A chance Italian history lesson
A statue of Guiseppe Garibaldi in La Spezia
When I left La Spezia, the streets in the morning were surprisingly quiet. Storefronts shuttered and few people about. I was curious about a large statue that rose above the public gardens. I spun my bike around and inspected it closer. The bronze statue was of Guiseppe Garibaldi, sitting atop a horse holding a sword in his right hand. Garibaldi was a 19th century general and Italian patriot, credited with helping contribute to Italian unification in the late 1800s.
I learned about Garibaldi recently after reading Tim Parks’ book, The Hero’s Way: Walking with Garibaldi from Rome to Ravenna. Garibaldi is a name that may be familiar to those in British Columbia. We’ll come back to him later in the day.
In the meantime, I climbed up a twisty road that led me out of La Spezia. I descended the other side through small villages, with houses dotted across the lush mountainside. Soon, I was cycling along a narrow plain, rich with small farms and vineyards. This fertile ground is bordered by the Ligurian sea to the west and the Tuscan mountains to the east.
It was here, the ancient Romans created a colony called Luna, which flourished thanks to the quarries of Carrara marble. The prized stone was exported across the empire from Luna.
I looked at my map and realized the remains of Luna were just a few kilometres away. I turned off, and crossed a road called Viale 25 Aprile. I didn’t make the connection until later that I was passing through here on April 25. By chance, I would learn the significance of this day shortly.
A path took me across the four-lane autostrada, a road the ancient Romans would be impressed by. I zigzagged along small farm roads until I came to what was left of Luna’s amphitheatre which had a capacity of 7,000. I took a pass on the archeological museum and continued haphazardly back to the main road.
In the distance, I could hear music. Curious, I followed the sounds and rode back in time 80 years. A large number of American miliary vehicles from the 1940s were parked around a small square. Standing next to the them were people dressed in World War II uniforms, some carrying weaponry from that period. The sound I heard was American music from the 1940s.
Julia, Francesco, and Giacomo
Next to me was a bearded thirty-something dressed as a simple solider. His name was Giacomo.
“What’s happening here,” I asked him.
“It’s Liberation Day in Italy,” he said. “It’s a holiday. April 25 is the day the country marks liberation from the Nazis and fascism in Italy.”
That’s why La Spezia was quiet when I left. Francesco, who smoked a pipe and wore a more polished uniform, and his girlfriend, Julia joined the conversation. The three of them gave me a 20th century Italian history lesson. It was inspiring seeing these young people have a strong appreciation for their country’s history.
I asked if they knew of Garibaldi.
“Of course,” they said with a smile. “He’s an Italian hero.”
“You might not know that Garibaldi’s name is associated with a mountain, a park, a lake, a high school, and likely other things near Vancouver,” I told them.
I showed them a picture of Garibaldi Mountain, which sits between Squamish and Whistler. They looked amused, proud, and a little confused that an Italian legend has his name associated with a place he had never been. So, how did Garibaldi’s name come to land half way around the world? Two stories. One, the peak was named by an Italian sailor who saw the mountain peak on Garibaldi’s birthday, and a second story has a Royal Navy captain naming the mountain after Garibaldi. Before Garibaldi, the indigenous peoples of the Squamish called the mountain Nch’kay.
The music stopped, and people started piling in the jeeps.
“We have to go,” said Giacomo.
I shook hands with them, and they wished me luck of the rest of my trip.
I carried on to Pisa energized by the chance meetings I’ve had over the past month since I left London.
An engineering fail that was a gift to Pisa’s tourism industry