things happened since I went to Barcelona in September —Permaculture Teachers' Training, European Permaculture Teachers' partnership, various bio constructions, meetings and parties and chats— and I had a lot of material for thought. During this whole period (in Catalonia) there was a lot of people care involved. I thought about our bodies and our “natural” shyness of showing them and how I overcame it. I already talked about how I find the prohibition for women to show their nipples

absolutely pointless and extremely sexist. It's true, maybe girls started to cover their tits to make them accessible only to those who would provide for them, thus having another arrow in their quiver since the control of sex was almost their only weapon, but society  and bigotry took over and even nowadays this prohibition stands. Same thing for the “necessity” women

have to shave or the idea that they should be skinny and Barbie-like. I saw many girls going against these prohibitions lately —at least in "safe" environments— and I couldn't be happier. Going back to myself, I never swam, sun bathed nor took a shower naked before, at least not in broad daylight, but it seemed just natural to do so, due to the relaxed circumstances and to the care everybody would take of everyone else. Care of people.

Thinking about bodies made me realize that our body —like any other organism— works because zillions of cells cooperate to make it work properly.

I also thought a lot about relationships —I've been reading The Ethical Slut, a very interesting book about “Polyamory, Open Relationships & Other Adventures”— and I realized that every successful and/or pleasurable activity is the result of a cooperation. Organisms. Relationships. Life. 

It's been happening in my life too. 

Since last April I've been living mostly in communities. Unlike most of the examples I heard about, these communities worked perfectly, especially when a good care of people was involved. The only problem I encountered in the relationships between all the people in these communities —between M. and various other people while I was at CMD— was handled beautifully by the rest of that community (which by the way was made up of two communities).

I feel that cooperation and the lack of competition is crucial towards any successful process. While staying at Valldaura —where I did an internship between last April and July— the first open discussion between us —the interns— and them —the organization— happened when N. D. —chief of the project— suggested that the 13 of us had to make a design for a vegetable garden and she would then decide which one was the best one. But she said that this wasn't a contest. I disagreed firmly and said it clearly and saw that almost all the other interns agreed with me. Why would anyone want to show that they're the best —thus creating frictions and a competitive environment— when they can share ideas with somebody else?

The most complex communities in nature work because there is a great cooperation between

Termite Colony

the various subjects which work together towards a common goal: the well being of the whole community. In bees, ants, termites, wasps colonies every single element is as important as the others and none of them is more important than the others. Not even the queen. Her duty is to be laying eggs tirelessly, but if we talk about bees, if the queen dies the workers feed some of the larvae with royal jelly and create their new queen. These macro-communities work exactly like a single organism where the insects can be compared to cells and every one of them cooperate with the others to make the community work. As a matter of fact these types of colonies are commonly called "superorganisms". Apparently cooperation is the key to success and ants are a clear example. According to scientific studies there are around 10,000,000,000,000,000 individual ants alive on Earth at any given time, weighing together more than the entire human race!

Coming back to us human, the one single activity where people care is involved and a good cooperation of bodies, relationships and —why not?— life is needed for things to work well, is sex. But this would be another very long story. Maybe some other time. :)

Napule è na cartuline

Napule è na cartuline. Questa è stata un delle prime cose che mi ha detto I. F. al mio arrivo a casa sua, nel centro di Napoli. Una battuta ricorrente di Pippo Chennedy che avevo quasi scordato, ma che una vera napoletana non poteva aver dimenticato. Purtroppo non riesco a trovarla su YouTube...

'Vedi Napoli e poi muori' dicono. Io l'avevo sempre snobbata, sempre pensato che questa frase fosse un'esagerazione. Sempre preferito Roma, anche e soprattutto per la maggiore vicinanza e miglior connessione ferroviaria. Questo ha voluto dire che Napoli proprio non la conoscevo, avendola visitata un pomeriggio del 1997 dopo una mattinata a Pompei; era il giorno della morte di Lady D. L'unica altra “visita” è stata in macchina nel 2006 per andare al porto a prendere un traghetto verso la Tunisia. Punto. È la seconda grande città più vicina a Ceccano eppure non ricordavo praticamente niente. Poi ti capita la fortuna di conoscere due splendide ragazze durante un corso, che queste ti riaccompagnino a casa sulla via del ritorno verso Napoli e ti offrano di ospitarti per una piccola visita alla loro città. E finalmente cominci a conoscere un po' Napoli.

Mi viene subito in mente Barcellona, forse perché anche quello è un porto sul Mediterraneo o forse perché è lì che ho vissuto nell'ultimo periodo. Barcellona è una città ricca di cultura e di culture, di persone che vengono da ogni parte del mondo; una città con due culture e due lingue dominanti —la catalana e la spagnola— alle quali si aggiungono le culture di tutte le persone che ci vivono, indipendentemente da dove esse provengano. Barcellona è al centro del Mediterraneo, di un Mediterraneo fatto di lingue diverse e di persone che continuano a mischiarsi per creare una cultura sempre più ricca e moderna.

Napoli è il Mediterraneo.

È una città multiculturale perché piena di napoletanx, abitanti di questa città al centro del Mare Nostrum da sempre, quando di barcellonesi a Barcellona se ne trovano pochx. E le napoletane e i napoletani hanno una cultura così ricca e potente perché hanno avuto dominatori di ogni tipo, ma loro sono sempre restate le stesse persone con la loro maniera di fare le cose che può essere giusta o sbagliata, ma che è la loro. Con un'adattabilità esemplare, fuori dal comune, assolutamente da invidiare. O forse con una capacità di far adattare le altre persone a Napoli. Una città dove la cultura e la lingua napoletana sono state e sono capaci di inglobare tutto quello che viene e non per un'imposizione più o meno velata —come accade invece per il Melting Pot statunitense— quanto per un naturale processo di osmosi. A Barcellona si parla spagnolo, ma si parla anche —e soprattutto— catalano. Ma poi ho ascoltato l'inglese e l'italiano e il galiziano e il portoghese e il francese. E si ascoltano lingue alle quali non si sa dare un nome. A Napoli ci sono stato troppo poco e sicuramente succederà anche lì, ma a Napoli si parla napoletano. Spesso un italiano con un accento, una prosodia e alcuni termini napoletani —come ormai succede per tutte le lingue e i dialetti d'Italia— ma napoletano. Perché la cultura dà forma alla lingua e viene creata da questa.

Barcellona è una somma, Napoli è una fusione.

Napoli è una città capace di sorprenderti in ogni momento, per tutte le ragioni possibili e per molte che neanche ti aspettavi.

Visitarla con qualcuno che la conosce aiuta molto, chiaro, e dopo essere arrivato alla stazione di Napoli Centrale ho preso la metropolitana e raggiunto S. L. Con lei siamo andate a casa di I. F. dove ho lasciato il mio zaino perché la notte ho dormito lì e dopo una lunga chiacchierata in terrazza con una splendida vista sulla città ce ne siamo andate in giro. Anche loro sono rimaste sorprese dall'incredibile numero di persone che c'erano per essere un giovedì sera di tarda estate, ma a me l'incredibile vitalità di questo posto ha davvero sconvolto!

Pizza da Sorbillo

Dopo una pizza in una delle pizzerie più rinomate —e affollate— di Napoli (e una margherita a 3€) e una bellissima serata fatta di tanti incontri, di chiacchiere, di musica vecchiotta, di camminate e soprattutto di risate, ce ne siamo andate verso casa di I. F., poi a un certo punto mi hanno lasciato per andarsene verso casa sua S. L. e verso la casa del suo compagno I. F.

La mattina dopo ho seguito i consigli di S. L. e ho percorso tutta via Toledo fino ad arrivare al lungomare. Mi sono fermato in un bar per un caffè e una sfogliatella e qua e là per un occhiata ai monumenti (la galleria Umberto I, il Maschio Angioino, varie piazze, etc.)

Piazza Plebiscito

prima di arrivare al lungomare che ho percorso fino a arrivare al bel Castel dell'Ovo che ho visitato a lungo. Tornato indietro mi sono incontrato con S. L. per pranzo. Abbiamo fatto

Castel dell'Ovo

una bella camminata per il centro mangiando qui e là e cominciando a vedere in maniera più approfondita cose che non ti aspetti. “Per vedere Napoli devi imparare a spiare” mi dice S. L. dopo averle riferito di aver visto un uomo anziano mangiare pasta nel suo negozio di presepi nella centralissima Via San Gregorio Armeno, la strada dei presepi. Poco dopo S. L. è dovuta tornare al lavoro e mi ha lasciato alla visita dei quartieri spagnoli. La vera Napoli, secondo colei che ha incontrato e codificato La vera Italia in provincia di Viterbo.

I quartieri spagnoli sono davvero La vera Napoli. Sono come Napoli³. Ogni angolo, ogni persona, ogni suono è una nuova sorpresa. Vicoletti incantevoli, ma non incantevoli-per-turisti, bei graffiti un po' ovunque a fare da contraltare alle svariate edicole votive, piazzette, scooter sovraffollati che sfrecciano nelle lunghe strade parallele, gruppi di immigrati dal subcontinente indiano che giocano a carte per strada allo stesso modo di gruppi di lavoratori che lo fanno dentro l'officina di un falegname. Ma non ci sono solo gli uomini in giro e la vita si fa in strada: un'anziana signora seduta al centro della strada con i suoi bellissimi gatti argentati, una donna con fisico non-da-modella che incurante si affaccia da un balcone in reggiseno per chiacchierare con altre persone nella piazza sottostante, venditrici e venditori di gelati, un anziano seduto davanti alla porta di casa sua —rialzata di vari gradini dalla strada— che guarda il mondo scorrergli davanti. E poi donne che pranzano nel loro bar e ragazze e ragazzi e bambine e bambini che chiacchierano, si muovono, vivono!

A presto Napoli! Non ho in programma di morire, per cui alla prossima puntata.

Society

Damn myself and my not listening carefully to the lyrics of songs. It's kind of a tongue-twister but it says it all: 

Oh, it's a mystery to me
We have a greed with which we have agreed
And you think you have to want more than you need
Until you have it all, you won't be free

Society, you're a crazy breed
I hope you're not lonely without me

When you want more than you have, you think you need

And when you think more than you want, your thoughts begin to bleed

I think I need to find a bigger place

Cause when you have more than you think, you need more space

Society, you're a crazy breed
I hope you're not lonely without me
Society, crazy indeed
Hope you're not lonely without me

There's those thinking more or less, less is more
But if less is more, how you keepin score?
Means for every point you make your level drops
Kinda like you're startin' from the top. You can't do that

Society, you're a crazy breed
I hope you're not lonely without me
Society, crazy indeed
I hope you're not lonely without me 

Society, have mercy on me
I hope you're not angry if I disagree
Society, you're crazy indeed
I hope you're not lonely without me




 

Conventions

These last days I focused my attention on conventions. Society rests on conventions.

The other day while visiting my family at the beach the middle aged R.P., was talking to his 10 years old daughter who was sitting on his lap, they were laughing and it was just a happy, lovely family moment. While talking to her, dad said “it's time you start shaving, you know?!”.

The sentence struck me for the simplicity and the lightheartedness and at the same time for its brutality. A 10 year old girl should think about becoming pretty —or at least what society tells us it's pretty, the norm— and she should do it for herself and for those around her.

In the evening we went in town and looking at the people strolling around was striking. All of them —no exception— were dressed exactly the same respecting a strict social and gender code. After a day at the beach they would shower —using copious over-smelling skin and hair killing soaps and shampoos— and put on their best summer dresses: shortish pants and clean t-shirts for the guys, different types of fancy dresses, shoes and accessories for the girls. Some of them even wore unbearable high heels! Appearance is important because if you don't conform you're the weird one and nobody wants to be.

Even the beach code is quite strict. I know it seems unlikely in a place where everybody is almost naked, but females need to cover their nipples, even though they're basically the same as men's. And I'm not talking about the booby part, which is perfectly accepted. Just the nipples. If you stop and think about it ONE second it sounds completely nuts. This extremely good article (in Spanish) explains these issues perfectly. The more I think about it the more I realize that the concept of women nipple banishment is not much different than the ever-opposed chador, burqa and the likes...  And not much time has passed since women wore bathing suites that covered them much more.

Those who don't conform are a very small minority, obviously stand out of the crowd and are always noticed and most of the times judged, to say the least. Some days ago I went to the beach with some friends and I was very refreshed to find that it was normal for them not to use the upper part of the female bathing suite. A.T.'s carelessness, A.L.'s joy and happiness, P.D.'s relax and calm. Just people being themselves.

The day after visiting my parents I went to visit M.P. My mum's aunt where my grandmother was staying.

Kisses and hugs and then we were to go and visit one of my grandmother's brothers who is spending his holidays in the countriside and lives 50 meters away form where we were. My grandaunt said that she wasn't prepared to receive me and that if she knew someone was coming she would put on something else over her chemise... She wasn't brave enough to go visit her brother in law without dressing properly, though.

Conventions are very scary and of course the scariest ones are gender conventions. Even for kids. One of my mum's cousins told me that she would paint her 5 year old son's toenails since he wanted to. Maybe something's changing, I thought, but then she said that she would do it because no one could really see them and that she'd see what to do in case they were more visible... I thought about an interesting article (in Spanish) I read about the same subject.

Things might be much more difficult for parents if it's not just a boy wanting to have funny nails, but if they show signs of being possible transgender kids, like the boy in this very interesting article. I say it's difficult because not very many people are as open minded as the parents in the article and society's critiques and conventions are always around the corner, ready to strike!

Guiri

Una volta che emigri sei emigrato a vita

Gino Pirelli

Tenho tenho entre as pernas um engenho. Dele como, dele bebo, dele pago o que devo.

Sabedoría popular São Pedrenha 

É muito fixe ser o único estrangeiro (não português) de uma aldeia na fronteira entre Portugal e Espanha. Ser o bicho raro, como me disse o Bruno. No Portugal não há uma palavra parecida, mas são um 'guiri'.

O galego axuda, mais entender é moi difícil. Entendo o necesario para coñecer un grupo de xente marabillosa e chea de enerxías. Artistas xoves. Amigxs —a maiorí­a mulleres— que se reuniron aquí para organizar un festival nesta aldea rural —onde algunhas delxs viven— lonxe das luces da cidade. Tempo de Aldeia. Un grupo que me acolle, mais ao que son evidentemente, necesariamente externo. Un guiri.

Aquí en São Pedro do Río Seco as cousas son diferentes. A vida de aldea é moi bonita e relaxada, aínda que esta esta sexa unha aldea particular. A vida de aldea quere dicir que todxs se coñecen. Quere dicir que se poden alugar dous (2!) casas por setenta (70!) euros. Quere dicir que se pode deixar o coche no medio da rúa, coas xanelas abertas e as chaves postas. Quere dicir que cando xs urbanitas senten a necesidade de estar nunha cidade van na vila do lado onde é difícil atopar comida ás 21:30.

Mais esta aldea é particular porque está xusto ao lado da fronteira con España e coma todas as zonas de fronteira as particularidades —sociais, linguisticas, etc.— sonche moitas.

E nunca fun tan estranxeiro. Nunca vivín nun sitio sendo tan guiri. Nunca me pasara antes aínda que sexa estranxeiro desde hai moito tempo. Gosto de selo. Se es estranxeiro fáltanche moitas cousas, claro, mais ao mesmiño tempo tes moita máis liberdade. Todxs te coñecen aínda que ti non coñezas todxs. Mais sempre fun estranxeiro en situacións “controladas”, vivindo en grandes cidades (Wangaratta —que non é una gran cidade, mais onde estaba con outrxs italianxs—, Roma, Sevilla, Vancouver, Santiago de Compostela, Barcelona). Controladas porque es un dxs tantxs, tes a túa situación persoal, mais encontras outras persoas na mesma situación e en xeral a xente do sitio está acostumada a xente coma ti. Mais levaba moito tempo sen ser un guiri. Fixe!

Oda aos guiris!


PS Falto de Santiago de Compostela desde hai un ano, mais nese momento tan difí­cil para a miña patria adoptiva a lingua saí­u naturalmente. Moita forza compañeirxs!

Astronautas

S.F. El meu germà és un astronauta

A.A. Perquè?

S.F. No el veus? Menja coses de astronauta, cuinades al microones. Fa una vida de astronauta. Va al treball per la manyana, torna a la casa i es posa a ver una peŀlicula, menja, algunes vegades va al teatre o al cine però sempre així [amb les mans S.F. fa un quadrat entorn a la cara] sense preocupar-se de res, de des-d'on vénen les coses que menja... I no es estúpid, s'interessa de moltes coses... però fa aquesta vida d'astronauta

La conversación siguió un poco más, y en un catalán mucho más rico y correcto —por lo menos por parte de S.F.— de lo que puedo escribir yo (y pido perdón a E.D.).

pero esta discusión me dio mucho que pensar.

Astronautas. No lo es solo el hermano de S.F. Quien más, quien menos todxs lo somos. Es muy fácil caer en los hábitos y quedarnos en nuestros pequeño mundo, en nuestra zona de confort. La clave es salir de ella, encontrar personas, cambiar, conocer gente, ser parte de comunidades o crear una , mejor varias. Atreverse.

People Are Strange

People love to receive orders. People love to execute orders. Someone says A and they do A. B and they do B. That's why people who follow the rules unconditionally are so beloved (N). Their heavenly god says A and they do A. B is B. No questions asked. Their terrestrial god (master, boss, slaver) says A and they do A. B is B. Because people don't like to think. Life is easier. People like to be in a box where they know every corner. They like to define and put things in boxes.

And some people like to give orders. They love to show all the power they have.

That's why people love dogs. Today in the park: “Charlie come here” and Charlie comes. “Charlie sit” and Charlie sits. And there's no reason to come or sit. [He's so intelligent. He understands what I say]. Human being's best friend is a slave, who's a “good boy” or a “good girl” when they follow the orders.

And man's companion is the woman. Another slave who society doesn't teach —from the very moment she's born— to think or decide, but who's taught everything about the pointless and idiosyncratic aberrations they have to undergo in order to please men or so that they don't please them too much. They're taught what their happiness should be, what their behaviour should be. They're taught what's simply natural for all women. They're taught they're happy when they have a nice family with some muscled, violent bone-head around to perpetuate patriarchy over again. Don't think. Someone else will do it for you.

Men are taught to keep their privileges too, but that's nothing in comparison.

Queer

That's why people are scared when the roles are not so well defined. Two men. “Who's the girl?” Two girls. “Who's the man?” It's easier when you know who rules. Other gender conditions, other ways of seeing the world don't even enter people's scope.

Things are (slowly) changing, at least for a (small) percentage of people, but dismantling a status quo that's so well established is really hard and the power to do it is relying on the actions of everyone of us. Big ones, but especially small ones. Everybody. Every day. All day.