Montenegro - Story of my trip to Montenegro

Nemoj zaboraviti

Trip to Montenegro

Juanito - hero of Montenegro

Saturday 16th August 2003

, departure h. 7.45 Km.0.00

Incredible! Juanito also leaves to participate in an international dog show in Bar, Montenegro.

The "free-range boor" of the Veliterne countryside joins the elite of the nobles, the queen Bonita, the champion Pepito and tries the thrill of the catwalk in Montenegro, without any hope of success and, above all, without any desire or preparation.

Juanito, in fact, is my chihuahua, born of magnanimous loins, those of Pepito with Tequila, his "highly decorated" parents, but misled by me, led to a rural life in the company of two mongrels, ten times the size, and four cats , with which it lives in good harmony.

He has had very successful theatrical initiations since he was a puppy, in fact he was the only actor of the UNI 3 Company, University of the Three Ages, who trod the scenes brilliantly acting "like a dog", adored and fondled by all the " aunts "of the Company, who have seen him grow, so to speak, under the eyes.

He played his role as a dog with professionalism and preparation, never missing a test and getting deeper and deeper into the character of "Juanito Ardiente", an art name. Having achieved success, like Cincinnato, he returned to his campaigns, without mounting his head or posing as a star.

Juanito thanks the audience

We will see in Montenegro how he will be able to interpret what he pretends to show up at a dog show ... ..without believing it.

After Bonita tears him up with her swaying and feminine gait, he will only have to hide and console himself in the company of Querida, the sweet phocomelic, daughter of Bonita who, as already happened on the journey to Dortmund, once again accompanies her mother to hunt for international successes.


There is another new entry of great importance in the camper group, not canine, but equally of great importance in our summer trip: my husband Alfredo, as well as a loving and somewhat "rinco" father of Juanito. A loving father who could not leave his "son" alone to face such a demanding test and who, in any case, will have to be ready, later, to pick up the pieces, when his beloved "child" will be chased out of the ring with ignominy and will risk a depressive or identity crisis.

For the moment we are traveling on the Apennines with the vips in the carriers, as befits all good dogs accustomed to high society and my shamelessly upside down on the seat next to me, as befits all late and spoiled children from old parents.

His "babino" is in the front seat lolling his head between the "abbiocco" and the vigil, Romano drives, tireless as always and Mimma, forced by a cracked rib to a rearguard position, but always alert and with the situation in her hand, she distributes commands with an amplified voice, half-reclining on the sofas in the dinette at the back of the camper.

Sunday 17th August 2003

, departure 11 km 710

After spending the night in a campsite in Opatija (Opatija, a city that in the early decades of the 20th century saw my mother-in-law's youth and beauty flourish, so much so that it was called "the rose of Opatija", and where later, during the second war world, my mother-in-law, her sisters and all their numerous children returned to take refuge in the welcoming paternal home), we continue our journey in Croatia with Alfredo who relives, remembers, smells moments of his blue childhood in Opatija.

In the morning he urged us to give us a bright breakfast on the terrace of the campsite restaurant with a view of the inlets of the gulf, in the evening, mindful of the refined patisserie in which his mother and his aunts excelled, he offers us four types of cakes that seem similar to those of the past, but in reality heavy and coarse and that had nothing to do with the splendid sacher torte, the delicious vanille kipferl or the poignant buchteln that his family used to churn out for the joy of the children.

South of Rijeke (River) we admire Bakar, a delightful village at the bottom of an angelic fjord protected from all weather, but outraged by an efficient oil refinery.

In the afternoon we searched with persistent obstinacy for the Plitvice lakes, going, retracing our steps, going again and making an unexpected stop at an old mill, hidden in the woods of the nature reserve, still operating, but still in the structure for the past centuries. .

Alfredo, in order to photograph a glimpse of the old mill, walked barefoot into the water of the stream that passes under the wooden structure of the mill and enjoyed this childhood experience with newfound joy. The icy, running water washed away fifty years of life, giving it back to us as lively and joyful as a young man.

Monday 18th August 2003

, departure h. 8 Km 973

Today we walked in a dream.

The Plitvicka Jesera (Plitvice lakes) are a place of amazing beauty that arouse pure, ancient emotions of ancestral friendship with nature; nature understood as a tender mother, protector and generous dispenser of exciting visions.

The cobalt, turquoise color of the lakes illuminates your soul, expanding it into a joyful tenderness.

The walkways follow the history of water, which flows from the upper lakes, through jumps and waterfalls, into the lower lakes.

Plitvice lakes

Described in this way, it appears banal and obvious, while what is surprising is how this pouring of water into water takes place.

In fact, in addition to the eye-catching overhanging waterfalls (the highest is 76 meters and its rivulets nebulize in the air, spreading pleasant refreshing showers all around), what enchants along the routes are the unexpected waterfalls that open up between the trunks. trees and look, with grace and obstinacy, their way to a welcoming basin.

Plitvive lakes

"You feel the breath of water", as Mimma said, even before you meet it and then you are entranced to observe its fresh and bubbling flow.

In a more suggestive corner than the others, I found the trunk of a tree bent over the water and I lay down on it, attentive to listen and observe the story of the water. I didn't want to break away from it anymore: life could cancel itself out in that moment, while I was immersed in such delicate beauty.

Canyon Colorado in Sinai

I felt the same sensation at the Colored Canyon, in Sinai, when I "conquered", literally conquered, after a bumpy and very difficult path for my age and my back, but wonderful, magical, for the colors of the sand and rocks, which went from white to green and purple, a valley of very fine, impalpable sand, set between the rocky ridges from which I had descended.

It was the valley of the beginning of time, it could be a valley reached by the Chosen People during the forty years of wandering in the desert, it could be the Valley of Eden or Nirvana, it was, however, the valley in which I wanted to disintegrate, let me go on my back, with open arms, and I too become sand, air, blue of the sky, rare vegetation and breath of the wind.

Up there, on another ridge, very far and microscopic, the jeeps were waiting for us to bring us back to civilization, which at that moment I felt unknown and useless, because, at that moment, I belonged to eternity.

Colored Canyon in Sinai

Thus, lying on the trunk of Plitvice, I felt water, humus, joyful and gushing beauty, ancient and tenacious like that unstoppable flow.

Civilization as it is far away, when nature "oppresses you" with its beauty and the body, so heavy that you carry it around, seems to open up, expand, lighten and merge into the beauty from which you have been absorbed.

As in the Colored Canyon, here too reality loomed, the geniuses of civilization reactivated and dragged me towards the continuation of a path, which I would have liked to stop over time.

Plitvice waterfall

I looked with envy at the leaves of the trees that licked the cobalt of the water, lightly caressed it and let it cool, in an exchange of love.

I know I have touched once again, for a moment, the absolute of beauty and perfection, emotional perceptions of a moment, which bring you closer to eternity and to the whole universe.

Tuesday 19th August 2003

, departure h.11 Km 1,150

At this point in the journey we look like war evacuees.

We ride with a camper held together by ropes and patches, plus a few flying pieces that we lose along the way, thoughtfully picked up by our friends, who follow us driving another camper, with three Dalmatian dogs on board.

It is not clear whether it is Alfredo who brings bad luck or if it is the camper that, aware that it is about to be sold and replaced with a "younger" one, after miles and miles of tireless service, wants to take revenge and extinguish itself.

We will be lucky if we manage to go home like a go-kart, with the chassis, the four seats and the engine.

The first blow was given by Alfredo, collapsing ruinously on the plywood that acts as a stopper for the container of supplies and generously breaking it.

Alba, Manola, Mimma and Ifigenia, the Dalmatian

To the nocturnal degradation that is followed on both sides (we on the "bow" bed and Romano and Mimma on the "stern" bed) and after a night of ejaculations, in which everyone invoked a saving and decisive diet for Alfredo and for the safety of all of us, the following evening Romano, in the urge to obey the orders of a grim Croatian who showed us where to place the camper inside the campsite, tried to close the ladder with Alfredo on it (not yet on a diet) and thus fused the coil of the electric control.

At that point the ladder would no longer close and having Mimma ruled that the journey was over and we would no longer be able to move, Alfredo decided to look for a train to repatriate immediately, while the campsite manager assured us that he would be interested in finding an electrician. , but that it would be difficult to have him soon, that is, the next day.

Second night of sacraments and ejaculations.

In the morning the manager "has given himself", Romano and Mimma deal with instruction books and electrical contacts, Alfredo, returning from the showers, clean, freshened up and with freshly laundered pants, lies down on the ground and, together with Romano, begins to fiddle with ropes, bolts and sailor knots, to try to close the ladder by hand.

Our friends, who spent the night outside the campsite and are unaware of what happened, not having seen us appear at the pre-established time and place, miraculously track us down, participating in the rescue operations.

I give myself to the cleaning, believing that with so many brains tense to the point of solving the problem, mine can continue to deal with more down to earth things.

The spasm of the brains achieves the desired result: the ladder is closed manually, mercilessly tied with ropes and noose knots and forgotten like a nightmare. The lid of the govone had already been properly waxed like a veteran from the night before and the piece, lost on the way and recovered by friends, scrupulously put aside.

We just have to "steal" from a supermarket a very battered broken plastic box to use as a single, shaky step instead of the imprisoned ladder, and we steal it.

Mimma's assumption was thus momentarily denied, the shaky journey resumes and Alfredo decides to postpone his return home and give himself another chance, after which, in the absence of trains, he will try to swim to the Adriatic coast.

Morning of light and wind

Wednesday 20 and Thursday 21 August 2003

, departure h. 9.30 Km 1,337

The night of "passion" opens on a morning of light and wind.

"We only need the Bora at one hundred and fifty kilometers an hour ..." someone chews between his teeth: Alfredo is actually called Bora by surname and various oblique glances intertwine in silence!

Last night, when the patches, nooses and ropes had already been overcome, we thought we could end the day in serenity, the revenge of the camper struck again; this time it was a hand-to-hand fight between Romano and his beloved trabiccolo.

We were returning from a pleasant wandering in Trogir, an ancient Venetian colony. We had, as always, raged in a cheerful market along the sea, we had admired the ancient vestiges of Venice, ate fried fish in the old city, along narrow streets of karst stone very similar to the Venetian calli and, finally, we had returned to the camper using, for climb up, the new step, obtained from the plastic box reinforced with pieces of wood.

Proud and jealous of our new "ladder", so much so that we didn't trust to leave it outside when we left the camper, but we always hid it inside, locking the door, at that point of the day we just had to find a campsite and finish the evening in peace

Split: The Peristyle

Split Palace

We wanted to settle down immediately after Split and then return the next morning, leaving the campers on the outskirts, and visit the city calmly; we did not know that after Split the coast changes: no longer large areas of beach on which to set up a campsite behind the other, but cliffs overlooking the sea, not far from which the coast road runs.

The campsites are few and small, so when we saw a sign that seemed acceptable to us, we slipped into an entrance, which too late revealed all its narrowness and difficulty in accessing it.

Of course, when we found ourselves trapped between a blocked exit, an impossible entrance, left and right rows of parked cars ... At this point in the story the morning light was shattered, the celestial wind dropped, the joy of the trip off and the desire to laugh at ourselves dissolved in a sick sweat, which stinks of fear. The dreaded sound of the mobile phone, which announced the havoc done by thieves in our home, froze my hand intent on writing and pulverized all enthusiasm: Alfredo really crossed the Adriatic again, not by swimming, but by plane, to return in Velletri to contemplate our house attacked and violated.

A heavy pain crushes my chest and the useless desire to cry swells my eyes. We are traveling near Ploce, immersed in beautiful landscapes: sweet lakes on the left, rocks and sea inlets on the right. The more radiant the images, the heavier the pain of not being able to share them with my husband. It was the first trip together in years in which various circumstances had prevented us and we were enjoying it with fresh, childlike joy.

We were waiting to see Dubrovnik again, where we had spent particular moments, fifteen years ago, and, from afar, to send a greeting to Mostar and Saraievo, always visited during the same trip and whose tragic events we followed with apprehension during the bloody war of the years' 90.

Here, right now, the road arrow passing in front of my eyes indicating the direction for Mostar and Saraievo: the famous bridge of Mostar destroyed by cannon fire, we saw it, we walked it and we regretted it, when we knew it collapsed.

I would like to call my husband: "... bolt the house with wooden planks nailed to the cross, as they did in the days of the plague, lock the unhinged gate with pieces of chains and come back here, cross the Adriatic again: we are waiting for you in Dubrovnik. Curse the thieves, wish them to crash with our own car they stole from us and come back here. Join us!… ».

Mimma and Pepito in Dubrovnik

Dubrovnik: the Placa

Let's forget the cursed Fate, Karma, Destiny: let's make our destiny to us, let's build it with this languid and transparent sea, with these shy and discreet lakes, with these fjords of an innocent blue, with these round bumps of green that lap the water, lying on fine sandy or white pebble beaches.

Let's dissolve in the light of this beauty or in the cobalt of the Plitvice lakes or in the burning sun of Andalusia, let's build a destiny with no future, but stopped in a present of incorporation and oblivion.

Planet Earth is a place of enchantment in the divine and in the horrid; living on Planet Earth is war, effort and often disenchantment.

Friday 22nd August 2003

, departure h. 14 Km 1,850

Ulinj - Bar (International Show of the Championship of Serbia and Montenegro)

Sandro with the Dalmatian Oreste in Bar

Saturday 23rd August 2003

, departure h.16 Km 1,890

Bar - Petrovac (National Show of the Championship of Serbia and Montenegro, night)

Petrovac beach at sunset

Sunday 24th August 2003

, departure h. 8 Km 1,916

Petrovac - Golubovci (National Show of the Championship of Serbia and Montenegro)

Mimma with Bonita in Golubovci

Mimma with Juanito in Golubovci

Before the shocking phone call about the theft broke the joy, I was telling us how, after entering the parking lot, they tell us that the camping is complete and that there is no possibility to proceed. We find ourselves bottled up: there is no room for maneuvering and the only way out is to reverse the lopsided entrance, and this time uphill, for which we entered.

The revenge of the camper strikes again: it is literally a hand-to-hand combat between Romano and the car, which stands as if it were a mule refusing to climb too steep a climb. The clutch screams all its effort, the camper grins, jumps and slips downwards, causing us all to get off, except Romano, in an attempt to lighten him. In the urge to lighten it as much as possible, I fill the arms of the four Chihuahuas and go down holding them tight to my chest, piled one on top of the other like puppets, amid the amused gazes of all those who watched the "show".

Romano, remained the lonely hero, engages in the fight with his camper, sticks it, throws it, catches it again when it returns to slide downwards, rearranges it and again throws it with full force towards the slope, but the mule s 'rages more than ever, while the Chihuahuas, bound to each other trembling in my arms, watch in amazement at the unusual fight.

To win it was necessary the double push with a run upwards of a group of massive Croats, who raised the camper beyond the entrance curb, while the clutch, after a desperate screech, collapsed in exhaustion ... and Roman also.

But he had won: the clutch, although exhausted, was safe and the camper, disheartened by defeat, was sticking its tongue out.

After the patches, the ropes, the pieces in the wind and the screams of the clutch, we just wanted a night's rest, but finding a suitable space seemed impossible.

Finally, it was now night, we find an accessible area by the sea, but strangely we are afraid of possible aggression, so we spend a night of sauna and despair with all the windows and doors closed, until Mimma, with her usual decision-making energy, when dogs and Christians were about to die of asphyxiation because of the thieves, he decides that if the thieves want to attack and rob us, they will rob us fresh and not soaked in sweat and gasping; therefore, he opens all the windows and sends the hypothetical thieves to that town.

Other thieves, much more real, on that same night, were really devastating our home and robbing Alfredo of the joyful pleasure of this traveling holiday.

Monday 25th August 2003

Departure h. 8.30 Km 2,124

Incredible !!!…. Juanitino returned as winner: champion of Serbia and Montenegro, 1 Cacib (international certificate) and 3 Cac (national certificate).

Bonita also champion: 1 Cacib, 3 Cac and 3 Bob (best of breed) - 1st in the Group in Bar and 2nd in Golubovci.

The international championship of the republics of Serbia and Monte Negro was very rural, suitable for Juanito, the peasant relative of the VIPs, a little less for the queen Bonita, who in fact never missed an opportunity to express all her disappointment, petulantly barking at dogs and human and, in the best moments, trying to bite a few bites to the dear Montenegrin "babies", who tried to pet her.

He arrived in the ring (so to speak, since it was a square of stubble fenced with an adhesive tape and numbered with a sign stuck on a pole) already full of anger, his eyes bulging and the desire to make people pay dear to someone all his disappointment. He walked with the disdainful and graceful gait of the aristocrat mixed with the peasants and shocked the judges with glances of fire; but he conquered them and won them.

Juanito, bewildered by so many news, was not fully aware of what was happening to him and limited himself to doing what was asked of him in some way, in humble obedience, thinking only of the moment when he would return to the camper, away from the lights of the fore.

At the end of the enterprise, however, all four dogs were exhausted and distraught.

The final blow was the Bar - Bari ferry: closed in their pet carriers they no longer breathed from 8 pm, when boarding, at 8 am, when on a bright August morning the ferry deposited us on the white pier of Bari. Juanito was so bewildered by his first experience on a ship that I had to force him out of the carrier, which he had shared fraternally with Querida. He misses very much his protective "father", robbed, too, of the joy of seeing his "pirillino" win the championship.

Tonight, while the Chihuahuas, astonished by the experience of the ferry, gave no signs of life, we humans instead slept soundly like dormice, after a lavish typical Montenegrin dinner, which knocked us out. throughout the night, to the point that, if the attendants did not wake us up, we risked returning to the imperious mountains of Monte Negro, like forgotten objects

We are traveling along the Italian coast of the Adriatic, going up towards Molfetta, accompanied by the intense blue of the sea and the pale blue of the sky.

The homeland welcomed us with a reassuring, pacifying light of "welcome back", which momentarily blurs the impact that awaits me when I return to my barbarously broken home.

We have breakfast in a neat bar in the port of Molfetta, near the fish market: three splendid coffee granitas with cream and warm brioches filled with sour cherries and cream, accompanied by a glass of fresh mineral water to cleanse the mouth from the sweet residue of so much delight.

We also stop in Trani to admire the spectacle of its wonderfully white cathedral against the blue of the sea.

Trani Cathedral

Alba, Mimma and the "Vips" in Trani

We are now in Irpinia and soon in Velletri, from where tomorrow Romano, Mimma and Alfredo will continue to Porto S. Stefano, they to rejoin the "wild horde", Alfredo to take back our car with which we had reached the Argentario to start the I travel and still remained there, since he had to return hastily to Rome by plane and from Rome by train to Velletri.

Thus ends a journey that would have been joyful and carefree, if the violence of some fool had not broken it and imbued it with bitterness.

However, it will remain like a journey accompanied by the light and blue of the Adriatic and its waters.

The light and colors of Plitvicka Jesera, the light of the morning in Split, when the news of the theft darkened our hearts, but not our eyes, the light of the water and the sky, when a few hours later, from a beach near the airport I sadly followed with my eyes the plane that brought Alfredo back home, the light of Dubrovnik that illuminated the red roofs of its houses and the beautiful white stone pavements of its historic center.

Romano and ... the street lamp in Trani

The crystal clear reflection of the water on a shore of white, small and flat pebbles, in Gradac in Croatia and the sunlight reflected on the sea in a late afternoon on Petrovac beach in Monte Negro.

The nocturnal lights, not as lavish as ours, but essential, of the Montenegrin coast, as the ferry moved away, gliding placidly on a sleeping sea without waves.

Nemoj zaboraviti, this language with slippery sounds and melancholy supports, nemoj zoboraviti, don't forget!

Yes, do not forget: the enthusiasm and disappointment, the happiness and bitterness, the amazement for unexpected beauty and the hatred for the violence suffered.

Nemoj zaboraviti: don't forget, but remember!

He also remembers the struggle of a camper that doesn't want to be replaced with a newer and more spacious model, and returns home, from his last trip, like an old soldier full of scars: tied up, bandaged, with the pieces and the seals floating in the wind, and the armrests torn or stiffened upwards in a kind of perennial fascist salute.

If he truly goes towards another destiny, he will bring with him the moments of life, the emotions and the emotions that his tenacious transport has allowed us to live and enjoy.


Alba Raggiaschi

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Montenegro of Njegoš

Just as in high school they repeated to us that "it is necessary to know the life of an author (or poet) in order to understand his works", the same goes for "other poets", that is to say those who know how to explain the beauty of nature. , and of the scientific disciplines built on it, to people who are fasting to science.

"My long journey" guides the reader through 90 years of Italy (and Europe) seen through the eyes of probably the most famous Italian popularizer, explaining in the meantime what were the events that made him so, starting from his engineering studies ( never completed, but the mindset is blatantly that), passing through the years at RAI (to which he does not spare harsh criticism), finally arriving at the years of Super Quark.
The reading is very pleasant and fluent: as others have pointed out, in perfect Angela style the author goes straight to the point, without dwelling on useless turns of words for the purpose of the book.
Highly recommended to all those who, at least once, have followed Piero on some journey through time and space, through ruins, galaxies or particularly aggressive fauna (strictly all in chroma-key or CGI: after all, he was the Italian pioneer of the aforementioned applied to scientific and non-scientific dissemination), willing to read a beautiful success story made in Italy but not only. . blackberries

“It was a different world, of course. Less freedom, fewer experiences, fewer opportunities to meet people, to travel. Less money, of course. But there were also things that are missing today.
For example, time to think. Time to imagine, reflect. I have the impression that today the time of young people is very compressed, due to all the stimuli that fill the day. "

On the occasion of Piero Angela's 92nd birthday, I couldn't help but talk about his book published in 2017 “My long way« It was a different world, certainly. Less freedom, fewer experiences, fewer opportunities to meet people, to travel. Less money, of course. But there were also things that are missing today.
For example, time to think. Time to imagine, reflect. I have the impression that today the time of young people is very compressed, due to all the stimuli that fill the day. "

On the occasion of Piero Angela's 92nd birthday, I couldn't help but talk about his book published in 2017 “My long journey. 90 years of lived stories ", the last chronologically speaking, but not the least important.
If you think you are dealing with an autobiography like all the others, you are very wrong. Of course, Piero Angela talks about his childhood, his adolescence during the difficult years of World War II, his career abroad, the beginning and continuation of his work as a science communicator. In the midst of all this, he inserts numerous extremely interesting historical and scientific anecdotes and also reproaches against the current society, often and willingly not attentive to enhancing research and science.
Through the very fluent narration and the spontaneous and direct language, it is possible to perceive the deep dedication and love that Piero Angela places in the field of scientific and, more generally, cultural dissemination.
It was a really exciting read and I can't help but recommend it to everyone! . blackberries

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Presentiamo ai nostri viaggiatori "In Vietnam", un reportage figlio del viaggio nel "Paese del Dragone" dello scrittore Stefano Calzati, autore di diversi articoli su riviste internazionali riguardo letteratura contemporanea ed emergenti culture digitali.

Il viaggio di Calzati in Vietnam è un'esperienza che racchiude insieme una ricerca di equilibrio personale e una riflessione sulla condizione umana odierna: l'andare e lo scrivere sono inscindibili e si rimescolano con gli idiomi incontrati sul cammino, mentre ai sensi è affidato il compito di offrire un rifugio alla precarietà dell'esperienza.

Dopo aver letto il libro, abbiamo conosciuto Stefano e gli abbiamo chiesto qualcosa di più sulla sua esperienza in Vietnam.


– Rafting sul fiume Tara esperienza che attira turisti da tutto il mondo. Da Zabljak organizzano escursioni tutti i giorni che prevedono: partenza la mattina e rientro tardo pomeriggio, trasporto fino al punto di partenza, attrezzatura per rafting, 1 ora di spiegazioni sull’attività, rafting, pranzo, e se il tempo lo permette si può fare il bagno nelle acque del Tara. Potrete scegliere un’escursione di mezza giornata oppure full day. Non ricordo i prezzi esatti ma sicuramente costa meno prenotare in loco piuttosto che online.
– Zipline sul Tara Bridge 170 mt di altezza, 350 mt in lunghezza, 50 secondi da brivido, al costo di 10€. Esperienza suggestiva assolutamente da provare (
– Trekking sulle vette del Durmitor all’interno del Parco Nazionale del Durmitor troverete diversi sentieri per gli appassionati di trekking, ce n’è per tutti, esperti e principianti. La più impegnativa è la via per raggiungere il Bobotov Kuk. Noi abbiamo scelto la via per il Planinica, con una durata di 4h e 45. La passeggiata attraversa boschi, prati e rocce. Non è una passeggiata difficile ma faticosa per la costante salita. Si parte da 1.450 mt per arrivare a 2.330mt. In totale abbiamo impiegato 7h tra salita e discesa. Lungo il percorso si trova solo natura incontaminata, tanto silenzio, aria pura e una volta in cima una vista spettacolare sul Montenegro. Niente case, niente rifugi, niente fontane d’acqua. Portate con voi bottiglie d’acqua e dei panini, e godetevi la natura. (mattina-pomeriggio, 3€).
– Kayak nella baia del Cattaro Da Herceg Novi potrete scegliere il Kayak come mezzo per visitare il villaggio dei pescatori di Rose e le spiagge della penisola di Lustica. Se siete fortunati e non trovate vento, andate sul lungomare di Herceg Novi, nella spiaggia libera troverete l’unico chiosco che affitta Kayak singoli o a due posti, in Kayak avrete modo di vedere insenature che non riuscireste a scoprire con barche più grandi (
– Guidare lungo la strada tra Budva e Cetinje La maggior parte delle strade in Montenegro vi sorprenderanno per i paesaggi spettacolari e la vista a picco sul mare o verso la baia di Kotor. Sono rimasta particolarmente colpita dalla strada che collega Budva a Cetinje. Dallo strapiombo sul mare si apre un paesaggio verde ed incontaminato delle vallate montenegrine, bellissimo.

Viaggio nel ghetto del giovane Ibrahimovic

In giro per Rosengård, nella Svezia ribelle

I grandi magazzini Wessels, dove una volta il piccolo Zlatan Ibrahimović tentò di rubare nascondendo la merce sotto un piumino in piena estate (fattore non trascurabile, che infatti allertò la sicurezza), non esistono più. Negli anni Sessanta furono spostati da Stora Nygatan, nel cuore antico di Malmö, a Jägersro per motivi legati al trasporto pubblico: erano meglio raggiungibili dai tram che partivano da Rosengårdstad e percorrevano rapidamente i quattro chilometri, risultando più comodi per gli abitanti.

I Wessels non erano solo il luogo prediletto da Zlatan per le sue marachelle adolescenziali, ma pure una delle più famose catene di negozi nella terza città svedese per popolazione, dopo Stoccolma e Göteborg. Giacevano inermi a un tiro di schioppo da Rosengård, quello che per tutti è il ghetto che forgiò il carattere fiero e ribelle di Ibra. Soprattutto, erano così vicini all’appartamento numero 5 in Cronmans Väg, dove mamma Jurka viveva dopo la separazione ottenuta da Šefik Ibrahimović.

All’interno di una Malmö orizzontale (340 mila abitanti, ma contando tutta la banlieu si duplica la cifra), non sorprende la compartimentazione stagna. A livello lessicale si parla di Stormalmö, “Grande Malmö”, proprio perché l’intera regione della Scania, collegata a Copenhagen col ponte di Øresund, trattiene al suo interno un’evidente stratificazione sociale originata dall’urbanistica. Era il 1965 quando la socialdemocrazia di allora ideò il Programma Milione (Miljonprogrammet) per far fronte alla doverosa trasformazione di un territorio agricolo in una zona industrializzata: così fu decisa la costruzione di un milione di alloggi – un milione e sei mila, a onor del vero – ciascuno dei quali destinato alla famiglia tipo dei lavoratori impiegati nelle fabbriche. Due adulti e due bambini in 75 m², spazi angusti e un grigiore dickensiano: l’idea di Coketown è radicatissima ancor oggi, specie dopo il polverone alzato dalle forze politiche avversarie, secondo le quali la Svezia sarebbe stata invasa dal cemento. Ma tant’è.

Anche Stoccolma e Göteborg furono riempite di sobborghi ma mai come Malmö, dove in nove anni hanno visto la luce altrettanti distretti tra cui Rosengård, che in 2015 e 2017 è stato chiamato dalla polizia Utsatt område, ossia area vulnerabile del tessuto cittadino, con alti tassi di criminalità ed esclusione sociale. Nel 2015 le zone in lista erano 53, due anni dopo sono aumentate a 61 e quasi tutte sono l’eredità involontaria del Programma Milione. Alcuni report di inizio 2018 parlano di miglioramenti, ma i problemi d’integrazione restano scottanti: Tadeusz Cibicki, padre dell’ex attaccante del Malmö FF, Paweł, raccontò al quotidiano Aftonbladet che nei primi mesi in Svezia era solito girare con una bottiglia di vodka in mano cercando connazionali polacchi per riscoprire un po’ di familiarità.

Tempi non facili per un ex idraulico di Varsavia come lui, trasferitosi in Svezia per amore negli anni ’80 senza spiccicare una parola di svedese. Ma pure per il padre di Ibrahimović, Šefik, le cose non furono facili: la biografia del figlio è piena di tristezza e malinconia, giornate passate a sopravvivere tra un telegiornale e quello successivo, ad attendere notizie dalla Bosnia.

Frigo vuoto di cibo ma pieno di birre, Pripps Blå e Carlsberg, musica popolare slava e un’integrazione poco riuscita: ecco Rosengård, prodotto imperfetto di ondate migratorie inattese (160mila solo nel 2015) e disoccupazione al 35%. Quasi nove abitanti su dieci hanno genitori stranieri e spesso crescono maturando un triste menefreghismo: come Zlatan, al quale non importava della nazionale gialloblù, né festeggiò lo storico terzo posto al Mondiale 1994. A lui piacevano i brasiliani, si sentiva poco coinvolto perché viveva in quel ghetto. E se il suo aforisma per eccellenza è stato privato del suo significato, a furia di abusarne (“Puoi togliere il ragazzo dal ghetto, ma non il ghetto dal ragazzo”), la realtà resta difficile.

A Rosengård ribaltano cassonetti, odiano i giornalisti e parlano 28 lingue sebbene vivano stipati in poco più di 3 km². A combattere tutto questo restano due baluardi, la cultura e lo sport. La biblioteket locale è tra le più frequentate dell’intera Malmö e dista soli 800 m da un campetto da calcio a cinque che fino a undici anni fa era un parco giochi disastrato, con una sola altalena. L’8 ottobre 2007 è stato inaugurato nuovo di zecca e illuminato durante le ore buie. Si può entrare e giocare gratis, forse stona con le condizioni del circondario. È stato donato a Rosengård dal figlio di un muratore bosgnacco di Bjeljina. Uno dal temperamento tosto, uno che nonostante le difficoltà è riuscito a farcela. E ha lasciato il suo messaggio, impresso proprio sopra l’entrata del campo.

Daniele G, della provincia di Grosseto, se lo è chiesto pure lui, il suo obiettivo di questo racconto è di condividere la propria esperienza, una sorta di gratitudine a chi prima di realizzarlo è stato utile per compiere il "viaggione".

Mi sono domandato se a qualcuno poteva ancora interessare un resoconto di un viaggio a Capo Nord, visto il gran numero di questi che ormai si trovano sui vari siti specializzati.
Poi mi sono ricordato che per organizzare il mio di viaggio, ho a mia volta consultato tanti diari di bordo, prendendo un po’ da tutti spunti che mi sono stati molto utili. Avendo poi la presunzione di andare a scovare spesso posti un po’ al di fuori dei normali circuiti turistici, ho deciso di rendere disponibile anche la mia esperienza, per ringraziare anche chi prima di me lo ha fatto facilitandomi la programmazione.
È un diario lungo, lo so si svolge in un periodo di 45 giorni e ho ritenuto opportuno che le informazioni fossero il più possibile dettagliate per rendere al lettore il massimo della fruibilità per un eventuale viaggio.
Se non avessi raggiunto lo scopo, me ne scuso in anticipo. Prima del viaggio vero e proprio vorrei elencarvi alcune informazioni, che non sempre ho trovato in altri resoconti, ma che ritengo utili per chiunque voglia programmare questa avventura.


Abbigliamento Abbiamo affrontato il viaggio tra Giugno e Luglio, e nonostante la stagione, abbiamo avuto bisogno di equipaggiarci per affrontare qualsiasi clima non solo a Capo Nord, ma anche più a Sud, abbiamo usato giacca a vento, cappello e guanti da sci, mentre da Bergen in giù le temperature sono diventate da maglietta e pantaloncini.

Valuta Danimarca, Svezia e Norvegia non hanno l’euro, ma ognuna le proprie Corone. Appena arrivato in Norvegia avevo prelevato una somma al bancomat corrispondente ad una cinquantina di euro, ma con il senno di poi è un’operazione inutile, in quanto tutti gli esercizi commerciali, compreso le bancarelle che si trovano lungo le strade, anche le più isolate, sono attrezzate per il pagamento elettronico (Carta di Credito o il Bancomat), indipendentemente dalla cifra. Noi abbiamo pagato con la carta di credito anche per poche corone che corrispondevano a poco più di un Euro.
Tenete in considerazione che alcune strutture addirittura non accettano contante.

Carburante Tutti i distributori sono automatici, vale a dire che si provvede da soli a fare il rifornimento. Il prezzo del gasolio è un caos, dato che abbiamo trovato distributori dove il gasolio costava 1,250 € e altri che arrivavano fino a 1,620 €. Non ho assolutamente capito perché, comunque consiglio di guardare bene e non fermarsi al primo distributore.
Questi comunque sono abbastanza numerosi da non creare problemi l’unico inconveniente, che ho scoperto rientrando in Italia, è che alcune sigle mi hanno addebitato una commissione di 1 € a rifornimento (ho sempre pagato con il bancomat), mentre altri no.

Pedaggi Io ho un camper di 7 metri ed eravamo due persone a bordo. In Danimarca e Svezia si pagano due ponti, quello che serve per andare tra i due paesi e quello che unisce due isole della Danimarca. Il ponte tra Copenaghen e Malmoe, che ho fatto all’andata, ha avuto un costo impegnativo di 110 €, tanto che al ritorno ho deciso di prendere il traghetto Helsinborg-Helsingor, che credevo più economico, ma mi sono visto addebitare la cifra di 108€ (probabilmente per non farsi concorrenza).
L’altro pagamento lo ho avuto prendendo il ponte, peraltro bellissimo, che unisce le due isole danesi dove si trovano Copenaghen e Odense (statale 20), spendendo poco più di 60€ (all’andata avevo preso il traghetto da Puttgarden in Germania a Rodby in Danimarca per un costo di 130€). Il tragitto è più lungo, ma, se vi va di fare qualche sosta ristoratrice in Danimarca prima di effettuare il lungo viaggio di ritorno verso casa, questa potrebbe essere la soluzione migliore.
In Svezia nessun addebito per strade a pagamento, mentre in Norvegia si pagano molti pedaggi autostradali, così come ponti e tunnel. Questi pedaggi sono automatici in quanto vengono rilevati da telecamere al passaggio non ci sono caselli e l’importo arriverà a domicilio.
Consiglio però di fare addebitare l’importo direttamente su carta di credito affittando un telepass valido in Danimarca – Svezia - Norvegia. È gratuito, si versano € 40,00 di caparra che vengono poi riaccreditati alla restituzione dell’apparato, arriva a domicilio in un pacco che contiene anche la busta per la restituzione e si richiedere al sito, sito da cui si possono ricavare anche altre informazioni utili. Vi consiglio di farlo perché in questo modo sul pedaggio non viene calcolata l’iva, che in Norvegia è del 25%.

Per quanto riguarda i traghetti sono veramente tanti quelli che è necessario prendere e che incidono sul budget di spesa. Sono comunque ben organizzati ed i tempi d’attesa sono accettabili. Il pagamento avviene all’imbarco con gli incaricati che passano a chiedere le misure del camper ed il numero dei passeggeri (il conducente viene calcolato con il costo del camper) e si paga con carta di credito o bancomat

Gas Io sono partito con 2 bombole da 10 Kg piene e, nonostante abbia utilizzato spesso il riscaldamento, mi sono state più che sufficienti. Va comunque ricordato che è utile portarsi al seguito il kit di adattatori.
In Norvegia usano prevalentemente bombole in vetroresina che hanno attacchi a baionetta o a vite, ma più grandi e contrari dei nostri. Ogni distributore di carburante vende bombole e ci sono anche quelli automatici, ma il problema sono gli adattatori, infatti solo alcuni rivenditori ne sono provvisti e possono riempire le nostre bombole. Vi inserisco sotto gli indirizzi, tratti da un altro diario di viaggio, dei rivenditori che hanno gli attacchi compatibili con i nostri. Sul sito si trovano tutti i rivenditori di gas in bombole.

In Svezia invece il sito dove trovare una mappa con i rivenditori è

Peso Ho letto in alcuni diari che in Svezia e Norvegia cominciano a pesare i nostri mezzi, ma io non ho trovato nessuno che lo facesse ed anche i camperisti italiani incontrati lungo il percorso non hanno avuto controlli di sorta. Comunque, sempre leggendo su alcuni diari, apprendo che la tolleranza al peso è stata di 200-300 Kg oltre le 3,5T.

Free Tax In molti esercizi commerciali dove vendono souvenir ed articoli da regalo si trova il servizio Free Tax, significa che al momento dell’acquisto di questi prodotti viene consegnato lo scontrino ed un modulo da compilare, dove devono essere inseriti i dati richiesti per poter usufruire del rimborso. Sono cumulabili e, prima di lasciare il paese, ci si deve rivolgere ad uno dei punti indicati sulla documentazione fornita al momento dell’acquisto per avere la restituzione dell’iva pagata (vedi il sito
Attenzione però, il commerciante non vi rilascia spontaneamente la documentazione al momento dell’acquisto, perciò sta a voi richiederla per avere il rimborso, che a seconda degli articoli va dal 10 al 15% (sul modulo ci sono anche le cifre minime di spesa per avere il rimborso).

Negozi Normalmente sono aperti dalle 9.00 alle 18.00 (per i supermercati invece si arriva alle 20.00 e anche le 21.00), mentre il Sabato dalle 10.00 alle 14.00. Domenica chiuso.

Alimentari There Norvegia, come il resto della Scandinavia, è veramente molto cara, e questo vale anche per i generi alimentari (soprattutto frutta e verdura) che vanno dal 25% al 50%, ed in alcuni casi anche 60%, in più dei nostri prezzi. Tanto per fare degli esempi nei discount (Rema 1000 ed altri) abbiamo trovato peperoni a 8€ al kg e pomodori a 5€, e, in alcuni casi, la frutta si pagava al pezzo singolo.
Ci sono però anche offerte, quando le trovate conviene fare il pieno della cambusa. Noi per evitare il balzello, dato che abbiamo un garage generoso, e in più un frigo portatile, abbiamo portato una scorta di alimenti dall’Italia, che ci ha garantito un’autonomia, per frutta e un po’ anche per verdura, di una ventina di giorni.
Comunque sotto vi riporto la nostra nota di spese, sperando che possa esservi utile.








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