Raising a glass to the magic of Italy in troubling times
Italy has been hit hard by coronavirus but it will stand as firm as its football team’s legendary defence, writes
WE are advised not to travel to Italy. The country is in lock down. We are in the process of following their lead.
Armageddon! But Italy was the first in Europe to be hit with this thing, so for weeks it’s been a country of negative connotations. And I love Italy for many reasons. I go there regularly. I have family there. I love its traditions of cinema with Fellini, Bertolucci, Visconti, De Sica. I love their tradition of football — Paolo Maldini. Baggio, the great Gianluigi Buffon. I love their food and the sound of the language and the talk. Talk. Talk! The hands and expression and the way they tend to speak in monologues and you wait your turn.
My first gra for Italy developed during the 1982 World Cup. Italy were playing Brazil, the samba glamour boys who played the game with a skill and verve that we had rarely ever seen. Socrates and the rest had swept all before them, including recording a 4-1 demolition of Scotland.
Italy, on the other hand, had started very slowly and were lucky to make it into the second round. But now they had to beat Brazil who only needed a draw. They had welcomed back Paolo Rossi, who had served a ban because of a betting scandal he always claimed he was innocent of. I watched the match as a 14-year-old and presumed that I was up for the flamboyant Brazilians but as the match went on I couldn’t help roaring on Italy as Rossi got a hat trick and they won a thriller 3-2. Brazil, for all their brilliant attacking play, just simply could not defend and Italy pounced.
It was a match where Eamon Dunphy went against the popular opinion, and predicted the right result. He was like the cat who got the cream at the end of the game.
I liked that Italy were warts and all. Not squeaky clean. Masters of the dark arts but with huge football brains and free of the childlike belief in the Brazilians’ fantasy football palaver!
The best meal I ever had was in Italy. In a local rural taverna somewhere near Ravenna. Myself and my colleague, Declan, were there showing a film at a local film festival in 2009. It was a very basic affair. One screen and a shitty motel, but they had invited a famous Polish film maker called Jerzy Skolimowski, aged 71, but still a real dude.
His father was murdered by the Nazis and he himself was rescued from the rubble of a bombed-out house as a child. He had hung with Fellini. He had co-written Roman Polanksi’s first film. He had a made cult classic called Deep End in London in 1970 and he had a very high status — ‘my mickey is bigger than yours’ — persona.
We ate a 10-course meal in this taverna with Jerzy and Eva, his very bright 35-yearold producer and partner. We kept eating. It was all too good. We could refuse nothing. I have never been as full in my whole life. I felt like the fantastically huge Terry Jones character in Monty Python’s Meaning of Life. Fit to burst. I didn’t eat for another 24 hours!
Also there was our festival angel, essentially a volunteer who shows you around and looks after you. Our angel was named Chiara. She could speak English but hadn’t a breeze what we were saying to her. She described Skolimowski as a real man while we were kind of fairyish in comparison. Chiara asked me had I got big brother. I said no, I was the eldest in my family. She shook her head — “No, no… Do you get Big Brother, the TV show… I love Big Brother”.
Indeed Chiara’s taste in culture was a constant source of shame for the festival organiser. She loved Sly Stallone. Rocky, Rambo. The organiser buried his head in his hands — “No… we have Visconti… Fellini… Pasolini and she tell you she love Stallone. I am embarrassed. I am so ashamed!”
Chiara had lost her boyfriend two years before. They had both been stunt people in Rome and he had done a stunt that went wrong and he ended up being impaled. Chiara told us the story in quite a breezy manner and, anyway, stunt work hadn’t ever really been for her. She brought us to galleries and to visit Dante’s tomb. We were tourists. Italy was a great distraction because we were getting away from something at home.
The week before we had a stand off with RTE Drama about a two-part follow up to a TV show Pure Mule that we had made. These things are sent to test you. There can be no end of bulls**t that gets in the way of the actual work. But you’ll have that. Anyway it was sorted in the end. We got a good phone call from our producer. The show would go ahead. We celebrated with wine and the best mozzarella I ever had. We told Chiara and she said bellissimo and kissed us on both cheeks and we drunkenly sang Eye of the Tiger on the way back to the hotel, in honour of her hero Stallone!
More recent trips to Italy have been all to do with my sister Deirdre, her husband Maurizio and their two daughters, Elsa (10) and Lina (4). In 2013, Dee and Maurizio left careers and decided to move to the Italian countryside. To a valley in the Piedmont region. They started to seriously ask themselves the question. Could they actually make a go of farming? Could they survive? So with the aid of their own savings and a EU grant, they planted their first vine in 2014 on one-and-a-half hectares of land and yielded their first wine in 2018.
They operate in a biodynamic way. This all about trying to let the plant develop naturally as opposed to forcing it with fertilisers. You want plants that will, in the long run, live longer. Your produce is far lower as a result but the grape is more alive and vital.
But this takes a lot of patience and absolute attention. This is real farming. Tough work physically. It also involves great observation. They tend to each individual vine, being very aware of how the plants are doing and adapting their practices to help them grow. This way of doing things was a traditional method that was the norm before the war and chemicals and mass production. It is about following the rhythms of nature and being guided by the moon in all things. It is about listening, being present in the world.
They now have vines on three hectares of land but there are many things that can mess with their crop. Wild boars roam around and can break in and stampede the vines. Rabbits and hares are a curse, as is a blight very similar to what caused our potato famine. It takes huge dedication but it is a life with many benefits. Not the least is living in the moment. Being self-sufficient and sustainable.
If this sounds in any way like they are hippyish or biodynamic bores they are far from that. They are farmers choosing to do things in a way they fully believe in.
They have had a constant stream of woofers to help them in their work. These are people travelling in Europe who want to live and work in a real place. Some of them are interested in organic farming or curious about another way of living. So they are put up and fed and in return work in the vineyard. They have hosted quite a few younger Americans who are beginning to realise that unbridled capitalism is ruining the world. Most are a huge help and indeed inspiring. Like Gabi, in her late 50s, a Kiwi former squad detective. She would be up in the vines first thing and have whipped them all into shape. A tough cookie, she had a huge heart and cried when she left. As did they.
Not all woofers are as cool, of course, and sometimes their departure is greeted with a huge sigh of relief.
The wine is called Cenerina, made from the almost forgotten Slarina grape, and it is beautiful. I can vouch for it. I don’t know much about wine but I know what I like. The first batch of 2,000 bottles is sold out and the next batch will be due later this year. Watch out for it. This is a small operation now but they hope to increase their operation to 10,000 bottles in the coming years. But never mind the quantity, it’s all about the living vital quality of the wine.
So now in Italy, where you have to have a permit to be allowed out of your house to go shopping, Dee, Maurizio, Elsa and Lina have the run of their surroundings completely removed from the pandemic in the cities.
Flights to Italy are now going for half nothing. I’d be sorely tempted to join them but I’ll have to hold on. Caution first. Be careful. Stay indoors. Keep calm. Stop the panic-buying! Hold the line. We need discipline and forbearance. Much like an Italian team’s defence! Prego.
‘I love Italy. I go there regularly. I have family there. I love its traditions...’