Yesterday evening we took a walk with the host of our Masseria, Pietro, who wanted to show us the land surrounding his tourist apartments, the Posta Santa Croce near Bisceglie. We sauntered along an overgrown path, smelling the mint we were crushing underfoot, as the sun slowly set.
“We just cleared the path 2 weeks ago!” Pietro exclaimed while marveling at the new green shoots sprouting all around us.
We finally made it to the little stream and soon came upon a surprise field of Crocus amongst the shoots of wild asparagus.
“Oh! This is amazing! My grandfather used to tell me about the crocus growing here. But when we bought the place there were none. The last owner used lots of chemicals. We stopped. Now four years later, the land has been restored.”
The path led us to what the southerners (in the Salento) would call a Pagliara, but here is called a trullo.
Happily we looped around and saw a milling wheel, never finished, still attached to the rock, wild flowers all around us (in October!) and then we came upon one last miracle we’d see before the sun tucked behind the hills.
The cherry trees. Blooming again. In October.
So, what’s in your paradise? If it is to inhabit a fine apartment in the midst of a raucous and animated nature. The Posta Santa Clara might be inhabit your dreams.
We finish with Wandering Italy Blog’s 1000th photo:
Giovanni Alessangdrini gave it all up for a piece of country, a collection of well-loved asini, and the hope that people would come, if only for a day, to experience a life disconnected from the logarithmic Armageddon the drugged demons of our financial world insist upon pushing us toward.
Giovanni is not connected to this Brave New World. He doesn’t have to double his profit every year; he is calmly linear. He does what he loves in rural Romagna. He is banking that you, too, are fed up with industrial “food” and the fast life of ever more work (for the corporation) for ever less reward.
Giovanni works for himself and his wife. He works, too, for his donkeys. Giovanni and his wife make cheese and wine. They share.
Yes, you can taste it all. You can trek with his donkeys. You can make a pit stop in the rat race and be amazed at how rejuvenated you feel. Human again. Well fed on real food.
There is little chance that city-sized, floating tin cans full of tourists will demand Giovanni expand his operations and ruin his little bit of paradise, as they are doing in the Cinque Terre.
Let’s start with the donkeys.
They are loved. Imagine. You don’t just take out a fly-infested asino and start flailing away at its ravaged backside with a whip until the disgusted animal goes in the direction you wish it to go. First the donkey gets brushed, then misted with herbal oils that bugs don’t take well to. Groomed thus, the donkey is ready to walk beside you.
Of course, you have also been “intellectually” groomed. You have learned the language of the donkey. The animal is a bit of a genius at communicating his inner feelings via the angle at which the ears are kept. You didn’t know that, did you?
Once you know the donkey’s preferred way of telling you he’s pleased with the way you treat him or he’d rather you bugger off in favor of someone of a more gently nature, you need to know how to speak to the donkey.
Ours is Sardinian. You speak to him in Sardo. No “andiamo” for him.
Now you can walk with your donkey. He will carry your stuff, or lug around what you might forage in the woods, like chestnuts or porcini.
If you walk along the road, cars have to slow for you. You notice something quite odd. Instead of giving you a look of disgust and perhaps doing that finger thing, drivers are smiling. They are nostalgia tourists, too, giddy with the feeling of well being.
By the time you get back to the ranch, you are feeling a bit peckish. Not for long. There is wine. There is cheese, There is bread and vegetables from the garden. There is real olive oil, tasty and pure, not like the adulterated crap you pay too much for in the supermarket at home.
There is also a bloodhound and a turtle, the family pets. And there is a place where the cheeses are aged:
What’s the hole for? Formaggio di Fossa. Pit-aged cheese. That’s the pit.
Romagna, the western part of the region better known as Emilia-Romagna, is and probably always has been a hotbed of alternative life styles. It does its own thing (good thing for Fellini!)
You can dance the night away in some of Romagna’s small, out of the way hotels, you can buy herbal medicines and watch the distillation of essential oils from plants that grow naturally. You can enjoy the rolling hills. You can get your ass off the grid, if only for a test period.
Do it. Then let me know how it all turns off. Will your outlook on life change?
Start here: Il Pagliaio (The site is only in Italian, but if it were easy there’d be boatloads of American immigrants wanting to sample the good life, and we know how that ends, don’t we?)
Loc. Monte Finocchio
Strada Provinciale 128 Sarsina-Ranchio
47025 Mercato Saraceno (FC) – ITALY
Coordinate GPS: 12°07’59”E 43°56’51”N
Tel.: +39 335 5315580 (English spoken!)
(If you’ve read this far I’d like to share with something I found while researching this piece. “Perchè movimento, + buon cibo + buona compagnia = BUONVIVERE” It answers the question, “Why would anyone do this sort of thing?” Because movement, plus good food, plus beautiful countryside = Good Living”)
The world offers its observers few examples of the past in which time has taken a sudden, abrupt stop. Pompeii is one example; a city preserved by the disaster that smothered it. When time takes a stop, we can imagine exactly the thriving city seconds before. A man abandons a still-wet painting, a woman wraps her arms around a frightened child.
The Biblioteca Malatestiana is another singular example. It is the world’s first monastic humanist library. It is as it was. Even the uniquely carved door, produced, as you can see, in 1454 still protects the treasure of books inside the reading room. In 2005 UNESCO included the Library in the Memory of the World Programme Register
To this day the door requires two keys. Originally, one key belonged to the abbot, the other by a representative of the city; the sacred and the profane. Malatesta Novello entrusted this library to the municipality of Cesena, making it the first public library.
Inside the reading room designed by Matteo Nuti we see the simple and efficient design. A rose window lights the corridor, and individual windows provide ample light to the 58 rows of reading desks for reading during the day.
Sacred tomes are found on the left side of the corridor and classics on the right.
You don’t take books out of this public library. 343 volumes are chained in place.
Across the hall from the reading room is the Biblioteca Antica, the private library of Pope Pius VII. Numerous manuscripts and an interesting collection of miniature books are found in the display cases, as well as books and maps of local interest and illuminated chorals.
The old library and reading room are part of a complex that includes a modern library and media center and small archaeology museum. Your ticket to the Malatestiana Library (guided tour) includes a visit to the museum. The complex is about a 15 minute walk from the Cesena train station.
Every once in a while I go through some old Italy pictures. Yearnings to hit the road follow soon after. A recent memorable trip to the Abruzzo brought back these yearnings.
The very name “Abruzzo” has the feelings of wildness to it. It is a place too remote to have fallen into the the magical and refined grace-pit of the Renaissance. Tourists are few. There wasn’t enough wealth in the churches for the Renaissance they crave. Instead, locals clung to the land, listening to the pulsations of life in the wild as if their lives depended upon it, because, well, it did.
Pagans. Pagans are the much-maligned people who rely on the profound depth of their understanding of the dirt, the animals, the skies and how they interact, crafting from this immense knowledge the closely-held traditions of isolated farmers and herders—and exposed in festivals, superstitions, lively song and dance. These are the celebrations you must come to see.
It’s not that pagans are “against” God. He just has better things to do, loftier things.
So, potential tourist, walk among the places you see in these pictures. Even on a bright, sunny, spring day you can feel the earth cracking and surging, surrounding the new birth that pushes away the rotting old; April is the cruelest month…
This is the area of the Abruzzo that these pictures were taken. Wander it. Explore it. You’ll come away changed. In a good way, of course.
Also to See in the Map Area
We stayed at a restored fortified monastery near the town of Ocre called Monastero Fortezza di Santo Spirito. A stay is highly recommended; all the pictures here (and hundreds of others) were taken on day trips from this place.