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I was at the Campo with my family for nine months, between late summer 1985 and early summer 1986, at which point we left for Canada. I was 11 years old at the time, and my cousin was 9. She and her family stayed a few months longer and eventually ended up in Canada too. We were in Block B for about a month, if I recall correctly, and then were sent to the Hotel Bologna in Latina Scalo. My memories of the time are mostly good, since we had our parents, time off school, friends to play with, a chance to travel and see Italy (on a very limited budget) and we were lucky that nothing bad happened to us. Bad things: I remember the rats, and the horrible conditions in Block B -- mostly the awful toilets. My mom, lover of clean bathrooms, was in despair. I remember the smell of decomposing flesh -- probably some pigeons lying around? -- and the "I'm better than you" attitude of some of the Italian staff at the camp. Some, not all. Some were decent. I remember the tall brick wall that surrounded the camp, making us feel like we were in prison. I remember finding clothes to wear from the used clothing donations at the church across the street. I remember that my parents were shocked by some of the things that went on in the camp: they weren't used to seeing the dark underbelly of society, and that was on full view in the camp (knife fights, drunkenness, prostitution). When we were moved to the hotel, we felt safer, and the conditions were better. It was still hard, and far from ideal. The uncertainly of what was going to happen to us weighed heavy on my parents' mind. The room my parents and I stayed in had just enough space for our beds, and a sink. There was a shared bathroom in the hallway. To live like that for a year was doable, but not comfortable. As for me, I was a naïve kid who for the first time saw that life could be brutal. We found some pornography in the parking lot (violent, non-consensual stuff) which freaked me out and made me want to stay a kid forever. It had never occurred to me that people could do that to each other. There were women in the hotel who had older Italian "boyfriends" who gave them money. Fat, old men with gold chains on their hairy chests. The mother of one of the girls in our group of friends was one of those women. There was a man who beat up his wife and left her with a black eye. I'd never seen things like that, or even heard of them happening... So it was an education. ;) The lack of money was hard, although probably harder on the parents than on the kids. As exploited labour, they made very little money. I remember longing for a Barbie doll at Christmas and finally getting a doll -- but not a real Barbie. I had mixed feelings about that; I still remember. On our trips around Italy the most we could treat ourselves to was the odd cappuccino and gelato. Other than that, it was bagged lunches all the way. Not all things were bad; some were wonderful. There was a group of Polish kids whose families were also living at the hotel, and in a way that time was an idyll for us -- we took the bus into Latina to go to the volunteer Polish school at the camp in the morning (where I learned enough English to make myself understood on arrival in Canada), and then came back to the hotel and played for hours. Cards, Monopoly, cops and robbers (all over the hotel -- the staff were annoyed...); we even created an imaginary town where we all played some sort of role. For kids, it was lovely, like a year-long vacation. Both my parents and my aunt found jobs in the various administrative offices of the camp since they spoke English. My dad had tried being a day labourer, but the physical work was too hard for him. We were white-collar people, after all... My uncle worked in the community, for a lady with an antique furniture business. She eventually offered him a partnership, but he was set on Canada. There were bus tours organized to various places in Italy (I think by one of the priests?), and we went every time. Venice, Florence, San Marino, Monte Cassino, Pompeii and Vesuvius, Assisi, and of course Rome and the Vatican, many times. We literally spent days wandering around museums. It was wonderful. Thirty years later, I'm still steeped in the art and architecture I saw then as a kid. We'd also go down to the beach in warm weather, or climbed the mountainous roads up to Sermoneta, which was really picturesque. In a way, I was lucky and sheltered, and mostly remember that time fondly. But I would not want to have experienced it as an adult.
Marku: dziekuje za BOPa. Jesli jestes ciekawy, to zdjecie ze starego kita 18-70, ktory byl wyklety, ale mial swoje zalety. Co tam zreszta sprzet, trzeba sie ruszac i szukac takich rzeczy :)
Closer look at picture shows it was taken looking West. Some landmarks in the picture are: Denholm Mckay building, Tower 20 story built 1971 at 100 Front street, Worcester Plaze (aka sovereign tower, glass tower), State Mutual Building, Notre Dame Church, Worcester Centrum, and that water tower believe its in Holden, MA but part of worcester water system. Also see the old Classical High School (my class of 1962).
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I was at the Campo with my family for nine months, between late summer 1985 and early summer 1986, at which point we left for Canada. I was 11 years old at the time, and my cousin was 9. She and her family stayed a few months longer and eventually ended up in Canada too. We were in Block B for about a month, if I recall correctly, and then were sent to the Hotel Bologna in Latina Scalo. My memories of the time are mostly good, since we had our parents, time off school, friends to play with, a chance to travel and see Italy (on a very limited budget) and we were lucky that nothing bad happened to us. Bad things: I remember the rats, and the horrible conditions in Block B -- mostly the awful toilets. My mom, lover of clean bathrooms, was in despair. I remember the smell of decomposing flesh -- probably some pigeons lying around? -- and the "I'm better than you" attitude of some of the Italian staff at the camp. Some, not all. Some were decent. I remember the tall brick wall that surrounded the camp, making us feel like we were in prison. I remember finding clothes to wear from the used clothing donations at the church across the street. I remember that my parents were shocked by some of the things that went on in the camp: they weren't used to seeing the dark underbelly of society, and that was on full view in the camp (knife fights, drunkenness, prostitution). When we were moved to the hotel, we felt safer, and the conditions were better. It was still hard, and far from ideal. The uncertainly of what was going to happen to us weighed heavy on my parents' mind. The room my parents and I stayed in had just enough space for our beds, and a sink. There was a shared bathroom in the hallway. To live like that for a year was doable, but not comfortable. As for me, I was a naïve kid who for the first time saw that life could be brutal. We found some pornography in the parking lot (violent, non-consensual stuff) which freaked me out and made me want to stay a kid forever. It had never occurred to me that people could do that to each other. There were women in the hotel who had older Italian "boyfriends" who gave them money. Fat, old men with gold chains on their hairy chests. The mother of one of the girls in our group of friends was one of those women. There was a man who beat up his wife and left her with a black eye. I'd never seen things like that, or even heard of them happening... So it was an education. ;) The lack of money was hard, although probably harder on the parents than on the kids. As exploited labour, they made very little money. I remember longing for a Barbie doll at Christmas and finally getting a doll -- but not a real Barbie. I had mixed feelings about that; I still remember. On our trips around Italy the most we could treat ourselves to was the odd cappuccino and gelato. Other than that, it was bagged lunches all the way. Not all things were bad; some were wonderful. There was a group of Polish kids whose families were also living at the hotel, and in a way that time was an idyll for us -- we took the bus into Latina to go to the volunteer Polish school at the camp in the morning (where I learned enough English to make myself understood on arrival in Canada), and then came back to the hotel and played for hours. Cards, Monopoly, cops and robbers (all over the hotel -- the staff were annoyed...); we even created an imaginary town where we all played some sort of role. For kids, it was lovely, like a year-long vacation. Both my parents and my aunt found jobs in the various administrative offices of the camp since they spoke English. My dad had tried being a day labourer, but the physical work was too hard for him. We were white-collar people, after all... My uncle worked in the community, for a lady with an antique furniture business. She eventually offered him a partnership, but he was set on Canada. There were bus tours organized to various places in Italy (I think by one of the priests?), and we went every time. Venice, Florence, San Marino, Monte Cassino, Pompeii and Vesuvius, Assisi, and of course Rome and the Vatican, many times. We literally spent days wandering around museums. It was wonderful. Thirty years later, I'm still steeped in the art and architecture I saw then as a kid. We'd also go down to the beach in warm weather, or climbed the mountainous roads up to Sermoneta, which was really picturesque. In a way, I was lucky and sheltered, and mostly remember that time fondly. But I would not want to have experienced it as an adult.
Very nice! Beautiful Shot! Best Regards from China!
Marku: dziekuje za BOPa. Jesli jestes ciekawy, to zdjecie ze starego kita 18-70, ktory byl wyklety, ale mial swoje zalety. Co tam zreszta sprzet, trzeba sie ruszac i szukac takich rzeczy :)
Ten fort nie jest w tym miejscu. Dokladnie znajduje sie tu: 50 05 53.72 N 20 02 27.33 E
Pozdrawiam
Swietna mapa, sciagam ja sobie :) Pozdrawiam!
Bywalem na wakacjach w tych stronach ale to bylo ponad 30 lat temu. Jakze inaczej wygladal wtedy krajobraz podczas zniw.
Pozdrawiam
bello
Was here, I liked the picture and VOTED
MY APRIL CONTEST
Cheer
Tony
Closer look at picture shows it was taken looking West. Some landmarks in the picture are: Denholm Mckay building, Tower 20 story built 1971 at 100 Front street, Worcester Plaze (aka sovereign tower, glass tower), State Mutual Building, Notre Dame Church, Worcester Centrum, and that water tower believe its in Holden, MA but part of worcester water system. Also see the old Classical High School (my class of 1962).
Extremely beautifull photo! Really smooth, good colors and contrast! Regards from Portugal