A Post About a Post

I’d better get this post finished before Enel, our energy company, cuts off its electric supply at Longoio this morning for a couple of hours. Why are they doing this? It’s because a new electricity pole has been erected and today the supply will be moved from the old pole, a rusty thing right behind our chiesina or village chapel.

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Every pole needs its hole and, indeed, the hole was ready for its host. We were shocked at first to find that the hole was only protected by a thin metal sheet placed on top of it.

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As we wrote on Facebook:

This is so irresponsible! ENEL have been round near us and poured concrete for a replacement post. We took the loose cover off the proposed placement of the post which disclosed a hole at least twenty feet deep and wide enough for three people and goodness knows how many wild forest animals and domestic pets to fall into!

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Fortunately my wife spurred into action and reported the safety risk to the authorities. The next day the hole was made safe.

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Again, as I reported on Facebook:

Regarding that infamous hole…. we reported it and lo and behold! Now cordoned off and opening firmly secured.

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Finally, the pole arrived.

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It was carried to its location on the back of a special truck originally used in Germany as its details proclaimed and with a built-in crane.

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It’s rather difficult to steer in reverse a truck this size and weight up a rough mountain road originally built for mule. One of the two operatives cleared the way with a machete Image00061and, eventually, the dextrous driver manoeuvred the truck to its destination.

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Lifted up, painted green and inserted into its hole it now awaits the wires it will carry and the electricity it will supply to our households.

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Like an ancient monolith or a Festival of Britain skylon it now stands in all its verdant glory and, thankfully, that ugly old rusty pole will soon be gone.

Meanwhile pole-vaulting continued the next day around Longoio’s car park:

Well done ENEL!

Of Libraries


If a house without a cat is soulless so a house without a library is equally barren. Looking at photographs of some recently erected book shelves in the house of a family who donated our male Tom, Archie, last December turned me to consider my own library here at our little place in Longoio, Italy.

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One of the first things upon settling into our new dwelling was to get our local carpenter to make some rustic chestnut shelves to house those volumes we considered worth the effort to transplant from our former abode in the UK.

My own set of shelves

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was subsequently mirrored by Sandra’s set.

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But what is on these shelves and how have they been built up over the years we have been here? Amazingly we found that the house’s previous owner had been quite a book collector himself and we found some antique volumes dating back to the seventeenth century, mainly of an ecclesiastical nature which formed the kernel of our new ‘biblioteca’.

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There were some more recent acquisitions showing that the owner, a Second World War hero who had lost an arm in combat, had a particular interest in military memoirs. I was particularly taken by accounts of the Italian alpine campaigns on the Russian front – surely one of the most futile and heroic actions ever. But then all war is futile: ‘the pity of war’ as that great war poet, Wilfred Owen, declared.

Added to this original nucleus discovered in our house’s attic are the majority of books: those of my own collection. At school our English literature master, who still happily remains active, severely told us what was worth reading and what wasn’t. As a Leavis acolyte he stressed the great tradition of novel writing – George Eliot, Jane Austen, Charles Dickens, Henry James, Joseph Conrad among them. This was fine with me as I grew to love much of their work. Dickens’ ‘Little Dorrit’ with its unremitting analysis of the Englishman abroad and Conrad’s ‘Heart of Darkness’ remain two of the few novels I dare to re-read.

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Of course, poetry takes up an essential part of my library. I doubt whether I shall ever be remembered as a poet but I love reading and writing it. Keats, Crashaw, Shelley and T. S. Eliot are key people in my canon.

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There is a fair selection of non-fiction of which travel writing takes up the major part. Naturally, Italy occupies most of the focus. In this respect I remember writing as a teenager articles on ‘un turista in Italia ‘ for a schoolfriend’s magazine aptly called ‘Novelty’. For me that word novelty has never quite deserted me (although some detractors may disagree!).

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Apart from other books on such disparate subjects as rearing Muscovy ducks and restoring Fiat Five Hundreds (Cinquine) perhaps my most treasured books are those which have been donated to me by friends, a few of whom have sadly departed. Some of these books may just have been incisive presents. Others will be even more precious, having been written by their donors.

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In this age where we are reading so much on digital media, whether it be on Kindle, the BBC news or Facebook’s tittle-tattle, there is nothing so satisfying and so rewarding as holding a book in one’s hands and turning its pages in wonder at what awaits. The beauty of the written page, the seductive smell of print, the utter assuredness of the book’s presence itself can never be superceeded. Whether in the depths of winter coziness before a log fire or under the shade of a parasol in the laziness of a summer’s Mediterranean heat there is nothing that will communicate the supreme devotion that a good book can offer.

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My library, therefore, is not just a favourite collection of books; it is the whole universe of my intellectual and sensual being: the entire world that I have grown up in and will love until my dying day.

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On the High C’s in our Valley

Crasciana was our first stop on last Sunday’s walk among the villages of the Val di Lima organized by the Vicaria di Lima and the Comune of Bagni di Lucca. Situated in a fantail-like layout, on the south side of the Lima valley at a height of 2621 feet, it’s one of the highest village in our Comune and has some wonderful views as a result.

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Vigilio Contrucci, our guide for this part of the walk, pointed out all the villages one can see from Crasciana.

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Truly, its subtitle ‘La Pomposa’ (translated as ‘splendid ‘ rather than ‘pompous’) suits Crasciana rather well as it mightily dominates the valley from its stratospheric location.

We have been many times to Crasciana but a guided walk does enable us to see familiar places in a novel light besides teaching us previously unknown facts about them. Like so many other villages in the Tuscan Appennines Crasciana owes its foundation to land given by the Roman Empire to its centurions upon their retirement, in this case a certain Carsius.

Crasciana was once located further down from its present site but landslides forced its inhabitants to move further up the hill. Only the church of ‘Santo Della Villa’ now remains of the original village. A religious procession is made every three years from this church to the newer one, dedicated to Saint Jacopo and Frediano, at the top of the village. Our choir has sung at one of these events.

Virgilio led us from the village’s main square, repaved some years ago when it was inaugurated with a concert by a brilliant Pink Floyd cover band we attended (see my post at https://longoio.wordpress.com/2014/01/08/walls-but-no-wall/), to the parish church.

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Although originally dating from the thirteenth century the building has been considerably altered and enlarged over the centuries. It has a prettily decorated interior,

 a haunting ancient crucifix

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and a fine 18th century Agati organ which we have heard played on other visits to Crasciana.

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The campanile, or bell tower, of the church reminds one that in former times these places were not just spiritual strongholds but temporal ones too.

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Our guide pointed out to us the original line of walls surrounding Crasciana, their gates and the as yet unexcavated site of the castle.

Crasciana is the birthplace of the engraver Bartolomeo Nerici. We attended a conference on this extraordinary person (described in my post at . https://longoio2.wordpress.com/2014/06/22/enlightened-engraver/). One of the contributors to the conference was Angela Amadei, familiar as Bagni di Lucca’s head librarian. Her family originate from Crasciana and one of her ancestors was the poet Bartolomeo Amadei. These mountain villages were certainly not all populated by ‘mute, inglorious Miltons’!

Our second ‘high C’ was Casabasciana, at a height of 1876 feet a little lower down from Crasciana, with whom it has shared an often heated rivalry over the years.

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Acquaintance and noted local historian Bruno Micheletti met us at the oratory of the Assumption in the upper part of the village, the first of three religious buildings our visit here was focused on.

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The full Italian title of the oratory is ‘Oratorio dell’Assunta in localita’ Murrotto – the murrotto or muro rotto referring to the broken wall where it is located. Built in 1691 the oratory is preceeded by a high and graceful portico. Within is the effigy of the Assumpted (raised bodily to heaven) Virgin and some fine decorations including a painted ‘cassone’ ceiling.

 

We descended into the heart of Casabasciana, the Piazza Cavour surrounded by the entrance to the parish church dedicated to Saint Quirico and Giulitta, the old village hall, a chapel and a fountain.

Bruno mentioned that the locals used to play ‘palla elastica’ (an Italian version of hand ball squash) in the square much to the annoyance of the priest who was conducting the church services. A second square was, therefore, built further down where the village’s main social activities now take place and where there is a bar and shop.

The church is notable for having the only wholly baroque interior in the valley. All the side altars are in a similar design with a particularly angelic main altar. It’s within this altar that the remains of the village’s patron saint are entombed. Saint Primo was a four year old put to death for his Christian beliefs by a particularly bestial Roman emperor. You can read more about this horrific story and see how Casabasciana celebrates its martyr in my post at https://longoio2.wordpress.com/2015/08/10/child-murder-and-martyrdom-in-casabasciana/.

Our last ecclesiastical monument was the Pieve of Sala, originally Casabasciana’s parish church.

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Until 1917 the only place one could get baptised in was a Pieve so these buildings had to be located within easy reach of a number of villages. When local churches were allowed to perform baptism many of these pieve were closed up and abandoned. This was the case with the one at Sala which meant that what we were now able to view was a virtually unspoilt late Romanesque building. There were no fancy decorations here: just bare walls, three aisles separated by columns and a semi circular apse.

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The column capitals are carved with a mixture of religious and political symbols. The six leaved circle, for example, represents the six days of the creation and the labyrinthine spiral stands for the quest for spiritual truth.

Once baptism was practised by total immersion and the place where the font formerly stood is marked by a large stone circle on the church floor which originally stood at a deeper level.

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Remains of the font itself are placed in a corner near to the more modern ‘mini font’ now used by the church.

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We skipped the lunch provided by Ferdinando’s Villa Aurora (we have eaten deliciously there on previous occasions) and headed home to our own lunch after a truly interesting and diverting morning spent among those two high C’s of our valley: Crasciana and Casabasciana.

There’s one more visit in this series planned. It’s on the 23rd of August and concentrates on Bagni di Lucca. As with the other walks pre-booking is essential for groups are limited to a maximum of ten persons as part of covid19 precautions.

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I am sure that since these walking visits are proving successful we shall be able to look forwards to many more of them soon.

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