PESARO, Italy—On an average summer Saturday in a typical Italian town, dozens of tents sprawl out on a long asphalt road. Crowds of customers gather around vendors to form a familiar sight, a farmer’s market. However, each Thursday in the beach town of Pesaro, five tents gradually appear on a small browning field beside a sidewalk. There are some of the customary signs—smells of fresh bread and pastries, sights of vibrant fruits and vegetables, and sounds of the chatter and laughter among vendors and customers. But then you discover the quirky personalities, the funny hats and vintage clothes of the vendors, and the earnest signs of authenticity such as hand painted leaves and flowers on the labels of products for sale. The realization hits that this is not a regular farmer’s market. This is Oltre Mercato.

It’s not just the petite nature of the market or the offbeat personalities that puts the “Oltre” in Oltre Mercato. (Oltre means “other” or “beyond.”) It’s the actual philosophy of the market. Oltre Mercato fuels itself on supporting local and homegrown food while going against the norms of society, with members constantly giving to each other and being ecologically conscious in how they prepare their produce.

“This is a culture that cares about the weakest side of society both in a sense of production and in a sense of general well-being,” said Michele Romani, 48-year-old vegetable vendor at Oltre Mercato.

“This movement is about thinking that we should have the right to do something…even if it is not legal.”

These individuals believe they’re part of something bigger than themselves, and they will go to risky lengths to fight for what they believe in. Tommaso Lombardi, 34-year-old beekeeper and legislative coordinator for Oltre Mercato describes how his passion drives his group. “This movement is about thinking that we should have the right to do something, so we are going to do it,” he said. “Even if it is not legal, we are going to do it if we feel it is right. For example, we create new market squares to sell products and this is not legal because you have to have a permit, but we sell food here anyway without a permit.”

Three years ago, Oltre Mercato was started by a larger national movement called Genuino Clandestino. Oltre Mercato is one of 24 local markets associated with Genuino Clandestino. These local markets range from Milan to more southern parts of Italy like Sicily.

The national Clandestine movement, meaning underground and secretive, began in 2010. Lombardi said this movement started as a revolt against Italian legislation that forced producers of self-made and locally grown food to deal with the same obstacles and regulations as food produced by big industries. For example, small-farmers must file their taxes with the Chamber of Commerce, but they don’t think this should apply to them because they’re selling directly to a final consumer instead of going through layers of retail consumers as big industrial food companies do. Additionally, small farmers have to pay taxes like their big industry counterparts do, but since they live on their own land, and don’t make the same amount of profit that big industries do, it is extremely difficult for them to afford this and keep their business afloat.

This legislation also requires that small farmers carry out the same health and sanitation regulations as industrial agriculture, Lombardi explained. For example, such simple practices of killing and burying one’s cattle must be done outside the property of the small farmer, but these small farmers believe their businesses are small and sanitary enough that they don’t have to go through this extra precaution.

According to Lombardi, Genuino Clandestino participants not only feel betrayed by Italian law, they also don’t agree with the way big industries operate. Lombardi said that in order to go against the way industrial agriculture operates in today’s society, this community of Clandestines thrives on the concept of self-determination, meaning they provide for themselves and make their own way of life, disregarding societal norms.

“We put ourselves in the debate of self-organization because we think that Oltre Mercato and the other markets provide a place where we have to provide our own food and provide for ourselves,” said Lombardi. “We are on the complete opposite side from what is normal, which is being controlled and organized by the power of the higher-ups in society.”

“We have this method of a ‘time bank,’ where we give our time to each other.”

While the participants in the Clandestine movement want to separate themselves from main-stream society by being different and having their own kinds of markets, they also want to continue to strengthen their bonds with each other. They do this by adopting the method of mutualism, which means they give to each other and treat each other in a way that benefits all parties.

“Something that we really are focusing on right now is this method of doing whatever we can for each other,” Lomabardi said. “We have our own registry and we have this method of a ‘time bank,’ where we give our time to each other. Lombardi explained that this time is not limited to just work hours. It could be time spent helping people in other ways, such as watching other people’s children or helping someone plan a party. The overall point, Lombardi said, is to do something for each person and in the end, “It is all equal.”

While this concept might seem quite relaxed, Lombardi said, it’s actually really regulated. For example, the local market in Bologna, CampiAperti (meaning open fields) prints its own money to keep track of members’ favors to each other.

Guilia Maschera, 37, who is an herb producer and vendor at Oltre Mercato feels the most important part of the philosophy of the Clandestine movement is the bond the customers and vendors establish with each other. “No one feels alone because there is so much help,” Maschera said as her one-year old son passed by in a stroller pushed by one of the other community members. “The market is a place where you can establish a direct communication with the customers.”

Daniela Fontanor, 52-year-old Pesaro native, has been shopping at Oltre Mercato ever since it opened three years ago. She said that she buys everything from toilet paper to wine at Oltre Mercato. She said this relationship between the vendors and customers is one of the reasons she shops here. “They are quality people here,” Fontanor said. “Everyone is familiar with each other. I respect their thinking, and also the products are good prices for the quality you are getting.”

The idea of direct communication and relationships with the customers is something of great importance to Maschera and her partner, Marco Triche. “Here in Italy and everywhere in the world, there is this way of thinking that if you write that you only prepare natural products, this is true, but in reality, it is not true,” said Triche. “So, in this kind of market everybody knows everybody, so we know how everybody produces their product.”

Though Maschera is reserved and nervous, she comes to life when she talks about the importance of this relationship with her customers. “Yes,” she said, enthusiastically chiming in. “There is a quality of control. The clients cannot actually check the quality, but they know it is good because we all know each other.”

On a recent Thursday in June, there was a constant flow of customers buying produce from Romani. All that could be heard was his playful, contagious laugh as he bagged his produce to be given to his customers. Between selling, Romani explained that quality of control through ensuring the customers are getting healthy and chemical-free produce is a big theme of Oltre Mercato. He, like Maschera, feels it’s a moral obligation to his customers and the earth to sell chemical-free food. “I would never poison the soil,” Romani said sternly. “Apart from being certified as an all-natural producer, I first care about the guarantee of the products for my customers.”

Quality of control isn’t the only thing these individuals are trying to achieve. “The main point of the Clandestine movement is to be able to criticize society through food,” Lombardi said. “Through food we want to be able to approach all kinds of political and economic topics. We are able to get together and turn something that is usually strictly about culture into something political or environmental.”

Lombardi can talk passionately about this movement for hours. He tells of an Italian woman who lived in Kurdistan, where in the midst of a revolution the farmers organized themselves through the same concept of assembly as Genuiono Clandestino. These Kurdistan farmers have their own community lands that they share with everyone involved. “We are looking forward to maybe doing the same thing and having our own community lands, which is something we used to have way back in Italy,” Lombardi said optimistically. “Eventually we want to turn this into an international movement.”

Translation of interviews and other language assistance by University of Urbino students Francesa Massari, Bianca Sartini, Tonia Perreca, and Luca Cocozza.

Video by Carley Welch & Gianna Di Gregorio

The post Oltre Mercato appeared first on 2019 Urbino Project.

URBINO, Italy – It is a Thursday night, nicknamed la notte dello studente – the night of the students – in this historic hilltop town and  University of Urbino students are at the Bosom Pub unwinding – loudly  –  after a week of classes.

Charged by lively Italian dance music and a ready supply of alcohol their shouted banter rockets up to the aged wooden rafters. Beer bottles clink. Foosball tables crack with the sounds of battle. And the bellowed choruses of pop songs echo off stone walls.

Eventually the noise – and some of the students – spill out the doors onto surrounding cobblestone streets where neighbors hoping for sleep look from their windows with frowns of exasperation.

Behind the bar, owner Sandra Lannes, 46, pours metallic blue vodka into shot glasses, tossing a gummy shark – a chaser – into each. With a grin and a belly laugh, Lannes watches as a crowd of eager students gulp the glittery substance.

“It warms my heart to see students having fun,” says Lannes. “It is like the happiness I see in them is transferred to me.”

In recent months, though, her happiness, and even la notte dello studente has been put in jeopardy.

Last February, Urbino mayor Maurizio Gambini, bending to wishes of sleep-deprived residents, imposed a two-month curfew of 2 a.m. on all establishments within the city limits. The ordinance sparked protests by outraged students and business owners.

Because Gambini passed the ordinance without the approval of his cabinet, it had an expiration date of two months. However, the repercussions of the ordinance are still rippling through the city today.

Just as in many American college towns, this resident-student tension has existed in Urbino for generations. However, this conflict is more complex and perhaps heightened due to its unusual geography. The community of Urbino is divided into two distinct geographic and demographic parts.

One part is the historic Renaissance city, surrounded by 14^th century stone walls.

The other is the modern ‘greater Urbino,’ which is a few kilometers outside the old town.

The historic center of Urbino is nicknamed “the cradle of the Renaissance,” boasting the birthplace of renowned artist Raphael, and the Palazzo Ducale – Duke Federico da Montefeltro’s turreted 600-year-old home.

The old city is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, which means that it has essentially been declared by the U.N. a living museum – with artistic and cultural treasures. But it is also home to the University of Urbino campus and the apartments of some its 15,000 students.  This is where they study – and play.

Though it’s hard to draw an American parallel, this might be like attending university – and partying – on the National Mall in D.C. Students stroll through history-soaked streets on their way to class, and home from bars at night.

And while students far outnumber the 1,100 citizens within the city walls – they feel their voices are not being heard by the current administration. In Italy, you cannot vote in mayoral elections if you are not a full-time resident of the town, a requirement which excludes most students here who typically travel home for the weekends.

That commuting tradition gave birth to la notte della studente, which, as student Emanuel Leandri put it, created a lot of hype. Students like Leandri feel the ordinance took this celebratory night away from them. “I would always look forward to Thursdays, but it was different during the ordinance.”

Students said they didn’t see the crackdowns coming

“The ordinance sort of shocked everybody,” said Nicola Moretti. “Before, it was thenormal thing to stay out until 3 or 4 a.m., but after the ordinance the center emptied itself.”

Luca Gasperoni, a journalism major who has covered these issues for Il Ducato, the student newspaper, said students have nicknamed the mayor “the Sheriff,” because of his harsh stance on student nightlife in the city.

There have been other regulations over the years impacting student celebrations. One prohibits dancing in establishments which have not acquired a dance license, a requirement to prevent overcrowding. The other prohibits citizens from carrying alcohol bottles, closed or open, anywhere beyond the doorways of bars and cafes.

Students and business owners had adapted to these rules but were caught off-guard when the repressive curfew was accompanied by more stringent enforcement of the old regulations.

Lannes and the Bosom customers were shocked one la notte dello studente

when the Urbino police raided, threw out its occupants, sealed off the dancing room with police tape, and charged Lannes and her husband, Stefano Galli, for violating city laws.

That day, graduation celebrations were being hosted at the pub; cakes lined the tables, and the air was ringing with shouts of congratulations.

“They were celebrating a great accomplishment, so naturally there was some dancing happening,” Lannes recalled.  “One young girl was forced to leave before she could even eat her graduation cake.”

Because Bosom doesn’t have a dancing license, Lannes and her husband are now awaiting trial in city court, facing up to six months in jail should they lose.

Lannes remains defiant – “If they want to arrest me, ok, but I know I’ve done nothing wrong” – but the emotion and uncertainty of the past few months have weighed on her.

Uses a napkin to dab at tears as she recounts the story, she says “It’s the passion that does this to me. There are 34 years of history in this pub, and the mayor has completely destroyed it.”

“I know people who’ve met because of the Bosom, gotten married, and now their kids come to my pub.”

In fact, the Bosom pub has been is an integral part of nightlife inside the old city for decades. Its walls declare the stories of generations of students, travelers, and young lovers.

“I know people who’ve met because of the Bosom, gotten married, and now their kids come to my pub,” she said.

In the weeks after the ordinance, students forced to leave the pubs at the new 2 a.m. closing time would gather in Piazza della Republica – a public square in the center of Urbino – to protest the ordinances until 4 or 5 in the morning. Moretti recalled students singing chants against the mayor in the piazza in the weeks after the ordinance was passed.

“They were angry, but they aren’t criminals,” Lannes said.

To American ears, a curfew of 2 a.m. may sound moderate, but in Italian culture, it is outlandish. Italians react with disbelief when told that most American establishments close far before sunrise. Things are different here.

In Italian culture, evening socializing begins around 4 or 5 p.m., with a period called aperitivo. People crowd outdoor sidewalk tables to enjoy a glass of wine or Italy’s signature drink, the refreshing Aperol a spritz – an orange liquor with a splash of bubbly Prosecco, garnished with an orange slice. While drinking, customers munch on a wide assortment of free appetizer, from the simple – peanuts, chips, and breadsticks – to the elaborate – sushi, freshly made bruschetta, pizza slices, and salumi.

Café De Sole, an airy, quirky sidewalk café with ceramic sun depictions covering its walls, can be found bustling during aperitivo. Romina Piccolo, 44, petite and kind-eyed, celebrated the 20^th anniversary of the café this summer. Known for its live music, the café is a popular gathering place for students and residents alike.

Hearing that shops and bars in the city resulted in destruction was hugely disheartening. “I’ve always tried to bring something new to the city – arts, music – I strive to create beauty,” Piccolo said.

More than just a personal toll, the ordinance took an economic toll on Piccolo as well. She explained that closing even just one hour earlier would amount to 30 hours of lost business in a month, which is the equivalent of letting one employee go.

Additionally, because of the ordinance, owners of late-night businesses didn’t have anywhere to eat after closing up; there was not a pizzeria, gelateria, or kebab shop open past 2 a.m. “If I have a visiting artist to show around, and I want to take them somewhere to eat, it’s embarrassing to have to show them a dead city.”

Piccolo said she felt “free, free, free” after the ordinance was lifted.

For Samuel Sorrenti, owner of Enjoy Disco Club, a new dance club located just outside the old city’s walls, the end of the ordinance meant survival.

In Urbino there is a distinction made between clubs and bars. Clubs can acquire dancing licenses, and typically have later opening times. Like most discos, Enjoy doesn’t open until midnight, and typically closes after 5 a.m.  So Sorrenti was appalled when the curfew was announced.

“A club is for night entertainment,” he said, “you can’t close at 2 a.m.!”

Sorrenti said preliminary meetings with the mayor before his opening in October had made him feel welcome. But when the ordinance was passed in February, just four months after he’d opened his doors, Sorrenti felt as though his “legs had been cut out from under him.”

When the mayor chose to end the ordinance two months ago, he felt like a weight was lifted.

Sorrenti, a friendly, determined businessman, sits in an office clad with brightly colored posters boasting months of themed Enjoy parties. Enjoy’s most recent party, the inauguration of an outdoor garden, was well attended – 1,500 students came out to revel under multicolored neon lights.

Now Sorrenti feels like the future for his disco is brighter, though no one can be sure whether the curfew will be reinstated.

Back at the Bosom Pub, Lannes weighs in about the importance of students in the city, claiming that “we need to protect them because many are here on their parents’ dime.” She argues that many parents have made huge sacrifices so their children can study here. Students are also an integral part of the life and economy of the town, and Lannes believes they must be respected as so.

Hand on her heart she said, “I feel as though you all – everyone who comes to Bosom – are my own children.”

Lannes’ heart for her student customers is worn on her sleeve. Despite the anxiety that accompanies her impending trial, she remains hopeful for the future of Urbino. “There are meanspirited things that have happened here,” she said, “but it is a beautiful place.

Not only for studying, but for living.”

Video by Madison Schultz & Caitlin Piemme

The post Dancing around the Law appeared first on 2019 Urbino Project.

Nerone, Italy – It was another moment when the reporter felt the panic of being stuck, of being buried alive deep inside this Italian mountain. What seemed to be a huge cave on the outside was now closing within inches of her head, arms and legs. For a moment she was paralyzed…

That’s when Giacomo Berlocchi offered his prescription for the qualities of necessary becoming a speleologist – a person who explores mountains inside and out: Determination, a desire to discover, and car grease.

A speleologist and rescuer, Berlocchi was also squeezing through the first and tightest hole in the cave of Monte Nerone as he offered the advice. He recalled an outing when a chubby friend coated himself in grease to navigate a really tight spot.

“The caves are pretty safe,” he said. “A car will not hit you. What should we be scared off? If the passage is too small then do not go. There’s nothing to be afraid off.”

Berlocchi is one of 15 instructors for the internal rescue branch of the National Alpine and Speleological Rescue Corps (CNSAS), a volunteer group that carries out rescue missions recovering injured or lost Italian adventurers. It is part of the Italian Alpine Club (CAI).

This region central Italy, Le Marche, is a prime location for their services. Packed with rolling hills and soaring mountains is home to a community that can found hiking the trails in the mountains that line Urbino’s horizons

 On any given day members might find themselves using their kills inside caves, on a hiking trail, a mountain summit or a whitewater canyon river. It’s what makes them speleologists in Italy.

“Being a speleologist is a multifaceted experience,” Berlocchi said. “On the one hand you should be a scientist: someone who knows the cave, knows why it was formed and how its developing. On the other hand, you need to be technically ready as well as physically.”

His fellow CNASA members are prime examples.

“You have to explore yourself, your fears all while taking in the beauty of a place many people will never be able to go.”

Filippo Martelli, speleologist and professor of physics at the University of Urbino, plays a role in building the speleology community by expressing his love and knowledge of the sport to students. He says the sport requires personal exploration as well.

“You have to explore yourself, your fears all while taking in the beauty of a place many people will never be able to go,” he said.

Lorenzo Zanarelli, speleologist and long-term friend of Martelli, agrees the sports requires exploration within and without.

“Experiencing a cave allows you to know what’s inside yourself and not just what is inside the cave,” he said. “It is a personal, more intimate experience.”

And speleologists say the sport creates a close-knit community.

“Speleology allows you to create relationships and share experiences with other people while increasing your knowledge and giving you have a deep understanding go the world which surrounds you,” Zanarelli said.

The hobby has helped the local environment. Speleologist who specialize in hydrogeology, like Zanarelli, created Carta della vulnerabilità , a pollution vulnerability map of the aquifers of Monte Nerone, a vital drinking water source for the city of Urbino.

Video by Zahra Sandhu & Sarah Detwiler

The post Diggin’ Speleology appeared first on 2019 Urbino Project.

On a cool December night, author Nicola H. Cosentino sits poised on a wooden stool in front of a packed house at Urbino’s Caffé del Sole. He’s holding his third novel, Vita e morte delle aragoste (Life and Death of Lobsters), the bright red cover scattered among the hands of audience members reading along. Ornate white teapots top the various worn coffee tables.

After reading aloud a momentous scene in which a character destroys elegant teapots in a fit of rage, Cosentino slaps the paperback shut. “Now, we will smash the teapots,” he says. At first, there is silence, then skepticism. A collective, “Huh?” escapes the confused crowd.

“Smash the teapots.”

The author leads the throng of readers outside the bar to the slanted bricks of Via Giuseppe Mazzini, teapot in hand. He drops the shimmering white ceramic to the street, where it delicately shatters. One by one, the now-enthusiastic audience members follow suit.

This is anything but unusual at the eclectic Caffé del Sole, a cultural beacon in Urbino. Owner Romina Piccolo, tall, with short brown hair and a warm smile, describes her caffé in many ways: a family, an alchemical forge of ideas and culture, but most importantly, a second home to anyone and everyone who enters. She volunteers the caffé for the yearly literary festival, Urbino e le cittá del libro (“Urbino and the city of the book”), and works with local and regional artists, musicians, poets, and authors that bring the community together and enrich its cultural life. “People come here and they play the guitar, chess, foosball,” she says. “They do what they want as if they were at home.”

Afternoon light pours into the bar through the wide-open double doors. Straight ahead, the S-shaped bar curves and fills the right corner. Shallow shelves jut from the wall behind, displaying a colorfully vast assortment of liquor and wine bottles. On the left, past the obligatory foosball table, an arched window overlooks the back lounge, which resembles a cozy family room. It has coffee tables, books, and soft lamps in the back corners. All the walls in Caffé del Sole are covered with brightly painted ceramic suns.

Why all the suns? What’s with the name? Sinking into one of the loveseats in the lounge, Piccolo says, “I have loved the Sun ever since I was a little girl.” In grade school, when asked to draw her own image of God, she drew the sun. Growing up, she bought all kinds of paraphernalia plastered with the big burning star–“mugs, T-shirts, whatever.”

Piccolo gestures toward a large cluster of suns above the couches in the back-left corner and says, “At first, twenty of these decorations were mine. But as students were graduating and leaving, they added a piece and the collection grew bigger. It became a sort of tradition.”

Piccolo calls to a bald man shuffling around the bar on his way into the lounge. She points to one of the chubbier-faced suns on the wall, laughs, and says, “That one’s Mimmo.”

“I think our secret weapon is the fact that people here are always welcomed with a hug, handshake, or smile,” Celi says, offering a smile as cheerful as one of the beaming soli on the wall behind him. “There’s a real relationship with our customers.”

Mimmo is the nickname of Domenico Celi, Piccolo’s business partner with whom she opened the caffé 20 years ago. He’s a music connoisseur and promoter, responsible for bringing live music events to Urbino. “We started off with jazz, and we would play it at seven,” Celi says, plopping himself down next to Piccolo. “We were kind of judged for it,” he says, stroking his gray beard.

Before Piccolo and Celi started Caffé del Sole, live music was nearly impossible to find in Urbino, especially while it was still light out. Acts had to play outside because other caffé were too small to accommodate them indoors. The loud volume so early in the evening was bothersome to neighbors.

Piccolo says they were successful in their endeavor because of the larger size of their caffé. She’s right: The larger lounge area allowed them to bring musical acts inside, without compromising the whole bar just for a performance. People could move freely and enjoy the music at whatever capacity they preferred.

A friend enters the bar, and Piccolo leaps from her seat to kiss her on each cheek. “Ciao bella!” she says gleefully. “I think our secret weapon is the fact that people here are always welcomed with a hug, handshake, or smile,” Celi says, offering a smile as cheerful as one of the beaming soli on the wall behind him. “There’s a real relationship with our customers.”

To his left, below the assorted suns, is a large, light-brown wooden grand piano. Here, Celi mentored award-winning singer and pianist Raphael Gualazzi.

At first, says Celi, Gualazzi played with his back to the audience on a small keyboard he carried when skipping school to come to the bar. “I tried to encourage him because he was really shy at first. I tried to convince him to believe in his own potential,” Celi says. He eyes the piano he bought almost 20 years ago so Gualazzi had a real place to play. “And eventually he did.” Piccolo and Celi reminisce about Gualazzi eventually playing in a band with other locals, finally facing the crowd, and writing his own songs in the caffé. They’re like parents reveling in pride for their prodigal son.

Gualazzi’s fame also brought crowds, which brought recognition to Caffé del Sole, which in turn brought other musicians who wanted fame and crowds. “He was a big inspiration for the other artists who were playing here, just to see him become famous here,” says Celi.

This past May, the caffé hosted Comelinchiostro, an urban singer-songwriter from the Linguria region. Born Giorgio Bravi, the solo acoustic act showcased songs from his newest album, Di che cosa hai paura? (“What are you afraid of?”).

Past the grand piano, on the far side of the lounge, is a corner bookshelf, fully stocked with a selection of novels, non-fiction, and poetry. Five years ago, Piccolo recognized the caffé had the ability to include literature in its range of events. “Books are alive. They present culture, they can provide a different perspective on an experience,” she says. The abundance of books in the caffé and her robust vocabulary are dead giveaways that she is an avid reader. “Books saved my life, but that’s a whole different story,” she says, and laughs.

The creation of Urbino e le cittá del libro (abbreviated UCL) in 2014 was a major catalyst for this new addition. Founder Alessio Torino, who is a university professor in Urbino, started the festival with the goal to “promote reading and editorial culture through presentations, readings, workshops,” and the like. Torino is a longtime customer at Caffé del Sole, so Piccolo decided to reach out and use the connection to its fullest extent. “I thought it was strange,” says Piccolo, “that people came to this festival from all over the country, and people from Urbino did not know much about it, so I decided to spread the word.”

She finishes her sentence just as another good friend enters the lounge and is met with more amiable cheek kisses and a hug. He’s holding an advertisement for what Piccolo calls “Waiting for UCL.” Each month, she holds a book presentation at the caffé to bring awareness of the festival to Urbino.

When she first brought up the idea of literary events at the caffé, friends and colleagues hesitated. They insisted that no one would come if she wanted to introduce reading. So she went home, thought about it more, and came back with her own special Piccolo spin: She decided not to present books academically, but instead with what she calls the “Sixth Sense.”

“I strongly believe that Caffé del Sole is a crucial meeting point for different kinds of people, from academics to workers. I have always thought of it as the heart of Urbino,” says customer Domenico Giordani.

“It’s a way to involve people and to sort of re-create scenes of the books in the caffé,” she says. Like when Cosentino had the patrons smash the beautiful teapots. “I tried to give my guests the chance to try new things.”

Waiting to order a glass of wine at the bar is writer Domenico Giordani. He was brought to the bar by a friend four years ago with the promise of the best aperitivo in Urbino. Now, he can often be found at book and poetry presentations at Caffé del Sole.

“I strongly believe that Caffé del Sole is a crucial meeting point for different kinds of people, from academics to workers. I have always thought of it as the heart of Urbino,” he says later in an email. Giordani also sees the place as a valuable outlet for young artists to attract the notice of academics and talent scouts. Along with requests from musical acts all over Italy to come play at the bar, Piccolo says she receives books and inquiries from publishers to be presented.

Standing in the wide doorway and looking down the steep street, Piccolo lights a cigarette. She believes Caffé del Sole has managed to survive the recent economic downturn in Urbino because “people realize there is a soul in this place.” She adds that her employees were not simply hired randomly. “They are people that I trust and know how to welcome customers. They don’t do it for the money, they do it because that’s how they are,” the business owner says.

The newest hire at Caffé del Sole, Iride Benna, has already begun to see the magic both behind the scenes and at the bar. “Two years ago I tried to work here, but they had a full staff so I worked somewhere else,” Benna says while greeting familiar guests as they enter the bar. In her three weeks of employment here, she says she’s already been inspired by Piccolo and Celi.

Benna is well versed in mixology, having studied in Rome and Milan. She also studied photography and cinematography in high school and here at Urbino’s university. “My dream is to open a bar that introduces art like Caffé del Sole,” she says. She admires their willingness to reach into and help the community. “It’s one of the rare places in Urbino where if you have something artistic that you do, they are so happy to have it here. And if you are a student and you propose an event they really try to help you do it.”

Now sitting outside at one of the tables, Piccolo gently sips a cappuccino. On the summer solstice, June 21st, Caffé del Sole will celebrate its 20th anniversary of business in the same way that it began. Piccolo has planned a jam session and invited all the artists who have played at the caffé in the past. “We’re going to set a small stage right here on the road,” she says, gesturing downward with two outstretched hands. There will also be a poetry exhibit, and students from Urbino’s art academy, who will make drawings for customers.

“We’re going to give all the clients a little gift, but I cannot say what that is yet,” she says with a devious chuckle. You’ll just have to make your way down there on the day of the Sun to find out. Who knows? You might just get to smash a celebratory wine glass.

Translation of interviews and other language assistance by University of Urbino student Francesca Massari. This article also appears in Urbino Now magazine’s Urbino Centro section. You can read all the magazine articles in print by ordering a copy from MagCloud.

The post Shining Light on Caffé del Sole appeared first on 2019 Urbino Project.

URBINO, Italy – Deep in a lush forest on an Italian hillside, Serena Panti encourages a small group of preschoolers to face their fears.

The typically small stream, after a few days of rain, has become whitewater rapids – at least in the eyes of a small child. Hesitating in their colorful rubber boots, the children line up to jump over and continue their hike.

Panti grabs the hand of each student and helps him or her leap over. As each student lands safely on the other side, praise erupts from the others and from Panti herself. With each trip across the stream the children become more confident, some no longer needing assistance. Eventually all fear subsides, and the new game of jumping back and forth across the stream becomes more important to the children than continuing the hike.

Serena Panti is one of four teachers at this outdoor school, Maestra Natura, an educational project of a new organization in the Marche region called L’albero Maestro, or “The teaching tree.”

“L’albero Maestro was established on the fundamentals that children should learn to be autonomous through self-exploration,” says Panti, who taught in traditional schools before teaching at Maestra Natura. “Some people think the children just run around like wild things, but we follow all the institutional guidelines.”

L’albero Maestro started nearly three years ago in 2016 as an association which offered weekend nature outings for families. Enthusiasm from parents and children of the Marche region encouraged L’albero Maestro to establish a permanent location to provide nature experiences daily.

Thus, the magic of Maestra Natura blossomed.

Maestra Natura is a completely outdoor preschool located a few miles outside the walls of Urbino. With 23 students from 9 months to 5 years old, and four teachers, the school provides more one-on-one attention from instructors than does a traditional school, Panti says.

Parents agree that this is one of the school’s attractions.

Francesca Guidarelli, whose daughter Alice, age 4, attends the school, says that children need more than what the traditional Italian school system can offer. 

Francesca and her husband, Luigi, wanted something different for Alice, “something that considered the full and happy development of the human being as the first need for a child.”

The Guidarellis enrolled Alice in Maestra Natura almost two years ago. Francesca Guidarelli believes “having grass, pebbles, trees, and sky all with different colors and moods acting as a classroom is an incredible advantage.”

At Maestra Natura, students are able to learn through action and creativity.

Each day starts with a “circle of greeting” where students sit in a circle overlooking Italian hills and mountains and discuss how they are feeling that day. After the initial morning greeting, students get a quick, gluten-free snack prepared by one of the parent volunteers. From there, children get to decide individually what they want to do for the day.

This is one of the primary reasons the Guidarellis enrolled Alice in Maestra Natura. “We wanted something that would consider her as a complete and unique person,” Francesca says. Much of the school day at Maestra Natura is left to the discretion of the children, as the school aims to offer a routine without imposing a structure.

Children can choose from activities such as tending to the class’s two chickens, Clara and Belle, or by sitting on a quilted blanket and reading.

With the school being completely outdoors, the chance for new activities and adventure can happen at any moment. “Alice has no fear in clearing the way for her mates in the forest,” her mother says.

A common crowd-pleasing activity is a hike into the woods after snack time. With steep slippery hills, rivers to splash in, and trees to hang from, the nearby woods act as nature’s best jungle-gym for the tiny children.

Students work up an appetite after such an adventure, so lunchtime quickly follows.

Appetites satisfied, the wind acts as a soft fan and the birds provide a sweet lullaby. The children sprawl on mats under shady trees to catch a quick nap.

Once children wake, there is free time for play until parents arrive to pick them up for the day.

The parents’ involvement with the school is not restricted to the drop off and pick up. From the establishment of the association nearly three years ago, L’albero Maestro has strived to keep families involved with their children’s education.

One of the ways parents and guardians can get involved with the school is through a “time bank” initiative established by the nature school association. Parents can receive discounted tuition rates by helping cut grass, caring for the hens, or doing other tasks around the school.

The benefits of the time bank initiative go beyond the economic help.

“It is a way of realizing the participation in first person,” says Francesca, “ so giving a true sense of community to the project.”

“It is important to maintain healthy relationships amongst families as a way to teach the children about the importance of cooperation.”

In between educating children about fair trade, and running her own business in Urbino, Francesca spends time working in the kitchen and doing chores around the school to help out. Her husband helps by doing more physical chores, such as cleaning the chicken coop and maintaining the grounds around the school. Francesca admits that with hectic schedules, it is not always easy to face all the needs of the school, but with collaboration anything can be done.

 “It is important to maintain healthy relationships amongst families as a way to teach the children about the importance of cooperation.”

They say it takes a village to raise a child, and L’albero Maestro seems to do just that.

With the late afternoon sun beaming through the shade of the tree leaves, a father arrives to retrieve his young daughter just as she is waking from her nap. She stretches her tiny arms and rubs her eyes. A wide smile spreads across her face as she spots her father and scurries toward him. Kneeling down to match her height, the father wraps his daughter in a warm hug. The pair say goodbye to Panti, gather the young girl’s backpack, and head home for the day.

Translation of interviews and other language assistance by University of Urbino student Antonia Perreca. 

Video by Kelsey Robertson & Eliza Friel

The post Nurture Through Nature appeared first on 2019 Urbino Project.

Urbino, Italy — This magnificent Renaissance city is known for its friendly faces and peaceful piazzas. Except on Thursday night. That’s when the quiet streets erupt with laughter, loud music and screams of university students.

Gabriele Cavalera remembers one harrowing night 20 years ago when ambulance trying to reach a sick student was blocked by crowds of partiers, most of them University of Urbino students. They then began rocking the vehicle back and forth and tried to climb into it. 

Cavalera, now the communication director for the mayor, remembers thinking at the time, “Before somebody dies, let’s do something.”

Although things hadn’t been that bad since 1999, earlier this year growing noise and celebrations had hit such volume and intensity residents worried it was reaching a boiling point again. So they asked the mayor, Maurizio Gambini, to intervene.

He agreed and passed an ordinance that clubs must be closed at 2 a.m. for two months, outraging students and bar owners but delighting residents. The ordinance was dissolved in April, but the argument continues.

This fight is nothing new inside Urbino’s ancient walls. For decades there has been a struggle between students and residents. Students say they need to relax and have fun, and residents say they need their sleep. And the unique geography of the city makes a solution difficult.

Of Urbino’s 14,000 fulltime residents only about 1100 live inside walls of the historic city center, which the United Nations has declared a World Heritage City. The rest live outside in modern housing.

But the old city is the campus for most of the 14,000 students. They attend classes in the old buildings, some rent apartments there, and its bars and clubs are where they naturally go to blow off steam after a long week of classes.

In the old days, bars and clubs could stay open until 6 in the morning, Cavalera explains. The first ordinance required closure at “3 during the week and 3:30 during the weekends.”

Through the years, closing time has been continually pushed up earlier. Then, four years ago, an ordinance was passed that outlawed people from having bottles or open containers in public 8 p.m. to 7 a.m.

Customers could have open bottles near the doors of the establishments where they were drinking, Cavalera explains.

“This was done because a few years ago at a certain point there were students who would buy alcohol in supermarkets and just sit around, and they’ll leave bottles and glasses and rubbish everywhere,” Cavalera said.

It was no longer just a nuisance to residents; it became a safety concern when there was broken glass up and down the streets. However, the ordinance against music outside after 12 a.m. was due to complaints from neighbors trying to sleep.

“Sometimes they sing, they yell, they scream, they talk, and for the residents it can be pretty difficult,” said Cavalera.

Anna Rita Romani works for Urbino Living, a local realty agency that sells and rents out apartments to students and residents. The inhabitants close to the bar would be up until 5 a.m. due to the noise.

“There are some apartments which are very close to the bar, and some students have left their apartments because during the night it was too noisy,” Romani said. “Some students gave the key back because they couldn’t stay there.”

The students from the University of Urbino are not the only ones to blame for all the commotion, however. The town had become a hotspot for students from nearby areas as well.

“Thursday night in Urbino was so popular that people used to come from other towns and other regions,” Cavalera said. “You would get so many people downtown that was really becoming a problem.”

Alessandra Ubaldi, Urbino resident and owner of a specialty clothing store called Guado, may be one of the few who isn’t bothered by the noise at night, but she acknowledges that the students dominate the population of this small town.

“I don’t live where there are many students. I live next to the historic center, so I don’t have a direct contact to the problem,” Ubaldi said. “But, there’s a difference in numbers because there are a lot more students than there are citizens.”

Cavalera said when citizens have a complaint, it goes directly to the mayor.

“They usually sign off a petition, they send it to the mayor, and they ask for a meeting,” Cavalera said. “They promote the meeting with the mayor, and they try to explain their points of view.”

Although the ordinance was only in place for two months, people didn’t think it was enough for solving the tension between citizens and residents.

“It just started a strong discussion about the topic that needs to be continued,” Ubaldi said. “Just setting a time for clubs to close doesn’t solve the problem.”

Veronica Gentillini, a university student and coordinator of Agora Student Association, has made an effort to meet with the residents and talk out the issue. The attempt has turned into more of a struggle, she said.

“It’s not always so easy, so they try with the student council to talk to the citizens and to have the citizens meet so we can find an agreement,” Gentillini said.

“There is a generation of 20-year-olds who change almost every year and there is a generation of older people the actual citizens who remain the same.”

It’s not surprising that the two sides are at odds, not only because of the age difference but their difference in values. Ubaldi says that is the source of the fighting.

“There is a generation of 20-year-olds who change almost every year,” Ubaldi says, “and there is a generation of older people the actual citizens who remain the same.”

Gentillini blames both sides for not communicating enough.

“There’s not a physical meeting between students and citizens,” Gentillini said. “In my opinion, this ordinance was created because there was never an agreement between students and citizens.”

Cavalera disputed the idea that residents and students do not get along and insists that the situation is not as bad as it’s made out to be.

 “Sometimes you find on newspapers that the students and the residents are like rivals or enemies, it’s not the case,” Cavalera argued. “It’s just a question of having different needs.”

However, Ubaldi thinks that having different needs is part of the problem, because people just start to talk in circles. She will eventually stop meeting with residents for this reason.

“Often people just tell their own stories and their own needs,” Ubaldi says. “Instead of actually trying to find a common ground they fight.”

Collaborating on a solution that makes everyone happy has not seemed to work out so far, but some ideas have been thrown around.

“We need to find the right kinds of entertainment, and I think that this is probably the most difficult of the problems where people can’t agree,” Ubaldi says.

Campogiani thinks that college kids shouldn’t act out just because they are in a different city.

“They have to be the same in their home in Urbino. Correct, educated, clean,” Campogiani says. “In Italy we say ‘Paese dei balocchi: the country in which one can do everything’, it’s not correct. Urbino is not ‘Paese dei balocchi’.”

Although there are differing opinions on long-term solutions, one thing remains clear: An ordinance like this could likely be passed again. According to Cavalera, only if something major happens, but Gentillini thinks otherwise.

Gentillini says, “Because I know the mayor, yes.”

Translation of interviews and other language assistance by University of Urbino students Lisa Oliva, Liliana Cogliandro, Bianca Sartini and Roberto Giambona.

Video by Caitlin Piemme & Madison Schultz

The post Finding the Off Switch appeared first on 2019 Urbino Project.

Video by Sam Parker

The post L’Artigiano: The Craftsman appeared first on 2019 Urbino Project.

SASSOCORVARO, Italy – Emilio Spada, a 36-year-old fourth-generation Italian shepherd, has found a method to protect his sheep from the jaws of the growing wolf population.

In the past, he has tried audio methods that are meant to scare predators away from farms, but they did not work. He tried electric fences, but they did not work either. He even tried videotaping the wolves to understand and predict their behavior, but this was unsuccessful as well. Other shepherds have tried using rubber bullets, but they require being near the flock at all times. These modern methods have failed to effectively protect Spada’s 2,200 sheep from this ancient enemy.

The Italian wolf, or canis lupus italicus in Latin, has been a problem for Italian shepherds for centuries. In the 20^th century, this led to nationwide wolf hunting that brought wolves close to extinction. In 1971, the Italian government made it illegal to kill wolves, which frustrated many farmers who lose livestock to these predators. The controversy has become a canyon-size rift between farmers and government officials.

Luckily for Spada, there is another form of protection: the maremma sheepdog, or in Italian, cane da pastore Maremmano-Abruzzese, or simply, maremmani, a breed similar to Great Pyrenees in their guarding instincts.

Spada is from a long line of sheep farmers who have been using maremmani to protect their flocks for over 40 years. Cau & Spada, named for the families of his mother and father, is a 1,730-acre farm nestled in the rolling hills below the Apennine mountains 15 miles west of the walled Renaissance city of Urbino.

Spada says his 25 maremmani are “the only thing that really works to keep a balance between man and wolf.”

When a wolf kills a sheep

There are more than 1,500 wolves living in the Apennines today, according to an April article in The (London) Telegraph. Meanwhile, a 2017 EU livestock census recorded 7.2 million sheep in Italy.

Recently, the Italian government rejected farmers’ requests to kill wolves, but instead instituted a European Commission system to compensate farmers for lost livestock. This allows them to claim direct costs for damages to their livestock as well as indirect costs such as protection measures, and then be reimbursed by the government.

This compensation allows livestock owners and farmers to get reimbursed for fences or when purchasing livestock protection dogs and even the dogs’ veterinary bills, according to the European Wilderness Society. They can also be paid for search and rescue costs for missing livestock.

But Spada says that the compensation does not really cover all the damages. “When a wolf comes into a herd, there are a 100 or even a 1,000 sheep. A wolf is going to kill one, but the other 99 are going to be so scared and filled with adrenaline that we can not use their milk. Our damages are more qualitative than economical and we cannot report what we lost to the European Union.”

For Spada, his maremmani sheepdogs are the only sensible method of co-existence, because wolves will avoid the maremmani unless they are extremely hungry.

Studying the breeds

There are many breeds of livestock protection dogs (or LPD) that are more well-known than the Italian maremmani, such as the Great Pyrenees. A recent study by the U.S. Department of Agriculture evaluated the effectiveness of several other European dog breeds in protecting herds in the American Northwest.

The study found that different breeds’ effectiveness was based on each breed’s unique guarding traits. For example, it found the Bulgarian Karakachans are more likely to stay with their flocks wherever they go, while Kangals are more likely to investigate a threat and Transmontanos are better at assessing threats.

An article published in Carnivore Damage Prevention News saw 90 percent less losses within herds with the use of Pyrenees dogs as LPDs, which increased sheep production 125 percent in the Chacabuco Valley of Patagonia.

But maremanni are mostly Italian dogs and a traditional breed among southern Italian shepherds. Massimo Pandolfi, a former science professor at the University of Urbino, says that maremmani are accustomed to defending sheep from wolves. In his opinion, the maremmani have a “special capability of defending herds of sheep.”

One eye open

On the Cau & Spada farm, 11 employees maintain the pastureland and keep production rolling. But these fromagers (from the French word for cheese) are not the only ones whose jobs affect the production of the pecorino cheese. The maremmani play just as large a role as guardians of the flock.

Visitors are met by one of the largest dogs as she chases approaching cars. These mid- to large-size dogs, with thick white unkept coats, give off agrressive personalities with their deep barks,  but they lose their rugged guard-dog mentality in return for ear scratches and belly rubs.

The maremmani need no formal training but are instead raised alongside the herds of sheep. The dogs feel as though they are part of the flock, Spada explains. This upbringing ingrains a protective temperament in them.

When the sheep are out grazing, two dogs stay with the herd while several others are out circling in the surrounding fields and woods to keep predators away.

Maremmani have been appreciated for their role in protecting sheep for centuries and have been represented in many art forms. Some examples include the “Wolf dogs of Abrussi,” an illustration from Penny Magazine of 1833, “Mariotto di Nardo,” a nativity scene from 1385, and the “Canis Pastoralis” from the second century in the Vatican Museums.

The maremmani may hold an honorable job as protectors of the flock, but when the dogs encounter wolves, it can be fatal for either party.

Spada recounts how one morning, more than 15 years ago, one maremmano came back from the pastures with a hole in his leg. While out protecting the sheep the previous night, the dog had gotten into a fight with a wolf. The maremmano’s injured leg became infected with rabies and the dog began to be aggressive toward Spada’s family, he said, so the dog had to be put down.

“The dogs. . .lose their rugged guard-dog mentality in return for ear scratches and belly rubs.”

As Spada solemnly describes this attack, a large dark-faced maremmano named Sif sits next to him. Spada adds that the dog they lost was not only one of their largest and best fighters, but was partners with Sif. With a grin, Spada admits that Sif is his favorite of the 25 maremmani on the farm. “She is my woman.”

Most fights between maremmani and wolves result only in scratches. But interaction between a maremmano and a wolf coming face to face triggers the dog’s instinct to fight with more anger and want to win future fights even more.

“When a maremmano meets a wolf it will not sleep peacefully the rest of its life,” says Spada. “It’s part of the dogs’ lives, but it’s not pretty to see because they always sleep with one eye open.”

Translation of interviews and other language assistance by University of Urbino student Lisa Oliva.

Video by Liza Moore & Allison Baxter

The post Protecting the Flock appeared first on 2019 Urbino Project.

MONTEFABBRI, Italy—Enrico Libanore, owner and farmer of La Fattoria del Borgo (the village farm), walks through the fields among the hills near the small town of Montefabbri. He reaches up and picks a cherry. “You can eat them off of the trees,” he says.

“The process of making our cherry jam is not very demanding like making the honey or wine,” Libanore explains. “However, it is important that the cherries are washed fresh to get the best quality jam.”

He adds proudly, “People know us for the quality of our organic products.”

Cherries are just one kind of many kinds of produce grown on the farm. There are also apricots, tomatoes, olives, elder flowers, sage, lavender, and rosemary. Libanore is equally proud of the many products he makes from those raw ingredients. These include Sapa (a thick liquid to pour over ricotta polenta and ice cream, made from crushed grapes), Visciolata (a dessert topping, made from forest cherries left in the sun for 60 days), Il Riparaguai (“the repairman,” a cherry-based Sangiovese wine drink), and Sciroppo di Fiori di Sambuco (a healthful drink containing elder flowers, lemon, and cane sugar).

Many of these can be found in restaurants, specialty food shops, and food supplies centers in and around Urbino.

Libanore and his wife, Olessia Tambovtseva, purchased the farm in 1996. “We were shown a hundred houses before this, and I knew this was the house I wanted to be in,” he says.

“The quality of our jam is what we are most proud of, not the amount we make.”

Libanore began with bee-keeping to make honey, but soon expanded.“I realized how much produce was already being grown on the farm and thought to make goods out of them.” He says his organic techniques started from his belief in the quality of the produce he grows and the organic lifestyle he and Tambovtseva follow. “The quality of our jam is what we are most proud of,” he says, “not the amount we make.”

On a recent June morning, Libanore is making wild cherry jam in the laboratorio, or workshop, about a five minute walk from the cherry trees. This is where most of the products are made and packaged to be taken to stores and restaurants. There is a loud hum of the machines. He goes through the process step-by-step, paying close attention to detail. The farmer washes the cherries and then puts them in a container before they are then poured into the pulper. He then grinds the pulp to create the sticky jam.

Libanore leaves the workshop and heads to his little shop alongside the family’s home. Here is where he keeps a small supply of his products on shelves for selling

“All are for sale here,” says Libanore, “but as a farmer, my success depends on the products being sold in local shops and larger scale distributors in the region and internationally.”

In Urbino, the owner of Raffaello Degusteria, a popular restaurant and shop offering authentic local food, describes Libanore and his family as friends. Fausto Foglietta says, “I love their juices such as elder flower and I use their cherry jam for our pies.” Foglietta says he appreciates the farm not only for its products but also for its values in organic living.

La Fattoria is also a favorite of Degusteria customer Carlos Carlini. “I am a fan of all the products that La Fattoria sells,” says Carlini, who visits the farm once a month to shop. Andrea Ceccarelli, president of L’Emporio AE, a large healthful food supplier in Fano, says items from La Fattoria del Borgo are among his favorite products in their warehouse.

Despite the farm’s success, Libanore says he will not try to increase sales by expanding his shop at the farm. “I don’t want to open a bigger shop to sell because farmers should focus on farming, and not trying to be shop sellers.”

“Our goal is to get the community to understand the importance of an organic lifestyle.”

But La Fattoria has recently expanded by taking on a government-funded project called “Active Longevity.” Tambovtseva is in charge of this program, which encourages older people to be mentally and physically active while on the farm. Like most of the activities she directs at La Fattoria, it also teaches why and how organic living is important.

While Libanore spends most of his time farming, and leaves much of the activity planning to his wife, he often takes time to explain the same principles to groups of visiting schoolchildren.“We started these activities to become a more social farm,” says Libanore. “Our goal is to get the community to understand the importance of an organic lifestyle and to promote longevity.”

Translation of interviews and other language assistance by University of Urbino students Liliana Cogliandro, Bianca Sartini, Francesca Massari, Tonia Perecca, and Lisa Olivia.

Video by Sabriya McKoy & Sara Amil

The post La Fattoria del Borgo appeared first on 2019 Urbino Project.

Marco Galazzi, a middle-aged man whose stern disposition masks a friendly nature, walks into the office of the Contrada Valbona, a small, unassuming space located along Urbino’s Via Mazzini that serves as the headquarters of his neighborhood association. On the walls are old black-and-white pictures of children playing, and above the entry into a kitchen hangs a banner reading Nel blu, dipinto di blu (“In blue, painted in blue”), a lyrical reference to the famous Italian song of the same name by Domenico Modugno. Upon closer inspection, however, the banner is revealed to be not a banner at all, but rather part of a kite—just one example of the articulate, three-dimensional kites that are made every year by Galazzi to be flown in the annual Festa dell’Aquilone: “The Festival of Kites.”

Held every September since 1951, the festival brings together the ten contrada, or “neighborhoods,” of Urbino to take part in a competition, and the winner is determined by who can get their kite highest off the ground while avoiding getting tangled in others’ strings. Each contrada makes about 100 kites each year, and during the festival some 500 soar through the air, gently sailing over the walled Renaissance city. Each contrada is also assigned a specific color for the festival, causing a rainbow of shapes and colors to appear in a luminous display in the sky.

Galazzi serves as the head (or capocontrada) of Contrada Valbona, one of the 10 neighborhoods that take part in the festival, which is represented by the color blue. He also serves as Valbona’s chief kite maker: He’s been making kites almost every day since he was seven, meaning Galazzi has made more than 5000 aquiloni in his lifetime.

“A kite a day keeps the doctor away,” jokes Galazzi.

Moving toward a table laden with materials such as paper, string, and sticks of wood, Galazzi prepares to demonstrate how to make a kite. He starts with a type of paper called pergamino which is imported from Germany, which he first cuts and folds into a square. Not letting anything go to waste, he uses the remaining paper to make the tails on two sides and the bottom, which helps the kite maintain its posture in the air. Using a very smooth type of wood called legno ramino, he forms what is known as the telaio, or “frame,” of the kite against the paper part, which is called the velatura, or “veil.” The telaio itself is composed of two parts, which resemble a bow and arrow (known as the archetto and freccino, respectively).

“It has to be even on both parts,” says Galazzi of the telaio. Describing the archetto, he says, “I have to then bend it to make an arch so that the length of the string [attached to each end] is the same as the central part of the kite.”

He carefully crafts each part with razor-sharp precision in order to achieve a perfect distribution of weight to ensure that the kite stays in the air. Galazzi uses a box-cutter to whittle at the legno ramino to make sure its weight is even as it forms the archetto. To test it, Galazzi balances the wood on the edge of the knife. If it doesn’t balance on its own, Galazzi will continue to work on it until it does.

Galazzi places the telaio onto the velatura to see if it aligns. “Voila! It’s perfect,” he exclaims.

While this kite is fairly standard-looking, Galazzi also makes far more elaborate ones for the festival, which he brings in to display at the contrada headquarters, placing them on the tables in upright position. One such kite is called ottopunte, or eight-point, an extravagantly made octagonal kite, the type Valbona is more likely to use for competitions. Another type, known as the Cody kite, has its origins in World War I, when it was used by the British navy as a type of parasail used for observation. Galazzi also shows off his own creation, a large star-shaped kite (which he simply refers to as “Star”) that must be held at a certain angle in order for the wind to carry it.

“All of these kites have their own unique telaio,” says Galazzi. “There are some kind of kites that don’t have any structure, but you can automatically inflate them and blow in the wind.” Larger and more complex kites can easily be disassembled to be transported, then reassembled at the chosen flying location.

Asked what draws him so much to kite-making, Galazzi’s answer is simple. “It’s in my blood,” he says. “It’s who I am.”

“A kite a day keeps the doctor away,” jokes Galazzi.

For the next festival, Galazzi plans to make a kite model of the porta entrance of the city walls that leads to Via Mazzini, near Contrada Valbona’s headquarters. Salvatore Stella, another participant at Valbona and a painting instructor at the Accademia di Belle Arti in Urbino, will also work on the porta kite. Around four years ago, he was recruited by Contrada Valbona to help design the kites. He also helps instruct others on how to properly paint and design their own kites.

“We have a different theme each year,” says Stella. “We decide it as a whole group, and then develop it together.”

In addition to the grand prize trophy for highest kite, several other prizes are given out each year, such as the Aquilone di Belezza (for most beautiful kite) Aquilone Tredimensionale (for best three-dimensional kite) and Aquilone d’Oro, or “Golden Kite” (given to the best children’s kite). While Contrada Valbona hasn’t won the grand trophy in recent years, Galazzi has won the Aquilone Tecnicale, the prize for best technical kite, for 12 years running.

The festival itself has its origins in a poem written by Giovanni Pascoli, one of the most influential poets in Italy at the end of the 19^th century. Though his adult period is associated with the city of Bologna, he spent his adolescence in Urbino, where he attended the Collegio Raffaello, located in Urbino’s central Piazza della Repubblica, which today has a bust of Pascoli in its entranceway. One of his earliest poems “Aquilone,” describes sitting on a hill in Urbino, flying a kite into the air.

“Now we stand still, facing windy Urbino,” the poem goes. “From a cliff, everyone sends their comet towards the turquoise sky.”

Following the end of World War II, Urbino was beset with problems of juvenile delinquency. The Festa dell’Aquilone was started to give the youth a more peaceful way to fight. Originally, there were only five competing contrade (one of which is Valbona), but as the city expanded, the number eventually upgraded to 10, with newer contrade incorporated outside the city walls, including the oddly named Hong Kong, which got its name from building developments which resemble Chinese pagodas.

At the Fortezza Albornoz, once a fortress to keep out invaders that now serves as a park overlooking a scenic view of Urbino, I go to fly kites with Galazzi and Giovanna Luminati. Luminati, who has blonde hair that touches her shoulders and a lively smile, is one of the oldest contradaioli who partakes in the festival. While she isn’t particularly good at making kites, she assists in the rolling of the matassa, or the spool of string that’s held by the kite flyer, an exercise she says helps her wrists stay flexible as she ages.

“When I was a child, I didn’t like the kite festival because I would always lose my kite, and it was held the Sunday before school started,” says Luminati. “But as I got older, I came to enjoy it more and more. I like to be in a big mass of people. Now I act like a pirate, and try to get other kites tied up to bring them down.”

It’s a warm June day with a perfect breeze for kite flying. Galazzi and Luminati bring out some of the kites to fly. One is a standard diamond-shaped kite resembling the one made earlier, while the other is a Cody kite. It’s the first one we have more success getting into the air. On one of her first attempts, Luminati sends the diamond kite into a tree, but Galazzi is able to send it back high into the sky using little effort, turning it into a small speck with a simple tug of the string.

“It isn’t that far,” Galazzi remarks offhandedly of the distance of the kite. He notes that during the kite festival, the highest kites can reach 2500 meters (or 8200 feet) high in the sky.

“Now we stand still, facing windy Urbino,” the poem goes. “From a cliff, everyone sends their comet towards the turquoise sky.”

He then hands the matassa to me to take control of the kite. As the kite sails higher and higher in the air, I’m overcome with an almost childlike feeling of happiness. I can’t help but to break out in a wide grin. Something about flying a kite brings a wave of innocence over you, making you recall a time earlier in your life when you were carefree and unaffected by all the troubles of the world. I’m reminded of the penultimate scene of Mary Poppins, when the always-stern Mr. Banks takes his children out to fly a kite, a symbol of his transformation into a kind-hearted father.

As the kites land, Galazzi rushes to them to throw them back into the air. Despite his obvious shortness of breath in doing so, he shows no sign of wanting to stop. While he doesn’t say so, perhaps the playful nature of the kites has infected him as well.

“I think Pascoli’s poem helps us all rediscover our inner childhood.” says Luminati. “As a metaphor, I think the kite is something as you fly it in the sky, you attach a dream to it.”

Translation of interviews and other language assistance by University of Urbino student Francesca Massari. This article also appears in Urbino Now magazine’s Urbino Centro section. You can read all the magazine articles in print by ordering a copy from MagCloud.

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