I believe in young people. I enjoy talking with them and listening to them. I am convinced they will build a better world than the one their parents created. A sick society that does not respect others, the environment, or common goods; a society that has destroyed knowledge and values. We have no alternative. We must trust young people and give them responsibility.

Whenever I see them daydreaming, I become a child again. A boy from the plains, listening in fascination to the stories told by an old man with his rickety bicycle and his box of odds and ends. Today, he would probably be considered a vagabond, a drifter, a relic by a society like ours, one that places money and efficiency above everything else. Yet Mondolo, that was the old man's name, with his long white beard, knew how to touch our hearts. He would take us aboard his imaginary hot-air balloon and make us fly over oceans and the highest mountains. Our horizons widened, our curiosity was awakened, and curiosity has always been the spark that ignites the spirit of exploration.

Monte Baldo, which I could see from the parish house in Castiglione delle Stiviere, became in my dreams the highest mountain in the world, a summit I was certain I would one day reach. On August 4, 1983, together with Sergio Martini, that dream came true when I reached the summit of K2. An indescribable joy. But also physical consequences that appeared once we descended to base camp and would stay with me for the rest of my life.

From that moment on began a personal journey to climb all the fourteen eight-thousanders, always with great respect for the mountains and for the people who live among them. That is also why I have always preferred to speak of “going into the mountains” rather than mountaineering. Far from the spotlight. With love for everything that is different, because diversity is where the richness of the world lies.

Going into the mountains is one of the most beautiful experiences a person can have. Yet mountains are also extremely dangerous. Not only because of accidents. The greatest danger comes when we lose our sense of proportion, when we believe we are stronger than nature, when we feel like gods. Mountains, instead, teach humility and sharing. They remind us how small and vulnerable we are, and how much we need one another.

Climbing mountains serves one purpose: to look back down with new eyes, with compassion.

That is why, in 1998, I felt indebted to the people of the Himalayas who had welcomed and supported me. I believed it was necessary to help them build their future. I had witnessed so much suffering, poverty, and injustice. Together with Nepali and Italian friends, and with the support of the Senza Frontiere Foundation, we turned another dream into reality: what some called, somewhat reductively, the “Rarahil Memorial School” in Kirtipur, on the outskirts of Kathmandu.

Year after year, with the involvement of the local community and many people from across Italy, the project grew. One building was followed by another, then a gymnasium, a boarding house, and a cafeteria. Today, around one thousand children and young adults between the ages of four and eighteen study there, many of them coming from rural areas and disadvantaged families.

The school offers vocational training in woodworking, an area in which Nepali craftspeople possess extraordinary skills, as well as programs that highlight the country's immense historical and environmental heritage. There are sports and music facilities, computers, interactive whiteboards, solar panels, recycling programs, and even flower gardens.

Every school should be beautiful, because going to school should not only be a right, but also a pleasure.

I often tell this story to people who visit me at Colline di Lorenzo, just a few kilometres from the bustling southern shore of Lake Garda. The hill is a peaceful natural oasis that a far-sighted entrepreneur left to the community. Here, where no entrance ticket is required and where dozens of school groups arrive every year, young people are invited to marvel at nature and the stories we share.

Just as it happened to me when I listened to the old Mondolo, I hope that a spark of curiosity may be ignited within them, along with a love for others and for nature.