Observations of Italy's "Centri Sociali" during New Year's

January 1, 2009 marks the midpoint of my fellowship, and of course, a new year. The Chinese New Year doesn't start until January 26, when Chinese communities will welcome the Year of the Ox -- my year -- which means I'm turning twenty-four this year. Aside from being vaguely frightening at the thought of turning twenty-four, I'm also supposed to be watching my back this year, according to a friend from the Buddhist temple in Sao Paulo. Apparently one is more prone to bad luck during when the Zodiac revolves to their year (For those unfamiliar with the Chinese zodiac, the zodiac revolves around a twelve year cycle. I was born in 1985 in the year of the Ox; 1997, 2009, 2021 are thus also years of the Ox ... or oxen?).
But what I want to talk about is how I spent my New Year's Eve at a Centri Sociale, yes, a "social center," here in Milan.

I can't remember where I first read about Italy's Centri Sociali, which are basically squatted warehouses and other unused urban sites, started by students and other left-leaning Italians. I went to the biggest Centri Sociale in Milan, Leon Cavallo, currently located at Via Watteau, 7. Apparently, the center moves every few years as city authorities arrive to kick out the squatters. I'm sure the police know about Leon Cavallo's current location -- they make no secret about it -- but like the "illegal" favelas in Brazil's cities, it's probably more hassle to kick out the social centers than to just leave them be if they're not causing any trouble. As far as I could tell, the social center used to be some sort of warehouse and included a few smaller buildings in a courtyard. The buildings reminded me vaguely of art district 798 in Beijing -- although the usage of the buildings was quite different. And because the center makes little effort to comply with the law, basically everyone was smoking inside (smoking inside is illegal in Milan).

The center offers free language classes to Milan's many immigrants; it also pushes an agenda for greater social integration of Milan's immigrant communities. Indeed, one of the themes of the New Year's Party was a "new year free of racism." The center also includes a kitchen with cheap and delicious food, as well as pretty fantastic bookstore. Of course, one of the main focuses of the social center is to offer social events that provide a welcome respite from Milan's otherwise elitist social scene -- offering free or cheap concerts, movie screenings -- and is apparently the birthplace of Italian hip-hop (I can't say, however, whether or not this is a worthy distinction).

When midnight struck, there was no anticipatory count-down or ball-drop -- the music simply went on. Okay, a few people threw some firecrackers in the courtyard. But I suppose the party was only getting started: the hours were officially 11 pm to 9 am or something insane like that. The place featured four rooms with different music in each room, although the largest room was devoted, regrettably, to electronic music.

The demographic at the Center was very strange, and I spent most of the night speculating on why the Center drew the crowd. I'd say the Center was probably evenly divided among white Italians, Arab immigrants (I think mostly from Egypt), and African immigrants (mostly from various West African countries). But whereas the white Italians were more or less evenly divided among males and females, the Arab and African attendees were exclusively male, except maybe one or two Arab girls I saw. This meant the whole male to female ratio was probably about 10:1. Also absent were south Asians (Sri Lankans, Indians, Bangladeshis...) and Chinese immigrants. As a result, I seemed to get a lot of unwanted attention among the Arab attendees, for whatever reason, the African and white attendees didn't seem to give me any unusual attention.

What I found most strange was the lack of Arab and African females at the place. Okay, there were essentially no south Asians or east Asians, but that I could more or less comprehend. But why were there Arab and African people, but only males?

Milan's large immigrant community is relatively recent, so I'd guess the majority of ethnic minorities are first-generation immigrants, with a few exceptions. First-generation immigrants generally draw heavily upon value systems from their country of origin. I began to think that perhaps engaging in public social life is probably frowned upon for many women in the developing world, and this prejudice is carried over (and in some cases, even worsened) during emigration. Perhaps immigrant families are wary of exposing their daughters in unknown social environments, where social values and gender norms are unknown quantities. Patriarchal protection is unnecessary for male immigrants, who are probably curious to explore the contours of gender relations in their adopted country.

I used to think that preventing women from engaging in public life -- whether through social life or income-earning work -- was the principle factor that contributed toward gender inequality. Although I still believe that engagement in public life is critical toward greater gender equality, my experiences in Chinese culture suggests that the picture is much more complicated. For instance, in one Chinese immigrant family I met in South America, both the father and the son did not work, whereas both the mother and daughter worked full shifts everyday. Apparently, certain work is considered "fit" for women, mostly low-paying labor-intensive work, whereas men are expected to fulfill higher-paying, more "honorable" work positions. For the father of that family, it was probably more honorable to remain unemployed than to do "woman's work." The son told me he did not to do low-paying labor, and that was okay.

So, back to the Centri Sociali. The social aims of the Center are undoubtedly noble. But who is actually showing up to the Center? Or rather, who isn't showing up, and why not?

No lump of coal for Christmas, but...

A PINK SPANDEX SHIRT FOR GIRLS!!!

Yes, yes, this was indeed my only present during Christmas this year. I'm not bitter (I'm really not, I promise), after all, I'm in a new country with no family. And being on the road means that I don't want to be carrying lots of stuff.

At any rate, I wasn't exactly expecting presents. And I'm not really keen on gambling, in any form, so I wasn't going to buy 10 bingo tickets in hopes of winning some prize at the Chinese community Christmas party (skimming over the last four words, "Chinese community Christmas Party," I think I just read "Chinese Communist Party." Maybe I spent too long in my thesis carrel in college). But the father of the Chinese Catholic church in Milan was nice enough to give me one of his bingo tickets, so I could participate. There were tons of prizes, maybe fifty in total, so pretty much everyone could win something (or two or three somethings). All the stuff was donated by some of Chinese wholesalers, so it was a melange of trinkets, clothes, basically a random sample of things you might find in a Walmart. All of course, made in China.

Epilogue: A woman who was trying to be nice offered to switch my present, and I said "no, no, it's fine," but she insisted. I couldn't exactly insist further on keeping a pink spandex shirt for girls -- which might raise some eyebrows -- so now I have a nondescript black hat instead.

Merry Christmas from Milan

Milan, Italy, 2008.

Buon Natale, Feliz Navidad, Feliz Natal, 圣诞快乐, Merry Christmas.

America is difficult, English is difficult

"You're from America? Life there is really difficult, isn't it?" An unemployed, single man from Fujian asked me this today in Milan.

I was almost relieved to hear someone say this.

I've been outside of the United States for nearly six months now -- the midpoint of my journey -- and up until today, no one from any of the Chinese communities seemed aware of the many hardships that confront immigrants in the U.S.

To many people, the U.S. is Disneyworld; even some Italians said they were surprised how different New York City is compared to how it is portrayed in Sex and the City.

Is it the influence of American culture and media? Maybe: one bored day in Sao Paulo I spent with a first-generation Chinese family watching American music videos from Mariah Carey to 50 cent, and then watched the first two "High School Musical" movies. Mind you, I had never seen any of the above, and considered the day well spent if for purely ethnographic purposes. One of the kids later told me that when he was in China, Michael Jackson was hugely popular, and he had bought a couple music videos of "Thriller" and "Billie Jean" when he first got to Brazil. American movies, television shows, music, have an enormous influence everywhere in the world, which undoubtedly help create a certain idea of America.

To be clear, I'm not saying that the "American Dream" doesn't exist. I know it does -- at least for a lucky few -- like my family. But it is this fantasy that the U.S. is paradise that is especially striking. Perhaps Europe may seem less appealing to Chinese immigrants, since Europe has only recently become an immigrant destination. Maybe, for poor Chinese immigrants, America's culture of individualism and capitalism are more promising than Western Europe's more socialist-leaning tendencies. I don't know.

Oh, and about English being hard: I got asked a bunch of English grammar questions by a first-generation Chinese immigrant, who at age sixteen, has only been in Italy for three years. The questions were mostly about distinguishing prepositions such as on/above, on/over, through/across, etc. As a native speaker of English I know instinctively what is right and what is wrong, but found it nearly impossible to explain these differences. I took comfort in the fact that the textbook was in Italian and I was trying to explain it in Chinese. But nevertheless, it made me remember how hard teaching English is. I did it for a few months when I was eighteen, in Nicaragua, and ffter that informative experience, I decided I could never do it again.
Kudos to my friends teaching English as a second language!

Rain and snow

Today I had my first snowfall in Milan. I love snow and rain (in small doses, of course). People who have grown up around snow know there is a special feeling when you wake up to a world of white.
My apartment when I woke up. You can see the snow on the building across the street; this is a color photograph, no joke.

The tram-tracks by my apartment.

Snow has a way of cleaning things up, before making them all dirty again.
I love the sort of moody film noir feeling one gets when photographing rain in low light. Rain creates new worlds, through reflections, puddles, raindrops on windowpanes. Now if only I had a weatherproof camera and could shoot at ISO 3200 or 6400.... maybe Christmas??

I like to photograph in the late afternoon and early evening, when light is subdued, when people are subdued, when natural light mixes with the artificial.


Curitiba, Brazil

Next time it rains, go outside and pay attention. Just look and see, look for patterns, for light, for the way light hits raindrops. Sometimes beautiful things appear.

Can anybody figure out who this is?

Monochromatic Milan (Where I live)

Remember how I was saying how Milan has no colors, and everything is black and white, or in between? I was being serious.

Exhibit A: my beautiful, if monochromatic apartment.

From the entrance to the apartment: bathroom and wall. Notice black scarf on the right.

Plant life always manages to mix things up and reaffirm the existence of the color palette.

The bedroom. Look closely and you'll realize it's a color photo, although the same can't quite be said about the apartment.

The kitchen in the afternoon.

My awesome apartment mate Sergio. Sergio is a furniture designer for Antonio Citterio in Milan, but is originally from small town in Puglia, in the south of Italy. Note the white clothing (weekends), which is contrasted from the black clothing he wears to work (weekdays). Also note the video projector that he uses to project movies onto the white canvas he has painted on the opposite wall.
Me, being monochromatic and preparing for the cold. This is Sergio's black jacket against the white wall.

Me on the balcony. In an act of restrained rebellion against the Milan fashionistas, I am wearing my red Oktoberfest shirt (from Blumenau, Brazil) under a black v-neck sweater.

Multicultural Milan

The first Italian restaurant I walked into was owned by a family from Wenzhou, China. The second one as well. The third, a pizzeria called "American pizza" (but my Italian host assures me they have great pizza), is run by Egyptians. The hostel I stayed at is run by Lebanese youth.

These are just my direct direct experiences, which doesn't include the many West Africans and South Asians I see on the streets selling various things. On the city trams, I see ads for "migrart.it," a site apparently where immigrants can post art relating to their immigrant experiences. Europe is changing, and the face of Milan, the economic heart of Italy, is changing as well.

This was perhaps the most startling observations upon my arrival in Milan, Italy from Sao Paulo. I was expecting Milan to be quintessentially European, if not Italian. To a certain degree, it is: beautiful buildings, art, parks, a clean and orderly city (at least in comparison to many South American cities!). But as immigrants begin to stream into European cities, the face of Milan will change noticeably.

Sao Paulo to Milan

I was thinking of all sorts of witty things to say, all kinds of astute observations to record on my transfer from Sao Paulo to Milan. It's now 11:30 pm in Milan, and although only 8:30 pm in Sao Paulo, I'm really tired. Slept about three hours on the twelve hour plane ride, after dealing with Brazilian bureaucracy/airport security.

Apparently the immigration officer in Foz do Iguacu in Brazil only gave me forty days in the country, even though my visa explicitly states I could stay for ninety days. As a result, I "overstayed" my visa by about two weeks, which amounted to about a $50 USD fine, payable on my return to Brazil. Either that, or I can petition it at a Brazilian consulate here in Italy in the next five days. Both options are less than ideal.


Anyways, I am now in Milan, where I feel safe walking around alone at night with my camera. But I must say, Milan lacks the kind of vitality that is pervasive in the streets of Sao Paulo, for better or for worse. Everyone in Milan walks around in monotones, in different shades of black and brown. They just walk, almost nobody hawking anything, no music, no colors. Nevertheless, it is still beautiful in that kind of elegant European way, and the cathedral is awesome. Witness:


I walked down the main Chinese street, Via Paolo Sarpi, and chatted with a little eatery owner. To my surprise, she also insisted that the U.S. was infinitely better than Italy. What is it about the mystique of the United States?

Milan, Italy

... is where I am going on Monday, December 1st.


It's a hard life I lead, I know.