FANO, Italy – At 3:30 on a Wednesday morning, the smell of freshly-caught fish permeates a small amphitheater near the docks of an ancient fishing port. As the owners of local restaurants and markets gather here for the weekly fresh fish auction, a conveyor belt begins rolling plastic bins of cuttlefish, cod, goatfish, crab, calamari, and many other species into the room for inspection and bidding.

But something isn’t quite right with this picture.

The 140 seats in the bleachers are filled to only a quarter capacity. An auction that once lasted a few hours is completed in just 30 minutes.

“In 20 years when [we] retire, the next generation won’t be replacing us because it’s not a job that people aim for anymore,” said fisherman Massimo Perugini. “The industry will slowly disappear because it’s no longer a tradition as it used to be.”

This tradition, which historians say extends 42,000 years, appears to have an impending expiration date—-and the clock is ticking.

A combination of collapsing fishing stocks, a degrading environment, fewer fishermen, and a new generation uninterested in the hard work and sacrifices of this profession, may be leading to the end of this way of life.

“It used to be generational, a tradition that was passed on, but now it’s not anymore,” explains Daniele Isotti, a fisherman of 40 years. “Fisherman used to have more boats, like 17, and now they only have 5, so it’s a smaller industry now.”

Harvesting fish from the Adriatic Sea has been an important part of life along Italy’s eastern coastline since long before the time of Christ. Archeological records from civilizations such as the Terremare culture, which began in 1450 BC, show signs of fishing. And an ancient harbor belonging to the Illyrians in 900 BC has been discovered and identified as an ancient trading post.

More well-known civilizations, like the Greeks and Romans, also relied on fishing in the Adriatic. All segments of those societies relied on fish. The poor could only afford small fish like anchovies and septs, while the wealthy ate tuna, bass, and red mullet.

Fishing and seafood continue to be integral parts of Italy’s cuisine and economy, but records show that could be ending. Italian fish production doubled from 1960-2000 but has been suffering from a severe decline since early in the 21st century.

In the past 50 years alone, research shows the Adriatic Sea has lost half of its marine mammals and fish populations.

Perugini and other fishermen believe they are contributing to the problem. Fisherman don’t always follow the protective government regulations on size and species of legal fish, he said. Instead, they catch and sell young fish before they have time to reproduce the fish stocks, leading to a lack of replenishment. He believes many fishermen ignore these rules and sell the illegal fish under the radar: “This stuff [illegal fishing] happens everywhere in Italy…it happens all the time, but it is illegal.”

Research shows global warming is also harming Adriatic fish populations. As sea temperatures increase, the waters become uninhabitable for the fish. This is predicted to be a global problem that will only increase as temperatures continue to rise. There has already been a 4.1% global decrease in fish species and shellfish.

Adriatic fisherman, like Perugini, have also noticed that new species of fish such as the dusky spinefoot, have appeared and are predators to the native ones, “destroying and contributing to the decline in local fish.”

The lack of fish in turn leads to declining jobs within the industry, causing members of traditional fishing families to look elsewhere for occupations and income. Research shows Italian fishing employment dropped every year since 2000.

“The cost of the fish is higher, and the quality is lower, but it used to be the other way around.”

Fishermen have noticed the decline has affected the quality of fish as well as the quantity.

“…The cost of the fish is higher, and the quality is lower, but it used to be the other way around,” said Perugini. He also believes that this increase in cost has spread to equipment and maintenance, not just in the fish.

Due to these financial factors, most Italian fisherman nowadays don’t do it for the money, but for the passion.

Unfortunately, they say, their passion is absent in most of today’s generation.

“It’s a tough job made of sacrifices that aren’t appreciated by newer generations,” Perugini said. “When the weather is good I work 24/7, so I don’t get days off. . . You have to be passionate and love what you do, then see what you get out of it.”

Although there are many factors threatening this tradition, many organizations, public and private, are joining together to continue it. The government has made laws to protect endangered and young fish, restaurants are beginning to place importance on the freshness and quality of fish rather than the quantity, and fisherman are moving to eco-friendly techniques.

Isotti agrees that fishermen have an important role in this effort.

“Of course it is the responsibility of us fisherman [to fish eco-friendly], if I only fish the regulated kind, then everything will work better. The restaurants will be better, and the smaller fish will have time to reproduce and get bigger.”

Translation of interviews and other language assistance by University of Urbino students Luca Cocozza and Francesca Massari.

Video by Olivia White & Katherine Inman

The post Fishing for a Future appeared first on 2019 Urbino Project.

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.

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.

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.

URBINO, Italy— The sun has barely begun to rise, and the streets of Urbino are still quiet. Giuseppe Romeo’s broad back is hunched over a cold metal table as his thick arms, both adorned with dark tattoos, are working fast. His forehead is lined with sweat, his face is laced with a small smile, and his hands and clothes are covered with stains of bright red.

Romeo dips his wooden spoon into a pot of tomato sauce and spreads it across a crisp crust. Then he embellishes the blank red canvas with white mozzarella cheese. After letting the mozzarella and tomato sauce blend together in the warmth of the oven, Romeo takes out his finished artwork and grunts in approval. His rough, calloused hands gently slice one of the last pizzas he will ever make in Urbino.

Romeo is the manager and pizza maker for Quadro pizza and is often praised for the quality of the products. He learned all there is to know about making pizza at San Patrignano, a drug rehabilitation facility in Rimini, just 30 kilometers north of Urbino.

San Patrignano helped Romeo recover from a 16-year addiction to drugs and gave him a second chance at life with the opportunity to manage Quadro Pizza. He had hoped his new life would continue in Urbino, but Quadro is closing its doors and relocating to nearby Montecchio at the end of the summer. The pizzeria is taking away not only its delicious products, but also Romeo. He says he has handled a major change in his life before.

“I started from scratch once and I’m not afraid to do it again,” Romeo says, laughing as he shows pictures of his younger self with shaggy black hair, pale skin, and a thick, silver septum ring—all of which contrasts with his now buzzed head, pink plump cheeks, and piercing-free nose. “Except this time, as a different person.”

The first big change in Romeo’s life was his family’s move from Naples when he was seven years old. After the death of his father, Romeo, his brother, and mother found it hard to get by in Naples. His mother worked several jobs to try and make ends meet, but that was not enough. Eventually, Romeo’s mother remarried, and their family moved to north Tuscany.

“I didn’t like rules and norms. I guess you could say I was a rebel.”

“People in the north tend to look down on those who come from the south because they believe they’re more educated and wealthier,” says Romeo. He remembers the neighbors turned backs and harsh whispers about his family. “I was discriminated against from the very beginning.”

Young Romeo was isolated and vulnerable. Even after years of trying, he found it hard to find someone close enough to call a “friend.” Feeling desperate and lonely, at the age of 13 Romeo began experimenting with drugs in hopes it would help him fit in. Soon enough, the mere experimentation became a dangerous addiction.

As time went on and people came and went, Romeo says, he found drugs to be the only stable way to satiate his hunger for love and security. His addiction became too much for the people around him, causing him to lose many relationships. His mother cut off contact with him when he was 19.

“I didn’t care, I didn’t like rules and norms. I just wanted to be free from everything,” Romeo says, laughing. “I guess you could say I was a rebel.”

Eventually, Romeo says, even he had enough. He was constantly losing sight of his future and was tired of bringing everyone around him pain. The heart-racing excitement he once felt from the drugs was now replaced with a dull, aching pain in his chest. He checked himself into San Patrignano when he was 29, where his next transition in life would begin.

San Patrignano is a drug rehabilitation facility that does more than just help with recovery. It also gives residents opportunities to learn various crafts and skills—such as wine-making, agriculture, and cheese-making—in hopes of helping them pursue future careers. The program also aids residents in their communication skills, so they can find a way to rejoin the society that once discriminated against them. The facility is where Romeo learned to change his negative mindset for the better.

“San Patrignano made me an entirely different person,” Romeo says. “It was a turning point in my life. It’s where I learned that self-esteem is key to success and confidence in everything that a person does.”

Romeo spent a total of five years at San Patrignano, most of them learning about dairy, then spent the rest of his time working at Spaccio, one of the two on-site restaurants. There he learned several baking techniques that he still uses to this day. Working at Spaccio was unpaid and included long work hours. Romeo says many of the employees made it a point to complain. He, on the other hand, enjoyed everything he did. “Learning to make pizza was something that came easy to me because it came from the heart. I wanted to know how to do everything properly” he says.

San Patrignano is also how Romeo came in contact with Paola Uguccioni, the owner of Quadro pizza.

“He always got his work done. He got even more mature when he got himself a girlfriend.”

“Ever since the first time I met him, he was responsible,” says Uguccioni, with a wide smile on her face. She is dressed in a bright neon floral shirt and sits at her desk surrounded by pictures of her family and thank-you notes from San Patrignano residents she has helped. She is a volunteer for the nonprofit organization Associazione Volontariato Antidroga Pesaro (Anti-drug Volunteer Association Pesaro). The organization works with San Patrignano to help residents find jobs after they leave. When she met Romeo, she had already invested in Quadro pizza and needed a responsible figure to manage the store. After watching him work at Spaccio and witnessing his skills grow before her eyes, she decided he was the perfect fit.

“He always got his work done. He got even more mature when he got himself a girlfriend,” she says, laughing.

Although Romeo was a completely different person, he knew he still had a reputation in Tuscany that would be hard to change. “Once people label you, they will always stigmatize you, no matter how hard you try” he says. So when given the opportunity to work in the quaint city of Urbino doing what he loved, he jumped on the chance. Uguccioni was essentially the key that opened the door to Romeo’s future, and to this day they still remain in constant contact.

Quadro Pizza opened in Urbino in August, 2017. Romeo, who has been working there since day one, sees the restaurant as his personal escape from the outside world. He can do everything he wishes to do while on the job, and genuinely loves what he does. He is greeted by the same familiar faces and has established a sense of security within the environment. Day by day, he grows stronger and more confident in his skills.

“No one has ever complained about the way I make pizza. People have complained about the prices and other external factors, but nobody has ever said anything about the quality of the pizza” Romeo says with a puffed chest and proud smile.

Romeo says Urbino gave him the chance to become “fully human” again. He even has a girlfriend and two month old daughter in the city, making it truly a place he can call home. Since the initial move from San Patrignano to Urbino, Romeo says has adopted a positive mentality in life and chooses to display it as much as he can. That is why he is choosing to think positively about his next change in life, when Quadro closes its doors in Urbino and makes the move to Montecchio.

During Quadro’s first year, people were frequently coming to enjoy the new flavors and textures the pizza introduced to them, according to Uguccioni. However, as the restaurant entered its second year, profits began to slow.

“I like Urbino, I really do,” says Uguccioni,“but it’s not open to new things, and Quadro is new pizza.” She sighs. “Urbino is beautiful and has a great history. But it’s not good for owning a business. I couldn’t even decorate the store in any way because of the rules of the city. They were afraid it would hurt the history.”

In Montecchio, Quadro Pizza will have more room and will sell products other than pizza, such as french fries and sandwiches

Uguccioni is not the only business owner who feels this way. Sonia Rizzoli, who owns Nuova Tandem, a small fabric and lingerie store on the same street as Quadro, agrees with her. “Urbino is a beautiful small city,” says Rizzoli, who opened her store 12 years ago. “But lately, less tourists are coming which can slow down the sales. It’s hard to maintain a business with people constantly coming and going.”

“If I could change anything,” Rizzoli adds, “it would be an improvement in tourism because that’s where a majority of profits come from. But that’s something the government should change, not me.”

After two years, Uguccioni says she has decided that moving Quadro is the best option for the business. Montecchio, 23 kilomters from Urbino, is also a small town, buit she says it has more stores and opportunities to gain profit, and offers more possibilities. There Quadro Pizza will have more room and will sell products other than just pizza, such as french fries and sandwiches. And the one making and selling these products will be none other than Giuseppe Romeo, who will also move to a new apartment in Montecchio.

One morning only several weeks before Quadro’s closing in Urbino, Romeo opens the door to the shop, and lets the beaming sun and slight breeze fill the small space. The faint wind softly lets the scent of tomatoes, basil, and freshly baked bread escape the room.

On his right arm is a realistic tattoo of an owl. The eyes of the figure are bright enough to contrast against the dark, black feathers that frame its body.

“Many people see owls as a sign of bad luck, but not me,” says Romeo. His left hand brushes over the tattoo on his right arm and pauses. “You know, owls are the only animals that can turn their heads completely backwards and then forward again.”

Some may view Urbino’s Quadro as a failure. But Romeo says he sees it as a new beginning, and new beginnings bring new possibilities. The optimistic perception of life he built at San Patrignano will now guide him through his next transition at Montecchio.

“I won’t say I’m happy about the move,” Romeo says. “I’m motivated.”

Translation of interviews and other language assistance by University of Urbino students Francesca Massari, Luca Cocozza, Lisa Olivia, and Roberto Giambona.

Video by Ester Jon

Urbino, Italy is a quiet city that holds significant history. It is also a city, like anywhere else in Italy, that has multiple pizza shops. Ester Jon takes us on her personal journey to nearly every pizza shop in Urbino in search of the perfect slice.

The post Starting From Scratch, Again appeared first on 2019 Urbino Project.

URBINO, Italy – Imagine a school that is all recess. In the hills on the outskirts of this ancient city there is a place where kids play outdoors all day.

At the preschool Maestra Natura, founded by the L’albero Maestro association, nap time is a picturesque scene of children sleeping on blankets underneath a shade tree. Their library is a tarp with books scattered around for the children to choose from. Even the bathrooms are potty-training plastic toilets outdoors in the open air right next to the colorful boots they use when they are about to embark on a muddy adventure.

You’ll find no technology or store-bought toys at this school. The children make toys out of whatever they can.

One recent morning, a group of three boys spent 45 minutes pulling benches and pieces of wood together and covering it with a tarp. In the hot sun, it seemed to be a strange project, until they started filling up pans, cups, and even balloons with water from the spigots and running back and forth in an attempt to fill their homemade pool. It barely covered the bottom of the tarp, but they were learning through trial and error how not to make a pool.

The children seem to have a different kind of curiosity than most. They are excited and intrigued by nature even if they have seen something a thousand times. A little girl screams “un fiore!” as she runs to show the teacher; the school is surrounded in these flowers. Some of the children are delighted to find a snail and examine it carefully with their magnifying glasses.

As other children run around joyfully screaming, a teacher pulls out a small black box and some kids surround her looking in. Inside the box is a baby bird that has fallen from its tree. The teacher begins feeding it with a small syringe filled with baby food while telling the children about the importance of respecting nature. She is not forcing them to watch her or calling all the kids over to see the bird. She is just waiting for those who are interested and curious.

This school allows children the freedom of finding what they are interested in, which you wouldn’t find in a traditional school, even another pre-school. Kids do what they want but seem to be more engaged than most children forced to sit in a classroom all day with only an hour recess, at most.

With freedom, what often follows is independence – and risk. As children explore the forest one chilly and muddy afternoon, a boy tumbles to the ground. At another school, you might expect worried teachers to hover over the possibly injured boy and call his home. Here the teachers just look to see him stand up. This atmosphere of not coddling makes the children less prone to fits and tougher than most. There seem to be no “crybabies” at this school, just happy children.

Among today’s children in general, the diminishing experience of freedom and the outdoors is creating a problem that American author Richard Louv calls “nature-deficit disorder.” Louv, an award-winning journalist whose 2005 book “Last Child in the Woods” was a national best seller, argues that kids are spending less and less time outdoors, leading to long-term behavioral problems.

Louv, when told about Maestra Natura in an email, responded that a preschool like this leads children to play more cooperatively and be more imaginative in inventing their own games. He also wrote in an email that such increased time in nature leads to gains in almost all areas of typical elementary study and better problem-solving, critical thinking, and decision-making. Later in these children’s academic career, he said, it could also lead to higher grade point averages and standardized test scores.

“People look at us like we are wild things, wild people.”

At Maestra Natura, co-founder Nicoletta Santini stands tall surveying the children with her months-old baby, her third child, strapped to her front. She is one of the school’s parents as well as one of the teachers. After working in a private preschool for 12 years, she raised her first daughter largely outdoors on her farm. With donkeys, goats, and other animals wandering around, she realized she wanted all her children to grow up this way.

She met Serena Panti, another teacher, and together in October 2016 they founded L’albero Maestro, which means both “the mast” and “the teacher tree” in Italian. The association began with weekend excursions for children. They opened Maestra Natura in September 2017. Both say that this kind of school is drastically different from their own experiences. “People look at us like we are wild things, wild people,” says Panti.

Santini says that this school goes deeper than having the founders’ philosophy. It has also adopted their own pedagogy. The two founders took inspiration from other sources, like the teachings of Marie Montessori, a renowned educator who was from this region of Italy. They are focused on the children’s ideas, letting them decide the day-to-day routine.

The children are learning to be happy, Santini says. But what else are they learning? She pauses, then continues, “To know each other, to live, to know the world and respect it, to respect others.”

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

Video by Eliza Friel & Kelsey Robertson

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