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Yet another blow was dealt to free information.
Rai, which increasingly resembles the megaphone of the master's voice rather than a public service television, does not guarantee more journalists to report the legal cover. This means that the envoys of Milena Gabanelli has always been active in denouncing the illegality, corruption and abuses of which Italy is overflowing, take responsibility for their own pockets for legal fees which, by good investigation, require ongoing meeting.
It 'clear that the Investigation Report, discovering fraud, exposing the exploiters, alleging collusion, have ended up hurt the business partners of certain politicians who invariably runs for cover with a form of intimidation mixed with retaliation.
We believe that the service offered by the preparation of reports is essential to the country by rejecting the junk programs that seem to proliferate instead in RAI like a TV commercial.
This group aims to make the virtual solidarity and, where possible, material support for the preparation of reports.

Tv Dvd Combinations Good Value For Your Money

Freewheeling. Garage Olimpo

I thought the central bus station Buen os Aires was much more messy, but it is not. You are in the waiting room and ttendi, Patagonia. Get on co lectio , there are 19 hours of travel in front of you. You sleep, you wake up, the noise is always the king or stess o: heavy wheels on the asphalt, the roar of padding in the head, and inside you and you in the colectivo, the colectivo into the landscape. The eyes they begin their tireless work as always, realizing for the first the desert that finally won on the concrete in Buenos Aires.

has never ventured much your eye? The vastness of the esplanade ata is cherished only by the tufts diagnosis of shrubs and softer than sheep. It seems property, this large, but it is only a tense balance between the wind and the earth, the same wind that if you imagined mpre between houses and narrow crevices, deceitful and lazy along roads or paths, always confined to himself, and that here instead buy a new dimension of greatness and dominion. It is a broad and bold wind that blows here in P atagonia. And the fo rma plant and will suggest the only way to live with this force, or seduced.

The kilometers run and there you are relentless in Puerto Madryn, Peninsula Valdes there you are, and then the cold, the beach, the Atlantic, the pink flamingos that if you run with stands near the anus flight and if you mbra to be in another world or , and then the bal ene, which are giants and puffing as locomotives and ch and

jump, jump in the sea because full hormonal explosion that nearly explode too, and then they are like the guanaco llama m blade are not, and you thought armadillos were Gigant ie instead are small and perfect sculptures of the cornea, and Then the penguins, which are coming but have not yet arrived. And then you only have time to draw breath and think that you want to go even further south, and here you find yourself back on the giant two-story that swallows the ASFA lto, dipped again in the Patagonian steppe.

The distances between the cities increasing as the desolation. Do you think that is the 'only arid landscape full of puddles. You stop at the Rio Gallego s, a n right obtained, right at the boarding house to the side, Ms Ines, who loves Italy, who believes in God but because they killed rite shot on the way to rob the truck, and why God is great and will take revenge, and without God, life would be a hell . Faced with this disarmingly obvious you astonished to find you totally agree, and go to sleep, hoping that God decides to take revenge on that very night. And in the morning, at dawn, drove off. The coach is smaller but the time of St. harbor many more. The desolation, melancholy, feelings that surround you and breathe through the pores, but in the opposite direction, from outside to inside, and mix your twenties and the feeling of freedom that thousands of miles of asphalt and gravel will have distilled a result of sweet and fiery impôt nte onnipoten za.


and so that ends the mainland, in front of you crossing the legendary or Strait of Magellan, a rusty barge, just space for buses and a few trailers and a small bridge where salts, almost running not feel the wind that cuts the face not feel the cold hands asleep, you hear your own cry (you're crying?). And landings, Tierra del Fuego, the same land that you remember from when you were little because I was told that was cold, but for you it was still the land of fire, and so I realized that the ice can burn. Other hours of steppe and then suddenly the landscape changes ia because in the southern Andes, Tierra del Fuego are born, die or maybe just into the sea, at the point where Pacific and Atlantic cancel each other, and where, many years ago, was built as a penal colony that bears the name of Ushuaia, the end of el world. But for you that you get there, they do not, you to the end of the world and beyond, is Cape Horn, and Antarctica, but you have to settle for ' Isla H, piece of land in the Beagle Channel, because it is winter and this season n on more than one can dare. Too dangerous.


So you do not or other body is not going in circles around the city and ac happy with the people you meet tend to be alcohol. As Jeremia. Do you know him in the bathroom, you you are drained from the shower, he came suddenly, it is wetting and combing several times (and apparently without a purpose) to carry his gray-white. And you r deposit continuous flow, without introductions, who lives in the hostel, that his wife has kicked house, looking for work, I would open a hardware store, I already have the material in a cellar nearby, perhaps a friend will grant me space in his small Kiosco right at the end of this road, but right now I live for the day ata, but need not be so bad, I have to known until some time ago a shepherd, a pastor of the Apostolic Church Evangelical, working with the homeless, offers him something to eat and coprirs the, you know, here is really cold, and I too would be a pastor, I began to to study the Bible, but you know my name? .. Like the prophet Jeremiah. Now I have to go, so much pleasure. And you find yourself thinking, now completely dry, so that a scene he had seen only one film (Hatred) and that perhaps the Patagonia is enough for this movie .. and then pull the breath again and back on the road.


Up north, but this time you do it to the east, the Rue is no longer 3 but the 40, and to your left, finally, the Andes are a butt and where look can find shelter. And while you're thinking that these mountains will accompany you in the coming months, you realize that the vegetation has changed and that the shrubs have given way to groups of dead trees, gray and ghostly. Absolutely in line with the Patagon ia.

It can throw up a mountain so much ice?
Watching from afar Perito Moreno is the first question takes shape. And then you find yourself in front of him, and hear the crackling . And then you find yourself in a boat below him, and I feel that moves, prehistoric animal, spitting up to rid the lake below the ice, iceberg cemetery from which you're observing. But it is when you're over him, when you have tamed and conquered with the crampons feet, which will reveal its secrets. Crystals, streams, lakes, blue, blue crevasses, sculptures bizarre .. and you seem to be in a fairy tale carved by Gaudí.

Just enough time to absorb the wonder. Just enough time to appreciate the gesture of Ricardo, old Panadero of Welsh origin, which offers some of his work (decisam institution the empanadas more good in Patagonia! ) so proud of the reasons for our trip, not as a proud Argentinian, but as a human being. Just enough time to find that the Route 40 further north and unusable and you'll have to go back and pick up 3, which means 42 hours of road to Bariloche, your next step. And this time not only throws you hold your breath but also u bit n ' the teeth, you decide to break the journey back to Puerto dryn But, because this time the penguins have arrived and you can finally see them, watch, imitate, thousands . and dates on colectivo happy and a little 'penguin, and in the other 19 hours of road you still can see the multitude of shapes that the clouds will take, but the difference compared to the trivial discovery, is the perfection outlines the background without end. And you wake up you're again in the Andes, San Carlos de Bariloche, rich, snobby and cold. And the name of his vast and deep lake, Neuel Huapi, you sound like a threat of revenge on those who have usurped those wilds exterminating the natives. With a flash addresses the last 22 hours by bus to separate you from Buenos Aires, his eyes still glued to the landscape and when you have a freewheel between asphalt ep oesia.

PS We added a small video at the end of the previous post "Garage Olimpo". For one.

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start talking in Argentina with an argument that is particularly close to my heart. In Europe there is much talk of the Holocaust that the Jewish people suffered in the Nazi-Fascist decades. Leaving aside the controversy about how this is done every day "vend uto" from a certain political party in the name of fundamentalist Judaism (quoting Norman G. Finkelstein, the son of deported jew and now teaches at the University of Chicago), the matter is that we know almost nothing about other holocausts that occurred with different means and methods, but with u Guale ferocity and cruelty (and still are eaten in different parts of the world, just see Palestine). We refer here in particular to the eight years of military rule that have characterized Argentina from 1976 to 1983, and the "phenomenon" better known by the name of his victims: disappeared. It is not our intention to tell the events historical here and now (you can easily tell with books or the Internet.)

however summarize in two words what happened that day, a paramilitary unit, the grupos de Tareas (neither army nor police ) was authorized to detain so-called dissidents, and somewhat vague term given at the discretion (staff) of the anyone a bit 'of power. Socially gone, the hostages were taken to clandestine detention centers, most of whom were in the center of Buenos Aires (such as a school building of Argentine Navy, the EMSA, now a museum of memory) , and there they were systematically tortured. And then be thrown with state air in the open ocean. Dead or most of and sometimes still alive.
After the return to democracy, somebody paid but most have remained unpunished, thanks to two-amnesty laws promulgated by Menem (recently canceled because again declared unconstitutional by the judiciary .. just that they want to eliminate power in Italy ..)

Even today, the mothers of the disappeared, in Joined ' Association Madres de Plaza de Mayo, every Thursday from 15:30 to 16:30 in the parade square 25 de Mayo in front of the Casa Rosada (the seat of executive power) claiming justice. They do it for 30 years, with the tenacity that only women possess.

arrive a few minutes before and we have a dense atmosphere of emotions. The mothers of the association are easily recognizable because of the band wearing white ana as headgear. I am twenty, scattered around the thin marble obelisk that the central square as the arm of a compass. Some books sell pins and documentary behind a stall, others share words and memories with those who are willing to listen. Our particular interest is captured by a group of young students around, almost swallowing, a small elderly woman, no stereotype nna. Being told how they kidnapped daughter in broad daylight. The opaque glasses and quietly but firmly make his eyes moistened by the memory indelible image in our mind.

At 15.30 chimes the bell of the Cathedral, and the point of the square madres gather behind a blue banner that reads: " Contre la riqueza y la oligarquia terrateniente" (against the oligarchy of wealth and mistress) .

He takes a timid applause of encouragement from the crowd that has slowly accumulated in the square. And these women, whose youngest will have sixty years, and neither proud nor fair, but by perseverance disarming, starting with the circular gear, slow, almost rhythmic, at to rno obelisk.

participate, as many ordinary people. Popping pictures, posters, children's faces disappeared. We find that in parallel with this holocaust has developed a tour of illegal adoptions of children born to disappeared. In all, about five hundred . no possibility of detecting them.

The throat narrows a bit 'and at the end of the march, while another two minutes of applause, the emotion is widespread.

The wounds are not only still open, but bleeding profusely: the intimidation that has recently received from president of ell'associazione ( Hebe de Bonafini ) who found the front door riddled with bullets ...

But the thick drop of anguish in this sea of \u200b\u200banger is our observation that individual liberties, even in our " avant-garde" Western world, not a gift priori, but must be constantly defended. In this terrible result of the "critical" no longer know the meaning of words, and that's how we relegate such terms as "ignorance", "holocaust", "dictatorship" in the past, far away. And do not investigate more impressive its meaning.

And then I think of my country, where there is censorship. I think the gesture of Borghezio, which disinfects the trains which travel on foreigners. I think the interactive pastimes as "bounce the clandestine" and statements that it is legitimate to torture them. I think the events that occurred in the barracks of Bolzaneto. And finally I think that in my country there are those who work for you to hate social development, so the terrmine democracy change meaning, and for you to find a scapegoat on which to focus the attention and frustration. That is, the dissident / underground shift.

We conclude by recommending to everyone (as long ago have recommended to us), one of many films dealing with this subject: Garage Olimpo. is not a documentary, it's just a movie. I would say, action.

Video: www.youtube.com/watch?v=lk8vpuajKGc