Historical Period Of 1800-1812?

From riches to rags ...


Saturday was one of those classic days divided in two. A first part of culture, with a visit to the town of Kristianstad, a coffee nell'elegantissimo center and especially the participation in the famous book fair in the region. Just a shame that in Sweden, it was easily inferable, the books are in Swedish and then the thing has played for us a very marginal interest.




But - and this was the real reason for our trip - in the afternoon he spoke to the audience favorite author Ilana, a Briton named Jasper Fforde , which is proved to be an excellent speaker and a fun entertainer. Finished the match - and just managed to snatch Ilana an autograph sympathetic to Albion - we left at a time of Lund, convinced that they had finished our pleasant afternoon.


But ...


On the way back we were not able to help noticing the caravanserai dell'astruso "Pulling tractor festival and obviously we could not resist a look.
Suddenly we found ourselves in a fair light of American-style, between the deafening noise of tractor engines that get hot for the race and the smell of donuts.
In a large open space had been set up this giant festival, with camping, "spontaneous" attached, which found its climax in the race of "pulling tractor."





In essence, huge tractors edited, polished and chrome as if they were just emerging from Pimp my ride, we were battling draw in huge weights on a straight path dirt.



that field probably was not Sweden. I suspect it was an enclave of Arizona land in Sweden, since all the paradigms of the people of Scandinavia were reversed. There was more silence, there was more respect for nature, there was no moderation, the Lagom was momentarily thrown. Bandits of the health food and healthy banned the pollution problem. Just lean people with shirts off and screwed to Panzoni in jeans and suspenders. The key word in that zone, was "exaggerated." And then suddenly emerged here that the vulgarity of the other Swedish (what we still do not know): the woodcutter . A man in his life of solitude, silence and flannel shirts, find pleasure in trade fairs and rustic noisy, greasy and fat in foods, amusements most basic and rural areas. And then the circus of tractor pulling, must-see with its stalls selling kitsch-motor and lights on impromptu carnival, it was thought appropriate for him.





While the total exaggeration of the thing, so enormous as to seem too out of place, it was fun for a day to watch the 'other Sweden. What certainly in small university towns and cities does not show. Sweden a very authentic and rustic, paradoxically, looks a lot like the America of the frontier.

Contemporarychristmasdecorations

Safer Lives

Republic - July 29, 2010 page 9 section: NAPLES

stretch of Via Marina reopens after work but the 'alderman of the Second Municipality Naples Gianfranco Wurzburger calls for more security for a road "became a Formula 1 track, after changing sanpietrini.È need to install rumble strips and surveillance to prevent the 'great tragedy'.

Estern Shore Raulph Lauren

via Marina Marinella

Dozens of immigrants live in waste and sewage in the barracks without bathrooms or water set up at the city, the area near the port where it should rise to a green space. And no one intervenes

CRISTINA Zagari - August 12, 2010 REPUBLIC

to enter the ghetto must pass before foreign office of the prefecture and pushing the limits of the State Forestry Corps. To enter the ghetto, with their carts, strollers, blue plastic bags, immigrants march in front of dozens of men in uniform. But they are ghosts. No one sees them. And so the invisible arriving in the no man's land: the Park Marinella.
Thirty thousand square meters, between Via Amerigo Vespucci and yards of the Mediterranean, between the city and harbor. There are at least 20 cabins, each two-family, no bathroom, electricity or water. Although buildings are not improvised. Houses are built slowly, with the vestibule, the tin roofs, tents, beds. Thirty square meters, the entrance to the city, where a shanty town is growing quiet.

The latest report of the local social services is in June. The Second Municipality had identified a group of Roma families. Social services had surveyed 14 families. Now I'm almost triple. Roma and the majority are from the city of Calarasi. "We lived in Ponticelli, in Malibran, we came here for two weeks, there is also our uncle and my cousins, I ask for alms at the station ..." he begins to tell Luana, 9 years, but now operates a woman, perhaps his mother, who allows her to enter the cabin. The other children run and hide. There are many. Some small. "Let us in peace. Otherwise they are hunting. We do not bother anyone, "said one woman. A yellow dog wags his tail between the legs and she disappears in a hut with the blue tent. The houses of sheet metal and cardboard boxes are flattened against the wall that defines the boundaries of the port, hidden by tall shrubs burned by the sun. A baby sleeps in a stroller with wheels, transformed into a cradle. On a table, four hot dogs, bread and a bottle of coca cola. old clothes to the ground, dozens of shoes.

Just to 'entrance to the ghetto, on the side of the fish market, there's a bunch of pairs of shoes, all men, many still with tags, are outmoded, but they seem new. A short distance from the row of huts, among the weeds a blue umbrella and a pump, a black girl is washing her hair. And almost to the limit with the car park, which overlooks the street, another cabin with a boy of color lay sleeping on a cot with an unlit cigarette between his lips. Next to him a child in swaddling clothes in a basket. "I am Nigeria, the mother is Romanian. The mother is working," babbles the black and then understand that it wants to be bothered.
The heat amplifies the smell of fish, garbage, sewer drowning the squatter camp. Nearby is a bus terminus. On the one hand trucks entering and leaving the port, the other slow traffic in August of who comes to town.
"The night light fires and wash all naked in front of the huts with dried of water. There are lots of small children, often alone, living in hygienic conditions that would be scandalous for a zoo, "said Ermina F., who lives opposite the tower block in the ghetto, just above the bar" Pebble ".

The park is been subject to seizure in March 2008 for failing to put in safety and unsanitary. But the seizure, to date, only consists of some fences and rusty red ribbon. The area, which continues to call "Park" and that in projects the City should be, is no man's land. The Parco della Marinella, in fact, is one of the 649 goods available to federalism in Campania owned. In early July, the deputy mayor Tino Santangelo wrote to the land, seeking to bring forward the timetable for the transfer of ownership by the State Council. But, to date, Palazzo San Giacomo has not been answered.

And so in the land that is not nearly as State Property and is not yet the City in 2006 was found dead a Canadian, in 2008 Ghana was killed with a stab to the stomach and thrown into a manhole, a few weeks after a Moroccan man has been arrested, beaten and robbed in the summer of 2008 was discovered a clandestine dried fish run by a Bulgarian woman. And now there's the ghetto. The limbo of the invisible. "The history of this park has lasted for over 10 years - says Gianfranco Wurzburger , Alderman of the Second Municipality - and until there will be no transfer of property from state property to the City everything is stopped, because the eviction cost. If the area continues to be abandoned does not solve anything. We must act and soon. Immigrants need for acceptance and Neapolitans have their right to park. "