Lost in Translation

In Italy for over 20 years I am often called on to translate, help with admin tasks and the like.

In some documents I do call on Google Translate, as it has improved noticeably from its early years, with reasonably accurate results, which I always review and tweak.  

Thankfully, especially right now, international diplomacy is rarely the subject matter, but it could have created, or resolved, a topical exchange when translating a numbered list of to-do items on a furniture and fixtures list:

18. Cabinet resolution

was translated as this:

18. Delibera di Giunta: Resolution of the Junta 

A Crimp in my Equanimity

In two days, on March 9th, two years ago we began a journey of nightmarish, surreal proportions, which most of us had never experienced and which has left us unmoored and adrift, and from which we, since you’re reading this, have come through alive, though not untouched or unmoved, only to be launched into that which can only be described at best as a humanitarian crisis of catastrophic proportions led by The Just One Bad Actor it takes, and defended by another Actor with some pretty good moves and courageous leadership dancing a pas de deux of death, destruction and desperation. 

This will take all of our reserves of resilience, patience, calm, tolerance, equanimity, strength of character, reason, rationality, compassion and empathy, most of which we have experienced here in this small Tuscan hill town for the last two years and can be an inspiration and example to all. 

Kerry Bell

Barga, Italy

The Tiglio Road

 

The Tiglio Road

The winding road that leads to and from the small village of Tiglio, has been plied for at least 1000 years, by farmers, travelers, and pilgrims. According to church archives dating to 983 and 984, Tiglio was registered as part of the property of the Pieve of Loppia, which also included, Renaio and Pegnana. 

Its ancient church of S. Giusto, at the top of the mountain overlooking Barga and the Serchio River Valley, was originally a castle fortress. For more that 25 years in the early to mid 14th century, it was fought over in a tug of war between Barga and the Lucca families of Castruccio Castracani and Antelminelli, and finally in 1354, it was restored to Barga through the intervention of Florence, which marks the village’s strategic importance in the history of Barga.  A pair of elegant marble statues of The Annunciation behind the altar attest to its importance as a pilgrimage destination in the 14th Century.  

Today the Tiglio Road is well paved and rapidly driven by the farmers and families who live in the villages of Renaio, Pegnana, and Tiglio, and it is a through back road to Piastroso and Coreglia. It’s a lovely walking route exposing heartrendingly beautiful views over Barga and the western coastal range of the Apuan Alps. 

Tiglio may be named for the Linden tree. The road leading in and out of Barga, as all roads, from Largo Roma, is flanked with their stateliness. In June the miniature chandelier shaped blossoms perfume the air for miles with their intoxicating scent, and its lush broad heart-shaped leaves provide cool shade in the hottest of the summer months.

Thanksgiving 2021

I had had no plans but woke up early thinking, actually, I could throw together a reasonable facsimile of a turkey dinner. First stop my moment of cappuccino and brioche zen and then off to the store where I found almost all ingredients of what my one guest called tacchino decomposto, deconstructed turkey. A thigh, a breast, and apple/onion/sage/sausage garnish in lieu of stuffing, baby green beans and mashed potatoes. I even found cranberry sauce at the shop that has British imports. 

When I got home the jar of cranberry sauce went crashing to the floor and shattered. It could have been worse, I thought afterwards. That was not my first thought however, which was F**k! as I slammed the package of green beans on the floor too in a fit of pique and infantile rage. It really could have been worse, it could have been the Prosecco. 

I managed to compose myself, clean it up and get to work, all the while wondering when a major delivery to a friend’s house I needed to supervise, scheduled this morning, was going to happen, hoping it wouldn’t be in the middle of some cooking operation, or worse in the middle of sitting down to eat. Alas, I pulled it all off and the delivery never materialized so all was well. We had a lovely meal and I chased the mid-pandemic-far-from-home-Thanksgiving-day blues away on this cold foggy rainy day in late November.

I am thankful to all and for all.

A Walk

 

She was walking 

Along a narrow winding road 

In the mountains

 

A bird called 

And she looked up 

A falcon? A buzzard?  A hawk?

The car came careening 

Around the curve 

She landed on the windshield 

Spread eagle

Overcoming The Black Death, regarding Black history, fire and a tale of two villages. Five days in history.

 

The days from August 10th until the 15th are very significant in Italian history in general and Barga history in particular. 

In the previous post we explored Barga’s connections to the Festival of San Lorenzo, the martyred saint burned on a gridiron on August 10, 258, which is commemorated in part with a grand event honoring Giovanni Pascoli, the revered national Poet whose father was assassinated on August 10, 1867, and the Night of the Shooting Stars, the Perseids meteor shower first apparent around August 10 every year.

August 12 has been a day of remembrance since tragedy befell the village of Sant’Anna di Stazzema , when on August 12, 1944 about 530 civilians were killed along with their livestock, and their village burned, in one of the most tragic battles of World War II. Its connection with Barga is purely fictional and a concept that needs to be corrected. 

In more than one work of purportedly historical fiction, what is known as the Massacre at Sant’Anna, a true story, has been conflated with Barga’s own historical Battle of Garfagnana, at Sommocolonia, on December 26th, 1944. There is no real connection. Sant’Anna is a village in the Apuan Alps, Sommocolonia is a hilltop village in the Apennines, but in the most famous erroneous connection, the Spike Lee Film entitled Miracle at Sant’Anna, based on the novel by James McBride of the same title, Sant’Anna di Stazzema is mentioned as a nearby village and the stories of the battles are intertwined in causality.

The battle at Sommocolonia, above Barga, was a turning point in the war when the Lieutenant called friendly fire on his position as he knew they were lost in any case. The soldiers involved were African Americans of the 366th infantry regiment, part of the Buffalo division of the 92nd Infantry Division. Known as the Buffalo Soldiers they were Black GIs who sacrificed their lives and were only recognized decades later. Their story and the history of the battle have been thoroughly researched and eloquently recounted in the book entitled Braided in Fire, by the writer and long time Sommocolonia, Barga homeowner Solace Wales. 

Which brings us to The Black Death. The close of these five important days is August 15th, the Festival of San Rocco. The Festival itself is a three day vast market fair and in less pandemic fraught times included dining, music and dancing. 

San Rocco, to whom the 17th C. Chiesa Di San Rocco in Barga Giardino is dedicated, as are many throughout Europe, to this itinerant healer, Rocco, who traveled around 1350 to care for and heal plague ridden villagers until he himself caught the plague but miraculously survived. The definitive narrative as it relates to Barga, has been summed up expertly by Frank Viviano, in the article San Rocco, the Black Death and Barga, which can be found on barganews.com 

Having spent these last 5 days commemorating martyrs, saints, poets, wars, plagues, trials by fire, and having endured weeks of infernal heat finally in abatement, we can breathe a sigh of relief and hope our luck holds out. 

The Night of the Shooting Stars

We have spent a good part of the last year and a half in various degrees of lockdown and/or restricted movement within and beyond our communities, often indoors looking from the inside onto a quiet, sometimes silent and desolate outside, wishing this thing, albeit invisible, would go away, disappear. 

Days and weeks of calm quiet, and nights of eery silence. The usual bustle of the town, the genial greetings and conversations, muffled by masks and cautious inhibitions.  Often the only things to be seen and heard were the birds. Watching the swallows provided hours of delight. 

With compassionate, conscientious compliance Barga remained relatively untouched. We passed a first socially distanced but eventful summer almost virus free, but by the winter and spring the virus resurged and there was another lockdown, this time not as severe but disconcerting nonetheless. 

Vaccinations provided hope and the country mobilized in a relatively efficient roll-out. There was a little more hopeful optimism but always that wish that this would just go away. Variants and various factors have necessitated continued vigilance. Through spring there was still the element of inhibition, and being on the inside looking out. 

About a year and a half on, the late summer of 2021 finds us once again, relatively unrestricted, enjoying socially distanced events, but still cautious. 

Each year on August 10th, Barga celebrates the great poet Giovanni Pascoli, who adopted Barga as his home, and honored it in much of his poetry, with a grand event with the reading of his poetry, and music. 

The significance of the date is three fold. Pascoli’s father was assassinated in his carriage on August 10, 1867, an event which influenced much of his poetry. In 1896 he published the poem entitled 

‘X agosto’ to commemorate the date and emphasize his three principle themes, the nest/hearth, suffering and injustice. 

The second element of the date of August 10th is the commemorative date of the death of San Lorenzo, a venerated martyr, deemed saint who was purportedly burned on a specially cast gridiron on August 10, 258 during a purge by Roman authorities under edict by Emperor Valerian. He was known for his generosity and compassion for the poor, indigent, and physically suffering.

The feast day of San Lorenzo, August 10 is also known as the Night of the Shooting Stars.  The Perseids meteor shower is most visible from about the 9th to the 13th of August each year. Pascoli’s poem references it as the tears of San Lorenzo, weeping for a swallow who is killed in mid-flight to her nest, leaving her brood parent-less, just as he and his family were left in abject despair after his father’s assassination. 

Shooting stars have also often been associated with wish making. If you wish upon a star, as the song goes, has inspired hope in many a dreamer. 

Since the early 1990’s the Perseid meteor shower has been most visible from the 11th until the 13th of August, particularly in the just pre-dawn hours. So, yes, wish upon the shooting stars on the 10th, the official Night of the Shooting Stars, and as we transition from looking from the inside out we can still appreciate watching the fascinating swallows and the shooting stars, and have time until the 13th to make that wish.