By Alessandro Bianchi

After what seemed like a lifetime of standing in the rain, “Habemus Papam” (We have a Pope!).

I woke up after basically not sleeping at all. Another day and now what? We had no idea what Pope Francis would do. Nobody knew. Only that he was due to attend a small prayer at the Santa Maria Maggiore – a basilica in central Rome. So, fellow photographer Stefano Rellandini and I got on our scooters and went to take a look. When we got there, there was a lot of people – media, tourists (the basilica is right next to the main train station), curious bystanders, and a big wall which surrounds the basilica. Stefano stayed with the pack outside the main entrance and I went for a little wander. How could I see above this wall? The only way was to go into a local school. I walked in, looked for the principle and said “Come with me I have something to show you. I will show you the Pope.” He smiled and said “Okay let’s see.” I said, “I have to have this picture, or my boss will be very unhappy…”

We entered into a class of school kids, around 15 years old (to tell the truth I wasn’t really paying attention to them). Then came one of the longest moments of my life as I walked through the class and saw that from their window I could see into the courtyard of the basilica. I saw cars, police and a couple of priests. This was it. Seconds later he appeared at the doorway and I started taking pictures. I said to the kids “It’s the Pope, it’s the pope. He’s here, say something,” but they were a little star-struck and I had to say “Yes, it really is him – say something.” So the kids all shouted “Viva il Papa, viva papa.” Then one of his close cardinals tapped him on the shoulder and pointed at the kids (or more importantly me). Then the Pope waved and smiled and finally I could relax.

I’m happy, the kids are happy, the Pope is happy. And what made it sweeter was that I was on my own. Or at least I thought I was. I walked down the stairs and bumped into a colleague of mine from a local agency. We hugged and we both said “that was nice.” Okay, he can have the Italian papers, and I can have the rest of the world – I’m happy.

By Alessandro Garofalo

“Do you know how Ahamad Massoud died?”

It’s not a quiz but a question addressed to us a few days ago by an employee from the secretary of the Public Prosecutor’s office when we asked why photographers were not allowed to bring photographic equipment into the court during the trials involving the former dancer Maroc, Karima El Mahroug, better knew as Ruby Heartstealer, in the sexgate scandal with former Italian Premier Silvio Berlusconi, accused of inciting the prostitution of a minor and abuse of power.

For a long time here in Milan we used to wait for Berlusconi and various protagonists of his different trials outside the courthouse because a measure prohibits filming in the courtroom for safety reasons.

But as we know, there is always someone who feels smart, especially when we talk about Italy – business is business. The channel networks want the scoop to broadcast in the news and the newspapers want to publish pictures on their front page. So, disregarding the bans, some editors and colleagues started to shoot video and take pictures with mobile phones, regardless of quality.

It is normal that a trial involving a high position of government like the Italian premier would generate a lot of curiosity, especially when people involved in the case range between seventy-year-olds and minors.

But we are not tourist photographers. We are professionals – the best until proven otherwise – and we do not care to be smart. If there is an order that prohibits filming, we respect it. Despite colleagues doing so and although no employee of the courthouse has ever prevented filming with mobile phones – remember, we are in Italy.

Here, indeed.

The prosecutor’s office has amended the decree granting the opportunity for reporters to document Rubygate using smartphones. Then was my time, after years of work with cameras on my neck, I took a day of vacation and went out equipped with just two smartphones.

But why can we use smartphones and not cameras and camcorders? Because Ahmad Massoud, the Afghan rebel leader, was killed with a camcorder full of explosives, that’s why.

It doesn’t matter that Massoud was killed by two fake journalists in the middle of the Afghan mountains and it doesn’t matter that before photographers enter into the courthouse they must go through security checks with scanners and metal detectors, while lawyers, bailiffs and underlings enter without any inspections.

Forget the zoom. Try to stay in the witness’ arms. The day was grey, the courtroom shadowed. Every attempt to get a good picture was a bet. Point, wait, and touch, most of the time the picture was not what you thought – blurred, dark, out of focus and grainy.

Every picture was a stab to the heart and one to the ego. Behind me there was a crowd holding smart phones and tablets. If it were not for the absurd decree and exploitation of Massoud’s killing, it would be a comedy. Years spent looking for the best picture, using the best camera, always trying hard, even though the assignment was trivial, made adjusting to a point and shoot 5 mega pixel camera difficult.

Finally, the judges rejected the Berlusconi lawyers request to suspend the trial.

Although I do understand and agree with the news’ needs and although sometimes a bath of humbleness can be helpful, I hope this remains my only experience as a tourist photographer covering an assignment for Reuters.

Although I have often relished the tender melody of the violin, it wasn’t until I met Mathias Menanteau that I realized the endless passion and mastery necessary for its creation.

French luthier Menanteau was born on July 29, 1977 in Vendée, France. He moved to Newark, England and attended the international Newark Violin Making School to garner the skill of making and restoring musical instruments. After being awarded a certificate, Mathias set out for Berlin, where he began working in the Anton Pilar violin workshop. It was in this musically rich city that Mathias deepened and acquired new knowledge on restoration, serving him well for various apprenticeships in Paris and New York.

He left Germany after five years and moved to the cradle of violin making, a city in Lombardy, Italy called Cremona. Menanteau’s expertise in musical instruments was magnified while working in Eric Blot’s workshop, where Mathias not only began restoring instruments, but also acquired knowledge of the dynasties of great Italian masters of music, such as Amati, Stradivari and Guarneri. In February of 2010, Menanteau finally opened his own violin shop in Monti, a neighborhood in the historic center of Rome.

Here, in addition to restoring instruments, he follows the traditional techniques and methods used by eighteenth-century Italian violin-makers to create his own bow instruments, mostly inspired by those of Cremona and Venice. Unlike the strict rules in the making of musical instruments, the restoration process allows room for leeway. Scientific discoveries including the use of x-rays to detect tunnels dug out by termites, or even dendrochronology, the science of dating events and changes by observing annual growth rings in timber, are new methods that help wood experts as well as restorers.

The making of an instrument always begins with choosing its wood, the cutting of which must be followed to perfection. String instruments are generally comprised of a fingerboard, the part that vibrates the most that is fixed onto a soundboard, allowing the sound to be amplified.

The violin is an instrument comprised of more than fifty individual pieces, each assembled together from different kinds of wood. The soundboard is made of fir, which grows in wind-protected valleys at an altitude ranging from 1000-1500 meters (3,280 to 4,921 feet). The higher the altitude, the narrower the wood fibers, as the cold climate hinders their growth. These pine trees are selected by the sonorous quality that emerges as the woodcutter strikes the base of each trunk with his axe.

The bottom of the violin and its sides are both made from maple, a kind of wood found in the forests of central Europe, specifically in what was known as Bohemia. The fingerboard is instead made of high quality ebony imported from Madagascar known as “black ivory.” Most of Menanteau’s stocked up piles of wood were acquired more than thirty years ago from old violin makers back in his days as a young apprentice in England.

Last but certainly not least, the bridge is considered such an important part of the violin that it takes on the role of a calling card for the craftsman. It is here that Mathias Menanteau, like many other master craftsmen before him, leaves his name branded onto the violin.

The neighborly couple have recently launched a 40-seat restaurant in Florence that allows customers to exchange vegetables and used goods for a traditional Tuscan dinner, in a way to encourage people to dine out despite the recession.

“We decided to open a restaurant, a gathering place for those who like to go out despite the crisis,” said co-owner Donella Faggioli, who sports a blonde mohawk hairdo and tattoos.

“Many cannot afford to go out to dinner in the evening and don’t have enough money to last to the end of the month. So we decided to go back to the old barter system,” she told Reuters.

Named “L’e’ Maiala” after a Tuscan saying for “hard times” which derives from the word for tough female pork meat, the trattoria revives a tradition that the owners remember hearing about from their grandparents when barter was a common currency in Florence at the end of World War Two.

“This restaurant is dedicated to our grandparents. The type of cooking is dedicated to the memory of our grandparents who would be at home on Sundays and would cook these same flavours, the same simple but very tasty dishes,” fellow owner Leandro Bisenzi told Reuters TV.

CRISIS EATS IN

Bartering has been around for centuries as an alternative to money, but a prolonged recession may have increased its prevalence as cash-strapped firms trade services through intermediaries to cut costs and reach out to new clients.

In 2011, over 400,000 companies worldwide earned an estimated $12 billion in bartered assets, according to the International Reciprocal Trade Association (IRTA), a U.S. non-profit organization which promotes the oldest form of trade.

Bartering trade is expected to grow by between 5 percent and 10 percent annually, IRTA says. This does not include untracked deals such as between a plumber and a restaurateur, for example.

In Italy, bartering is less common than in the U.S. but is spreading as the recession eats into bank deposits.

“Firms are not only selling less, but also facing a liquidity crisis so they cannot buy,” said Simone Barbone, marketing head at BexB, Italy’s leading bartering intermediary.

BexB allows its 2,600 members to trade activities such as repair works and refurnishing through an online network. Members also use a complementary currency called Bexb to buy and sell.

Founded in 2001, Bexb takes inspiration from WIR Bank, a Swiss cooperative bank founded in 1934 during the Great Depression. Since its launch, BexB has mediated transactions for over 200 million euros, a third of which in 2011.

“Numbers are growing as more companies join the network during the crisis,” Barbone said.

Restaurants, which deal directly with consumers, are not part of the business-to-business trade.

But in the U.S., several restaurants are bartering meals to fill seats on slow days. Some choose to swap goods they need.

At the trattoria, the owners prefer to swap meals for food.

“Wine, vegetables, potatoes are something we can use,” Faggioli said, carrying a pineapple offered by a customer.

A pensioner with a fruit garden has become a regular client.

“We are eating here in exchange for these two bottles of wine. It’s a great idea for Florence and for everywhere else – above all in this period of crisis,” customer Rosella Testa said.

A couple who brought a bottle of Barbera wine and a walnut liqueur got a discount of 20 euros on their 48-euro bill after a dinner with pici, tripe, chickpeas and dessert.

“Prices are fair and portions are big,” co-owner Francesco “Frank” Francini said, arranging tables for a group.

But customers be warned – Tuscans are canny traders and not every transaction is successfully served up.

A jacket with a price tag of 400,000 liras (about 200 euros) was refused because it was considered unwearable and a group from northern Italy which called to offer a coffin may not get a better deal.

(Reporting by Antonella Ciancio, editing by Paul Casciato)

On my mind was the number 77; the number of my press badge and the number I gave to police to get through security at the entrance to the court house.

Within a few minutes, the stepladders of photographers and television crews formed a pyramid that could block your view if you had chosen the wrong place. It was like a lottery and you had to wait to see if you had picked the right number.

The day before the verdict in the Amanda Knox appeal trial there were so many of us that the public, almost as if we were part of a show, pulled on our shirts and moved our ladders so they could see. The public were, after all, invading our 15 minutes, our sacred 15 minutes.

Throughout the trial, from afternoon to late night the lawyers could be seen in the center of the city, so during the four years we were able to establish a relationship with them and talk about our news organization, which may not necessarily be known by everyone in the Italian provinces.

We used these contacts later to reach an agreement with the president of the court to work out a pool system (sharing of images between agreed agencies) for the reading of the appeals verdict.

The unique aspect of this experience was the atmosphere of a medieval city, one often covered by fog during cold winters and populated year-round by foreign students who walked with books during the day and filled the pubs at night.

Inevitably, I had my own ideas and opinions about the relationship between Raffaele and Amanda and what really happened during this murder, which still remains a mystery.

Even for someone like me, who is physically imposing and no stranger to covering violent crimes, the whole atmosphere left me in a strange state of fear and unease.

Now that the story is over, my “war” to get good pictures has ended. It ended well overall for me — even though I still can feel the sting of a lost battle or two.