Among the many small and great fears that affect this country, has issued in recent years for lack Decree Pisanu - che costringe chiunque decida di offrire una connessione wi-fi a
1) chiedere il permesso al questore
2) chiedere i documenti a chiunque vi si colleghi
3) documentare su un apposito registro tutti i movimenti e i siti visitati da ciascuno dei fruitori
4) conservare detto registro fino a più infinito per eventuali controlli.
Un caso tutto italiano motivato dalla ormai leggendaria lotta al terrorismo - una singolare attività occidentale nata 9 anni fa che ha come principali attività il cercare gente con la barba lunga e il turbante nelle grotte del deserto afghano e il cercare gente con la barba lunga nel resto del mondo, specie quella tanto furba da aprire siti in cui organizzare attentati come fossero partite di soccer.
surprising that in the 70's you could make ten times the attacks that are made today with the help of telephones, faxes, and nothing more.
power of word of mouth?
That said, it seems that the Pisanu decree will not be extended beyond December 31, and although it is unclear what we should expect from the next day, it is fair to imagine that any kind of exercises will begin to shoot around it without the wifi signal searches of any kind.
's still to be seen whether this new scenario will declare the end of the picturesque world of the internet point in Milan - internet point that they never called.
Until now, except for a few sparse and tragic cases of internet cafe (with bureaucracy worthy of the 12 labors of Asterix, unworthy prices and a snobbish era, you did not even travel in hyperspace), the only way to check email around Milan was (or better yet - for the next few weeks ) enter into a phone center.
Hidden from windows that read as a call per minute costs in Bangladesh and in Siberia (curiously, still much less than I spend to call people who live four blocks away), the phone center are small rooms that challenge the generally dilapidated meters frameworks to try to place as many payphones as possible. At first, that not even the desk with ikea first price on a separate computer which connect via skype with Peru or Nigeria.
In the space that advances, cash, documents and show where to send money in Turkmenistan or in Siam (paying commissions to lenders to companies to transfer spend something close to zero asymptotically).
Step inside, it is difficult to intercept a single Italian word: inevitably, the attendance of the phone center is almost entirely foreign, often divided by continents (hardly the phone center venice door behind you will see African Colombians - and vice versa in predominantly Latin).
Milan is in fact the European Capital of dis-integration: Despite the large proportion of guests everywhere, it is virtually impossible to meet with other ethnic groups in areas that are not public transport (which are conspicuous by their mutual hostility of all against all).
There are local Chinese, South American and local venues for Italian - but there is no danger that we are all together to eat something, watch a concert or what else Sadio.
For years, in the absence of a laptop or simply driven by little desire to stay at home, the phone center they offered me shelter and connection.
Inside there I found all sorts of humanity, and often beautifully photographed in the crucial moment of contact with families thousands of miles apart.
Each in its own way: South American screaming into the phone as obsessed, probably to say things like "hello "Or" weather there "(from the outside and not knowing the language, a phone call from my grandmother Gallipoli must be identical), children connected via skype with my uncle who sweats via webcam from Calcutta, the Ukrainian side asking you how to get on facebook, and even Chinese who watch videos on youtube popstar Chinese or Egyptians who have come there to write on Word and then print the menu of pizza (one day it helped a menu for New Year's Eve, and I mimicked the dishes because they did not know that name).
short, a rare - very rare in Milan - the time of intersection and contact between peoples.
course take the first step may not be easy: just a few steps and looks even less in some phone center for realize that one of the first Italian ever went there. But the doubt of being out of place is the same as that behind the counter every time the phone center that enters an Italian shop.
If god (one case) will, in some phone center located in strategic places and often close to universities or the like, it recently began to notice a healthy mix of faces, colors and cut of the eyes - including Italians.
One of them, Jasmin Phone, run by a Lebanese from the constant smile and the beard of Methuselah, has provided me with the network for more than three months, when at home hiding - and more than once kept me from forgotten keys or wallet there - and happily watched a growing number indigenous population of Milan go there for various reasons.
One evening, while dates of Ministers on Facebook instead sat on a stool unsafe, the police burst. There are five, in civilian clothes, and like a script are mild and polite as wild boars in a garden. The smiling
Lebanon was attacked and was ordered to show word for word for the navigation of the two Moroccans who had a side (one dealing with faccialibro like me, the other looked at the Trenitalia website). The Lebanese
smiling (sometimes less) but the computer search printouts - who is twenty years and is set with the wind - s'impalla. Meanwhile, the present order is made not to move the stool collapsing, pulotti and, increasingly threatening with anyone in this room do not speak Italian well (ie everyone except me and some of the policemen) are starting to ask for documents, residence permits, and details the reasons for the presence of network activity in each of these , and then start to groom smiling threatening the Lebanese of all things if he had not pulled out of a countless series of documents concerning the phone center. The Lebanese
in question amounted to a knowledge of what I have of the Chinese, let alone understand what the bureaucracy was screaming in the Calabrian pulotto front. As an Italian, the only exception from the suspicion of terrorist activity, but then no one understands why my presence there - and then keep me there for safety in custody.
Outside, beyond the glass with the rates for Bangladesh, a person waiting for me - but I am forbidden to go out or tell her what on earth is going on.
That's right, what was going on? Five people of different nationalities were made cocks their neighbors sitting together in front of computer patched up, wondering occasionally help in case one was not able to open your mailbox or print your resume or disimpallare the computer. And behind the counter, a Lebanese accused of not being able to demonstrate what he did fuck up the internet more of these Arabic.
For thirty minutes, my phone center of Italians trust are in the majority - and the worst moment I ever spent there.
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