I have never been very good at keeping my interests in separate boxes. The same curiosity that draws me into a software project can make me take apart an engine, model a piece of furniture, paddle down a river or spend an evening listening to someone explain a job I knew nothing about.
Most of what I know began in much the same way: by getting close to something, asking too many questions, trying it myself and, quite often, fixing what I had done wrong the first time.
Some of these interests eventually became part of my work. Others remain ways of learning, travelling, meeting people or simply enjoying my time. Together, they probably explain me better than a list of professional skills ever could.
I grew up spending a great deal of time outdoors, and at eleven I began practising whitewater kayaking competitively with the Italian Navy’s youth team. I trained and raced for several years, eventually joining the national team and taking part in the European Junior Championships in Serbia.
When university made it impossible to continue training at the same level, I did not really leave kayaking behind. My relationship with it simply changed. I now return to rivers whenever I can, sometimes joining rafting groups, and I also enjoy sea kayaking and nautical camping. Some of my favourite trips have followed the coast between Portovenere and Monterosso or ended with a night on one of the small beaches around Tellaro.
Over the years, I have also spent time surfing, spearfishing, skiing, mountain biking and skateboarding, and I have always had a motorbike nearby. Sailing is still on the list of things I would like to learn properly.
For ten summer seasons, I also worked as a lifeguard. It was a very different kind of relationship with the water: long days of constant attention, hundreds of brief conversations and the knowledge that an apparently quiet situation could change quickly. It probably made me more observant and certainly made me comfortable speaking to people I had never met before.
Water and mountains are still the places where I feel most at home. They are also a large part of why I enjoy travelling and why I have never seen the possibility of living in another country as something particularly intimidating.
I have been taking things apart for as long as I can remember. When I was eight, at my grandmother’s country house, I managed to start an old Vespa 150 after working on its carburettor. I was very proud of the result, although I never found the courage to actually ride it.
Later came chainsaws, lawnmowers and the small motorbike I used to get to school, which I dismantled and modified more times than was probably sensible. I still maintain my own vehicles whenever the work is within my abilities.
The same habit extended well beyond engines. I repaired racing kayaks with carbon fibre, worked with wood and electrical systems, and learned a great deal while helping renovate the house my family moved into at the beginning of my university years. Some of that work was enjoyable and some of it was simply necessary, but both taught me the same thing: understanding a system in theory is not quite the same as having to make it work by the end of the day.
At sixteen, I also built a small wooden stilt house. It was probably the first time I took an idea, gathered the materials and turned it into something large enough to climb inside.
The biggest and most stubborn of these projects is Ulisse, my 1990 Iveco Daily camper van. Over time, I have restored and reorganised much of its mechanical and electrical systems. I carried out part of the work myself and planned or followed the rest with mechanics and other specialists when that was the safer or more sensible choice.
The project has involved everything from the engine, cooling system, steering, suspension and brakes to the vehicle wiring, auxiliary 12-volt system, solar panels, compressor fridge, diesel heater, dry toilet and a roof rack designed around kayaks and travelling equipment.
Working on a vehicle built more than three decades ago has been a good exercise in patience. A problem is rarely isolated, spare parts do not always behave as expected, and every improvement has consequences for space, weight, reliability and future maintenance. Sometimes the difficult part is repairing something; sometimes it is deciding what should be left alone.
Before building, I often model. I use SketchUp almost as a notebook and occasionally move to Fusion 360 when I need more precision or want to create something suitable for 3D printing.
Among other things, I have designed a large bookcase that now stands in my parents’ home, a suspended bed moved by electric winches, a compact motorcycle locker and many different camper and recreational-vehicle interiors. Some are practical projects, some are early concepts, and some I design simply because I find it relaxing.
I enjoy travelling, but I am not particularly interested in collecting destinations. What I remember most are usually the landscapes, unexpected changes of plan and people met along the way.
In July 2026, I took part in an Erasmus+ training course in Rejvíz, in the Czech Republic. The programme focused on nature-based learning, environmental education, outdoor activities and non-formal education. It was quite different from the technical subjects I normally teach, which was precisely why I wanted to be there.
Working outdoors, learning through activities and sharing the experience with people from different countries offered a useful change of perspective. It reminded me that education does not always need to begin with an explanation and that people often understand something more deeply after they have experienced it together.
One of my favourite parts of travelling is talking to people who know a great deal about something I know almost nothing about. Over the years, this has led to long conversations with everyone from a snowcat driver on the ski slopes to a conservatory professor met during a BlaBlaCar journey.
I rarely remember the small talk, but I often remember the moment when somebody starts explaining how their world really works.
I read much more non-fiction than fiction. It is probably a gap in my education and every so often I try to correct it, but left to myself I will usually choose a book about technology, entrepreneurship, history, finance, design or the way organisations and societies work.
I am interested in art and philosophy without pretending to be an expert in either. I also love cinema and television, although I am selective and have no particular preference for a period or genre. A film from the 1940s can interest me as much as a recent series, provided there is something worth staying for.
Very often, documentaries, long interviews and lectures win. I can move from David Attenborough, Sebastião Salgado or Michael Moore to a conversation with an entrepreneur, a history lecture by Alessandro Barbero or a video about an unfamiliar company, country or profession.
I have a slightly contradictory relationship with social networks. I understand their appeal and know how they work, but I use relatively few of them. At the same time, I became interested in building products around how people share experiences and memories partly because the existing options never completely satisfied me. In that sense, the contradiction is probably the reason rather than the problem.
I am also a very occasional video-game player. My list is short and slightly random: Monkey Island, Red Dead Redemption 2, Apex Legends and not a great deal else. If I am looking for a story, I usually choose a film; if I feel like building something, I am more likely to open SketchUp.
Photography occupies a similar space in my life. I do not try to document everything. I usually take a camera out when the light, the weather, a landscape, a building or some ordinary detail makes me stop for a moment. I tend to return to coastlines, mountains, clouds, architecture, art and the traces that time leaves on objects and places.
Some of these photographs are collected in Photos, while SketchUp projects includes a selection of designs and one of the clearest examples of a model becoming a finished object.
None of these interests fits neatly inside a job title, but they explain a great deal about how I work. I like to understand things from the inside, and I rarely remain interested for long unless I can eventually do something with what I learn.