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The stories of Oscar # 18: Toh, who sees you again! (India and Japan)


India. Quick visit by the president of the IRI together with a delegation of steel industries to the Indian president Rajid Ratna Gandhi. 

Romano Prodi is received in the presidential palace and introduced into an immense office where President Gandhi is waiting for him behind a large black mahogany table on which stands a copy of Business Week, the accredited American economic policy magazine that carries on the cover in addition to the image of the young IRI president the title "Italian Renaissance" 



Some journalists are part of the Italian delegation for whom a visit to the Taj Mahal has been organized. 

It is three o'clock in the afternoon, we are visiting the ruins of a Mogul temple. 

The sultry heat has raged on Italian journalists who structurally do not show great enthusiasm for visits to archaeological areas. 

In a square there is a grass-covered small elevation on which Italian journalists stretch out. They inform me that a colleague has disappeared from  the group and it terrifies me. 


I instruct the guide to carry out a quick reconnaissance. I stand on top of the small elevation looking around trying to locate the colleague among the hundreds of domestic and foreign tourists who roam the ruins of the temple.

At one point I am surprised to hear a singular howl emitted in an undefined language. 

Howling is a man, clearly not Indian because he is dressed in Bermuda shorts and a super brightly colored T-shirt, who is running towards the small elevation reached which he begins to jump around shouting in perfect Florentine vernacular: "Oscar, Oscar, you do not recognize me? I am 'Barbitelli .. " 

Slightly surprised but above all worried about the absence of my journalist colleague, I venture to ask him: "Excuse me, maybe I'm a bit tired and distracted ... Help me remember .. But where did we meet?" 

"You played with your band called 'The Oskar's Five' at the Circolo Impiegati Civili in Florence .. Do you remember now?" 

At that point I shamelessly pretended to remember the Barbitelli to whom I wished all the best, a happy conclusion of his tour, good times those of the  Circolo Impiegati Civili, stuff of at least 25 years ago. See you in Italy. 

This time the smile is not forced because in the distance I caught a glimpse of the guide returning after having fished who knows where the fellow journalist who was lost.
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When I was twenty I burned my supernumerary energies by practicing a sport that was above all the harmony of the spirit. 

I am referring to Judo which represented for me the way to release tensions trying to achieve internal balance. 

As few know Judo means "easy way" and legend has it that a Japanese prince was watching the snow falling on the trees in his garden. 

As the snow accumulated on the branches these at a certain point broke off and fell to the ground. 

A single tree had a completely different conformation: its branches were flexible and as the weight of the snow increased they tilted, dropping that white blanket and resuming their original position. 

Judo, in fact, rather than opposing violence to violence like other confrontational sports, exploits the opponent's imbalance to throw him to the ground. 

In Florence right in the street where I lived, Borgo Pinti, there was the Kodokan in which teacher Ishi Son taught for a couple of years, who at the time was a university black belt champion in Japan who was in Italy because he was fascinated by culture of that country of which he was studying the language with some success. 

This is the precedent. 

 Quick visit by the Italian delegation to Tokyo, led by the president of Iri. 

The owner of the Italian Cultural Institute organizes a party in his home in honor of Professor Prodi. 

Dozens and dozens of Italians residing in Tokyo and Japanese in some way related to our culture and our industry. Among the numerous 'locals' that all seem the same to me, there is one that is perhaps a little less like the others. 

I approach smiling and that gentleman leaves out the conversation he is having with a fellow countryman, looks at me, smiles at four jaws and hugs me. 

The master Ishi who became a senior executive of the main Japanese radio network with the responsibility of the Department dedicated to Italy is fortunately identical to him when he taught us the techniques of judo on the tatami of the Florentine Kodokan. 

We toast to our meeting by exchanging addresses and quick information because my president has decided to go back to the hotel as we have an early flight to Italy the next morning. 

Oscar

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