Welcome to Genoa

Anti-globalization protesters at the G-8 meeting in Genoa received instructions to be well behaved on Thursday, the day of the Immigrants March. For the most part they were, although a group of about 200 began taunting police at one of the imposing barricades blocking off the center of the city. "Monkeys, monkeys! You're in the zoo!" they shouted. The police took them very seriously, closing the gate completely. As the security forces — a few in jacket and tie — donned their helmets, one of them calmly filmed the colorful crowd on the other side of the barricades. The shouting eventually subsided, and the anti-globalization forces marched off to another square, in which a group from Austria in orange overalls and helmets presented a bit of street theater. One prop depicted a sinking ship — actually a bathtub — with all of the "G-Hate" leaders in it. The actors all wore orange swim goggles, so they would be able to see underwater when the G-8 went down. Or so they hoped.

The mood was festive, and a band played "Drunken Sailor" and "Roll Out the Barrel" while a couple of youngsters juggled and another rode a unicycle. The crowd was largely Italian, although there were big groups of Austrians, Germans and French. Occasionally they would chant "Revolution!" or "Intifada!" and the energy level rose substantially when a police helicopter passed overhead: several dozen people gave it a one-finger salute. The crowd was largely in the 20- to 30-year-old range, although a couple of 10-year-old girls wore sandwich posters that made a simple plea to the powerful of the world: "The Gypsy People Exist. Remember Us." There were also some in their 50s, such as Mercedes Moya, a Colombian who lives in Geneva. Moya was carrying a poster calling for "No Borders, No Nation." Moya says she came because she's against "turning people into slaves."

Among the anti-G-8s, Ché Guevara T-shirts are in, as are those sporting the initials EZLN, the Mexican rebels in Chiapas led by Subcomandante Marcos. Dreadlocks are common, as is piercing. Converse, Nike and Adidas, of course, are out. The slogans on T-shirts and posters range from the old favorite "Peace" to "One Solution, Revolution" and "Besiege the 8, Free the Rest."

Genoa, a port city that has been in decline for decades, has never looked so beautiful, or so empty. The city has undergone extensive renovations for the three-day meeting, but for most people in the center of the city, it has been virtually unlivable for more than a week. Police have completely blocked off a "red zone" in which the summit is taking place, and only residents and those with special passes are allowed in. Postal boxes have been sealed off for fear of bombs, and nearly all stores and restaurants are closed. It is a ghost town, except for the police, who are everywhere. There is something surreal about it. Police and carabinieri have prepared for combat, and shut off just about every possible entrance to the red zone, including sewers.

While some of the protesters have vowed to break into the forbidden zone, not all of them need to make that kind of statement. Enrico Andreozzi, 28, who came from Parma in northern Italy, simply wants to draw attention to a problem in his own backyard. Andreozzi, a member of the "White Overalls" movement, helped about 40 immigrants take over an old school building in Parma on July 6. He doesn't use the word "squat" but that's what they're doing, with the risk of being evacuated. The immigrants can find jobs in Parma, one of Italy's wealthiest cities, but not decent housing. "Why do immigrants come to Italy?" Andreozzi asks. "Because they can't make enough to live in their own country, and that's our fault. People have to think about that."