Showing posts with label Viva l'Italia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Viva l'Italia. Show all posts

7 October 2018

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.....


3 October 2016

Road Trip 2 - Viva L'Italia

Viva l'Italia, l'Italia liberata





Viva l'Italia






It is Sunday morning. It is wonderful to wake in Italy, with the distant tang and clong of church bells, the mist, the sparkling air….. But I should have thought….. In the land of Brexit, the norm for a Sunday is that all remains quiet until the farmers’ market or the garden centre opens, then the pubs fill with families until dusk or football and eventually  everyone crowds home, irritably filling the roads.






I should have thought.  We are now in Italy. We set out for the Santuario di Oropa and it was quiet and bright – a lovely morning.  Oropa is a major site in northern Italy, and I falsely assumed that we would be well ahead of any crowds….. I should have thought. However, the seventeen kilometres of road winding up from Biella are already busy, and when we actually emerge, at over twelve hundred metres above sea level, the place is seething.  The car parks are full, vehicles lie abandoned on the verges, a full blown market thrives below the sanctuary complex, and a stream of people is slowly making its way up and into the three thousand capacity upper basilica…. Viva l'Italia, l'Italia che resiste......






From the Pharmacy I buy 200g of a Tisane (containing fumitory, alder buckthorn, woody nightshade, dandelion, burdock and sarsaparilla) to purify my blood, and a small bottle of 38% Herbetet Genepy to balance any harmful effects the Tisane may have.... Viva l'Italia!







Then, after genuflection and a sip of fountain water, we spin down to the almost deserted Biella, then on, across the River Po, and up the River Trebbia (deemed the most beautiful river valley in the world by war correspondent Ernest Hemingway) to the town of Bobbio, where, in 615, St Columbanus (from Leinster) died, having founded the abbey which later inspired Umberto Eco’s The Name of the Rose....  Viva l'Italia!






So, after a fine meal at the Albergo Ristorante Cacciatori (same family since 1909, and unchanged since we last stayed here about twenty years ago) which includes Taglierini di ortica con tre sughi diversi and some excellent local wine,  it becomes Monday, and my satnav has an off day…..





There is no straightforward way to go over the Apennines from Bobbio to the Ligurian sea – Satnav wanted me to retrace our route down to Piacenza and then take the autostrada to La Spezia, but I fancied exploring…..  So satnav, in curmudgeonly rebellion, took us up and over every twist and turn, along narrow passes with sheer drops on one side, and cliffs on the other, through densely wooded valleys and past tiny remote villages, until we were thoroughly sick of the beauty of unspoiled Italy, and we swung down to the autostrada near Pontremoli…..  Viva l'Italia!






We stay at Lerici, paying respect to P B Shelley, who spent the last three months of his life here in a villa on the shore, the Casa Magni, now a hotel, with ghostly inscriptions attached to the walls.  





I eat local oysters in his memory, but also remember being here at bicentenary celebrations in the castle in 1992, courtesy of the Keats Shelley House in Rome, with Adrian Mitchell, Dannie Abse, et al, when we delivered a plaque to the house and had a boat trip to throw roses into the waters where the poet drowned in 1822.  






I now note that older tourists stand in the Gulf of Poets, along the Blue Mile from San Terenzo to Lerici;  it’s a colourful version of Anthony Gormley’s Another Place on Crosby Beach....  

Viva l'Italia, l'Italia che è in mezzo al mare






Next stop Lucca.... l'Italia che non muore.  Here I am attracted especially by the female form, whether it is in the Cathedral, where Jacopo della Quercia’s monument to Ilaria del Carretto lies in the Sacristy, 






cyclists on the walls, 






or tourists in the evening.  






This is a city of beauty, from the garden of the Palazzo Pfanner, to the view from campanile of the Church of San Giovanni






and a meal in the Trattoria Da Giulio…..  

L'Italia con gli occhi asciutti nella notte scura






We move on, to my absolutely favourite place.  High on the slopes of volcanic Monte Amiata, in southern Tuscany, we stop for a drink with Corrado (born here in about 1928) and his wife Concetta, from Calabria.  Conversation is not always easy, due to Corrado’s rapid local dialect, and his habit of telling me stories of his military service, but he wants to know about Brexit, and we struggle to make sense of how this came about.






Up the steep strada Bianca is his birthplace, a simple house lit by candles and warmed by a smouldering wood fire.  Here I arrived one hot day in 1976, three days into my Italian life, and was immediately made at home by our friends, who had acquired the house from Corrado a few years before.





Barely altered from that time, the house has seen me come and go through heat and cold, rain and snow, over the years, and it still holds the magic of L'Italia dimenticata (forgotten Italy) that holds the key to my love of Europe.  With deer hiding in the bushes around, jays cackling through the trees, and a gentle sunset, our friends prepare supper with flambéed guinea fowl, while we rest by the fireplace with some robust vino sfuso from Col d’Orcia.  Aaah!...  

Viva l'Italia






And so, we set off on the last leg of our journey south, driving over the mountain in thick cloud, rain in the distance.  As we move down the Via Cassia, flooded ditches and soaked fields tell of the storm we somehow missed, and then, when we approach our destination, the village of Trevignano Romano, on Lake Bracciano, we see the hazel nuts have been stripped from the trees, and the road is filled with debris.  In fact, the lake shore is awash with nuts, and the villagers are out in force collecting the free feast in plastic bags, like a strange version of Whisky Galore!...  

L'Italia derubata e colpita al cuore





So anyway, the storm has passed, and we are ‘home’ where we lived for more than ten years.  The lake is quiet now, and we enjoy fine weather, some of the time revisiting natural 






and man-made 






wonders in the countryside of northern Lazio;  

at others just lazing on the beach 






or meeting friends.  







The talk is dominated by Brexit, laced with concerns about Italian politics and the weakness of Renzi. But the consensus is that Europe is not perfect, and that Britain is wrong to turn its back on the continent. Divided we fall…..  At a distance, having driven 1,500 miles through three countries, Brexit seems unreal, but we become aware of the weakness of an unwritten constitution, and find it hard to explain how the votes of 37% of the electorate can have determined this situation.  Especially when it would seem that many of the 37% did not understand the full import of their vote…..  

Viva l'Italia!







And then I fell....  (for details, see Part 1).  Or was it that the world fell slightly and I was merely a piece of dust disturbed by the movement? Anyway the beautiful land rushed at me with force, causing a puncture in the skin at the end of my elbow, though this was disproportionate to the spreading purple and yellow bruises up and down the muscles of my arm.  I was incautious.  I was unprepared.  But hey!

Every silver lining has a cloud.....



Viva L'Italia
Francesco De Gregori


Francesco De Gregori, sixty-five year old Roman singer and song-writer, Il Principe dei cantautori, composed this song in the late seventies. It is a hymn to the paradoxes of Italy, the blend of pleasures and pains that forms the country’s complexion.  In the main it consists of opposed generalities, but the reference to December 12th gives it a darker tone, as that was the day in 1969 of what became known as the Piazza Fontana Massacre.  16 people died and 58 were seriously injured when a bomb was detonated at 16.45 on the third floor of a bank in Milan. Over 4,000 arrests were made in the wake of this (and other) bombings and attempted bombings in Milan and Rome.  One of the prime suspects died after ‘falling’ from a fourth floor window of the police station where he was being held.

But that detail is only a part of the picture, and De Gregori does not exaggerate its importance.  Italy is far from perfect, but it has many attractions.  Like Europe as a whole. 

It was first issued in 1979, but has become a standard of his repertoire, and has almost assumed the status of an unofficial national anthem.  It was even adopted  by the Socialist Party (among others) though De Gregori did not agree with this.

The version I have was recorded with Lucio Dalla (who died in 2012) on their 2010 Work in Progress tour. One word is different from the original - povera  replaces nuda.....






Viva l'Italia


Viva l'Italia, l'Italia liberata
L'Italia del valzer, l'Italia del caffè
L'Italia derubata e colpita al cuore
Viva l'Italia, l'Italia che non muore
Viva l'Italia, presa a tradimento
L'Italia assassinata dai giornali e dal cemento
L'Italia con gli occhi asciutti nella notte scura
Viva l'Italia, l'Italia che non ha paura

Viva l'Italia, l'Italia che è in mezzo al mare
L'Italia dimenticata e l'Italia da dimenticare
L'Italia metà giardino e metà galera
Viva l'Italia, l'Italia tutta intera
Viva l'Italia, l'Italia che lavora
L'Italia che si dispera, l'Italia che si innamora
L'Italia metà dovere e metà fortuna
Viva l'Italia, l'Italia sulla luna

Viva l'Italia, l'Italia del 12 dicembre
L'Italia con le bandiere, l'Italia nuda (povera) come sempre
L'Italia con gli occhi aperti nella notte triste
Viva l'Italia, l'Italia che resiste





And in imperfect English:


Long Live Italy!


Long live Italy, liberated Italy,
Italy of the waltz, Italy of coffee
Italy the robbed, Italy the heart-throb,
Long live Italy, the Italy that doesn't die.
Long live Italy, betrayed Italy,
Italy assassinated by the press, and by concrete,
Italy with dry eyes in the dark night,
Long live Italy, fearless Italy

Long live Italy, Italy in the middle of the sea,
Forgotten Italy, Italy to forget,
Italy half garden and half prison,
Long live Italy, all of Italy,
Long live Italy, working Italy,
Italy that despairs and Italy that falls in love,
Italy half responsibility and Italy half luck,
Long live Italy, Italy on the moon.

Long live Italy, the Italy of December 12th,
Italy with its flags, Italy as poor as ever,
Italy with open eyes in the sad night,
Long live Italy, Italy that keeps fighting on.