To spot Piazza Alimonda, look for a broad open square with trees and traffic, and right in front of you, the grand pinkish-yellow facade and tall dome of the Church of Nostra Signora del Rimedio.
Welcome to Piazza Alimonda! You’re now standing at a spot that feels peaceful today, but it hasn’t always been so calm. Let your imagination take you back to July 20, 2001, when the square around you was buzzing not only with Genoese life but with shouts, chants, and the energy of thousands of protestors. The air crackled with tension; banners waved and voices rose in chorus, echoing against the church’s domed roof. This was one of the most dramatic days in modern Italian history, right during the Genoa G8 summit.
That day, Piazza Alimonda was at the heart of fierce clashes between demonstrators and the police. You might picture smoke swirling, hear helicopters hovering above, police radios squawking, and footsteps pounding on the pavement. The church in front of you-Nostra Signora del Rimedio-watched over everything, its walls witnessing what most buildings only see in movies.
But this spot is most famous for a tragedy: the death of Carlo Giuliani, a 23-year-old protestor, right outside the church gates. The story is gripping and somber. In the heat of the moment, amidst a flurry of movement and confusion, Carlo tried to throw a fire extinguisher at a police Land Rover stuck in the crowd. Suddenly, two gunshots rang out. The noise must have echoed off the stones and walls-one bullet struck Carlo, and he died where you’re standing.
This event shook Italy. For years afterward, people left notes, flowers, flags, and heartfelt messages on the fence of the church in Carlo’s memory-a “secular altar,” people called it. It brought out deep emotions and even led to heated arguments and clashes with the parish. But the city never forgot. In 2011, exactly ten years after Carlo’s death, a plaque was placed here to mark the moment. And in 2020, the city finally allowed a simple stone monument that reads: “Carlo Giuliani, ragazzo. 20 luglio 2001.”
Some locals still call this spot “Piazza Carlo Giuliani, ragazzo” instead of Piazza Alimonda. To this day, the square remains a place of memory-a symbol of the passion and the pain that can shake a city to its core. Funny thing, sometimes history doesn’t whisper through walls, it shouts right out here in the open. Thanks for standing in the middle of it. Ready for our next stop?
