Buildings

Peaceful Piero

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Up a winding and sometimes hair-raisingly narrow road from Luino, the twice-a-week bus takes us to the village of Curiglia. The bus driver beeps before especially blind corners, but in several places it is a matter of inching past the oncoming vehicle, or in the old towns, of one backing up until room is found to pass.

We are met by our hostess for the week, Nicoletta, who saves us a walk of several kilometres by a lift to the car parking place, from where we walk several more kilometres to the ancient tiny village of Piero, seen here from the path above it.

We clatter over the Ponte di Piero bridge across the Giona river, as clear and fast flowing as one would expect of a mountain stream.

The path climbs through impossibly green creekside clearings, where several dairy cows lumber, their cowbells clunking.  Beside a smaller fast  downhill creek, the path becomes steeper and stonier… and slower!

And we are here at Baito Kedo, the heart of Piero and our home for a week.

Part of the Valley of Veddasca’s agritourism network, it offers walkers a place to rest in charming shady surroundings, drink coffee, beer or wine, eat delicious local food, or stay in the Hut, as we will.

Nicoletta is a really good cook, able to whisk up tasty dishes even for vegetarian me, or a fabulous layered torta from their own mulberries, and a heavenly local yoghurt with berries and ginger that could become an addiction. In the village, Alessandro makes such great goats’ cheese that we buy three sorts.

In our Hut, downstairs the kitchen looks on to the restaurant terrace.

Upstairs, the view from our large bedroorn window takes you past the higgledy-piggledy roofs to the mountains. I am entranced by the vertical stones used to support the chimney’s roof. I will soon learn why most things are made from stones.

Like most alpine villages, the stone houses are small, lean on each other and cling to the steep slope.

Chinese jasmine spills over many walls, while hydrangeas and oleanders show how much they love this summer.  Winters are rarely cold enough here anymore for snow, we are told. Climate change? But you would see the snow covered mountains nearby.

The ‘road’ through Piero is for feet, not cars, and stones are used to help the climb and slow water flow. The stones here are amazingly flat, perfect for houses and walls and paths. Some roofs are made from slate stones, quarried elsewhere and often carried by the women in ancient times, Nicoletta tells us.

Of course there is a church, small but well cared for, although the priest can only come twice a year.

Water runs freely… and free … and is cool and clean.

So why and how am I here in this fairly isolated place?

My friends Paola Cassoni and Ian Hoch, Bimblebox carers, lived here about 40 years ago, when it was going through what might be called a ‘hippy’ stage. When I said I wanted to visit less cities and palaces, and more nature, they suggested Piero.

Some of their old friends still live here, like Ambrogio (above in the photo taken by Trish) herbalist and native plant guru, and the generous Gigi, who could speak English, and gave us his time … and from his garden lemon balm and rose petals to make tea. 

Ian Hoch credits Ambrogio with being the reason why he is so passionate about preserving Nature and BImblebox, and about teaching others to do the same.

Ambrogio also makes magical gates from nature’s sculptures, timber found in the forest. Trish was admiring this one, the entry to his own garden.

Living Castello

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The castle that most appealed to me was the closest to my friend’s home in Salsomaggiore. It is the Castello di Tabiano, just down the hill and atop another, up a winding road.

Even from the outside, the castle looks well kept, with very old and large trees gracing its edges. Early on this Sunday, there were only three of us to be guided through the Castle by the amiable and well informed Claire, who spoke English very well.

It was originally a military fort built by the Pallavicino family around the year 1000 to oversee the lucrative salt trade, where the salt was extracted from the thermal waters of Salsomaggiore and Tabiano and taken by horse to barges destined for Milan or Venice. It had a moat and a drawbridge and could house within its walls all the animals needed for fresh milk, eggs and meat, enough for the village and troops to survive even a year-long siege. The rainwater cisterns are still used today.

Bought by Giacomo Corazza in the late 19th century, it took 20 years of restoration by about 70 craftsmen to turn the abandoned fortress into the gracious home of today. Having made his fortune in London from ice cream and ice, Giacomo went on to turn the castle and its surrounding hectares into a highly productive farm: wheat, wine and cheese.

It was only 10 years ago that the castle and its village, its piggery and dairy, were transformed into a beautiful venue for weddings, events and conferences, plus a hotel and a restaurant. Even 25 years ago the family was still farming here.

And members of the family remain in residence.

It is this sense of continued life, with so much equipment so recently stilled, that imbues the castle with its special ambience.

Of course a chapel had to be added for the family, and the shallow horse-friendly steps were replaced by a grand staircase in pink marble.

Although the stables became the wine cellars, the horse history is still there, with the tack room looking as neat and ready as it once must have.

The whole castle was built to follow the rock beneath, with the rainwater cisterns using that rock; the rose garden with its stunning views is actually atop an icehouse cave, where snow would be brought in, squeezed into ice, sprinkled with straw and sand, and raised as needed.

The 1800s’ passion for exotic plants brought such trees as palms and Lebanese cedars, and the micro-climate created by the sea breeze, albeit from 50 kms away, ensures their survival.  That lavender at the base of the palms apparently kills bacteria that attack palm trees.

In the area where the family lives, chandeliers of Venetian glass illuminate grand ceilings, in rooms like the Ballroom, the Hunting Room and Dining room, filled with treasures and tastes brought with them from London. Here Claire is noting the fireplace lined with turquoise majolica tiles.

Certainly the Ballroom, or Mirrored Room, is impressive, with enormous and elaborately framed mirrors from London.

But my favourite room was the Children’s Room, pleasantly and charmingly decorated as their playroom.

The family has great plans for further restoration, including of the Corazza greenhouses that had used the Roman grottoes under the walls. I’d like to come back in five years and see… and perhaps stay in the hotel and enjoy the history and the view up close…

Much about Castello di Tabiano will remain etched in my mind.

Thanks Claire!

A castle or two

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Castles are all different; like the old ad said,’Oils ain’t oils’.

This one, outside Parma, is the 15th century Torrechiara, and open for us to enter.

A steep cobbled ramp led up to the main entry, past where the portcullis would have been lowered against the enemy.

Of course it has sweeping views over the country that would have been under its protection.

This included the village within its hilltop realm, needed to house the workers and artisans to run this fort-cum-villa.

From the broad tiled loggia or verandah, I can look down on the roof below and admire the ancient lichened terracotta tiles.

It has the usual central courtyard and well, which all look quite simple, almost monastic. Inside is another matter.

Yep, frescoes galore for the family’s living and entertainment rooms, but they were very different to the religious ones with which I’d been swamped. So much skill and talent had been at the disposal of these wealthy families.

I loved that this one featured jugglers and acrobats.

And I especially loved the beautiful ceilings of these four connected rooms, depicting birds at different times of the day.

But the defensive purpose of this place was brought home by the incredibly heavy-looking armour and weaponry, The soldiers must have been short, judging by the breastplates, and I hoped the fellow on the left had a matching codpiece.

Safe within their fortress, protected by their short soldiers, I could imagine the pleasure of being surrounded by ceilings and walls painted with fascinating scenes.  For a time…

But I found myself yearning for at least one more restful and less demanding room, with plain white walls and just a few pictures.

The next castle, my favourite, was quite different, as you will see next post!

Elegant Parma

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If I thought Cremona was grand, Parma is more so. If I’d only associated Parma with ham or Parmesan cheese, I have had a major shift of associations. I now also know Verdi belongs here. It is an elegant midsized city, with many boutiques and parks and cafés. And of course, churches.

This being a personal take on my travels and not a travelogue, I will share glimpses like this one as much as grand buildings. This elderly lady had been feeding the pigeons with bread chunks, much as she would have had in her café latte for breakfast.

Parma is well-maintained, its historic buildings constantly being cleaned and refurbished, as seen on the octagonal Baptistry.

Certainly the Cathedral was grand, but I am finding the gold and arches and frescoes are beginning to blur. I did see a relief sculpture by Benedetto Antelami that was a first in using more natural representations in flow of robes and position of limbs.

This church is especially famous for its groundbreaking Correggio dome fresco, with its unusual perspective, from below, and where for the first the bare legs and implied bare bottom of the Christ are shown. It caused a great stir at the time, but he was truly avant garde and opened the way for others.

I preferred the later Benedictine Monastery, with its simpler lines and central well, where water was drawn that had been collected from the roof.

The Monastery has a famous library, with an adjoining room of arches and unusually simple frescoes, commemorating the translation of the bible into the four languages of Latin, Greek, Hebrew, and Syriac.

It does have a church; way too grand for monks, I thought.

In its Correggio dome fresco, of the Vision of St. John (San Giovanni), painted after the infamous one, the perspective is still from below, but the exposure of bare limbs is toned down.

The octagonal Baptistry used lovely pink and white marble from Verona in its  construction. Inside, its open space soars to a high frescoed dome, with a central large baptismal font designed for adults. The astrological sculptures, again by the trailblazing Antelami, have been moved from the upper galleries to the ground floor.

But for me the highlight of this building’s treasures is the atypically realistic Madonna and her atypically playful Child.

Cremona the contradictory

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Of course the Town Hall was not open for me to see inside… or not until the afternoon when I’d be gone. Indeed the official looked horrified when I asked. But I can’t be sure if this was at my Italian or the idea of a morning opening.  So I wandered.

Cremona celebrates both its famous sons: composer Monteverdi and violin maker Stradivari. There is a Monteverdi Festival occurring: as this banner proclaims, ‘It is not Cremona without Monteverdi.

In his own piazza stands a statue of Stradivari; I liked that his tools were included at his feet.

I saw several music schools and violin makers’ shops, and at least 6 people carrying cases for stringed instruments large and small. Music matters in Cremona.

As do statues. They are everywhere, of every possible subject and in every possible position.

Alongside and atop the statues are pigeons; beneath are bicycles.

Cremona, on the rich agricultural plains of the Po River, is flat, so many people cycle about. They seem to weave effortlessly amongst the pedestrians in the narrow streets as much as the large squares.

The squares or piazzas also host edging cafés… and newspaper stands, just as in Martin Place.

I was able to visit one museum, the Museo Diocesano, modern and well-arranged, full of paintings and statues of Madonnas and Nativity and Crucifixion scenes.

As befits a town first established by the Romans in 218 B.C., cars are banned from its historical centre. Streetside parking is facilitated beyond that. I note that fuel is almost twice the price as in Australia. My friend says that applies to everything in Italy…

I am not sure about access in the old town for the many villas and what seem to be  elegant and ancient equivalents of gated communities.

 I am finding the lack of public toilets somewhat of a problem; how many times must I have a coffee so as to use their toilet? In the biggest café opposite the Duomo, I am surprised that the only toilet is a porcelain-rimmed hole in the floor. I back out; surely I am in the Men’s by mistake? But no, it is the only one.

Ah, Cremona! Ah, Italy…

I do manage to keep the Duomo in sight, do not get lost and even catch the right bus back. As soon as I see the Piacenza hills in the distance, I find myself thinking, ‘Nearly home’.  After three weeks, Salsomaggiore does feel like ‘home’.

Ten centuries on…

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Appropriately high for defending from invaders, with the Piacenza Hills in the background, the Castle Vigoleno remains impressive. In wonderful condition, given it was built in the 10th century, it stayed in the one family for five centuries or so.

It is a grand and sprawling ridgetop complex, really a fortified medieval village, with a classy restaurant, San Giorgio, I assume named after St George of dragon-slaying fame, as on the crest. We could not see inside the apparently gorgeously appointed event centre venue and hotel rooms, nor tour the castle.  Wrong day.

But we could wander down the cobbled alleys past occupied houses and admire the views of the valleys far below.

And we could enter the 12th century church, a mere eight centuries old!

This Madonna puzzled us; why is she standing on unhappy heads, and why is the bellringer for lepers beside her? If I find out, I’ll let you know…

The church was dark, but its massive supporting columns loomed large. My arms could not reach around such a solid bulk.

Here I have to confess that en route to this Castello Vigoleno my camera settings dial must have been bumped so all the outside photos were overexposed.  Sorry: mi dispiace! But you can get an idea of its grandeur. This is the main courtyard, with the restaurant and fabulous view beyond.

The distinctive swallow-tailed tops or merlons were for sheltering behind as you fought through the slits. Iron grilles would have been lowered at the entry to the outer walls and to the main castle.

This is prized wine grape growing country, and no matter how steep, the soil of these hills are planted with best loved varieties, like Gutturnio.  These vines are growing beneath the walls of the much more modest Castello Scipione. Also built about ten centuries ago, it has remained in the hands of the one noble family.

Of more homely appearance, Castello Scipione is also in greater need of repairs, with the typical narrow  Italian bricks jostling with stones to shore up damage. As I walk over its rough cobbled lanes, I am somewhat overwhelmed to think of the feet that have walked here before me, so very long ago.

When we owned the old jail and residence at Minmi, I had the same feeling about the hollows worn in its slate steps… and it was less than 200 years old!