Riva del Lago Memories: traditions, diving, and lake reunions
Recalling memories and traditions of the Riva del Lago
Gathering with over fifty years on the back on the lawn of the Spiaggia degli Olivi, to play “L’è lù ch’el bala el tango de San Giulian…”; retracing, in a sort of local Amarcord, the lively times of youth in Riva during the 1950s-1960s; diving back, at midnight, into the Rocca channel, which at the time was a symbol of a destination to reach in order to… “embark” on the Teutonic beauties coming down from beyond Brenner.
Seeing if, after decades, one is still capable of doing l’inglesina, that spectacular dive with a run-up that contributed, back then, to the catch. Assisted by some sizeable tench and a couple of substantial pikes, crafted by Franco “Memo” Lutteri, Gianni Torboli, and Gianni Bertozzi, those Rivana who made the lake their first home. Those who, to put it exactly like Bertozzi, “if every day they do not smell the scent of the lake and do not see their face, they feel unwell,” met again at the Fraglia for a fish and gastronomic reunion, on the border of memories.
Among others, there were also Franco “Sirèl” Miorelli, Paolo “Flebo” Spagnolli, Gianni Risatti, Tullio “Durbans” Pasini, Giancarlo Angelini, “Berto” Foletti, Paolo Giovanella, in short, representatives of the truest lacustrine Rivana, who, after dinner, hosted by Franco Chemolli at “Tiffany,” gathered on that lawn to retrace with memory the bygone times.
Among these memories, “El tango de San Giulian” was unavoidable. A sort of nursery rhyme played by passing a stone, a slipper, a clog (mandatory bath if one erred in passing); a game started by the boys to intrigue tourists, to invite, to involve them, thus beginning the acquaintance, courtship, and love for a few days, a week.
But there are also those who, on that lawn (true “Memo”?) found the love of their life. The real one! The phrase “Te ricòrdet quando…” was the most recurring in the thread of memories, recalling anecdotes, episodes, and circumstances.
Like when, to reach the Spiaggia degli Olivi, it was necessary to swim across the Rocca Channel, perhaps with the clothes carried, high on the wave, on one hand, while swimming with the other, or hidden under a manhole cover in Rocca, from which they were often taken by the vigilant and strict urban police officers who did not want swimming there.
Because the coveted tourists and the wealthier Rivana paid to swim in the then only place where it was allowed, while for those boys with schèi… not even a shadow.
The swimming crossing of the channel and the clandestine entry into the Spiaggia, moreover kindly tolerated by Director Franco Chemolli and lifeguard Gianni Bertozzi, were therefore almost mandatory.
“Te ricòrdet cuando fèvem l’inglesina…” someone threw out. And immediately a challenge was born to see if, after 30-40 years, they could repeat the feats of then, to test themselves, first in front of themselves and then others.
If the run-up was the same as back then, if age allowed for momentum and curling at the peak of the parabola, if the stretch and entry into the water were in line with the norm of this Rivana dive.
A different evening, for lacustrine men, of the Riva “old,” returning as boys, to savor the fish of their lake, retrace episodes and emotions, and relive an unrepeatable period.
