12 minute read
Book Reviews
THE GOOD LEFT UNDONE
By Adriana Trigiani
Advertisement
With her patented flair for descriptive language, author Adriana Trigiani delivers an emotional tale that will touch the heart of all readers. The story will pull you in from the start and not let go until you’ve read its final words.
The Good Left Undone opens in Viareggio, a seaside Tuscan town whose allure deters its inhabitants from ever leaving. For Domenica Cabrelli, however, it is not her choice—she must leave. Her departure coincides with the onset of World War II, which complicates any possible return to the town she loves. Her travels take her all the way to Scotland, where she discovers a thriving enclave of Italian immigrants.
But with Fascist Italy’s alliance to Germany and formation of the Axis Powers, Scotland’s Italian population finds themselves on the wrong side, living in a country that is at war with their homeland—much as Italian immigrants in the United States experienced. In this, Trigiani brings an historical perspective on what befalls the Italians of Scotland—which in some ways mirrors that of the Italians on the West Coast of the United States and all Italians across the country who were suddenly labeled “enemy aliens.”
Throughout the novel, Trigiani builds strong female characters—from Netta to Domenica, Matelda to Anina—who represent several generations of a single family spanning from 1920s to the present. It is the will of these characters—and a focus on the importance of returning to one’s roots and passing on family history—that carries this epic until the story reaches a poignant crescendo that produces perhaps the most emotionally gripping pages that Trigiani has ever written.
Of course, not all will be lost, as there is clearly much beauty to be had in experiencing Florence absent its customary crowds. You will learn about the finer things in life—history, art, food, wine, etc.—that only a city such as Florence can offer. A frequent visitor of the city, Piccigallo offers educational lessons in a variety of areas, including many of its customs. He’ll also introduce you to several Florentines that he’s befriended over many years.
And while being in a city as beautiful as Florence amidst a pandemic may be bittersweet, Piccigallo will make one thing clear: whatever the situation, it’s always better with man’s best friend by your side (and a loving wife, too!).
LOCKED DOWN IN FLORENCE
By Philip R. Piccigallo
They arrived in Florence ten days before Italy declared a national lockdown—then they couldn’t leave. This is what author Philip Piccigallo and his wife, Rose, along with their Wire Fox Terrier—aptly named Dante—faced upon arriving for what was to be their dream trip: four months in Florence. With an apartment overlooking the Arno River and located just steps from Ponte Vecchio, they quickly saw their lifelong dream disappear into COVID reality.
Piccigallo will take you on a walk through Florence amidst the pandemic, recounting the experience of what it was like in Italy and the emotional rollercoaster that came with being in a beautiful but foreign city during multiple lockdowns. The initial confusion that led to strict measures. The melancholy of empty markets. The luxury items that suddenly became worthless. He will present a perspective of what life was like in a desolate city that thrives off tourism.
DID YOU KNOW?
The Uffizi Gallery was originally built for Cosimo I de’ Medici to serve as an office building for Florentine magistrates.
Visit www.osia.org to find a selection of recent books written by OSDIA members!
As I watched other countries around the world close their borders in 2020, I mourned the cancellations of multiple trips abroad that my husband and I had planned for that year. It’s no surprise that the COVID-19 pandemic has drastically changed how we live, work, and travel.
But as the world emerged from its first pandemic winter, so did the news that Europe could be reopening to tourism in the coming spring. The thought of a summer trip abroad suddenly seemed possible, and I knew without a doubt where I would return, if given the chance. Needless to say, we anxiously booked our flights to Rome for July 2021, and no other destination could have felt as right as this one.
The morning of our flight, we checked in with relative ease after our COVID tests and other required documents were verified by the airline agents. As we boarded the plane, I had the biggest smile under my mask just listening to the flight attendants chatter in German—a foreign language!—to one another. With that, we toasted our glasses of champagne as the plane rumbled down the runway, and we were off to Europe for the first time in nearly two years.
Seventeen hours later, my jetlagged body was met with the smell of espressos and fast-talking, fast-walking Italians as we made our way through Rome’s airport. I held brief, friendly conversations in Italian with our driver while gazing out the backseat window and admiring the old walls of Vatican City coming into view. Once we turned onto a narrow cobblestone street, our driver sweetly pointed out several restaurants and a gelateria that we should try, all while effortlessly dodging Vespas and pedestrians. I was finally back in a place that I loved and knew so well.
We emerged from our bed and breakfast the next morning to a nearly empty street – a calmness not normally felt in Italy’s bustling capital city. We meandered just several minutes down and around a corner as the sound of splashing water greeted our ears. Piazza Navona’s famous fountains were the first things I heard that late morning as we walked through Rome. A popular city square that is normally filled to the brim with tourists, Piazza Navona, instead, sat idle with only a flock of pigeons, a few curious individuals, and the simple sound of running water.
Rome wasn’t completely deserted, but the volume of tourists was substantially less than in past years. We were lucky enough to have been awarded two of just a handful of coveted spots to plunge beneath the Vatican itself and experience a hidden necropolis that not many know exists. After being screened by Swiss Guards, we put on our required N-95 masks, donned a pair of provided plastic gloves, and followed our guide through a five-foot tall door that led us farther underground.
The author stands at the Fountain of Neptune in an empty Piazza Navona.
What once was an open-air street in ancient Rome was now a dark and haunting network of centuries-old tombs, including the supposed tomb of San Pietro, after whom the basilica was named. What little air we did have down there was thick and damp, and it made breathing through the N-95 mask feel suffocating. As moisture from the high humidity accumulated inside our gloves, we were guided by flashlight deeper through this winding city street that once was.
We passed briefly through a small, hidden chapel adorned in golden frescoes where only a few nuns, Cardinals, and the Pope himself have the privilege of attending a daily Mass. We finally emerged to intense sunlight, stripping off our masks after spending the last hour below ground.
That evening, Rome treated us to an exceptional Italian dinner while we sat at our tiny table surrounded by plexiglass—a unique twist to the usual ambiance. The following morning’s early train ride proved uneventful aside from the dozens of posted signs reminding us to wear our masks. We wanted to take advantage of the small crowds to see other places outside of the Eternal City, and the town of Tivoli was at the top of our list. While Tivoli is known for its historic sites, many visitors flock to the popular Villa d’Este for its famous Renaissance gardens and stunning fountains.
As we hopped off the train with a small group of people, we began the near vertical hike towards the town’s highest point. The farther we walked through the town, the fewer people we saw walking around. They casually turned off onto side streets, perhaps returning to their apartments. Were we the only tourists?
After a quick temperature check on the forehead, we were welcomed through the entrance of Villa d’Este, which sat proudly perched on the edge of this Renaissance town. The villa was originally commissioned by Cardinal Ippolito II d’Este in 1550, who, at the time, was also the governor of Tivoli. His endeavor to create one of the most stunning places on Earth was realized over many decades, and UNESCO has even deemed the villa and its gardens as one of the most remarkable architectural feats from 16th-century Italy. It would prove to be an influential leader for the development of other prestigious gardens around Europe.
The villa itself was filled with dizzying frescoes and colossal windows that overlooked the surrounding valley. We strolled from room to room—no lines, no crowds— until we finally reached the terrace that introduced us to Tivoli’s world-renowned gardens. The mist from its 500 fountains came as welcome relief from that hot summer day as we continued deeper into the garden. From one terrace to the next, we were met with a row of regal fountains placed among perfectly groomed shrubs. I was snapping pictures left and right with no need to wait my turn or pause for a large group to pass. Villa d’Este was captivating and peaceful without the throngs of people that I imagine were usually there.
Our evening back in Rome was brief as we had early arrangements the following morning. I couldn’t forget about the looming task of getting a negative COVID test before returning stateside. Ironically, the only line of people that I encountered during our entire trip was to get my COVID test. What ended up being a two-and-a-half hour wait ultimately ended with our negativo results—travel gold in today’s world.
We spent our final day in post-lockdown Italy in the town of Orvieto. It’s one of those cities that some recognize, but many do not. As we approached Orvieto’s
The author’s husband approaches the imposing Fontana dei Quattro Fiumi in Piazza Navona
One of Villa d’Este’s regal fountains overlooks the garden.
fortified cliffs from our train, the town sat poised, high above the surrounding valley on a plateau of tufo volcanic stone. Its naturally formed façade was striking, and what awaited us at the top of the funicular was a charming and perfectly preserved old town. Orvieto’s history dates back to the time of the Etruscans when its surrounding sheer cliffs provided a natural defense from the Romans. The locals still refer to it as “the rock” due to its imposing height and presence.
After a period of desertion and abandonment, Orvieto was revived in the Middle Ages with the 300-year construction of its prized il duomo, and many have claimed it to be one of Europe’s greatest examples of Romanesque Gothic architecture. Today, the cathedral is surrounded by artisanal shops, tiny restaurants, and wine bars tucked away in centuries-old buildings.
What lies beneath Orvieto’s streets is a massive network of underground caves and tunnels– many of which originated from the Etruscans. We visited the Pozzo della Cava, which is a portion of Orvieto’s underground that held a large complex of pottery kilns and a 118-foot deep well, or pozzo, that supplied water to those hiding below the streets when Orvieto was under siege. Even centuries later, the caves have stood the test of time, as they were also used as bomb shelters during World War II.
When we arrived to explore the caves for ourselves, the man at the entrance politely asked for our green cards—the EU’s designated digital health pass. I explained how we were Americans and did not qualify for this, but I handed him our flimsy CDC cards as an alternative. After a few moments of intensely studying them, he nodded with a simple, “Si, certo.”
The farther underground we walked, the more it echoed. I felt like I had to whisper because of the intense acoustics, but why? Once again, we were the only ones venturing through this winding network of caves. Remnants of old pottery and corners filled with crumbling bricks for kilns still lay sprinkled throughout the caves. I could see the rough hashes along the walls where people in past centuries worked with rudimentary tools. Handmade pottery is still a beloved craft in Orvieto, and it’s obvious that a trade once viewed as a necessity in this town has continued on in the form of art.
We then descended alongside the base of Orvieto’s cliffs in order to reach the Etruscan Necropolis of Crocifisso del Tufo. This open-air museum is the home to over 200 Etruscan tombs and a true testament of their ancient civilization. We had been walking under the blistering sun for half an hour to get here, and despite both my husband and I nearly sweating through our shirts, the gatekeeper insisted that we have our temperature taken after he, too, carefully studied our vaccination cards for approval. One by one, we stood in front of the screen that prompted us to lean forward. It immediately flashed red and yelled angrily in Italian to indicate that we were too hot to enter. The gatekeeper simply rolled his eyes and waved us onward.
We were given free rein to wander the grassy fields that held this gridwork of overgrown streets, steps, and tombs. I was amazed by the grandiosity of these ancient structures and the fact that—yet again—we were exploring them all alone.
Five days in Italy had come and gone, and as we waited to board our flight home the following morning, I thought about how much I appreciated the challenges it took to get here in order to reap the reward of Italy. There’s a saying in Italian—dolce far niente—which is a way to express a form of “pleasant idleness.”
With this trip, I truly felt that. And I think Italy has felt it as well.
Tiffany is a fellow globetrotter, writer, and photographer when not on the clock as a healthcare provider. Catch her out in the garden curating her own olive trees or at a nearby cat cafe planning her next bucket list destination.
