Mussolini-land ??

After Barry and I were married in Philadelphia in January 1973 we took off on a road trip in my sister Dianna’s VW Beetle.  Our first stop was the newly opened Disneyworld in Orlando, Florida.   Barry was shooting for a popular Irish magazine and we were granted an insider’s tour of the property including the fascinating underground world where all the magic began.   Situated in the huge wasteland that was Central Florida,  the park consisted only of the Magic Kingdom – but with the promise of much more to come.

About an hour from Rome in a sparsely populated area (similar to Central Florida pre-Disney) sits the Museo Piana delle Orme.   This park/museum covering over 25,000 square metres reminded us of that early Disneyworld but without the magic, the music, and the familiar cartoon characters.  What then was the connection between these two places?   Both were conceived by men with big dreams based on a single character – just replace Mickey Mouse with Mussolini.

The Museo consists of two sections each containing at least a dozen huge pavilions   It is estimated that this collection includes close to 50,000 objects.  It was put together by a wealthy farming contractor over a period of 30 years and is maintained by a private foundation.  This incredible place attracts few visitors but those who make the trek are rewarded with one of the most diverse and fascinating exhibits in one place anywhere in the world.

We started with a walk through pavilions containing impressive displays of vintage farm equipment and toys.  Although we weren’t able to determine exactly why the farm equipment and the toys were shown in the same pavilions, the fact that all of the items on display were classified as “vintage” was reason enough for us.  But this wasn’t why we were here.  We were looking for Mussolini – the star of the show.

The reward cane next when we stepped into pavilion after pavilion of full-size, live-action dioramas characterising life in Italy’s Lazio region where the Museo is located.  All of this was reminiscent of Disneyworld’s original Pirates of the Caribbean – in the pre- “politically correct” days – when the characters actually fired their weapons, chased women and pillaged villages.

The displays chronicled the programs proposed and implemented by Mussolini to drain the Pontine marshes, reclaim the land, and establish new cities and homesteads.  At the conclusion of the reclamation project Mussolini’s government moved 2000 families (most of them Fascist supporters from northern Italy) into newly built two-story country houses, many of which are still occupied today.   The reclamation program was often used for propaganda purposes with Mussolini being photographed with a shovel in his hand or thrashing wheat at harvest time.  

One of the most dramatic displays depicts an Italian farm family sitting around a table listening to the radio as Mussolini announces that Italy was joining Germany and the Axis. 

mussolini video

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The pavilions on the opposite side of the property house one of the largest private collections of military vehicles actually used during World War II.   Here too life-sized dioramas depict scenes featuring Italian, German and American soldiers in battles in Italy and North Africa  including the interiors of a German bunker and an American field hospital.   Sound and visual effects accompany re-creations of the Allied landing at Anzio and fighting in the desert at El Alamein.

Like Disneyworld,  shopping is a must at Mussolini-land.  The last pavilion we walked through was a gigantic superstore of military paraphernalia including World War II uniforms, military issue weapons, clothing,  supplies and souvenirs of every possible configuration.  Talk about a kid in a candy store.   Barry wandered around as if in a trance –  no plastic swords or muskets here – this stuff was all real.

As we sat at a large wooden table enjoying a traditional Italian picnic lunch, our school group contemplated all that we had experienced and lamented the fact that at so few people have enjoyed this fascinating place.   We  quickly came to the conclusion that  it was wrong to try to compare the Museo Piana delle Orme with a theme park.  After all, this was Italy where the magic comes from thousands of years of history and where reality is so much better than fantasy.

From Italy to Morocco and back

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It’s week seven of our longest trip ever and we’ve finally found what we’ve been looking for and it’s all thanks to Dr. Jim Walsh.  When Dr. Walsh signed on as a volunteer with the Palm Beach Police Department I knew he was something special.  Quiet and unassuming and always the consummate gentleman; he never spoke about his distinguished medical career nor his considerable accomplishments.   Only after he learned of my love for Italy did he even begin to speak about his daughter Courtney, a journalist, who lived with her Italian architect husband and their three children in Rome.  Of course I was fascinated and wanted to know everything about them and their lives in Italy.

Several years ago Courtney and Michele bought an old mill house in the town of Piazze;  the house where  in the 1930′s the composer Arturo Toscanini lodged while being treated by a local doctor for arthritic pain, and turned it into a historic  inn.   I made a promise to Dr. Walsh that the next time I was in Italy I would visit Locanda Toscanini and so here we are.

Suffice it to say that Locanda Toscanini is a very special, even magical place.  Maybe it’s not really important to know what we had to go through to get here.   But let’s go there anyway.

Weeks one and two of our adventure, spent at the Scula Appia Vecchia in Velletri in the Lazio region south of Rome,  met every expectation and more.  Professoressa Francesca and her husband Joe were generous and gracious hosts who made us feel welcome in their home. We might have been hesitant at first about a homestay program – living with strangers – but those thoughts were very quickly erased from memory.  We met some interesting people, learned the basics of the Italian language, ate great food, drank buckets of good wine, laughed a lot and visited fascinating places far off the routine tourist track.   Two weeks of sunshine in the Italian countryside just an hour’s drive from the Eternal City of Rome.  It was worth every penny.

But we wanted more so we headed north to the medieval walled City of Lucca.   The booking agent assured us that the quiet apartment was only 30 steps from the street, just high enough to shield us from the noise of city life.   Well the apartment wasn’t quiet and there were exactly 48 extremely steep steps to the door of our apartment.  Even the young girl from the Lucca Italian School who came to tutor us twice a week was winded from climbing up those stairs.  The windows were drafty , the heating worked only sporadically , and you couldn’t depend on hot water when you needed it – but we settled in nicely.

Lucca is much more of a community than a tourist attraction and despite the fact that it rained virtually every day we enjoyed it all including day trips to Florence and Cinque Terre and to some of the nearby small towns.  Even in the winter Lucca has a lot to offer with a food festival highlighting local produce including the newly pressed olive oil, an antiques market, theatre and concerts.  We especially enjoyed some of the photographic exhibitions shown during the  Lucca Digital Photo Fest.   By the end of our stay we had become minor fixtures in our local neighborhood with Barry , in particular, being recognized and acknowledged by shopkeepers and local residents as “Mr. Barry”.

We could tolerate weeks of rain in Lucca but Venice was another thing altogether and that’s why a planned return visit to our favorite city no longer sounded like a good idea.  I take absolute blame for what happened next.   I couldn’t believe what I was reading.  We could fly Ryanair from Pisa to Marrakesh for 19 Euros.   Pisa was only 20 minutes away by train and even though the real cost was more like 99 Euros the opportunity for five days in sunny North Africa was too inviting to pass up.  Barry and I had fantasized about a trip to Morocco for years and it turns out that the only saving grace of this misadventure is that at least we didn’t pay thousands of dollars to get there.   Someone told us that  it rains only 10 days a year in Morocco;  well it rained all five of the days we were there.  Wait, to be quite honest, it rained only four of those days – on the fifth day there was a sandstorm – and a week later we’re still picking grains of the nasty stuff out of crevices we never knew existed.

The website promised an exotic riad (bed and breakfast) in a quiet and secluded street at the back of the Medina (Old City) just far enough away from the crowded Djemma El-Fna (main square) and noisy souks.   Even in the best of conditions, the maize of alleyways makes it difficult to find your way out of the Medina.  Nevermind that the alleys around our riad were unpaved and that we had to walk in what seemed like endless circles in the pouring rain in thick clay colored mud up to our ankles.   We were in exciting and exotic Marrakesh and that was all that mattered.

The next morning we awoke to meet Mohammed, the guide who was to take us on a three day 4 x 4 excursion across the Atlas Mountains to the desert where we would ride camels across the dunes to a Berber campsite and sleep under the stars.   Mohammed ‘s communication skills were slightly lacking and his commentaries consisted of gesturing towards some particular place or thing and uttering a single word –  mountain, sand, camel, village.  I think you get the idea.   We might be from Florida but when we’re 8,000 feet up, we know we’re on a mountain.

He was, however,  chivalrous to a fault  - always insisting on taking my hand to help me out of the truck or across the road.   I just didn’t feel comfortable about which of his hands he was using to hold mine.  You see, he had a habit of abruptly pulling over to the side of the road, grabbing a roll of toilet paper from the glovebox, and disappearing from sight.   I guess I should have thanked him for the disappearing from sight part but taking his hand was a real problem.  This despite Barry’s insistence that people in this part of the world are very particular about using one hand strictly for eating and the other strictly for – well how shall I say this – strictly for using toilet paper I guess.

We returned to Lucca to retrieve the rest of our belongings and to close the apartment.   We were leaving after four weeks and so the sun was shining – what else could we have expected.  The City had been transformed into a Christmas wonderland with lights, colorful decorations, a carousel and even an ice rink right in the middle of the main square.  It was all almost too good to leave – but there was my promise to Dr. Walsh to visit Locanda Toscanini so we dragged our suitcases to the train station and made our way south.

We were warmly greeted in Chiusi by Courtney and her daughter Charlotte both of whom I met last Christmas when the family visited Palm Beach.  As we drove up to the Locanda I knew this was what we had been looking for – a lovingly restored house situated in a sweetest tiny little town in the midst of  the undulating and intoxicating hills of Southern Tuscany  with views that just go on forever – and being cared for by a most warm and welcoming staff.    Susan Braggiotti  quickly became more of our friend than our host as she shared with us her knowledge of some of the charming towns in the surrounding area and brought us to local vineyards for wine tastings.  The three days flew by  as if we were in a lovely dream before facing the nightmare that is traveling in 2010.    What a perfect way to end an unforgettable experience.

Thanks for reading and watch for more new posts soon.

Grazie mille e arrivederci

Two Tales of Montecatini

It was 1970 and I was in the middle of what was supposed to be a one year stay in Dublin.   On Thursdays local tour agencies published lists of unfilled seats on cheap trips all over Europe and my Irish girlfriends and I scoured the pages for the best deals.  ”Spend Easter Sunday in St. Peter’s Square”. The words jumped from the page and the girls immediately saw an opportunity for redemption for the evil deeds they committed during their last package holiday to the Costa del Sole.  Not being Catholic, I wasn’t too excited about seeing ILPapa in person but I was determined to get in as much travel as possible in what I thought would be only one year in Europe.    So we hightailed it over to Baggot Street to make our reservations and pay our money.   No internet bookings and no credit cards.  Those were the good old days.  Jan Kaminsky, the Polish tour operator, was notorious in Dublin for his ability to put together unbelievably low-cost trips.  But we weren’t asking any questions.

The next day we were on the bus to Dublin Airport.  As we boarded the plane for Milan, Jan advised us that Italy was in the midst of one of its legendary strikes and we couldn’t fly into Rome as planned.   He assured that this wasn’t cause for concern as he had rented a coach to take us to Rome in time for the  big event on Sunday.  We were in Northern Tuscany at the town of Montecatini when it was agreed that we should stop for lunch.  We walked along the sunny streets paying attention to nothing but the fantastic accents of the “beautiful people” all around us.   I never saw the open cellar door on the sidewalk outside a small ristorante.   A large pile of old carpets broke my fall and the only injury was to my ego.  It all happened in a flash.  A group of gorgeous young Italian men lifted me from the depths of my humiliation and parked me outside on an overstuffed sofa that appeared out of nowhere.   Glasses of wine  and plates of food were placed in my hands as a crowd of passersby stopped to take in the excitement.   Back in Dublin whenever there was talk about holiday adventures the story of my fall from grace in Montecatini was always told and the folklore was shared with Barry when I met him several months later.

Fast forward 40 years to yesterday when we found ourselves in Lucca with an open afternoon.  ”Let’s go to Montecatini so I can see where it all took place”, said Barry and an hour later we were on the train.,  As we walked from the station towards a town that I really couldn’t remember at all it struck us immediately.  This was a ghost town.  Hotels and restaurants were boarded up and the streets were bare.  There were no beautiful people and no excitement in the air.  Nothing was open not even the thermal baths and there was no funiculare taking people up the side of the mountain.  It looked like a midwestern town after the new bypass highway was completed.  All that was needed was the tumbleweed.   We asked ourselves, reality or the Twilight Zone.  The mystique that was Montecatini in 1970 was no more.  There was no joy in retelling a story about a town that was shut tight for the winter.

Desperate to get something to eat before boarding the train, we walked up and down the deserted streets searching into every window in the hopes of seeing a light.  Finally, a block from the train station we came upon Le Grand Cafe D Europe.  The door opened onto what looked like a cross between a wild west saloon and the set of the movie Moulin Rouge.    The reality question lingered but we were hungry so we sat down.  The waiter was welcoming and in the empty room he had plenty of time to spend with us.  We ordered tentatively half expecting to walk away from plates of inedible food but we were so wrong.  The food was made to order and the taste was spectacular.   There were big plates of fresh mixed fish including the biggest and sweetest prawns and shrimp and Branzino topped with sliced potatoes and baked in the oven.  This was easily one of our best meals in our first six weeks in Italy.

Finally there was a new Montecatini tale to tell and I was more than ready to put the old one to rest.

Ciao Bella Roma

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Rome is a place of many contrasts.  This vibrant 21st  century city integrates perfectly with the numerous monuments to the ancient Roman Empire and it is home to some of  the world’s most famous works of art.   Visit the Vatican Museums ending with the Sistine Chapel where you can stop to sit and contemplate the immensity of what you have observed.  Nearby are the magnificent Borghese Gardens and Piazza Navona, a meeting place for Romans and tourists alike, with charming restaurants surrounding the square and street performers to entertain.  It is difficult to visit the Spanish Steps or the Trevi Fountain without encountering hundreds of people from all over the globe.  Never mind the crowds,  make your way close to the fountain, turn your back and throw in a coin to insure your return to Roman someday.

Nothing personifies ancient Rome as much as the Colosseum,  the Roman Forum,  and Circus Maximus.  These sites are so spectacular that it is strange to see today’s Romans speeding by, seemingly oblivious to the wonders right in front of them.    For the rest of us, depending on our ages , Barry’s photos will transport you either  to the chariot races of  Ben Hur with Charlton Heston and Stephen Boyd or to Russell Crowe as Maximus Decimus Meridius in the movie  Gladiator .  Enjoy the journey.

The Quintessential Question

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Did Nero fiddle while Rome burned?   Maybe, but he wasn’t fiddling in Rome.  When the fire started in a small shop near Circus Maximus in July 64 AD Nero was very likely 50 km away at his spectacular beach front villa on the Tyrrhenian Sea.

The remains of the villa are located in Anzio which was known in ancient times as Antium.    This small resort town with beautiful beaches has much to offer visitors (see our post Italian Graves of Poets and Patriots).  During the Imperial age all of the Emperors spent time here with their families and both Caligula and Nero were born here.   Caligula wanted to make this place the Capital of the Empire and Hadrian described it as one of the most beautiful parts of Italy.  But it was Nero who built the harbour and who adorned the royal palace and the city with marble and famous statues which can be admired today in the most important museums of the world. (i.e. ‘The Maiden of Antium’ in the National Museum, ‘The civilian gladiator’ in Louvre, ‘The Apollo of Belvedere’ in the Vatican Museums).

Anzio’s harbour is home to hundreds of luxury yachts as well as being a key point of departure for ferries and hydroplanes to the Pontine  Islands of Ponza, Palmaroloa and Ventotene.   Remains of Roman villas can be seen all along the shore but the most famous are the remains of Nero’s Imperial Villa which descend dramatically onto the beach from the overlooking cliffs.

Italian Graves of Poets and Patriots

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Rome might be the Eternal City but there is much to be seen and admired in the surrounding area.   We visited the Sicily-Rome American Cemetery and Memorial located just east of Anzio, only 38 miles south of Rome.   It would be impossible not to be moved by the immensity of this tribute to the 7,861 men who are buried here.  Their graves are arranged in gentle arcs beneath rows of Roman Pines.  The result is a massive sea of rectangular white tombstones so that from wherever you are standing they consume your entire field of vision.  A majority of those buried here were casualties of the Allies’ landing and occupation of the Anzio beachhead from January 22nd through May 1944.   The walls of the nearby chapel are engraved with the names of another 3,095 military personnel who were missing in action or who died and were buried at sea.  A museum provides the history of World War II military operations in Southern Italy and in the operations preceding the liberation of Rome.   The Cemetery and Memorial are operated by The American Battle Monuments Commission.  Visit their site to learn about the 24 American military cemeteries and 25 memorials, monuments and markers located in 15 countries around the world.

Nearby is the Beach Head War Cemetery, located two miles north of Anzio on the road to Rome,  where 2,316 Commonwealth soldiers are buried.  In contrast to the simple inscriptions on the headstones at the American Cemetery,  here the monuments contain personal information about the fallen soldiers including poignant messages from family members left behind.   We saw many graves of Irishmen who died fighting with the Allies.   Despite the Republic of Ireland’s neutrality during World War II,  many of the more than 100,000 Irishmen who volunteered to serve with the British army forces were from the 26 counties in the South of Ireland.  Dr. Yvonne McEwan,  of the University of Edinburgh,  compiled a Roll of Honor that included the names of 3,617 people from the Republic of Ireland who died in active service in World War II.   This document was presented to the Trinity College library in June of 2009 and is housed in the library in Dublin.

Located within the City of Rome, adjacent to the ancient Aurelian wall, the Non-Catholic Cemetery is not on every tourist’s must see list.  The full name is the Non-Catholic Cemetery for Foreigners and it is also widely known as the Protestant Cemetery although it contains the graves of many Orthodox Christians, Jews, Muslims and other non-Christians.  The cemetery is sometimes referred to as the English Cemetery because of the many English people buried there including the poets, Shelley and Keats.  Interned amongst the numerous painters, sculptors, and diplomats is Antonio Gramsci, one of the founders of European Communism.  The monuments of every size and stature imaginable surround the Pyramid of Cestius (dated between 18 and 12 B.C.).   Oscar Wilde visited the Cemetery in 1877 and called it “the holiest place in Rome” and the author Henry James chose the Non-Catholic Cemetery as the burial place of his character, Daisy Miller.

Di Bobby Redford

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Taking part in a home-stay language program involved more than cohabitating with Professoressa Francesca, her husband Chef Joe, and the other students.  We also shared living quarters with a cadre of family pets including a young German Shepherd named Carlotta (Lottie for short) and three cats.   The cats are truly family members and well-loved but Smoky Joe (named for Chef Joe) and Minnie take a back seat to the star of the family, a very beautiful and very large grey and white cat with fantastic light blue eyes.  Francesca is an inveterate lover of good movies and the house is filled with DVD’s of some of the world’s best films.  She named this very special cat after one of her favorite actors, Robert Redford.    When Francesca talks about “Di Bobby Redford”  it is clear that she is totally smitten with him.   Husband Joe can’t help feeling he’s not always the top cat in this family and good-naturedly retaliates by referring to the cat as “Di Fatty Redford.   Bobby Redford had been abandoned on a nearby property and when he was rescued by Francesca and Joe they immediately set about to fatten up his skinny little body.   Well they did a great job of spoiling him with both affection and food except that now Di Bobby Redford has to sleep downstairs because he can’t make it up the steps.

The Agony and The Ecstacy

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In the 1965 movie, Rex Harrison as Pope Julius II keeps hammering Charlton Heston to finish the painting of the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel asking “When will it be done” to which Michelangelo responds time and again - ”When I am finished”.

Well we can feel the Pontiff’s pain because yesterday we had a Sistine Chapel moment of our own.  Of course in view of Barry’s history (see our post called Long Live the Pope) it seems disingenuous to compare him with any member of the papacy.   It was late in the afternoon on our day trip to Florence when we happened upon a group of street artists in front of the Uffizi Gallery, just a short walk from the Ponte Vecchio, the most famous bridge in Italy.   There we found an Asian artist, resembling Pat Morita as Mr. Kesuke Miyagi in the Karate Kid movie,  who promised to draw a likeness of Barry complete with glasses and camera for 30 Euros.  We thought the price was high but his work on display was really good so Barry sat down on a small metal chair next to a blank canvas.  It was 3:30 and we planned to catch the 5:30 pm fast train back to Lucca.    We anticipated the drawing would be completed within a half hour – 45 minutes tops – plenty of time to take in the scenery and window shop on our way to the train station.

Three-thirty turned to 4;30 and then to 5:30.  As the light faded and the air chilled Barry became anxious for the work to be completed.  Barry is naturally mild-mannered and far less demanding than Pope Julius.   He gently questioned the artist about the progress of his work and the response was always just a nod of the head, reminding Barry of Mr. Miyagi’s caution not to ask any questions.  Just wax on – wax off. All this time crowds of passersby stopped to observe the creative process and even some Carabinieri on duty in front of a nearby government building paused their conversations long enough to check on this newest Italian masterpiece.  Barry’s entreaties became stronger  and slightly more forceful, but with only the light from a single lamppost and a crescent moon, and with the temperature quickly dropping, the artist silently forged on.

At 6:30 p.m., three hours after he started, and in the spirit of Michelangelo,  the artist announced that he was finished.   All who had gathered around agreed that he captured his subject brilliantly.  By the end, as  in the movie, Barry (Pope Julius) and the artist (Michelangelo) had established a mutual respect and fondness for each other – well maybe that’s going too far.  I know we have no interest in crossing paths with this guy ever again.    We finally arrived at the train station in time to catch the very very slow train back to Lucca – but maybe that’s another story.

The Hardest Working Man in the World

Our beginners program at  Scuola Appia Vecchia in Velletri was very intense but we knew that our dedication to mastering the Italian language was appreciated by Professoressa Francesca Valentini.  This was reinforced when she referred to us as gli studenti stakhanovisti or hard working students.   Within a short time of our arrival at the homestay school, Barry impressed the Professoressa with his knowledge of Russian history but she had one piece of information that even he knew nothing about.  The Professoressa explained that students like us were often referred to as Stakhanovites in tribute to a man whose name is synonymous with hard work.

Aleksey Stakhanov (January 3, 1906 – November 5, 1977) was a Soviet miner who became a  celebrity as part of a movement to boost worker productivity and prove the superiority of the socialist economic system.   In August 1935 it was reported that Stakhanov had mined a record 102 ton of coal in less than six hours (14 times his quota). His example was promoted in newspapers and posters as a model for others to follow and on December 16, 1935 he appeared on the cover of Time Magazine.  Stakhanov went on to study at the Industrial Academy in Moscow and had an illustrious career including receiving two Orders of Lenin, and the Order of the Red Banner.  The town of Kadiyivka in eastern Ukraine where he began his mining work was renamed Stakhanov in his honor in 1978.

Take a look at what all the hard work did to this young guy in our class – you can only imagine how we felt.

Hardest Working Student

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The Roman Wrecks at Lake Nemi

Scuola Appia Vecchia gives students the opportunity of a full immersion in the Italian language, culture, tradition and cookery.   For us some of the highlights of our time at the Scuola were the field trips to fascinating sites all within 20-40 miles from Rome.    Despite having visited Rome on several occasions, we never heard of most of these places and we wouldn’t have visited them on our own.   It might take a bit of effort on your part to find this one – but it’s definitely worth a visit.

Located in the Lazio region, only 19 miles south of Rome lies Lake Nemi where in 1929 two gigantic Roman ships were recovered.  The Nemi Ships were built by the Emperor Caligula during the 1st century AD.  The larger of the two ships believed to be designed as a floating palace (the ultimate party boat) featured marble baths and elaborate mosaic floors.  It is believed that they were built as a tribute to the Goddess Diana.   Although interest in the sunken treasures was first expressed in 1446, there was little  sustained effort to recover the vessels.   A 1827 attempt to recover the wrecks was unsuccessful and it was not until 1927 when Benito Mussolini ordered the lake to be drained that the ships were recovered.   In 1936 Mussolini commissioned a museum in the Fascist style of architecture to house the two ships.  The structure, built of concrete, still remains today.  This is despite the fact that in 1944,  towards the end of World War II, the building was struck by a bomb and a subsequent fire destroyed most of the remains of the two Roman ships as well as numerous other artifacts recovered from Lake Nemi.  It is believed that antifascists attempted to burn down the building as an act of vengeance against Mussolini.   Today the museum features partial replicas of the two ships as well as some charred remains of the original vessels and numerous artifacts found on the ships, in the lake, and in the surrounding area.  A portion of the Appian Way can be seen under both sides of the museum.

In the 1970′s we published a magazine in Dublin called Diving Ireland and on numerous occasions we consulted with members of the Irish Maritime Museum in Dun Laoghaire, near our home in Monkstown.    What a pleasant coincidence then that the most interesting information we found about the Roman Wrecks at Lake Nemi was located on the website of that museum.  We encourage you to visit that site  at National Maritime Museum of Ireland.