Home > Turin Travelogue > Archives > 2006 > February > 27 > Entry

Mille grazie, Turin. I saw much passion here

The Winter Olympics are done, but what will live on will be the motto: “Passion Lives Here.”

Passion lived in the dagger staredown between Italian ice dancers Barbara Fusar-Poli and Maurizio Margaglio after he dropped her in the original dance. A look like that did not need explanation, especially for anyone who’s married.

Passion lived in the fans at the Juventus soccer game Sunday, a few hours before the Closing Ceremonies. They easily beat Lecche, a loser team from south Italy, and their stadium wasn’t even half full.

Yet you’d never know that from the pounding drum beats that carried several streets away, or the boxes of confetti that sailed down from the upper decks, or the gigantic flags that small children struggled to wave.

Passion lived in the cheerleaders who showed up like lucky euros (the coins here) at Olympic competitions. Dressed in gold lame and other bold colors of these Games, the cheerleaders were sparkly-cheeked teenagers full of spirit.

Passion lives in the mundane. The sales clerks are unfailingly obliging to assist in even the smallest purchase, and go to great lengths to bundle and wrap merchandise.

The attention to detail is fascinating, and I watched it closely in the hour I spent at the Italian bureau poste (post office). Yes, there is a postal service that is slower, but the packages look perfecto.

Passion can be protest, as seen from the train ride to the mountains. From chalet windows hang signs that say, “No TAV.” They do not want a high-speed train through their valley to France.

Passion and protest gets answers here, too. The torch relay was rerouted four times because people were mad about issues such as Olympic spending, an anti-drug law and Laura Bush’s visit. They also didn’t like the strategy to save Venice from flooding.

Passion and protest can be seen from a bird’s-eye view. From the top of the main tourist attraction here, the incredible cinema museum La Mole Antonelli, one can look down almost 600 feet and see the huge banner proclaiming, “Conflict Lives Here.”

Then there were the animal rights protesters. One morning at breakfast, I heard them railing about the “slaughter of stray dogs in Bucharest!” They want the Norwegian Olympic team to remove raccoon-dog fur from their winter uniforms. Two women from PETA got plenty of attention by wearing, on a freezing night, only thongs and a banner near the figure skating rink.

Of course, anyone who took a taxi or other motorized transportation in this city knew passion, all right. Passionate horn blowing and yelling from local drivers. The civic symbol is the bull, and people see red in a blink of an eye.

In the Porto Palazzo market (Europe’s biggest open-air one), a lady scolded me for bumping a potato off the corner of her display.

“Scusi,” didn’t work.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” she mocked me in disdain.

Yet that was the only conflict with local folks in my three weeks here. Many American journalists have derided these games as dull and passionless. Did they see the same Games as me?

I saw the Chinese pairs figure skater Huang Dan crash horrifically, get up and finish second. I saw the fabulous Enrico Fabris skate to his third medal and become Italy’s national hero. I saw Americans like Apolo Ohno thrill in victory, and Lindsey Jacobellis have some ‘splainin to do after her hotdoggin’ snowboard defeat.

Passion? There was no shortage here, even in the smallest gestures.

This morning, my euro coin did not work in a vending machine for the bottled water to sate my thirst. A kind volunteer first gave me exact change and insisted I keep my coin. “You are my host,” he said, but I knew he meant the opposite.

When his coins didn’t work, he left, went down the sidewalk and returned with a bottle of cold “Bonaqua.”

Mille grazie, my friend.

A million thanks.

Mille grazie, Turin.

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By Charlotta

February 27, 2006 10:50 PM | Link to this

What a sweet and gracious final blog! Just like you even though you must be exhausted and sick of it all by now. Or I would, but you are so much nicer than I am which is why your final blog is so much nicer than mine would be! It really cheered me up to read it. I cannot wait to hear a lot more about it all from you in person AND to have you back home! Charlotta

 

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