Finding my voice: From tourist to translator at a Tuscan paper museum

I so admire the people who can translate a rapid-fire speech on the fly, and I’ve always wished that I could do the same. One would think that after living in Italy for three months a year for 14 years, I’d be able to do this, but I haven’t been up to the task. Until this past Saturday. Well, sort of.

Lucy and I went to the Museo della Carta di Pescia, a museum dedicated to preserving the centuries-old craft of handmade paper. Our group leader, Gina Natucci, had arranged a special tour that included a paper-making demonstration led by a true “Master of Paper,” Alessio. Since the demonstration required a native Italian speaker, someone needed to translate for the group. I took a deep breath and stepped up.

This shows a portion of the giant hammers powered
by a water wheel that were used to pound on old
rags soaked in water. Eventually, this turned the
rags into a fibrous pulp used to make paper.

And I did it! As Alessio guided us through the historic building, explaining the function of each intricate machine, I found a rhythm, turning his Italian explanations into English. A couple of times I had to pause and ask him to clarify a term, but to the American group, I hope I appeared perfectly competent.

I must taper my celebration just a bit. The task was made infinitely easier by the visual aides. It was one thing to know that a martello is a hammer, a ruota a wheel, and a stampa a press; it was another to have Alessio pointing right at them as I spoke. The magnificent, hulking machines did much of the heavy lifting for me.

Alessio dipped a special screen into
a vat filled with pulp and skillfully
removed it, magically creating a
perfect piece of paper, complete with
a watermark from the screen.

I’m still keenly aware that I can’t translate a complex sermon on theology or a political speech. I know this because I often try to translate in my mind and find myself stumbling when the speaker expresses an idea I only partly grasp myself. In those moments, I’m secretly relieved nobody has put me on the spot. But for today, I’m going to pat myself on the back for a successful first flight.

The museum itself is a fascinating window into an industry that once defined this region. As Alessio explained, the Valleriana—the valley above Pescia—was once home to more than 25 paper factories. The area was perfectly suited for this industry, with a stream providing hydraulic power and warm valley breezes for drying the paper sheets. Today, many of the old mill buildings still stand, though only three are still in production. Others have been converted into homes and hotels, while some stand as silent, empty monuments to a bygone era.

After creating the pages, Alessio
squeezed out much of the water
in this press.

Our tour began in a multimedia room with a 3D model of the four-story building, where Alessio explained the function of each level: the ground floor for collection and conversion of the fibers to a pulp and creating a raw form of the paper, another for gluing, trimming and other refinements, one for the workers’ quarters and the upper floor for drying. From there, we walked through the historic rooms where Alessio gave us a hands-on demonstration. Using cotton fibers, he masterfully created four new sheets of paper, showing us how they were pressed to remove water and then hung to dry. The final stage, he explained, would be applying a special glue to give the paper strength before a final drying.

If You Go:

·      The Museo della Carta di Pescia is well worth the price of admission.

·      Location: Via Mammianese Nord nn. 229-231, Pietrabuona, Comune of Pescia, Province of Pistoia.

·      Hours: Open Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday from 10:00 a.m. to 6:00 p.m.

·      Cost: €12 for a tour with the director, €15 for a tour with a paper master (like Alessio). Reduced prices are available for students and seniors.

·      Here is a link to the website, which also has an English version: Museo della Carta di Pescia.

The paper mill included a number of skilled craftsmen besides paper makers, including a clever engineer/mechanic who created this unique machine to turn paper into envelopes. The vats to hold the water were hand carved out of large boulders of a local rock called pietra serena.