Palermo, Alghero

Francesco a photographer, reporter, investigator, traveler by conscience, connoisseur of places and souls, committed, independent, curious, generous, idealist, insatiable designer. He is a missionary of the third millennium. A worthy heir to the school of great photojournalists from Epoca and the Magnum. Francesco immediately shared with Antoniomarras the hunger, instinct and love for all impossible missions and that attraction for the “diverse".

There was nothing planned, except a statement: "... let's see, I'll take you to Ballarò and the Trovado market".
We would then walk briskly through the streets, we would pass alleys, the Via Delle Sedie Volanti - the street of the flying chairs for example; we would take shortcuts to get to meet the Palazzo della Cuba and baroque churches that make the Vatican pale.
At the entrance of Ballarò there is an inscription in Sicilian that announces: "Si vucia, s'abbania, Ballarò è magia.". And it's true: Ballarò is a magical journey. It's Istanbul, it's Marrakesh, it's Naples, it's Tunis, it's Havana, it's Saigon, it's Bankok, it's Nairobi, it's Zanzibar, it's Adis Abeba.

I have seen things that humans beings would hardly imagine: tables full of giant zucchini that looked like sugar canes, which were sold by giant shiny black men with braided hair, like the hair of my son Leo: They spoke a mixture of Italian and English and Sicilian.
I saw mountains of cauliflowers and mountains of residual cauliflower leaves, aubergines, potatoes, pumpkins of all sizes, boxes of tomatoes to fill a square, peppers, cucumbers, celery, chickpeas, lentils, beans, green beans, radishes, beets, carrots, chicory, potatoes, onions, prickly pears, grapes, watermelons, peaches, apricots, cherries, strawberries, medlars, plums, melons, figs, raspberries, blackberries, currants, blueberries, pears.

And then spices of all flavours and colours, for some they have not even invented the name, swordfish cut in half, live octopuses seasoned and eaten at the moment, wigs of all kinds, hairstyles, braids and hairstyles, photos of Claudio Villa in a cafe, plentiful orange juices for one euro, fresh eggs by the dozen large and small, tribal tattoo shops, old school, realistic new school, Japanese or lettering and all between scaffolding of metal tubes - essential because most of the pipes are stolen by the gypsies who resell the iron -, deconsecrated churches with barred entrances, decadent noble palaces, well-kept balconies with lush green potted plants where dressed-up ladies would be smoking and scanning the horizon.

There we found everything you could wish and need: paintings, photographs, pins, books, tablecloths, petticoats, blankets, trays, statuettes, arrows, Pinocchios, madonnas, plates and many people full of desire to talk, get to know and have fun.

Alghero’s countryside in spring seems like Ireland; a wild garden full of exuberant vegetation, where the darker greens of olive trees mix with the brighter colours of fruit trees, the red tonalities from the vineyards, the yellow broom flowers and the red that of the local myrtle tree. Just here and there you see palms and prickly pears that remind the proximity of Africa.

In the sprawling and anarchic geography of this countryside you can recognize small streams, which dry in summer. There are then the winding streets that crisscross the land in every direction to reach houses, farms, vegetable gardens, vineyards, olive groves, broad bean crops and pastures for horses and donkeys.

This way of life, out of the world, has something extremely valuable. When you are born right on the frontiers of an empire you are driven to dialogue, to communicate, to see and look beyond, search what is elsewhere. A bit like a green hedge that hinders the view, but at the same time, invites the gaze to go beyond and open to infinity. Desire arises from the limit, the dream that invites us to overcome barriers and difficulties.

The most beautiful walk is on the ramparts. This is the walk that opens your heart, even when you are in a completely different mood. From the bastion of La Maddalena you go up the stairs towards the the one of Magellano, then you arrive at the tower of Sant Elmo, followed by the Pigafetta and Marco Polo and Cristoforo Colombo. Constantly walking with the sea on your right side, you go through Piazza Sulis, Villa Mosca, the Kiosk then el Tro’ and las Tronas arriving to the Mirador de Balaguer, known today as Piazza Giuni Russo. I can't think that you can have more.


Text by: Patrizia Sardo Marras
Photo Courtesy:
Francesco Bellina for Palermo
Efisio Marras for Alghero