Trisàc Game: A Cultural Tradition of Garda and Ledro Valley
As punctual as the last Germans on the Traubenkur, the great trisàc tournament gets underway again, which from now until December will bring approximately 1024 aspiring champions to the bars of Basso Sarca and the Ledro Valley. It’s true, there will be “repeat players”: but estimating that at least 400-500 players will participate in the contest is not far from reality. “But what exactly is this trisàc?”. Equally punctual, on the phone with our editorial office, I will have to hear this question again, posed – between irony and curiosity – by readers, or by colleagues, from Trento (or Rovereto, or the valleys), who are completely unaware not only of the rules but also of the “philosophy” behind this card game, played (and fiercely) only in Upper Garda and the Ledro Valley. I will have to respond, somewhat evasively, that although I am the “living maximum expert” on trisàc – a title universally recognized since I managed to condense the game’s regulations into “just” three pages in a tabloid format – the quickest way to learn the craft would be to sit down at a table and begin… the apprenticeship. But my friendly non-native interlocutors will never do that. Just as the Garda hour blows fiercely only from Malcesine and Limone – then vigorously splashes the boats in Riva’s moorings and the bròccoli of Torbole; and climbs Nago’s forts from one side, and from the other the roche of Counts d’Arco and the boulders tumbling from Brento down to Dro, “the plum country” (whose label seems to me another allegory of our existential choices) – so trisàc captivates exactly the territory. And it dies beyond: inexorably and without regret.
Character and Spread of the Game
Why? Because, beyond the climatic and geographical issues in the strict sense, there is also an aspect related to the goliardic and light-hearted character of the people of Busa; and their love of plundering (which explains the spread into Ledro, a tradition and semantics that define the land as “land of thieves”). The desire to “defraud” the opponent and mock him – especially if it’s a friend – constitutes the fuel that keeps the trisàc engine running at full speed. Therefore, its limited but very powerful spread (across all social strata: from the fool to the sophisticated attendee of fine salons) exactly corresponds to an area where, if you go into a very crowded square and shout at the top of your lungs “Hey, idiot!”, you will elicit the incredible reaction that everyone – really everyone – turns towards you to start a conversation, feeling called by name.
Foolishness? Not at all. Riva, which is decidedly the capital of Garda culture and trisàc, includes among its institutions the so-called “Bar degli stupidi” (Bar of the Stupid), where frequenting is obligatory to feel… part of society. That’s how we are made. When the boatshed was packed with trout and sardène – and the merchants of the Empire had disbursed shiny coins in exchange for the catch – the fishermen, with hairs burned by the sun and sea spray, would spend hours and hours returning to their blissful childhood oblivion. And they played trisàc for the innkeeper’s bill, in a crescendo of profound daily banality and jokes: which to a truly Trentino audience would seem like a waste of time and ignorance in its purest form. Wrong analysis: because the times and rhythms of the lake are not the same as those of the plains and mountains. Here, in a matter of moments, one passes from storm to calm. From seriousness (gallantry) to frivolity (craftiness). And the long interludes are just foolish laughter or self-pity. Even today – as the new Habsburgs and children of Albion leave the tourist area scattered with millions and millions of currency distributed in small and large streams – trisàc is returning, in the cold months, as a paradigm of our life.
