A message to my grandchildren . . .

What is it like to be a parent and a grandparent? What is the one thing that is most important to a person of my age? I’ll try to explain this by starting with a story about a man name Michele Spadoni and his wife Anita Seghieri, my grandparents—your great great grandparents.

Michele Spadoni, surrounded by his seven children.

Michele was born in 1876 in Pescia, Italy. Michele’s family owned no property. His parents had no home of their own. They farmed other people’s property and had to pay rent in a house that had no indoor plumbing, an outdoor bathroom, no electricity, and was heated only by a fireplace. For their work on the farm, they were able to keep only 50% of the profits. The owner of the land kept the other 50%, even though he didn’t work. It was an unfair system, but for people who didn’t own their own land, it was almost the only option. Kids had to work in the fields with their parents. If they were lucky, they could go to grade school and learn to read, but most of them dropped out of school to help their families survive. One day when Michele was 11, he and his family were working in the fields in San Salvatore, just below Montecarlo. His 7-year-old sister Zelinda was home with their 90-year-old bed-ridden grandmother, and the fire in the fireplace caught the rest of the room on fire. The grandmother was too old to help Zelinda, who was trapped in the burning room. Zelinda was the fourth of Michele’s siblings to die young. Two other sisters and a brother died from illnesses that we would be able to cure today with modern medicine.

Anita Seghieri 

When he was in his 20s, Michele wanted to marry and raise a family of his own. He met and fell in love with an amazing young lady, my grandmother Anita Seghieri, who lived nearby. But he couldn’t marry her, for he had no money, no home, no education, no real occupation except farming. The economy in Italy was among the worst in all of Europe.

But Michele had a few things in his favor. His parents had taught him the value of working hard, and he was willing to do any job. Even though he didn’t have a strong education, he was very smart. And most of all, he was willing to experience new things. He was not afraid of adventure. Michele was 26 years old in 1903, and he had to find some way to make something of his life, some way to earn a living, some way to marry and raise a family. What do you think he did then?

He took a train to a seaport, Genoa, and then boarded a ship to America. The journey took about two weeks, and when he arrived, he had only $9. He spoke absolutely no English. The ship’s log listed his occupation as peasant, but then someone crossed out the word peasant and changed it to laborer. He found work in a steel mill, then as a cook, and then in a brick factory near Eatonville, Washington (see Clay City blog). After five years, he had earned enough money to go back to Italy and marry Anita. Unfortunately, during the five years he worked in America, both his dad and mom died. After the marriage, Michele and Anita went back to America, where he worked in the brick factory for another five years. This time the ship’s log listed his occupation not as peasant or laborer but as operating engineer.

He and Anita lived in a little cabin next to the brick factory. Anita gave birth to two daughters, Nelda and Clara, and was pregnant with a third child. Michele and Anita planned to return to Italy and raise their family there. Anita went back to Italy first with her two daughters (ages 1 and 2), and while there she gave birth to a third daughter, Lola. But she saw that life in San Salvatore had not improved. She was happy to be with her parents, brothers and sisters and cousins again. It was comforting to be able to speak the language and understand the customs of the people around her. But she realized that there would still be no work for her husband, and no future for her children, so she sent a message to Michele: “Italy is where you and I feel most at home, but there is no future for our children here. Stay where you are. I’m coming back to America. It will be our home now.”

1914 was an eventful year for Michele and Anita. They had their fourth child, their first son, whom they named Giulio, but to make his name sound more American, they called him Julius. They also moved to a rented home at the head of the bay in Gig Harbor, Washington, and Michele started work at a metal refining company in Tacoma. He took a ferry to work, since there were few roads and no bridge connecting Gig Harbor to Tacoma. Sometimes he would stay in Tacoma for the entire work week and only come home on weekends. They bought property in Shore Acres, on the south end of Gig Harbor, and built their first house. They had three more boys, Roy (1915), Claude (1918) and Rudolph (1921).

Michele on his farm during
his latter years.

At the end of World War 2, the four boys, now young men, started their own business clearing land, making roads and delivering coal and fuel oil. Almost all their sons and their nephews worked for the company, which was called Spadoni Brothers. Julius was the eldest brother and the head of the company, but these brothers loved each other and made most decisions by consensus. Like their father Michele, they were honest, hardworking and intelligent, and their business was a huge success.

Julius was my father, and he was one of the most amazing men I’ve ever known. Before he started Spadoni Brothers, he worked as a logger and then a welder. He built his own house. He could repair his own cars. He had a strong faith in God, and he took his children to church every Sunday. He was a fine example of what a man should be.  I never once saw him get angry or raise his voice (although he told me that he sometimes did get angry when he was younger). He and his brothers and sisters helped many people in need. One time I stopped to help some people pull their car out of a ditch. I hadn’t told them my name, but afterwards they said, “You must be a Spadoni.” I don’t know how they knew that, but I like to think it was because that’s what all the members of the Spadoni family in Gig Harbor did—they helped people in need without asking for anything in return.

My mom taught kindergarten in our home so that she could be at home with her children and still contribute to the family income. Later, when all her children were in school, she took a job as a first-grade teacher. She inspired in me a love for reading, and I give her credit for teaching me to be a writer.

I don’t really know if my parents and grandparents look down from heaven to see how I’m doing today. Maybe they do, or maybe they’re too busy with whatever work God has given them to do in heaven, but it is my strong hope that they are proud of me. I want them to know that I appreciate all the sacrifices they made so that I could have a good education, a good job, a home of my own and a happy family. I also appreciate that they taught me to love God, they taught me kindness, honesty, the value of hard work, and the importance of getting a good education.

I think they would be terribly disappointed if I turned out to be lazy, or dishonest, or selfish, or cruel. Or if I took all the education they provided for me and wasted it by living foolishly. Or if I sold all the property I inherited and wasted the money on fleeting pleasures.

I wish my parents and grandparents had lived long enough to see what a successful career I had as a teacher, to see the awards we won for the newspaper, yearbook and literary arts magazine, to see that I wrote two books, to see that I was named journalism teacher of the year and career and technical education teacher of the year in the state of Washington.

And even more than that, to see that I’ve had a long, loving and successful marriage to an amazing woman, and to see the four amazing children that my wife and I brought up. My parents and grandparents centered all their efforts on their families, and it paid off. I believe they would look back on all the sacrifices they made and say it was all worthwhile.

And now I’m no longer the child but instead the grandfather, and the greatest reward for me is to glory in the successes of my children and grandchildren. I too made a lot of sacrifices, working at multiple jobs throughout my life, many of them at the same time. I’ve been a laborer, a dishwasher, a truck driver, a logger, a photographer, a graphic designer, a journalist, an author, a landlord and a business owner. By working so hard during my younger years, I’m now able to enjoy leisure time with my family. Nothing gives me greater pleasure or satisfaction than seeing that my children and grandchildren are happy and are forming habits that will make them experience the same successes that I’ve enjoyed. My children are already there—they are well established in successful and fulfilling careers. They are honest, hard-working, kind and loving. As for my grandchildren, it’s too early to know what kind of lives they will lead. Will they also grow up to be honest, hard-working, kind and loving? I fervently pray that they will. Nothing could make me happier than to see them become like their own wonderful parents.

I hope that my grandchildren, as they grow into adulthood, will also want to make their parents and grandparents proud. I hope they will be grateful for the loving way they are being raised by their parents, and that they will repay this devotion by embracing the values of their parents.

To my kids and grandkids, I say that you never, ever need to give me a gift for Christmas, my birthday or Father’s Day. That’s because the most priceless gift you can give me is to live a life that will make me proud. If you do that, it will assure me that my own life, and the lives of my parents and grandparents, have been worthwhile.

Wrapping up our most social excursion abroad . . .

On the top of El Castellot near Ferhan's school.

Our most recent soggiorno in Montecarlo has come to an end, and it has been different from any other. Different from the early years, when we focused on language classes, studying genealogy, writing, making quilts and learning our way around. We still need to learn to speak Italian better, and of course we still discover interesting new places each time. But the biggest change this year is that we had more social interactions than any other time.

Special friends at Mont Blanc, France.

We started the trip with a spectacular 10-day tour of the Alps with Greg and Robbie Heath, Gary and Joan Albert and new friends Thom and Billie Kight. This took us through five countries: Austria, Italy, Germany, Switzerland and France. From there, we took a Flix bus to Montecarlo, arriving Aug. 23. This was the first time we’ve been in Italy in August, and as expected, it was brutally hot!

Roger, Rosemary, Gina, Lisa

We met with a variety of cousins, some from the United States and some from Italy. Besides having my brother Roger and his family visit, I also enjoyed a wine tasting with Pam Wagner and her family. Pam is an American second cousin on the Seghieri side of the family. I had met her only one time previously in the states.

Davide and I on Mt. Piglione

Italian cousin Davide Seghieri and I climbed the dual peaks of Monte Piglione together, a memorable time of bonding. Claudio and David Del Terra stopped by on their bikes for a visit in our home. Rocky Ferraro and his companion Nia took time out from their extensive self-guided tour of Italy to visit with us.

Don dining at Pallini

Don Mansfield, an old friend from our days at the University of Washington, stayed with us for three days with his wife Kathryn. Two dear friends from our church in Gig Harbor stayed with us for a few days, and we had meals with several friends from our church in Altopascio. We’ve become friends with two amazing American ex-pat couples who have purchased old homes in Montecarlo and Tofori and have totally transformed them. We enjoyed time with a warm and witty British lady who lives in San Salvatore. We gave an informal tour of Montecarlo to a group of six American tourists who were accompanied by cousin Gina Natucci. Our downstairs neighbors stopped by for dessert and conversation, and one of our elderly neighbors invited us into her home for a chat. Sonny Blinkinsop, an ex-student of mine from Olympic High School and his wife joined us for a excursion to Svizzera Pesciatina and lunch at 3 Angeli in Pescia. We even had a visit from three people—Julie, Massi and Deborah—who were previously only Facebook friends but are now in-person friends.

Enjoying a gourmet dinner at the Festa del Vino with imported America friends Heather, Suzanne, Marcus and Thomas.

We spent some time with a relatively new friend, Shandra, who is working on the purchase of a convent in Vorno. We introduced her to Joseph and Aurelio from our Altopascio church at a dinner in our home.  Shandra is optimistic that the purchase can take place in 2025, and that the villa will become an important stop for pilgrims on the Via Francigena. This is a project that Lucy and I hope to become more involved with in future years.

We are gradually increasing our familiarity with people who own the restaurants and shops in Montecarlo These are not necessarily people we can count as friends, but it gives us a certain amount of comfort to realize we know their names and that they recognize us as residents.

We are wrapping up our European excursion with a week in Spain, together with Dan and Sandra and family (minus only Josie). We’ve watched Ferhan play a soccer match, toured his school, splashed in the Mediterranean Sea, shopped and hiked and rode bikes in the hills and plains between Barcelona and Terragona.

We’ve packed in a ton of exploring and socializing in our 11 weeks in Europe, and now we’re getting excited about returning to our equally amazing family, friends and home in Gig Harbor. We often say that two or three months away is just the right amount of time, because we are not rushed; we have time to see people, explore new sites and revisit old favorite places. Now, though, we can hardly wait to get back to home sweet home!

Our first doctor's office visit goes well

We reached another milestone today, our first doctor’s appointment under the Italian health care system. I enrolled us in the system a few weeks ago, but since we had no need at the time for a doctor, we didn’t ask for an appointment. But last week, Lucy came down with a cold and sore throat, and it worsened on Sunday, so much so that we canceled a planned lunch with some friends from church.

She rested all day Sunday, and by Monday morning, she had improved slightly, but we wanted to make sure that we were taking the right steps for continued improvement. I went to the doctor’s office in the morning, and the secretary told me to bring Lucy between 1 and 2 p.m. and get in line to see our assigned physician, Dr. Fulceri. We arrived seven minutes early, and at 1 p.m., Dr. Fulceri came out of his office and called several names. Apparently, about three people ahead of us actually had official appointments, and the rest of us would have to wait in the order that we had arrived. I’m not sure why the secretary hadn’t given us an official appointment, but we would be the first in line after the other appointments. Interestingly, a sign on the secretary’s desk said that her afternoon hours were from 3-7 p.m., so the doctor was operating with no secretary, no nurse, indeed no aides of any kind.

Dottor Fulceri

We had to wait about 40 minutes before the doctor came out and asked for the next case. Lucy and I went in together, and we were happy to find that Dr. Fulceri speaks a bit of English. Basically, we could describe Lucy’s issues in English and be understood, and likewise he could explain himself in Italian and we understood. He first looked us up on his laptop computer and saw that we were registered with him as new patients. After listening to Lucy’s lungs and looking in her throat, he concluded that the infection was limited to the area around her vocal cords. Since her symptoms had improved since yesterday, he recommended taking ibuprofen twice a day to reduce the swelling. He also looked at her Achilles heel, which has been bothering her since she strained it in August. He confirmed that it felt swollen and recommended an ultrasound to see if it is healing normally. However, since this is our last week in Italy, that will have to wait until we return to Gig Harbor.

Office hours for our medico

Overall, we felt reassured that our basic medical needs will be in good hands during the months we spend in Italy. Yes, the waiting room and doctor’s office were old and a bit shabby by American medical standards. There were no nurses or physician’s assistants, and only one part-time secretary. But our wait was not particularly long, and the doctor took his time, listened carefully and seemed knowledgeable, polite and compassionate. There was no fee, no request for our insurance information, and we had no paperwork to fill out, although the doctor did ask Lucy to bring in a list of her medications and doses the next time she visits. I can see why most Italians are quite satisfied with their medical system.

With so many incredible Tuscan restaurants, it’s hard to pick a favorite

Montecarlo has more than a dozen restaurants, all of five-star quality. I wish we had the budget to dine out more often, but we don’t. Besides that, Lucy is an excellent cook in her own right, and furthermore, it is possible to buy restaurant quality meals at a rosticceria, or tavola calda, places which provide what is basically home cooking to carry back to your dining room. We have one of these nearby in San Salvatore, the macelleria of Luigi Bianchi and his family (they will even deliver). And even the prepared food at the supermarkets is great here.

Angiolo shows off the mushrooms that we
will soon be eating.

But we do occasionally dine out, especially when we have visitors, and so we’ve tried about half of the restaurants. This week we tried one new to us, Ristorante dal Pallini, and we’d have to call it a new favorite. Considering the high quality of all the other restaurants, this is a strong statement in its favor. Just what impressed us so much? I’d have to say it was the welcoming congeniality of the family that owns and operates the place. The cook, Angiolo, came out of the kitchen to explain how he prepares his risotto and to show us the fresh porcini mushrooms that had just been delivered from the Garfagnana. His wife Gloria and son Rumen checked on us and chatted with us periodically throughout the meal. Our friends needed gluten-free meals, and Gloria and Angiolo suggested several possibilities. Angliolo even invited me inside to view his sparkling clean kitchen.

Kathryn digs into some
exquisite risotto ai funghi.

What can I say about the food? I am neither a gourmet nor a picky eater, but I can assure you that it was every bit as fresh, authentic and delicious as the other fine restaurants in Montecarlo, but a little less expensive. We were fortunate enough to have picked a perfect day to dine outside, under the shelter of a sun umbrella, but the restaurant also has ample inside dining space. Perhaps the greatest drawback (though not for us) is the unusual location. Frankly, we don’t know how it can compete, because the average visitor to Montecarlo would not even know it exists. It’s at the end of a moderately rough dirt road outside the city walls on the west side. Any tourist parking in the main lot would simply walk down the streets of the historic center and pick one of the more visible options.

Lucy chose an antipasto misto instead
of a primo piatto.

Pallini is about a five-minute walk from the Porta Nuova. Start at the end of via Roma, go down the stairs and continue about 50 meters on a rough and uneven gravel road. At the T, turn right and follow the dirt road about 200 meters. They are open for both lunch and dinner. We hope the word spreads, at least among the locals, of this exceptional restaurant. We’ll do our part to give it some business when our guests ask us out for a meal!

 

 

One more small step: Enrollment in the Italian health care system

After dragging my feet for a few years, I have finally enrolled in the Italian health care system. Lucy and I have divided our lives between Italy and the USA for 14 years now, and a question we’re sometimes asked is how we take care of our medical needs while abroad—a very good question, indeed. The short answer is that we took our chances that we wouldn’t come down with a major illness in Italy, not necessarily the smartest idea, but, per fortuna, it came out OK.

I retired from teaching in 2010 at age 57, and since Lucy and I are essentially the same age, we didn’t yet qualify for Medicare. To tide us over until we reached 65, we enrolled in Samaritan Ministries, a health care sharing program that saved us thousands of dollars while completely covering Lucy’s successful battle with breast cancer in 2013. We became residents in Italy in the 2016, so at that point we could have applied for the Italian tessera sanitaria, but by then we had enrolled in Medicare. This covered our medical needs while in the USA, but Medicare doesn’t provide health services overseas. Fortunately, we enjoy excellent health. We do our annual physicals and inoculations in the USA, and we knew that Italian hospitals would provide us with emergency treatment should a sudden accident or illness befall us while in Montecarlo.

One reason I didn’t enroll before is that I had received conflicting information about the cost. I didn’t want to pay an annual fee for something we probably wouldn’t need. But an additional reason is that I wasn’t sure how to do it, and I lacked confidence in my ability to wade through the bureaucracy with my still limited ability to communicate in Italian. However, as the years passed and my language ability improved, I realized these excuses were pretty flimsy. I just had to go to one of the ASL (Azienda Sanitaria Locale) offices and ask for help.

I chose an office near Lucca, about an hour-long bike ride. I could have taken the train, but I try to take a bike ride every sunny day, and this gave me a good destination. I had to go to three different offices before I found the right one, but once there, I easily explained what I wanted. I had all the right documents in hand for both me and Lucy: carta d’identità, codice fiscale and, for Lucy, her permesso di soggiorno. It turned out that residents under a certain income don’t have to pay anything. Within an hour of finding the right office, I received paper copies of our health cards.

The only problem is that the doctor assigned to us was in Segromino al Monte, eight miles from Montecarlo. That’s not far in car miles, but it would require us to go down the hill of Montecarlo and up another long hill. Google maps say it is 50 minutes away by bicycle, which is all we use for a good part of the time here. I had given the clerk the names of three doctors I knew in Montecarlo and Altopascio, but she said they had no openings. I asked her to give us any doctor near Montecarlo; she told me she could only search the list by name, not by location. She had already been looking for almost 10 minutes, so I felt obligated to say OK when she offered this doctor.

A few days later, I went on the ASL website to see if I could find a doctor in Altopascio who had openings for new customers, and I found five. Armed with this list, I rode off to another office, this time in Capannori, a little closer, only to be told that none of these doctors was actually available. However, there was a new young doctor just starting out in Altopascio, so I asked for and was granted a change to dottor Alessandro Fulceri.

Once back home, I did a web search to see if I could find his office and office hours. I found out that a well-known doctor in Altopascio had recently retired, and the ASL was not able to find a replacement. They advertised the opening a second time and received only one applicant, a third-year medical student. They granted him a provisional certificate, and he will serve in an out-patient clinic 18 hours per week in Altopascio while he continues his studies.

Dottor Fulceri

I’m happy to have a doctor closer to home and am not concerned about his lack of experience. New doctors are often more current on new techniques and procedures, and there’s a good chance he speaks some English if we have trouble communicating in Italian. Next week, I’ll ride to Altopascio to see if we can get an appointment to meet him and get the latest Covid vaccinations. Meanwhile, I feel a little swell of pride that I was able to surmount another hurdle without having to rely on my Italian friends.

 

Climbing Monte Piglione—this day could not have been better!

Davide and me on the northern
peak of Monte Piglione.

I had the privilege of hiking in the Alpi Apuane mountains Saturday with perhaps the second best guida turistica in Italy, Davide Seghieri (sorry, Davide, but the top tour guide is still your wife Elena). Of course, Davide is not actually a guide by profession, but he certainly chose an ideal destination and route, not to mention that he also ordered up perfect weather—clear and mild.

The rugged peak of Monte Croce, which is also visible from our terrazza. With a cameo appearance from a bird.

We drove together for about an hour northwest of Montecarlo, past the village of Pescaglia, before the road turned too rough to continue by car. We started hiking at an altitude of perhaps 600 meters (about 2,000 feet), and it took us about an hour and a half of steady hiking to reach the northern peak of Monte Piglione, which has an altitude of 1,233 meters (4,045 feet). We stayed at the top for a half hour while we ate a light lunch and marveled at the 360-degree view.

The weather-worn trailhead sign.

Because of the unusual clarity of the air, looking west we were able to see the Ligurian sea and the cities of Viareggio, Pisa, Livorno and La Spezia. We could also faintly see through a light haze the islands of Elba, Corsica and Capraia—and even all the way to the mountains above the Italian and French Rivieras.

The peninsulas and the small island in the background protrude beyond the bay of La Spezia. Monte Matanna is in the center.

Here we are on the ridge ready to climb to the northern peak.

Looking north, south and east, we saw dozens of other mountains, including the impressive gray cliffs of Monte Croce, Monte Matanna, Monte Prana and the interestingly named Foce del Pallone, which translates as “mouth of the balloon.” As Davide explained to me and I later looked up online, the ridge is named after a balloon that became famous in 1910 and 1911 when a wealthy family that owned a resort and restaurant on Monte Matanna found an unusual way to transport customers up the mountain. They used a large balloon attached to cables that could lift as many as six people at a time. The balloon lift, though expensive, quickly became famous and carried wealthy people, including the king of Belgium, up to the exclusive lodge. However, its success only lasted six months, because one cold and windy day in February of 1911, a violent storm destroyed the balloon and its hanger.

Here we're looking south to Monte Prana, with the Mediterranean Sea and Viareggio in the background.

Davide told me the names of many of the other surrounding mountains, and it seems he has climbed at least half of the major ones. Monte Piglione actually has two peaks about 1150 meters from each other, connected by a ridge. We ate lunch on the northern peak and then walked to the slightly lower southern peak. From there, we could see Montecarlo, so now I knew that Monte Pigliano is one of the mountains we can see from the terrazza in our home. I waved to Lucy and even called her on the phone, but it was only in our vivid imaginations that we could see each other from such a great distance.

In this view from our terrazza, Monte Piglione is just to the right of the tree trunk. Note that there are two peaks, joined by a ridge. Davide and I are waving to you from the southern peak, ha! On the far right is Monte Croce.

Ripe blackberries on the trail.

Davide makes a great hiking companion, as we seem to have similar personalities. I was pleased that I was mostly able to keep up with him, since he is 14 years younger and extremely fit. For my benefit, he chose a destination that was only moderately taxing, and it is one that I will definitely want to repeat. Who wants to join me next time? 

My first cinghiali siting in Tuscany!

Finally, finally, I saw a cinghiale—a wild boar—in Toscana! Actually three cinghiali at once, in a ditch near the Lago di Sibolla. We’ve been coming to Italy for months at a time since 2011, we live in a relatively rural area, and we like going hiking in the woods, so it’s surprising to me that previously we’ve never seen a single boar.

Not my photo, but a good representation of what I saw.

We’ve seen many places where cinghiali have disturbed the ground to dig up roots, and we think we heard some rustling in the bushes at the Padule di Fucecchio once (we ran away, so we’ll never know what it was). We’ve seen a fox (three times), wolves (once), and last year I saw a deer crossing the road coming up the hill to Montecarlo. Last week, after doing some bird-watching at Lake Sibolla (I watched at least 100 herons in simultaneous flight), I rode my bike on a nearby trail that ran along a mostly dry canal. With a squeal of alarm, up popped a big boar, followed by a sow and a cinghialino. They fled up the opposite bank, too quickly for me to get a photo, and disappeared into the bushes.

A typical hunters' blind.

The website Italy Segreta says that the wild boar population in Tuscany is estimated at 150,000, while their only wild predators, wolves, number around 530. The site goes on the say: “. . . wild boar populations have risen exponentially. To boost the boar-hunting industry, national park authorities introduced a stronger and more ‘prolific’ species of Northern European wild boar from the 1950s until 2010, when they realized population numbers had gotten out of hand. These sows can give birth to a dozen boarlets every six months, which grow to be strong and, often, dangerous; an adult boar can weigh up to 200kg and stand up to a meter tall. Boar cause over 2,000 car accidents a year and some direct injuries—although deaths from (the bullets of) hunters during the boar hunt are more common (than deaths from collisions).”

Tuscany has a love-hate relationship with cinghiali, as many restaurants offer pappardelle al ragu di cinghiali and other specialties made with the prized meat.

“When it comes to wild boar meat nutrition, domestic pork can’t even begin to compare,” says the website of the butcher shop Beck & Bulow of Sante Fe, New Mexico. “This meat is a great source of zinc and healthy monounsaturated fats. It also contains thiamine, riboflavin and niacin. These vitamins help our bodies to convert food into energy, boosting metabolism, nervous system and brain function. Wild boar is very lean and much lower in cholesterol and calories than pork, while containing higher levels of protein. Because they are wild animals, wild boar enjoy a robust nature and are far less prone to illness and disease than domesticated pigs. Our wild boar meat contains zero sodium, while farmed pork contains extremely high levels. For this reason, wild boar is a much healthier choice for heart health.”

The hunting season in Tuscany usually runs for four months, from October through January, though only for three days per week: Wednesday, Saturday and Sunday. Our home is near enough to a forested area that we can hear the popping of rifle shots in the morning hours. I’ve also walked through the woods during the off-season and witnessed several hunting blinds. Once, when hiking in the Valleriana area, Lucy and I found a large pile of bread scraps, obviously left by hunters hoping that the cinghiali would become accustomed to coming to that area for a good meal—and then become a good meal themselves when hunting season began.

A field of corn devasted by cinghiali in Toscana.

The main complaint that Italians have is that cinghiali wreak havoc on farmlands. A herd can quickly destroy many acres of corn, wheat and other grains. They also eat grapes and dig up roots in vineyards. The website Visit Tuscany writes that “a 50 kg boar needs around 4,000-4,500 calories per day . . . a boar may weigh from 50 to 180 kg and eats bulbs, tubers, roots, acorns, wheat, corn, eggs, birds, small rodents . . . almost everything.” I’ve seen television interviews with frustrated farmers who claim that cinghiali have destroyed as much as 50 percent of their crops. They also devastate natural fauna, which contributes to erosion and flood damage.

Here is a grassy field torn up by a herd of cinghiali.

While hunting is a popular sport in Tuscany and other regions, hunters can’t keep up with the burgeoning boar population. It seems that any effort to reduce the population results in the sows simply giving birth to greater numbers of cinghialini, so the numbers actually increase.

So with all the cinghiali out there, I doubt that the three I saw last week will be the last. Hopefully, Lucy will be with me next time, so she too can experience the thrill of discovery. And hopefully, the cinghiali will once again run in the opposite direction.

Rat poop on the wall . . . not at all

What would you rather have in your house, rats or lizards? We were warned that in case a schiera—houses attached to each other—rats could easily find a way to move from one attic to the next. Before we remodeled our attic in 2017 and 2018, we saw ample evidence that rodents had made themselves at home there, but each year I added more barriers. I sprayed foam insulation or stuffed steel wool in every possible gap, but I still found rat droppings each time we returned, even though I’ve never in my nine years actually witnessed an offender.

Found on our wall . . .

I had hoped that this fall would be the exception, because in the spring I had plugged even the tiniest of holes—or so I thought. But once more, around the walls of the attic, I saw the characteristic pellets. But wait, why were two of them stuck to the smooth sheetrock wall? A close-up examination and a quick web search revealed the answer: We don’t have rats in the attic; we have wall geckos! They are the source of the droppings, not rats, as the images clearly show.

According to pest control experts and lizard specialists, geckos are much preferrable to rats. Though there are some internet posts about the dangers of geckos, the scientific information I found says these claims are false, and the truth is that geckos pose no threat to people.

Dr. Jeanne Tarrant of the Endangered Wildlife Trust in South Africa, said in an email to a French news agency that geckos are not harmful to humans and “actually provide a service by eating insects and spiders around your house.”

“Humans and house geckos have been living alongside each other for hundreds if not thousands of years, with no detriment to humans,” she wrote. “It really would not be recommended to try to eliminate them from your home.”

Professor Aaron M. Bauer, a biodiversity specialist at Villanova University in Pennsylvania and a world authority on geckos—he even has a species named after him—echoed Tarrant’s comments.

Biting, he said, is highly unusual in geckos and, in any event, you’d receive nothing more than an unpainful nip on the off chance you try to handle one. 

Salmonella transmission is similarly unlikely, he explained: “Geckos, like many reptiles, can carry salmonella although such transmission is not common, and it is easily avoided. Geckos are probably less likely to transmit salmonella than other reptiles that have larger, wetter fecal material.”

On the other hand, rat poop is much more dangerous. Web MD says: “Because contact with rat poop and pee can lead to dangerous and life-threatening infections, use extreme caution when cleaning. Inhaling particles from rat droppings can cause diseases like hantavirus, so be very careful not to clean up the droppings in a way that kicks up dust, like sweeping or vacuuming.”

How the geckos get in the attic and why they are always gone when we arrive is still a mystery, but an obvious part of the answer is their small size and streamlined shape. I’ll probably never be able to keep them out, but their presence probably explains why we have so few spiders and other bugs. Since they live primarily on the walls, cleaning up after them just means running the vacuum cleaner hose around the baseboard each time we return, not a bad trade-off for the organic pest control services they provide. And incomparably better than rats.

 

We're happy to be in a mostly unchanged alternate reality

We’re back living in our alternate reality, experiencing la dolce vita in our Tuscany home in the lively and lovely hilltop village of Montecarlo. What’s new is always the first question on our minds when we arrive.

Lucy relaxes in the cool of the morning.

We’ve never been here before in August, so one question concerns the heat. How bad is it, really, to endure day after day of temperatures in the 90s (or 30s, as 95f = 35c), without air conditioning? It turns out that it’s not terrible, so long as we have nothing to do and can stay inside. Since our home is made of stone, is joined to other buildings and doesn’t have an overabundance of windows, there aren’t many places that the outside heat can get inside. Also, we are at a slightly higher elevation than the surrounding cities, and we catch some breezes. Right now, it is 96 in Montecarlo and 98 in nearby Altopascio, which is on the plain below. We don’t have an inside thermometer here, but it’s definitely bearable in our living room, especially with a couple of fans going. I can’t imagine how miserable I’d be if I was standing in a line waiting to enter a museum in Rome right now.

Construction on the Torre degli Spadoni has actually commenced! It was first announced to be done in 2023, and then re-scheduled to begin early in 2024, but as of May the only thing we’d seen done was temporary fencing installed to keep the public out of the work zone. Now about one third of the outer walls have been patched and repainted. The one window at the bottom has been boarded over, so we can’t see if anything has been done inside, but I suspect not. Plans call for the installation of a spiral staircase that will take visitors to the top, and also for the addition of lights to illuminate it from below, and more lights at the top. Our beautiful sign is still on the door.

How about our elusive kitchen drain, that seven years ago we paid to have connected to the sewer system? In the last conversation I had with our contractor/downstairs neighbor, he indicated that the drain would be connected this summer when he did some remodeling in his part of the building. Nope, the sink still drains into the field. Why am I not surprised? But like Charlie Brown when Lucy holds the football for him, I’m still optimistic. Stupid, maybe, but I’d rather live with stupid and optimistic than angry, upset and combative.

Opening my mailbox when we arrive is always slightly daunting. In 2018, I received notifications from the Agenzia delle Entrate (Italian IRS) that I owned about 800 euros in taxes for purchases and sales I had allegedly made in 2014 and 2015. I tried to explain that I had not even been in Italy during the times these transactions took place, but nobody at the agency seemed interested in listening to me. Was my case ever dismissed? It’s doubtful. I keep expecting that some eager new agent at the AE will come across my file and send out a new threatening letter, but once again, there was nothing new in my mailbox. In this situation, I can be thankful for the inefficiency of Italian bureaucracy.

Overall, then, little has changed here, which is fine with us. Our house is in good shape, we’re on good terms with our neighbors, our city is still lively and lovely, and we’re free to relax and enjoy the sweetness of doing nothing for the next six weeks.

 

  

The Villa di Vorno will soon be helping travelers on the pilgrim trail—and hopefully we will too

With Shandra at the future Villa di Vorno

During our years of living in Toscana, we’ve heard countless references to the Via Francigena, an ancient pilgrimage route running from Canterbury, England, through France, Switzerland and Italy to Rome. The route has particular relevance for us because it runs through both Lucca and Altopascio. One of its many variants actually passes through Montecarlo.

I could, and probably will, someday devote an entire blog to this important trail, but what has me particularly excited at this moment is that Lucy and I could be involved in future years in helping modern day pilgrims on their journey through our section of Italy. An old friend, Don Mansfield, recently called to let us know that an organization Lucy and I were active in during our college years is purchasing a convent in Vorno that will be used to host travelers walking on the Via Francigena.

“No way!,” I said to Don. “I can see Vorno from here, on my terrazza.” On the west side of our house, we look out across the plain of Lucca, where we can see the mountains that separate Lucca from Pisa. Vorno is on the hillside, near the source of the Aqueduct of Nottolini, the main water source for Lucca. “Way,” Don replied, and he gave us the contact information for the person in charge of arranging the purchase of the convent, Shandra Galloway.

Shandra has been a long-time staff member of Cru, and she is currently in Lucca working on the many steps that will be required to arrange the purchase. Cru was founded in 1951 by Bill Bright as Campus Crusade for Christ, and it has a branch here operating under the name Agape Italia. Shandra took us on a tour of the grounds of the convent, which is named the Casa di Preghiere Sorelle Dorotee—the house of prayer of the sisters of Saint Dorothy. The villa, once a vacation home of the wealthy Mansi family of Lucca, was donated by the family to the sisters. It is now primarily maintained by only two elderly nuns. They have offered to sell to Cru at a very reasonable price because they know that the property will be used to offer hospitality in the name of Christ, Shandra said.

The villa is a 17,000 square foot, four-story home with 20 bedrooms—each with a private bathroom—a professional kitchen, several great rooms, two chapels and an expansive terrace. It sits on four acres, including an olive grove, fruit trees and a small vineyard, and when the purchase is finalized, it will be known as the Villa di Vorno Pilgrimage House. Excerpts from the Cru vision statement describe how the villa will be used:

Most pilgrims arrive in the afternoon. They will be greeted by a group of volunteers who have been trained to welcome people into the Villa, give them an orientation of what is available to them during their stay, and show them to their room. The greeters will be like Porters in the Benedictine Tradition—welcome people, offer them a cup of cold water, an espresso, or tea, and show them the place. In their room, there will be a short description of who we are and a free Bible with some highlighted “travel narratives” that they can take along with them. They can rest and shower before dinner, take care of any physical ailments, connect with other pilgrims, or spend time reflecting on their journey.

There will also be an opportunity for prayer and a brief voluntary chapel service before dinner. Dinner will be prepared and served by volunteers at around 7 pm (a little early for Italians, but pilgrims tend to rise early to walk in the cool of the day). At dinner, one of the volunteers or staff will share their own spiritual journey. The staff and volunteers will offer to stay around after dinner if anyone wants to talk further about their faith or questions about faith. Staff and pilgrims will be trained on how to enter gentle conversations and share their faith.

Each of the pilgrims will be given some stationery, a pen, and a poem template. They will be encouraged to write an “I Am From” poem before they leave and post them on the guest-wall so other pilgrims can read them (there will also be a wall on the Villa di Vorno website where they can post their poems.

In the morning, there will be a light breakfast (pastries & coffee) and a blessing given to the pilgrims as they set out on the next leg of their journey. When pilgrims leave, the staff and volunteers will clean and prep for the next group; and they will have the opportunity to walk a short leg of the trail or explore the cities of Lucca, Pisa, and on longer breaks, Cinque Terre or Florence.

This courtyard could be used to 
welcome travelers or serve as
an outside dining area.

Shandra said that Cru is already operating a similar and very successful guest house in Spain, and there is already a waiting list of volunteers. She foresees that church groups will be eager to sign up to spend a week in Italy to serve as hosts. Shandra and her husband are American, but both lived in Florence for many years and speak Italian, so they will likely live on the site and direct operations. The ministry will also need a few other full-time staff members for ongoing operations and to train each group of volunteers.

Lucy and I will very likely be among the volunteers, and until the sale is completed, we’ll also try to help in other ways. We introduced Shandra at our church in Altopascio on Sunday, and that could open some valuable relationships. We also introduced her to Luigi Spadoni, who operates a vital organization that ministers to the needy around the world. By coincidence, the headquarters of Spazio Spadoni is only 13 minutes by car from Vorno. Luigi gave Shandra some vital tips based on his experiences and expertise, and no doubt he will be a valuable resource in the coming years. He has a broad background in both business and charitable services.

Luigi Spadoni & Shandra meet at Spazio Spadoni
for an exchange of friendship and knowledge.

The earliest the Villa at Vorno could open would be the fall of 2024, perhaps on a trial basis. At this point, Cru does not have all the 3 million euros needed to close the sale, and the organization is still looking for more donors. Cru could possibly rent the villa while fund-raising continues. However it works out, it’s going to be fun to watch as this exciting ministry develops further. For additional information, photos and a chance to contribute to the cause, you can check out the website for Villa di Vorno.

We are among 21 montecarlesi at a sublime evening of masterful music

Featuring guest author Lucy Spadoni
Did you ever hear the story about a violinist playing in a subway? People would pass by, a few staying to listen for a while before busily moving on. The violinist is revealed to be a world-famous musician with an equally great violin, a master that people would pay hundreds of dollars to hear? Well….

It was a Sunday night in Montecarlo. We were tired from our day’s excursions, and Paul was suffering from pollen allergies. But we had put on our calendar that there was a free concert nearby, in the old church—really just a large room now—down the street. Maybe we could leave if we got tired. Paul worried he might drift off, as he is famous for doing this during concerts and movies. But we grabbed our books and went to get early seats.

There were only about 25 chairs set up—a fact that surprised me. Only one other person was there so far. In front there was alone a small, old piano-like instrument (a clavicembalo in Italian, harpsichord in English). I ventured up to look at it and take pictures. It had fewer metal wires compared to a piano, wooden keys, and it was painted with pale green and gold paint. Soon a man came in and started tuning it, using his phone app to check the tones. He is Gabriele Micheli, the harpsichord player, a handsome man with an expressive face.

People started coming in and almost filled the chairs. Violinist David Monti, who specializes in baroque (barocco) music. The evening is called Il Mio Viaggio in Musica—My Journey in Music. Maestro Monti introduced the concept of the evening and asked (in Italian) if anyone needed a translator. Paul and I can get by, so we kept silent, though Paul said afterwards that he wondered how anyone who didn’t speak Italian could have understood the question.

The free evening was sponsored by the comune of Montecarlo, which desires to bring diverse European music to its citizens. That night was music from 1645 to 1720 with composers Uccellini, Corelli, Francoeur and J.S. Bach. (At this point I was sorry my Italian couldn’t keep up). The Italian magazine Il Cittadino has described Monti as “capable of combining energy and talent resulting in natural expressiveness. Davide Monti is an all-round artist: director, soloist, accompanist and chamber musician. Critics recognize his ‘incredible freshness’ where ‘everything appears extraordinarily spontaneous and organic.’ ”

Then, for the next one and a half hours, we were taken back in time to what it was like long before electronics, where this room would have been packed with people, where kings down to peasants and civilians and soldiers would have stood quietly to hear these virtuoso musicians flawlessly and with emotion bring to them such music. The violinist did all by memory. Sometimes the violin sounded like many violins, wonderful in this old church’s acoustics. By his eyes and body movements he would coordinate with the harpsichordist the music’s pace and intent. He would rise on his toes, sway, and both men expressed the music also through their eyes and facial expressions. It all was astounding!

After and during, there was clapping and more clapping, standing ovations, and three encores. The 21 people, including Paul, were all amazed that these men had honored them by sharing their lives and their music.

I myself cried, not just for the music but for knowing these men had prepared all their lives for this moment in a bare room, with a small audience—the years of practice, memorizing, concerts, dances, holidays, sharing music with their families. Truly they were demonstrating their life journeys with music woven throughout. Someday they will be gone, as will we, but for that one evening these men gave their hearts to play and play for 21 people. We were so very grateful.