Change Of Diet

One thing which has certainly changed for me since I arrived in Sardinia is the variety of food I've been eating. Maria Rita tells me that very little food here needs to be imported and it's certainly noticeable, when we visit the supermarkets, how much of the food is locally produced. There is an abundance of fresh fish and fresh meat, the range of which puts to shame the boasts of "more choice" from the huge supermarket chains in the UK. Furthermore, there is no need to fly in runner beans from Kenya, oranges from Spain and apples from South Africa - nearly all the fruit and vegetables come from the island too. Seeing as agriculture is one of the main industries here along with tourism, I suppose this is hardly surprising. But for an Englishman like me it's very refreshing to find myself in a culture where the ruthlessly competitive commercial approach, of a handful of huge supermarket firms, would never be allowed to flourish in the same way as in the UK.

Of course, there is another reason why I'm eating a greater variety of food. I'm not a great lover of shopping so, for me, the supermarket in England was a place for me to get in and out of as quickly as possible once a week. Although I would usually eat my five portions of fruit and vegetables every day, it was usually limited to a choice between potatoes, carrots, beans and peas and bananas, apples, clementines and grapes. And my range of main meals amounted to a total of little more than five or six.

The Italians know how to enjoy their food. It is not something to be gobbled down as quickly as possible (as is so often the case in England), a kind of interruption to the more important things that need to be done (which usually have little or no importance in comparison with the importance of eating food a little more consciously and sensibly). It's an experience for the whole family to share and savour. I remember, on a previous visit, when we were at Lotzorai sharing a meal with Maria Rita's sister Patrizia and her brother-in-law Gianfranco. "Piano, piano" they said, "mangiamo un po, parliamo un po. Non abbiamo fretta." (Gently does it. We eat a little, we talk a little. We're in no rush.)

It's well known that the staple diet here is pasta, and I've been eating plenty of that, but served up in lots of different and imaginative ways. In addition, for the first time ever, I've tried lamb's intestines (still not sure about that, but it certainly didn't make me feel ill!) and also other dishes which I may have eaten long ago, but so long ago I can't really be sure. Anyway, Gilt-head bream ('orata' in Italian) and tripe (trippa), amongst a few others, certainly got the thumbs up from me.

In Italy the Slow Food movement has really taken off, especially in Sardinia and it was very interesting for me to learn that even what might be termed fast food here is not like most of the fast food we experience in the UK or the USA. A few days ago Maria Rita, on her way home bought some still hot roast chicken and roast potatoes from a local 'Rosticceria' (the one in the picture below). It tasted so good that I remarked that it tasted every bit as good as if it had been cooked at home, perhaps even better. "That's because it's cooked properly," she said. "you can see the chicken roasting on a spit while you're waiting to be served." And the same goes for the pizzas. None of this being taken out of the freezer and heated up for a couple of minutes in the microwave!

Fabrizio de André

Fabrizio de André was a singer and songwriter who has acquired legendary status in Italy. He died of lung cancer in1999 aged 58. Influenced by the kind of songs which the likes of Bob Dylan and Leonard Cohen have written, his work is notable for its poetic content and empathy with those on the margins of society. A native of Genoa, he developed a profound affection for Sardinia, living on the island for some considerable time, despite a bizarre episode in 1979 when he was kidnapped by Sardinian bandits and held hostage for four months in the Supramonte mountain. He even wrote some songs in the Gallurese dialect of Northern Sardinia.

Maria Rita introduced me to de André's work with the kind gift of a 3 CD Box Set and the more I listen the more I'm convinced that his music is touched by genius. If he had written in English he would have had international success and been a household name all over the world. Just before I left Bristol for Nuoro I started to try to translate some of his songs into English which has proved to be a very useful exercise for the brain. Since I've arrived in Nuoro I've translated one of his most famous songs, 'Il Pescatore' , taking the total of songs translated so far to five.

These are my English lyrics to 'Il Pescatore' (The Old Fisherman):-

The Old Fisherman (Il Pescatore)

In the shade of the setting sun
there slept an old fisherman
with a lined and a wrinkled face
and a smile so full of grace.

And so a killer came to the shore
where a child's eyes were before
and two eyes so full of fear
is the story that we have here.

 

Then he asked the old man for bread

 'I am hungry' is what he said

 'and could you spare me a glass of wine

 because a killer has little time.'

 

He woke up with hardly a sound

but he didn't look or turn around

just poured the wine and he broke the bread

so that a killer he could be fed.

And so, the warmth of a moment there

then off out into the stormy air
the killer walked towards the sun
and left behind an old fisherman.

He left behind an old fisherman
in whom remorse had just begun
the regrets he could not discard
in the shadow of an old backyard.

And so the police soon came to town
and then the army they came around
wondering if an old man knew
if an assassin had passed through.

But in the shade of the setting sun
there slept an old fisherman
with a lined and a wrinkled face
and a smile so full of grace.

English translation © Geoff Davis


Understanding written Italian, by and large, is a lot easier than understanding spoken Italian; perhaps song lyrics and poetry even more so. However, translating song lyrics, especially when my aim is to make the songs singable in English, is quite a challenge. One cannot be too literal, especially when the words have to fit the rhythm of the music, but it is important to try to remain as true to the original sense and spirit of the original Italian lyrics as is possible. My long term aim is to record a collection of Fabrizio de André's songs in English and hopefully make them available on a CD. For now it's very much a work in progress, but as someone who has been writing songs for many years, having sung in bands and put out 2 CDs of my own work, it's a project that I find very exciting. These are the English translations of the songs that I've worked on so far.

Here is a live version of Fabrizio de André performing 'Il Pescatore'

Festa della Madonna delle Grazie

It was a festival day yesterday here in Nuoro, the "Festa della Madonna delle Grazie", and this is a celebration which is particularly significant for the inhabitants of Nuoro. According to the local legend, in the 17th century, a young shepherd found a small wooden statue of the Madonna which had miraculous powers and in 1670 the original church "La Chiesa della Madonna delle Grazie" was built to honour the discovery of this particular image. Today, there is a tradition amongst the faithful of attending the church every day for nine days prior to the festival to pray to the Madonna for help with any family difficulties that they might be experiencing.

Stall selling musical instruments of Sardinian origin

It was a beautiful sunny day yesterday, warm enough not to need a jacket or pullover when out of the shade, and at around about mid-morning Maria Rita and I walked up to the Via Lamarmora, one of the main roads in the centre of Nuoro, part of which was closed to traffic in order to act as host to a seemingly endless number of stalls. They were selling an extraordinary range of goods, a great many of them reflecting the character and traditions of Sardinia. Of special interest to me was one stall selling really intriguing looking musical instrument of Sardinian origin and another stall which was selling locally produced jars of honey complete with a display of bees making honey behind a vertical protective glass case.

After a coffee in a local bar we started to stroll back homewards. Through the gaps between some of the buildings we could see the sunlight glow on the side of the mountains, just beyond the outskirts of the city, and as we watched the crowd gather outside the church in Via Lamarmora, "La Chiesa della Madonna delle Grazie", I had a very strong sense of being so very happy to be here.

Crowd outside La Chiesa della Madonna delle Grazie in Nuoro

Grappling With The Language

In two respects Sardinia is very similar to Wales. Firstly, in terms of size the land mass of the island is very similar to that of Wales. Secondly, like Wales it has its own language, Sardo (or Sardu), which a substantial percentage of the population can speak, probably a similar percentage to the number of Welsh people who can speak Welsh. And just as all Welsh people can speak English, likewise all Sardinians speak Italian. With Sardinia being part of Italy, the official language of the island is Italian. And according to Maria Rita, and others I've spoken to, Sardinians speak very good Italian.

Nevertheless, for me personally, two years of quite intense study of Italian, with special emphasis on speaking the language (although in terms of grammatical study I've gone as far as the present and imperfect subjunctive), hasn't brought me to a point where I find it especially easy to understand everyday spoken Italian. My brain is so accustomed to thinking and speaking in English that I only have to mishear one word in a comparatively simple sentence that the whole meaning is completely lost to me. For example, yesterday I heard 'pacco' (parcel) as 'parco' (park) and with a puzzled look I was thinking "what's she on about? My park's arrived?!" Yes, it can be quite comical sometimes. I created great hilarity a few days ago when I confused the word for chest (petto) with the word for penis (pene) while trying to say in Italian that I had a chesty cough. And yet, people say to me 'parli bene l'Italiano' (you speak Italian well). As they say this I'm thinking to myself "don't be ridiculous!" When I explain that I have a bit of difficulty in understanding everything that's spoken to me I am told " well, that's normal, it takes about a year to get your ear completely accustomed to the sound of language." There have been times when I've been out for dinner and the conversation has almost completely passed me by. However, on other occasions when people have been speaking directly to me I've been able to understand almost as well as if they were speaking English. For example, when Gianfranco, Maria Rita's brother-in-law, spoke to me of his admiration for the films of Alan Parker and also when her brother Raimondo was talking to me about the legistic problems presented by the arrival in Italy of illegal immigrants without any documents.

It's certainly evident that the Italians have a very different attitude towards foreigners making efforts to speak their language from that of the English. We English are so used to foreigners who speak English well that we are incredibly intolerant of those who are still coming to terms with mastering the language and, unless we've made a serious study of a foreign language ourselves, we have absolutely no appreciation of how much work and effort is involved. The Italians by contrast, safe in the knowledge that their language isn't so widely spoken the whole world over, are flattered that someone with another mother tongue should wish to learn their language.

In England we often speak about our "schoolboy French" and it's interesting to discover that here in Nuoro most people's knowledge of English is at about the same level. It should be a huge advantage in helping my efforts to improve my Italian. In fact, the only two people here that I've met who speak English reasonably fluently are Maria Rita herself, who studied English at Cagliari University, and her niece Sarah who spent several months in England in her student days.

New Arrival in Nuoro

It's ten days now since I arrived in Nuoro, Sardinia to spend several months with my Italian girlfriend, Maria Rita, who lives here. I don't think I've ever experienced bright sunshine and temperatures well into the twenties in my native Bristol during November, but that's what we have here. Ironically though, I've picked up a virus and have something of a severe head cold which is something I wasn't expecting to experience soon after I'd arrived!

The famous English novelist D.H.Lawrence wrote about Nuoro in one of his travel memoirs, 'Sea and Sardinia', and was rather dismissive about it having any memorable attributes. Obviously it has changed a great deal since then and it's so different and so much smaller than Bristol that it would be futile to make comparisons. However, one thing about both cities strikes me as very similar. They are places of extraordinary potential which has never been fully realised.

Bristol should be on the map as a tourist destination of international repute but isn't (and there is a lot of truth in this review from an online tourism guide). Parts of it are breathtakingly beautiful. One thinks of the Avon Gorge, Clifton Village, Cabot Tower, Ashton Court, Snuff Mills and Blaise Castle Estate. Parts of Westbury-on-Trym and other districts have all the charm of a Cornish village, although inevitably there are also the rather unattractive housing estates which can be found in any reasonably sized city. In addition, it has a cultural and architectural heritage equal to anywhere in the UK relative to size. Bristol should have a Premiership Football Team. It doesn't. It should have a decently sized concert arena. It doesn't. It should have a public transport system adequate enough to reflect its size and commercial importance as the largest city in the South West of England. It doesn't, even though it has a local railway infrastructure which could hugely reduce its congestion problems. However, the temerity of the local authorities in taking on vested interests and arrogant and ignorant London-centric National Government Departments, who say "concentrate on buses", has left most Bristolians frustrated and angry. In fact, the Local Authority has been found wanting every time when attempts have been made to build a new football stadium or concert arena. Furthermore, the cynic in me says that Bristol City's application to build a new football stadium, just recently approved, would have failed were it not for the hope of staging some World Cup matches should England's bid to host the 2018 World Cup Finals succeed.


Maria Rita relaxing by Cabot Tower on a recent visit to Bristol

Nuoro is a town in the heart of Central Sardinia, a little to the North, which the locals say reflects the real Sardinia as opposed to the pseudo Sardinia of the Costa Smeralda which has been invaded by the super rich. Surrounded by mountains, some of the vistas from the city are extraordinary as is the surrounding countryside, but the city itself is a strange mix of high-rise apartments and elegant historic buildings, scruffiness and charm. Lots of the buildings here are defaced by ugly graffiti, which the local authorities seem to have no interest in washing away (as opposed to Bristol where such work is given quite a high priority) and litter is just as prevalent, perhaps more so, as it is in the UK. However, there is a warmth and friendliness here which is quite touching. You can walk into the centre of town at night and feel perfectly safe, something which can't be said for many UK city centres. For all that, as I write, Nuoro, like Bristol, leaves me with the impression of being a place which could be so much more than it actually is.

Here I am on a previous visit to Nuoro in the 'centro storico' (historic part) of the town.