Still Chasing the Winter Sun

It’s only Monday and I really feel like I’ve been on the road for weeks. As I thought about the  journey so far I realise that I have in the shortest amount of time in fact travelled from Italy’s big toe to her breast. Yesterday I was sitting in her armpit in Genova. 

Not that long ago I stumbled across an article written about the Monumental Cemetery of Staglieno in Genova (otherwise known as Genoa in our Australian Atlases). Now why should I be attracted to this particular cemetery you may well ask? I would like to respond but only to begin by saying I’m not a morbid person, I’m not into the likes of ghouls, zombies, or ghosts, though I’m definitely into the eternal and everlasting heavenly life. I was attracted to the monument of Caterina Campodonico the “Hazelnut Seller”. It’s a story of a woman who lived an incredibly humble existence eke-ing out a living as a street vendor selling hazelnuts and making biscuits native to the region. One of our brilliant Australian journalists in an article, told the story of the life of this unknown woman who in fact saved all her life, commissioning during her living years one of the most important artists, Lorenzo Orengo” to sculpt her memorial. This is not an egotistical decision but more like a payback for members of her family who left her to fend for herself and not knowing how much she has accumulated labouring. Please do not think that this is a simple sculpture it is an expensive and extravagant museum piece, a work of art. 

When Massimo suggested taking me Genova having previously mentioned it to him in the lead up to my trip, I was absolutely over the moon. If I took the time to write one then this was at the top of my bucket list, all I had to do was sell the idea of visiting a cemetery. This is not an easy thing to do, my strike rate for convincing Italians to take me to a cemetery is not high, in fact it’s sub zero as a percentage. I sold this activity as a visit to the museum rather than a resting place of the dearly departed ancestors of many. Silly I know but this was a dream come true.

I’m going to let the images speak for themselves, however I will add that this cemetery has been around for close to 300 years, it is 1 sq km ie. 250 acres and holds over 115,000 graves. As far as I’m concerned it is one of most incredible museum of the world, an exhibition of the works of unparalleled artists.

So who else is buried here? Does anyone know of Constance Mary Lloyd? Maybe not, but you certainly know Constance’s husband, Oscar Wilde. The philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche is entombed here as are writers such as Guy De Maupassant, Ernest Hemingway and Mark Twain. The Empress Elisabeth of Austria more commonly known as “Sissi” is also memorialised here.  Please note: I did not see nor look for the graves of Mark Twain and Ernest Hemingway and yes they have graves in other places too.

Massimo has since repeatedly said to friends and acquaintances “it would take a week to take in all that there is too see and fully appreciate”, and I would concur, but as we are both sporting leg issues we spent an all too brief 90 minutes seeing all that we could in that time. I’ve taken a gazillion photos I’d love to bore you with, but won’t. Unless of course you ask! Haha!

I do want to tell you though about a great fellow we met at the gate offering assistance, because clearly Massimo and I both looked rather awestruck by the sheer enormity of the place. This chap offered a booklet on the history of Staglieno and a double sided map A3, I’ll tell you right here and now Cristoforo Colombo (you know him, the Genovese). He’s the chap who circumnavigated the world and accidentally discovered the world really was round not flat. Yep, that guy! I’m pretty sure Chris’s map of the world was not as great as the map of the cemetery. Our new found friend who in actual fact is a security guy, decided to give us a tour of at least half a dozen graves. Is that even allowed? He’s on security? I can’t image the dead wanting to get out now that they’ve been here for so long and I’m pretty sure grave robbing no longer happens. Now there’s a head scratching moment?!

I am sorry I didn’t ask his name but I can say he lived in Manchester, England for 7 years and a decent fellow regardless. I thanked him as we left telling him he is really working in a museum, which must have really touched him because he came across and in gratitude embraced me. Wow! Some people are easily pleased, I think he needed a lift that day.

“Genova”, Massimo says, “is a place of great contrast”, it is dangerous to move in certain quartieri (districts) where a corrupt element of officials i.e.constabulary also exist. Admittedly, it made me squirm a bit as I looked at our environment, it’s not the best view of Genova, I had another picture in my mind. But Massimo parked the car (he gets very irritated looking for parking spaces I’ve notice), he’s keen to go to a friend’s trattoria that he used to frequent when he worked in the prison here. He hasn’t seen these people since 1996, it’s Sunday so almost everything is closed and all I can think of is …..dangerous quartieri, corrupt police, we’re walking the street looking for a trattoria and everything is closed because it’s Sunday! Ma dai Massimo! But the trattoria is open, it took only a minute for him to be recognised and all or any thoughts of the above have fallen away. It was touching to see how warmly my friend was gathered to his friends of 27 years ago. The food was good but sometimes our appetite is more replete when we are witnessing human reactions and emotions. 

The last to spot Massimo was the patriarch of the family, aged and walking with a cane. It took minutes to recognise and make a connection, oh but when he did… so satisfying. Mass said in 1996 the old man was working the trattoria and the sons, young then, we’re now grey haired, and their mother still worked hard behind the front counter. Such exuberance a joy to witness. 

I can’t tell you how many kilometres we covered yesterday but we seemed to drive all day on the autostrada all the way to Genova and driving part of the way back on the backroads through amazing villages and settlements undiscovered by tourist buses I’m sure.

I have discovered that there are absolutely no holds barred when it comes to driving anywhere in Italy. Drivers are crazy! Speed cameras are everywhere but can you see them? If you don’t want a fine in the post when you get home, observing speed indicators is imperative. But regardless, drivers will risk it and not only that, but observing any kind of road regulations. Crossing unbroken lines single or double is a given, as is overtaking anywhere it suit; straight roads, curved roads, across double lines in the miles and miles of tunnels all the way to Genova. It’s crazy and frightening and I’m so very grateful to Massimo who drove with all care and responsibility totally unhurried by the impatience of others.

On another topic I’ve noticed when you’re comfortable in your friendship you begin to speak in signs. Massimo was on the phone speaking with Francesca, his friend and our BnB host, he points to the salad in the bowl without making eye contact, I give the slightest of nods and he draws the plate to himself enjoying what is left in the bowl while his conversation continues. I have to laugh when I think that Peter and I have known Massimo for 8 years. We live in Australia and he lives in Sardegna. In all the time we have known him we have spent a total of 2 weeks together. We first met in 2015, Massimo presented himself at our BnB in Pontremoli with the biggest watermelon I’ve ever seen and together with our BnB host we sat and had a watermelon party for 4 cementing our relationship. 

Finally, it has become abundantly clear to me that in terms of language I’m fluent but only in Aussie terms, I’m learning so much and retaining absolutely nothing. I’ve been in the midst of conversations where I’ve been too embarrassed to think I’m fluent let alone say it. In just 15 days I’ve travelled 7 provinces and exposed to more dialects than just from those areas. At times I’ve caught it all, sometimes only grasping every fifth word and I’ve had conversations where I’ve understood so little I couldn’t respond. Languages generally have changed so much, it has been expanded and modernised and I’m used to the old language of my parents. I’m going to have to do better for the next trip.

I’ll leave you here in Northern Tuscany until next time when I wind up what has been an amazing 2 weeks.

See you back in Rome 

Ciao!