Italia Bella

Eros in Italy  (No, it's not quite what you think....)

It is hard to know where to begin - and hard to imagine the end..... 

Every beginning is an end, and every ending is where something new begins, perhaps?  Fifty years or so ago my life had a new beginning in Rome, and then, some years later, with Amanda, we started a new life in Trevignano Romano, on the shores of Lake Bracciano.

Nothing matters as much as love.  Eros.....  Love, love as concentrated affection between people.  And Amanda and I bathed for years in the music of Eros Ramazzotti - not a household name in the UK, but a borgataro from Cinecitta Est who has sold more than 60 million records around Italy and the world.  

I'm a peace loving man 
But I'll take the blows 

This is not about him.  This is about love in many ways.

I love Italy.  Not the Italy of Mussolini.  Not the Italy of Andreotti.  Not the Italy of Berlusconi and not the Italy of Georgia Meloni.

I also love the archipelago around Britain (including Ireland) which is not to say I love the United Kingdom, nor the Flag of St George, nor the successively appalling governments of recent times.

No.

I love these lands and their peoples, their contours, their freshets, their customs, their flora and fauna, their drinks and their foods......

Difenderò

Maybe I have 

No grounds to feel jealous 

But I'm just a guy 

Who's gotta say it like it is

I am in Tolfa, whose ruined castle on the hill is a symbol of just how difficult life was when feudalism was the rule and rich and poor had almost nothing in common (except life, perhaps.....)

Yes, the ruins look down on the town:

And on the country:

But from these insecure heights, the sound of a band wafts up on the evening breeze.  Strains of Verdi, tunes from Rossini, ooms and pahpahs gild the soft evening air:

I must be sure of your love 

On that I exist 

It is the Sagra del Prosciutto, and for four Euros I have the most delicious ham sandwich with a glass of robust local red wine that could be desired (by a meat eater, admittedly!)  Eros may have been passionate - but he had to eat......

A smile can be many things - often associated with fear - but here a gentle lifting of the lips signifies an enjoyment of the things that matter.....

I'm a peace loving man 

But I'll take the blows

Anyway, I have to move on......

Difenderò l'amore mio 

Come solo so battermi io 

Posso farlo però 

Solamente se c'è 

Più di un motivo 

Per esser sicuro di te

It is only music.  It is only words.  I pass through Bracciano where plaques on the walls remind us that Anthony Burgess (Scrittore e Musicista) lived here, and Comm. Peter Nichols OBE (Il Grande Giornalista Scrittore Inglese) lived there.....  [I remember the day the latter died:  E morto quel'inglese, someone cried....]

I make a detour to Canale Monterano, a discarded cartridge of my life, where Gian Lorenzo Bernini left two stone lions:

And Amanda and I ventured gingerly within the walls of the Chiesa e Convento di San Bonaventura, tenderly imagining life as it might have been before malaria and the French Jacobins drove people away.....

Is there someone 

To whose heart you would run 

Just tell me now 

Darling, I will be gone

And so, back to Trevignano Romano, where Amanda and I created a nest in which to raise our two fledgelings..... Back to witness solemnities of marriage. Not, as here, in the Parochial Church of Santa Maria Assunta, crowded by alarming baroque decorations:

But in the tranquil garden of Tenuta Il Possesso, where the smiling Lady Mayoress proclaims my daughter Sarah shall be wedded to Marcel under the flickering shade of an ancient olive tree:

Difenderò 

Tutto ciò che sento mio 

Il mondo che ho costruito 

Intorno a te 

Per questo io pretendo 

La tua lealtà

There are some cool dudes in this town.  It has grown since we first came here, and all things change, but there's a good vibe.  The family gather to take Amanda for a final swim in the lake, our tears salting the otherwise calm and sweet waters.  We drink spritzes and smile, comfortable in our memories, sad in our hearts, but happy in the continuity that we share.....

Late in the evening, a sprinkling of fairies delight the village with their innocence - Italia Bella!

And then my last evening is spent alone, just me and my memories under the great pines of the piazza:

In the morning  it is the sky that is crying:

I don't back down 

When I've got my feet on the ground 

I'm a peace loving man 

Posso farlo però 

But I'll take the blows 

Solamente se c'è 

As long as you want me 

Più di un motivo 

That's all I need to know 

Per esser sicuro di te 

That's all I need to know 

Per esser sicuro di te

Eros Ramazzotti/ Adelio Cogliati / Vladimiro Tosetto

Have a wonderful life, Sarah.  It is what your mother would have wished....

Vicarello

Are you sitting comfortably?

If you fly into Rome from Northern Europe in daylight, just after the cabin crew have taken their seats for landing, and just before you hear the clunk of the landing gear extending into place, you will have the Tyrrhenian Sea on the right and Lake Bracciano, or the Lacus Sabatinus as it once was, on the left.  Once upon a time you might have landed here, at Vigna di Valle, 

in your seaplane, for a stopover on your way to India or Australia, but now you plunge on to the flatlands of Fiumicino.

Anyway, imagine, if you will, your 'plane is glass bottomed, and that, just for a minute or two, it stops midair for you to take in the scenery..... Almost immediately below you you will see a blue swimming pool by a large, tiled building in the midst of green countryside.  There are some smaller, greyish pools in the greenery, with people calmly bathing in the steaming water.  These are the Bagni di Stigliano, a place of volcanic springs enjoyed since Etruscan times and highly esteemed by the Romans.  

If you see this complex, you will note that it is neither large, nor obtrusive, and it nestles in virtually unspoiled countryside, on the east of the Monti di Tolfa and just south of the Monterano Nature Reserve, with its ruined village, church and palace.

Directly east of here you will see the forests of La Macchia Grande di Manziana, the bubbling Caldara, with its white birches, 

then after that the forested slopes of the caldera that holds Lake Bracciano.

It is beautiful.  Not absolutely untouched by human hand, but still a green and pleasant land.

Imagine, if you will, this was Trumpland.  Golf courses, villas spattered amongst the woods, casinos and hotels aplenty.

Or, if it's possible, worse....

Well, hold your breath.

Trevignano Romano is a picturesque village about fifty kilometres north of Rome.  It sits on the shore of Lake Bracciano, a bottomless (some 160 metres deep, but even Jacques Cousteau failed to find the deepest point) lake which fills a 30 kilometre round volcanic caldera.  The village is dominated by the remains of an Orsini castle (destroyed in 1496 by one of the Borgia family) and a forested volcanic cone, known as the Rocca Romana, to commemorate the shrine the Romans created on its top.  Volcanic activity is still very much present in the area, with a derelict hot-spring spa at Vicarello (about three kilometres from the village) awaiting multinational corporation agreement on its redevelopment. 

And there's the rub....

Vicarello, which takes its name from Vicus Aurelii (Marcus Aurelius was here....), is the name now given to 1016 hectares of land which includes a small rustic trattoria, a crumbling palazzo where the erstwhile owners, the Collegio Germanico in Rome, used to hold retreats for the faithful, a large farm, which produces wonderful olive oil among other products, a chapel and the Casina Valadier, once used as a hunting lodge by the Orsini family.  Below this you can see the remains of part of the Trajan Aquaduct, which carried water, the Acqua Paola, into Trastevere in Rome.  

The trattoria at Vicarello

[I have to declare a personal interest here.  This trattoria was run for many years by a delightful family, and it was one of my favourite haunts.  On occasions I would take the train from Rome to Oriolo Romano and then walk down through the woods and fields to Vicarello and lunch at this trattoria - their Coniglio alla Cacciatore (hunter-style rabbit) was to die for - and then wander the last three kms home, full of good wine and benevolence.  The family moved to a slightly grander, independent location nearer Trevignano, and my friend, Rosa, moved in, keeping all the traditions of local produce and simple treatment.

Rosa retired recently, but I managed to confuse her with her younger sister in the steam of the kitchen (nuff said) and things were going well, though the last time I tried to get a table there, Ridley Scott had taken the place over to film a scene for All the Money in the World.  Not to be outdone, I pushed myself forward, reminding Ridley that I was a Replicant from Blade Runner..... Would you believe it?  He declared me illegal.....]

Nearby, down a gated lane, surrounded by woods and olive groves, there is a derelict hotel and outbuildings once known as Aquae Apollinares, or the Terme Apollinari (despite dispute with the not distant Bagni di Stigliano over the appropriateness of this name).  Here mineral water springs from the ground at 48 degrees Celsius, and (in the later 19th and through the 20th century) sufferers from arthritis and rheumatism, gout, post-fracture trauma and other delights would trek here to rest and be cured.  

The Albergo Terme Apollinari, 1936

During WWII this was briefly used as a German military hospital, and then in 1962 the hotel was modernised and flourished until the Società Agricola di Vicarello ran into financial difficulties and was sold.  By the early 1980s the baths were in ruins.

In 1989 the new owners, Schroder Asseily & Co Ltd. (who provide financial advisory services from 41 Upper Grosvenor Street, Mayfair) began planning a great new Spa, under the name of The Vicarello Partnership, which included Mannai Trading & Investment Co. Ltd. (from Bahrain), two Cypriot companies and the Harkness company, which is based in Grand Cayman.  The project comprised a hotel complex, commercial facilities, 271 villas and three golf courses.  Italia Nostra and other environmental agencies, understanding what damage this would cause to the natural environment and considering the historical value of the location, opposed the plan and in 1994 the then Minister for the Beni Culturali, Alberto Ronchey, blocked the proposal and in 1999,  with the approval of regional law Number 26 on the part of the Region of Lazio, the Parco Naturale Regionale di Bracciano-Martignano was initiated.

Unfortunately, although the offer was on the table, the Region of Lazio did not take up the option to actually acquire this superb natural park, not even in 2014 when The Vicarello Partnership broke up.

And so, with the help of a certain Italo-Australian broker, John Cassisi, this jewel of unspoiled land has recently passed to Chinese buyers, for somewhere between 16 and 25 million euros (the deal has been cloaked in secrecy and so no details are available and estimates vary), or something in the region of 20,000 euros per hectare.....  

No one knows precisely how many people currently live in Trevignano Romano.  When we resided there in the eighties and nineties the received wisdom was that around 2,500 people lived there in the winter and that that figure might rise to as many as twenty thousand at times in the summer.  A recent (2008) census figure put the population at 5,819 but many of those will not be permanently resident.  

And more will never mean better.....



Trevignano from the Rocca degli Orsini, with La Chiesa dell'Assunta 

Until the second world war Trevignano was little more than a fishing village, and metalled roads did not reach it.  Then, in the fifties, market gardening flourished and the villagers prospered by getting up early and trucking their produce into the Rome central markets in the early hours of the morning.  The fertile volcanic soil was perfect for tomatoes and salad crops, beans and leaf vegetables.  For a while, until the coastal strips to the north and south of Rome caught up, there was a boom. 

When, inevitably, that faded, the village was on the map, Gianni Agnelli’s Fiats were everywhere, the roads had been tarred, and Trevignano became a desirable place for holiday outings, then second homes, and then even commuters.  Instead of being a tight jumble of close-knit houses around the church, with the occasional villa along the shoreline, the march of apartment blocks away from the medieval centre began, but it remains a quiet village, busy in the summer, but sleepy like a cat in the winter.

And so, I put it to you, what possible need have 'the Chinese' (whether an individual, a corporation, or a multinational) for a small, historic, beautiful parcel of land and derelict buildings in the unspoiled natural wonderland of the Monti Sabatini, unless (and I admit this is a possibility, though implausible) they are lovers of natural Italy?

Unfortunately it is unlikely that a development on the modest scale of the existing Bagni di Stigliano would generate sufficient return on the necessary outlay for distant landlords.

So, wondering what these various entities really want out of a remote, beautiful, small corner of Italy, I would suggest that the motive is either to launder money (by buying and then eventually reselling), or to make quick profits which can only result in the ruination of the natural environment and the degradation of the existing human social and historical balance with that nature.

Understandably, perhaps, there will be people in the locality who would enjoy the potential wealth foreign money might bring; there will be employment, more visitors with more money, but, in the long term, when the cement has replaced the chestnut trees there will be no more porcini....

If you are, currently, sitting comfortably, then I would advise you to make the most of it, as I fear that greedy eyes are even now thinking how they can develop and profit from your nice comfy seat.....

And the world will not be a better place for it.

As Francesco de Gregori sings, 

in Viva L'Italia,

Viva l'Italia, presa a tradimento,

l'Italia assassinata dai giornali e dal cemento...

Post scriptum:  My informants tell me that the China connection intends to reconstruct the hotel and reopen the spa, and perhaps that will be that.....  All good if so.  Work for local people, minimal disturbance to the environment, and a reconstitution of a once-valued asset to the locality.

Time will tell.  I am not an economist, but something here does not add up.....

Lazio 2017 - GranTurismo.....

Me and my Porsche, on a mini Grand Tour....

It's all about the wheels.....  Initially I had reserved a car qualsiasi, tipo un Fiat Punto.... But then I thought, Hey, why be so dull?  You only die once! Let's have a Maserati Gran Turismo V8 4.2L 405 HP with a max speed of 285 kph and a combined cycle consumption of 14.3 litres per 100 kilometres.....

Then I thought.  Wait.  That's maybe a little OTT?

No.  Let's have a zippy little Porsche Carrera (molto piu economic with only 385 bhp and a 3.8 litre engine....)

Un uomo se è un uomo davvero radici non ha

The point was we had a few days in the Rome area and we had been invited here and there, so I needed something to do the honours, and time was just a teenzy bit constricted.....

So after a glass of wine.....  Beautiful, smooth, fresh, golden liquid made from grappoli d'uve trodden by angels.....

So, after a couple of glasses, we set off for Caprarola....

To stay with Cardinal Alessandro Farnese, in his meravigliosa pentagonal palazzo designed by Vignola and decorated (or rather, hand-tinted) by Taddeo Zuccari.  

Oh, My!  It's like Cliveden, but with blue skies (and without Michael Portillo, or whoever....)  

And look!  Even the sundial works!

Anyway, after a light luncheon of truffle flavoured gnocchi and asparagi, accompanied by a couple of bottles of Vermentino, we hunt wild boar for an hour, and then, eschewing the call to prayer in the cardinal's private chapel, I retire to the upper gardens, nibbling an unripe pomegranate to the tinkle of the fountain of the chain, where a series of dolphins spit into scallop shells beside two stairways that lead to the Piazzale delle Cariatidi and the Palazzina delle Piacere. 

There is such a restful atmosphere that it seems ungrateful that some people, most especially - though not exclusively - poor people, do not appreciate the benevolence of wealthy members of the hierarchy.  This is not a question of whether or not a man may be a Cardinal or a Pope - it is a matter purely of good taste (and, according to D J Trump, sound economic sense....)

Portano aliquote in testa

come corone di spine

Il mezzo per loro talvolta

giustifica il fine

In the morning, after a sumptuous breakfast of locally made nutella and miele di acacia on toasted pane sciapo, served with a chilled dry white wine composed of pecorino and greccheto grapes with just a baseline of trebbiano, we refresh ourselves in the cool waters of nearby lago di Vico....

And then speed on to Bagnaia, where we are to have a luncheonette with Alessandro Montalto, the nephew of Sixtus the Fifth (or niece of Fifthus the Sixt? I do wonder....)  The so-called Villa Lante (it's not really one villa, there are two small palazzini, a grand park and some ornate gardens....) professes to be the most originalissimo Italianate Garden in Italia, being the most best example of lots of little box hedges and gravel paths absolutely anywhere.....

Portano aliquote in testa, 

nuvole passeggere

By the Rope Fountain we snatch an Aperol spritz, 

and then are served crespelle stuffed with funghi porcini and burrata, drizzled with extra-virgin olive oil from the estate and coloured with baby tomatoes that have been split on a charcoal grill.  

Alessandro then retires to study his breviary, and we move on to Genazzano, where Oddone Colonna awaits us at his Castello.

Si fermano appena un secondo

per fotografare.....

Then, after a swift Bitter Campari,

We press on, over the broom-strewn hills, to Subiaco, where S Benedetto is dead-heading his roses:

We pass the night in his cave, the Sacro Speco, feasting on paccheri with speck and truffles, and finishing a couple of bottles of Cacchione, dry white wine produced by the Schiavella family.  

The walls are covered in pictures which come alive in the light of oil lamps.  It's hard to sleep with all this going on, but.....

In the morning we take coffee with the Borgia, at the Rocca Abbaziale in Subiaco,

But then we have to sprint, as we have an appointment with Taddeo Barberini in the Palazzo Colonna Barberini at Palestrina, 

Where Tad wants to show me his latest acquisition, a rather fine Mosaic of the Nile from the First Century BC.....

For me it's a bit fussy, but....

Un uomo se è un uomo davvero radici non ha

Tempus fugit.  We have to be in Umbria for lunch, where Federico III De Montefeltro

is expecting us for pasta al pomodoro and a bottle of Calispone....

This Gran Turismo is beginning to become a whirl:

E arrivano sul tetto del mondo

senza nemmeno guardare

We cross the Tiber at Ocriculum, a little-excavated Roman city,

Then breeze on to Sutri, for an ice cream, 

Before dropping down to Trevignano Romano, on the northern shore of Lago di Bracciano, where we meet with members of the local aristocracy:

Before taking Jack Daniels on the rocks with the Gerarca himself, shortly to celebrate his 105th birthday.....

We pass a quiet evening here, contemplating the bollicine through a glass brightly:

È gente abituata a viaggiare

Gente che sa viaggiare

Di notte noleggiano baci sul lungolago...

Gunning the Porsche in the morning, we just have time to visit our friends the Odescalchi, at their recently restored castle at Palo, Ladispoli.  

Then it is time to return to Roma, where we have things to do:

Pensieri lontani da casa e posta da scaricare

Qualsiasi problema per quanto importante

Lo risolveremo al ritorno

Adesso c' è un nuovo paese, c' è un nuovo giorno

There's a wedding to attend:

Vows are exchanged at the Ara Pacis:

There is a reception at Castel Sant'Angelo,

hosted by Barone Scarpia, 

Who seems to be hiding something......

Un uomo se è un uomo davvero paura non ha

Qualsiasi avventura lo riempie di felicità

Anyway it has been a long day.  I have to park my Porsche, and we retire to our rooms in the Mecenate Palace, where night begins to fall:

And then, notwithstanding everything, continues to descend.....

Che sia un passeggero che passa e non sa dove sta

Che sia un viaggiatore che viaggia e chi sa dove va?

Gran Turismo

Words and Music by

Lucio Dalla & Francesco de Gregori

Un uomo se è un uomo davvero radici non ha

I think I deserve a large Menabrea

and a glass of Calvados