Posts under Culture

Omaggio ad Alda Merini, poetessa

Posted by Serena
Nov
6
2009

On Saturday 31st October I heard the sad news that la poetessa (the female poet) Alda Merini had died from cancer, aged 78. I only discovered her poems a couple of years ago, and I was immediately taken by their delicate sensitivity. Through her poetry, Merini describes her inner torment, longing for love, and mysticism.

Alda Merini was born in Milano on the 21st of March 1931. She started writing poetry at an early age, and when she was 19 two of her poems were included in the Antologia della poesia italiana 1909-1949 (Anthology of Italian Poetry 1909-1949) edited by Spagnoletti. Alda Merini published the first of several books of her verses in 1953, however in 1961 she was taken into psychiatric care due to mental health problems and did not publish any more work for over 20 years. Finally in 1984 she published La Terra Santa, in which she describes her experience of being in the psychiatric hospital, and frequent references to this experience reappear in her later work. Despite being a troubled soul, Alda Merini never lost her sense of irony and irreverent wit, and in 2004, for the occasion of her seventy-third birthday, she asked for a “hot man”. Her friends duly organized  a visit from the male stripper Ghibly.

Merini won many Italian literary awards and was twice nominated for the Nobel Prize, firstly by the Académie Francaise in 1996, and then in 2001 by P.E.N. Italia. A selection of her works have been translated into English by the American poet Susan Stewart in “Love Lessons: Selected Poems of Alda Merini”, published earlier this year by Princeton University Press.

I’ve chosen a self-portrait poem to share with you entitled Alda Merini taken from the collection Vuoto d’amore (Void of Love), published in 1991. Here it is below with my own translation into English.

 

Alda Merini

 

Amai teneramente dei dolcissimi amanti

senza che essi sapessero mai nulla.

E su questi intessei tele di ragno

e fui preda della mia stessa materia.

In me l’anima c’era della meretrice

della santa della sanguinaria e dell’ipocrita.

Molti diedero al mio modo di vivere un nome

e fui soltanto un’isterica.

 

I tenderly loved some very sweet lovers / without them ever knowing anything. / And over them I weaved spider’s webs / and I was prey to my own material. / In me there was the soul of the prostitute / of the saint of the bloodthirsty and of the hypocrite. / Many gave a name to my way of living / and I was simply a hysterical person.

 

Grazie Alda!

 
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Domina L’Angolo Cucina

Posted by Serena
Oct
25
2009

It seems that the good old Italian kitchen, quel locale per antonomasia (that quintessential room) which was once the traditional focal point of the home, is slowly but surely being ousted by l’angolo cucina (the corner kitchen). In Italy the kitchen once represented il focolare e il cuore della casa (the hearth, and the heart of the house), and for many, particularly those who live in the older houses in rural areas, it still does. In our village, for example, to be invited into someone’s home is synonymous with being invited into their kitchen, where we inevitably end up sitting a fare due chiacchiere (chatting), a bere un caffè (drinking a coffee), o forse un bicchiere di vino (or maybe a glass of wine). In the winter particularly, little groups of neighbors will gather at each others houses and sit around la stufa (the stove) or il forno a legna (the wood fired oven) in the kitchen, passing the time of day.

Here in Lunigiana we also have il gradile (more commonly known as il seccatoio), a small building in which le castagne (the chestnuts) would be dried ready for grinding into farina di castagne (chestnut flour). Il gradile was also once used as a primitive kitchen, with an open fire in the middle of the room over which, supported by un paio di alari (a pair of firedogs), was placed il testo (a heavy iron skillet). This was the preferred method for cooking such traditional recipes as la pattona, la torta d’erbe, and il testarolo. These days the use of il gradile as a kitchen is increasingly rare, but we have been lucky enough to sample these dishes cooked in the traditional manner and I can testify, non c’è paragone! (there’s nothing like it!)

However, whether we like it or not, social trends change, and with the migration of young people to larger towns and cities, where they tend to live in un appartamento (an apartment) as a much smaller family unit, the kitchen seems to have lost its relevance.  A recent survey of 30,000 newly constructed habitations shows that the presence of a separate room for the preparation of food is becoming increasingly rare. In northern Italy for example, only 9% of bilocali (two room apartments) have a separate kitchen. The figure goes up to 10% for central Italy, and even in the more traditional south barely reaches 12%. Trilocali (three room apartments) don’t fare much better, with only roughly a quarter possessing una cucina tradizionale (a traditional kitchen). Only when we look at quadrilocale (four room apartments) and larger does the presence of a kitchen reach 70%.

In Italy, when we talk about the number of rooms an apartment has we do not usually include the locali di sevizio (service rooms, such as the kitchen, bathroom, or storage room), therefore an apartment described as a bilocale may in reality consist of more than two rooms. However, for the majority of people these days, the use of an angolo cucina incorporated into il soggiorno (the living room) is more efficient and allows the creation of a smaller, more economical apartment which serves the same function as the traditional home.

Another factor which has no doubt contributed to the decline of the kitchen is the change in our eating habits. Whereas in the past the family would riunirsi (get together) around the kitchen table three times a day it seems that these days us Italians like to eat out much more frequently. A recent survey has shown that 80% of Italians regularly eat meals outside the home, and of these 44%  do so at least once a day!

 
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Firmato Diaz

Posted by Serena
Oct
19
2009

Here in Italy, as in many other parts of the world, it has long been fashionable to name one’s offspring after famous, or inspirational people. Once upon a time we Italians didn’t really have much choice about our first name, because the church decreed that it should be a ‘Christian name’ in the most literal sense. For females the most common one of course would be Maria, after La Madonna. My ‘Christian’ name for example is Maria Serena, my cousins are Maria Pia and Anna Maria, and I once had a friend with the wonderful name of Maria Etrusca (Etruscan Mary), oh how I envied her! In fact not so long ago in Italy our onomastico (name-day) was seen as more important than our compleanno (birthday), and people would receive gifts on the former rather than the latter.

Every day is a Saint’s Day. Today for example is Santa Laura, so if we see our friend Laura Vescovi later on it will be quite normal to wish her auguri (best wishes). Tomorrow will be ‘Santa Irene’, so anyone named Irene will celebrate her onomastico tommorrow.

All this leads me to a rather interesting and unusual first name: Firmato, and to discover its origins we need to travel back to the end of La Prima Guerra Mondiale (The First World War).

Armando Vittorio Diaz was the famous general and chief of general staff who in 1918 recovered what was left of the badly mauled Italian army and led them to victory against the Austrians. At the conclusion of the Battle of Vittorio Veneto, which ended WWI in Italy, Diaz issued, as a final address to the Army and the Nation, Il Bollettino della Vittoria (The Victory Bulletin). The Bollettino was probably written by General Siciliani, spokesperson for the General Staff.

Here are the final two paragraphs of the Bollettino della Vittoria: (You can find the complete text and a translation into English here).

 

L’Esercito Austro-Ungarico è annientato: esso ha subito perdite gravissime nell’accanita resistenza dei primi giorni e nell’inseguimento ha perdute quantità ingentissime di materiale di ogni sorta e pressoché per intero i suoi magazzini e i depositi. Ha lasciato finora nelle nostre mani circa trecento mila prigionieri con interi stati maggiori e non meno di cinque mila cannoni.

I resti di quello che fu uno dei più potenti eserciti del mondo risalgono in disordine e senza speranza le valli, che avevano disceso con orgogliosa sicurezza.

Firmato Diaz

 

Note the signature at the end of the Victory Address: ‘Firmato Diaz’, meaning ‘signed Diaz’. In the waves of patriotism following the Italian victory the entire Bollettino della Vittoria was frequently memorized by school children, always ending with those proud words ‘Firmato Diaz’. Many uneducated contadini (peasants) were very taken by the sound of those closing words, and erroneously believing Firmato to be  Diaz’s first name baptized their newborn sons Firmato (Signed).

Do you know anyone with an unusual name? Please share it with us in the comments section below.

 
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Una Gita a Zeri

Posted by Serena
Oct
13
2009

Lunigiana, in the very north of Toscana, is a nature lovers paradise, and we are lucky enough to live there! You could spend a lifetime exploring the spider’s web of sentieri (footpaths) and ancient strade comunali (communal roads) that connect the many little towns and villages tucked away in its green hills. You can also learn a lot about the history and traditions of Lunigiana by taking the time to ‘fare due chiacchiere’ (have a chat) with the locals, who are traditionally very hospitable.

A few days ago we decided to explore a part of Lunigiana that we’d never visited before which is called Zeri, and is located close to the border between Toscana and Liguria. Zeri is fairly unique in that it doesn’t exist as a single place but is, instead, a collection of villages dispersed over a high altopiano (plateau) furrowed by the valleys of three rivers: Il Gordana, Il Teglia, and L’Adelano. Being a posto sperduto (out of the way place), and relatively inaccessible, life there seems to be frozen in a time warp, just the sort of place we enjoy exploring!

We began our walk near the village of Noce. Anyone who has tried trekking in Italy will know that the only maps available are quite out of date, and not very reliable. So rule number one, and here is a big incentive for improving your Italian, always ask the locals. A few meters from our car we saw an old lady sweeping her terrazza, and my husband promptly began quizzing her about the location and state of the sentiero that we had hoped to follow. “Non ci si passa più!” (you can’t get through anymore!), was her prompt reply. She advised us instead to follow the old strada comunale (basically a paved mule track) to Coloretta, once the only means of reaching the next village before the Strada Provinciale was built. She gave us surprisingly precise directions, which included, of course, a bit of her life story, because people living in these remote villages are generally quite content to pass the time of day with a forestiero (outsider).

As advised, we followed the lovely old trail through the little stone village of Noce and then out across hilly pastures dotted with pecore (sheep) and capre (goats). One thing that we noticed straight away was the large number of maestà (wayside shrines, also called madonnine) which appear at regular intervals along the old strada. Unfortunately unscrupulous ladri (thieves) had been at work on several of them and had pried out the marble lapidi (stones carved with a holy image) in order to sell them on the antique markets.

Having crossed a small torrent near an old ruined mill, we ascended the other side of the valley, and soon found ourselves in the piazza at Coloretta. Apart from a few newish cars there was nothing to break the illusion that time had ceased here sometime in the 1970’s, certainly some of the faded window displays hadn’t changed since that time! In the boot of one of those newer cars, the arrotino (knife grinder) was at work with a small electrical grind stone hooked up to his car battery, sharpening an assortment of kitchen implements for the local casalinghe (housewives).

Lunigiana is a small world, and it wasn’t long before a familiar face appeared, Beppe the pescivendolo (fishmonger), who spends two days a week travelling around the winding mountain roads in this area selling his wares in all the local villages. We didn’t have much time to chat because he soon had a cue of casalinghe next to his little van/shop, he did recommend, however, that we continue our exploratory walk to another nearby village called Castello.

As you may have guessed from its name, Castello did once boast a real castello (castle), although all that remains today are a few rather indistinct low piles of rubble. As is often the case where good quality building materials are hard to come by, it seems that most of the castle has been ‘recycled’ over the centuries, and what was left had mostly been dismantled by the local kids, as was testified to us by an old man that my husband ‘interrogated’: “Sì, una volta c’era un castello in cima a quella collina lì” (Yes, there was once a castle on that hill over there). “Da bambino si vedevano ancora dei resti dei muri” (when I was a boy you could still see some remains of the walls). “Io ci andavo spesso a giocare con i miei amici, e buttavamo i sassi giù nella valle, era l’unico divertimento che avevamo!” (I often went there to play with my friends, and we used to throw the stones down into the valley, it was the only entertainment we had!). So, that was end of the castle! I suppose that the kids of today would have been too busy playing with their Nintendo’s or cell phones, and hence a piece of our heritage would have been saved from their destructive games.

We did manage to glean some interesting pieces of information from a sign located near the remaining piles of rubble. However, as is often the case in these little places, it told us more about the morals and attitudes of the period and the place itself than any precise historical data. Here is what the sign said:

Castello prende il nome da un preesistente castello che si ergeva sull’altura a nord del paese. Oggi sono solamente visibili i resti del “Castrum Zirri”, la base di una torre, un muro di cinta e massi di colore verdastro. Secondo la leggenda, il castello era possessione dei marchesi Malaspina e l’ultimo discendente fu ucciso con una fucilata dal padre di una ragazza della famiglia degli “Osti”. La fanciula infatti era promessa sposa ad un giovane del paese, ma il  Malaspina voleva esercitare lo “ius primae noctis”. La ragazza non voleva, ed era disperata. Il padre allora attese che il marchese si affacciasse alla finestra come era solito fare tutte le mattine alle undici, e gli sparò uccidendolo!

Translation:

Castello takes its name from a preexisting castle which stood on the high ground to the north of the village. Today, only the remains of the ‘Castrum Zirri’ are visible, including the base of a tower, an encircling wall, and some large greenish boulders. According to the legend, the castle was in the possession of the  Marquis Malaspina, and the last remaining descendent was shot to death by the father of a girl from the Osti family. The lass was in fact engaged to be married to a local boy, but the Malaspina wanted to exercise his right of “ius primae noctis” (literally: the right to the ‘first night’. In the middle ages some feudal landlords reserved the right to spend the wedding night with the newly wed brides of their subjects in place of their husband). The girl didn’t want this, and was desperate. The father therefore waited until the marquis leaned out of his window as he usually did every morning at 11 o’clock, and he fired his gun and killed him!

Ah, the good old days!

 
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La Festa della Santa Croce

Posted by Serena
Sep
28
2009

By far the most important religious and social event that takes place in Lucca is La Festa della Esaltazione della Santa Croce (The Festival of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross) which happens each year on the 13th and 14th of September. This year, for the first time in ages we decided to go into Lucca on the evening of the 13th to witness the most spectacular part of the celebrations, la processione notturna a lume di candela (the nocturnal procession by candlelight) which is known as La Luminara. As with most things that we revisit after years of absence, the candlelit procession didn’t quite live up to my expectations. For example, I had remembered all the city lights turned off, and the streets illuminated only by candlelight and of course it wasn’t quite like that. For a start there were the television cameras to accommodate, with their dazzling spotlights in Piazza San Martino somewhat detracting from the beautiful facade of Il Duomo (The Cathedral) which was otherwise lit only by flaming torches. The spotlight were also ‘fortuitous’, I suppose, for all the participating local town mayors and politicians who would naturally want to be as visible as possible on the Lucca TV station, or am I just succumbing to Italian cinismo! Nevertheless, it is still a very pretty sight, with literally thousands of candles decorating the buildings located along the route taken by the lenghty procession.    

The festival, which has taken place for many centuries, is based on the culto del Volto Santo di Lucca (cult of the Holy Effigy of Lucca), a cult once widespread throughout medieval Europe. The Volto Santo is in fact a famous crocifisso ligneo (wooden crucifix) which has a number of fascinating legends surrounding it. This famous depiction of Christ on the cross is believed to have been carved out of a Lebanese cedar tree by Nicodemus, whose hand, it is said, was guided by angels. During the time of the crusades and the persecution of the Christians, many such religious relics were hidden away to avoid their destruction. At some point, in order to ensure its safety, the Volto Santo was placed on a crewless boat and entrusted to the waves of the open Mediterranean sea. Having crossed the Mediterranean, and survived attacks by pirates, it was eventually washed up on the shore at Luni on the Tuscan coast. There then ensued many longwinded arguments between the Lunigiani and the Lucchesi over who should take possession of it, and where it should be placed (hmmm, nothing changes!), which were finally resolved by entrusting it once again to the laws of chance (as I said, nothing changes!). The Volto Santo was placed on a cart drawn by two wild oxen who of their own accord took the road to Lucca, and ecco fatto its fate was decided.

Initially, the Volto Santo was placed in the church of San Frediano, however the following day it disappeared, only to mysteriously turn up on the other side of town in a vegetable plot near  the Duomo di San Martino. This was taken as an indication by the Volto Santo that it preferred S.Martino, and it still resides there to this day. Every year, the crucifix’s journey between S.Frediano and S.Martino is commemorated by the famous candlelit procession through the streets of Lucca. The procession is so long that by the time the head of the procession is entering S.Martino, its tail is still within S.Frediano.

 

 

 
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