Episode III: MIFA
I carry in my ears the most wonderful music. And in my pockets. And in my backpacks. In the first youth camps (rather, children's camp!) The soundtrack of the tour was live, a repertoire of mountain songs with lyrics adapted to include the name of my school. Once I grew up, the outdoor jaunts had the sound of the observation and the introspection: I remember a vacations in tent by the lakes of the south, where the atmosphere was more powerful than the boom boom of a discotheque. But stunned by the rumor of the waves or the croaking of the bugs, in my eternal dissatisfaction to be urban I felt that I was missing two vital things: coffee and music. The cleverness and the technology came to my aid. Some time ago they gave me a portable coffee machine that works like a bicycle pump: the pressure generated by the pumped air prepares a sparkling and comforting coffee for the excursion to the mountain. And now I discover new speakers that carry the music as high as I can get. My favorite is the very rustic military-green one: "Adventure sound," says the box and, although the most adventurous of one has been a marathon in continuity of the four Indiana Jones films, the promise of listening to John Williams' fanfare in the middle of the desert (or the little beach) encourages to grasp the whip. There are landscapes so imposing that they demand the gallop of the Cavallería Rusticana and other more bucolic ones to which I always add the sweet melody of Rhapsody in Blue. In my ears, in my pockets and in my backpacks I always carry a speaker that enjoys the outdoors. As a Sancho Panza composed by treble and bass, is a great companion for the conquest of any windmill. Small but robust, it resists blows, water and dust without getting angry and with its powerful sound, even in the vast landscape, it completes the film of a trip: or does one not have the right to choose, and take wherever you want, the soundtrack of your own life?