Urbino Project 2011

Once Urbino was a city with a university but in recent decades it has evolved into a university with a city. Now the last natives of this beautiful Renaissance town wonder what their future holds.

URBINO, Italy — Antonio Bisciari looks over this famous Renaissance city that has been his family’s home for 150 years and sees what the tourists see: a picture-perfect postcard town of unforgettable beauty. But he also sees something else.

“The people I grew up with are no longer here,” Antonio said. “So, staying in Urbino, a beautiful city, a marvelous city, but alone and with no friends is not worth it.”

“If you stay here for too long, Urbino becomes a jail; it’s not as good as one would think,” Antonio said.

To the thousands of tourists who flock to this scenic city each year, Urbino seems as lively and prosperous as it must have looked when the Duke of Urbino made it the hub of the art world in the 14^th century. But beneath the facade of robust health lurks a different story.

According to city authorities, of the 5,000 people living inside the walls of this ancient town, 4,000 are now students. Although the exact figure isn’t known, some local experts, including University of Urbino professor Eduardo Fichera, estimate that the actual number of families living fulltime within the walls of Urbino is less than two dozen.

A reflection of the three generations of the Bisciari family, one of the last families of Urbino; Felice (grandfather), Antonio (son), and Paolo (grandson), enjoy each other’s company during a family dinner.

The Bisciaris are one of these last families. Felice Bisciari is Antonio’s father, and also the grandfather of Anna and Paolo. Though their family’s existence in Urbino dates back more than 150 years, the lingering question is, “How much longer will their ancestral name will be carried within this little city?”

The Stacciolis are another one of these remaining families of Urbino. Lamberto Staccioli, a life-long resident who raised his family in Urbino, is Giorgio Staccioli’s father, and two-year-old Eduardo Staccioli’s grandfather. He said he believes that “it is necessary to always remember where your family roots lie, and [he wants] to make sure [he] can give [his] family the feeling and sense of belonging with which [he] was also raised.”

Today the Stacciolis all live within the same fortress walls but the manner in which Eduardo is being raised is very different from his father’s. The atmosphere of the town has created a dramatic cultural shift.

Giorgio Staccioli grew up with nine of his closest friends. He left town to attend college, came back and opened his own bar, and built a family here in Urbino. But upon his return, eight of those ten families had moved on, leaving Giorgio and only one of his childhood friends to continue their lives together in their hometown. This trend had become prevalent, as Urbino transformed from a small city with a university to a university with a small city.

The younger generation of Urbino residents are conflicted on whether to stay within the historical walls they’ve grown to love or to leave in search of bigger opportunities elsewhere. They say that the choice is between different hurts: The feeling of missing your hometown, or the feeling of being alone in your hometown.

“You have to stay in Urbino on the 24^th of December, the day before Christmas, when there are no students around, to notice how small Urbino is and how alone you really are,” says Antontello.

Carmen Staccioli, Girogio’s wife, is also struck with the same feeling around July each summer.

“Once the students have left this town becomes so empty. It becomes really sad and difficult to come to work,” she said.

Lamberto, head of the Staccioli family, takes a moment to reminisce about the beautiful city of Urbino, a place where both he and his ancestors have called home.

Antonio believes Urbino is a beautiful and magical city, but that “it’s a town from fables, and when you’re 20 years old it’s perfect, it’s the right town, there are no dangers around and nothing bad ever happens. But when you are a grown-up man and you want to have a family it gets difficult.”

Those difficulties revolve around finding work, and places to live. The job market mostly has two options: working for the university, or running a shop. And real estate is expensive because student rents drive prices up.

So Antonio deals with a 90-minute daily commute to work. But he feels the commute is worth it, because he wants to raise his family here, close to their roots. However, the saddening feeling of seclusion still tears him.

“Living within the walls of the city is expensive and Urbino doesn’t offer a lot of work,” Carmen Staccioli said. “The opportunities are very limited.”

Though she only moved here a short seven years ago, she claims it is still evident to see the distinct evolution that the city has experienced through this brief window of time.

This evolution has been especially evident to the older generations.

“The way of living is really different now,” Felice Staccioli said “Fate allowed the exterior part to remain as it was, luckily, but the relationships between people have really changed. Now everyone just ‘harvests their own fields’ and there is more individualism; in the past there was much more solidarity and brotherhood.”

In Lamberto and Felice’s youth, the streets resonated with the laughter of children and piazzas were places where families and friends gathered. But now, the sounds of partying students drinking from open beer and wine bottles echoes down the narrow cobblestone streets from early afternoon until three in the morning, making it hard for children and residents to sleep.

But while the last residents of Urbino see the students changing the quality of the life they cherish, they also know that their livelihoods and futures are tied to these same students.

“The youth help boost the town’s economy because they are constantly buying drinks, shopping, and keeping the town alive,” Lamberto said.

Antonio’s brother’s family has already moved away to Bolzano, leaving Anna and Paolo as the only future Bisciari descendants within Urbino.

“I belong to a generation that just wants to move away and look for something out of these walls,” said 17-year-old Anna.

She and her brother are torn with the tough decision of whether to raise their own families here, or search for better opportunities. Though it would make their family happy to see them stay and continue their legacy within the walls of this extraordinary city, they would rather see their children choose for themselves.

Antonio said he feels, “I can only help them to choose, but it’s their call. I’d like them to stay here and have children here; I’d be happy. But it’s their happiness, not mine.”

Slideshow
Click on Image to Show in Lightbox.

Urbino’s neighborhoods use the centuries-old tradition of kite-making to engage in a fierce but friendly battle each September.

URBINO, Italy – Sirto Sorini, 78, and Mauro Patarchi, 44, huddle intently over a table filled with objects that resemble an arts and crafts project in the same manner two men in America might analyze the engine of a 1960’s muscle car.

The pair makes gestures to each other as they speak rapidly and begin working with the materials in front of them.

They are preparing for the annul kite festival known as the “Festa dell’aquilone”  which has taken place annually in this small Italian town since 1944.  Every September, the ten neighborhoods that comprise Urbino engage in a   competition with a fierceness at odds with the vision of graceful kites.

Sir proudly displays the trophy he won in the competition last year in his front window.  A passerby sees the old man through the window and shouts, “The king of the kites!”

This king of kites has been began making kites at the age of six, and has been teaching the people of his neighborhood his skills for over half a century.

He says that the people of Urbino had been building kites for centuries but it was not until 1952, eight years after the first competition, that the trophy and event were made official.

“Every neighborhood has their own ancient origin which we decorate our kites with,” he said, speaking through an interpreter.

Sirto and Mauro’s neighborhood is the team of “San Paulo” and accordingly many of their kites display the saint holding his sword vertically.

After decades of experience, kite makers become compulsive about the quality of their work for the festival, Sirto said.  It is not unheard of for one person to construct between one thousand and twelve hundred kites in the two months leading up to event.  When an experienced kite maker is finally content with a design construction can last between fifteen and twenty days and one hundred hours of craftsmanship, the two explained.

The festival is a source of neighborhood rivalry that follows kite makers their entire lives.  Mauro, for example, began learning the art of kite building from Sirto when he was eight years old.  He now lives in a different neighborhood in Urbino, but still identifies himself with and competes for the San Paulo team. Sirto laughs as Mauro says one of his neighbors calls him a traitor in the weeks leading up to the festival.

Mauro claims the purpose of the event originally was to unite the community by getting everyone to participate in an activity that was unique to the culture of the town.  He says the purpose of the event now is to preserve the town’s identity.

Speaking in a prideful tone he exclaims, “We are the only place in Italy with such an event.”

On the day of the festival, thousands of kites are flown in the air on a bald hilltop within sight of the old city’s walls.  A panel of 12 judges rates the kites in two categories, beauty and height of flight.  Mauro competes in the distance class and is known for making kites that are two meters in diameter and soar as high as two kilometers high while Sirto has always focused on the creativity and design of his kites.

During the heated competition, rivals try to steer their kites into each other and cut one another’s strings.  Sirto still speaks viciously about a man who one year destroyed both of his kites – then laughs stating he was the same way when he was younger.

However, Sirto and Mauro admit the competition actually brings the city together.  After seeing the sky covered with intricately constructed and beautiful kites of all shapes and sizes, all ten of the neighborhoods come together and share a feast.

Video

Slideshow
Click on Image to Show in Lightbox.

Keiichi Iwasaki bikes into a town, performs his magic tricks, then rides on to his next stop. He’s traveling around the entire globe on a 3-speed bicycle.

URBINO, Italy- Keiichi Iwasaki went to college and then earned a master’s degree in Chemistry. Like many other young Japanese, he longed to see the world. But not in the usual way.

“I thought that if I use airplane it’s too fast so I can’t see nothing,” he says in the broken English he learned growing up in his native Japan. “But bicycling is much better to see the world.”

So he set out on an unpretentious three-speed bike, with only two dollars in his pocket and “a dream to see the world.” Ten years later, at age 38, he arrived in the Renaissance hill town of Urbino.

Although he lives simply, carrying only what he can tie to the back of a small bicycle, no one would call Keiichi Iwasaki dull.  He departed from his home in Guma, Japan, in 2001 on what he thought would be a three-year journey. Now, a decade later, Iwasaki continues circumnavigating the globe, like a 21^st century Magellan with a monk-like contentment.

“There are so many kinds of people,” he says. “Different in culture, language, color of eyes, hair, skin. Different but in one point of view we’re still the same. We are human.”

Unlike most travelers, neither time nor direction dictates Iwasaki’s itinerary. His nomadic tendencies – in balance with an overall goal of circling the planet – have propelled him in zigzags across the map. But it’s within these imprecise, impulsive detours that Iwasaki has stumbled upon the most memorable experiences of his journey, including an unexpected romance in the city of love – Paris.

Before this expedition, Iwasaki was working for his father as an air conditioning engineer. Unsatisfied, Iwasaki grew restless with the small rural town he called home. “Life is so short and there are many things I want to see,” he said. With the support of his parents and older sister, Iwasaki spontaneously shoved a few belongings into a small backpack and hit the road.

After testing the waters for a year, he decided to leave Japan. In 2002 he took a ferry to South Korea and began pedaling his way across China.

His favorite memory? After a long pause he began to describe his adventures in the foothills of Nepal. “When I passed Nepal I saw the Mount Everest and I thought, is it possible?”

In Nepal, he eagerly put down his kickstand and set up a temporary home where he practiced mountaineering until qualified for the expedition team. After a yearlong diversion, Iwasaki’s adventure was stamped a success. On May 31, 2005, he reached the summit of Mount Everest.

“From the top of the world, well that is a beautiful place.”

From Nepal, Iwasaki made his was across India and Middle East, stopping in Pakistan, Iran, Azerbaijan, Georgia, and Turkey. By 2007 he crossed into Eastern Europe.

After arriving at any of his various destinations, Iwasaki sets up the small tent and stove he carries on the back of his bicycle and settles in for the night. His days are simple, but they are not ordinary. In the morning he leisurely makes a fire and a cup of coffee and sets out for work.

Each new place he visits could fear him as a swindler, a mysterious stranger in town, bemusing young children and dazzling the minds of strangers passing on the street for money. Magic has been a hobby since Iwasaki’s high school days, but has become the main funding for his travels. But he isn’t pushy about panhandling, and he obviously isn’t getting rich.

His presence brings an odd juxtaposition in the Piazza del Repubblica, as this Japanese cyclist has one of the few bicycles here in this city of steep cobblestone streets.

Using the same chopsticks he eats with and a small deck of cards, Iwasaki performs simple but captivating tricks in the main square of Urbino, hoping onlookers will spare a small contribution.

Aside from magic, Iwasaki has periodically taken a break from the road, working in various hostels throughout his trip. It was while working at a hostel in Budapest, Hungary, that his terrestrial navigation again veered off course when a strikingly beautiful Japanese woman walked in and asked for a room.

Here stood a man who had spontaneously bicycled half way across the globe and fearlessly scaled a nearly 30,000 foot ice covered cliff, but became utterly humbled by a slender, quiet woman who barely stood five feet tall.

Yuka Otsuka had also been cycling across Europe, making her way through Berlin, Amsterdam, and Holland and was on her way back to Japan when she met Iwasaki. Taken with this woman, Iwasaki immediately asked her to join him. Until this point, failure had been an experience unfamiliar to Iwasaki. Yuka declined the invitation.

The two strangers exchanged e-mails and stayed in contact throughout the years.

It was not until the summer of 2009, nearly three years later, that the two would again meet.  Yuka was traveling through Europe again and agreed to meet Iwasaki in Paris.

This time Iwasaki did not come unprepared.  “I gave Yuka a bicycle as her birthday gift and asked her, join me, and come together by bicycle.” This time, she agreed.

The two strangers set off to Berlin and have been traveling together ever since.

Time and planning are more a figure of speech than concrete ideas to Iwasaki, but his latest rendition of planning was to head south from Urbino to Perugia, loop around to Venice and eventually, somehow, make his way into South Africa and finally to North America. “This should be about five years.”

He has passed 43 countries in the past 10 years and has no intention of stopping. His next trick will be crossing Atlantic Ocean on his way to America.

Video

Slideshow
Click on Image to Show in Lightbox.

While the city of Urbino adapts to modern life, some of Urbino’s most important stories are slowly being forgotten by its youth.

URBINO, Italy – Lamberto Staccioli has a quiet way about him. His manner and dress give the word “gentleman” its oldest and best meaning. His soft words reverberate off the vaulted ceiling of his city’s ancient mausoleum as he describes its history.

A view of the old city from atop a nearby hill.

Staccioli speaks in his native Italian with scientific precision, reflecting his profession as a chemist and professor. At 66, his hair and beard are more grey than black, and crow’s feet bracket his eyes, which hint at good humor. His movements are measured and his words concise, but his eyes come alive with excitement when he talks about Urbino.

Staccioli is one of the elders in this small Renaissance city, and his family is one of only dozen or so original Urbino families left. He researched and discovered that his family has lived in Urbino since the 1400s. In those times, his ancestors were warriors for the dukes of Urbino and were sent to defend borders and patrol the once vast territory. Centuries passed, the dukes lost power and Staccioli’s family history was forgotten until he decided to delve into old family documents.

Lamberto Staccioli, who is from one of the last original families of Urbino, stresses the importance of maintaining Urbino's historical past during a time when everything is focused on the future.

Unfortunately, the loss of these family histories is all too common. As the resident population ages, much of the town’s history is slowly forgotten. The piazza is no longer filled with distinguished gentlemen, young families and aging couples, but with rowdy college students who imitate American culture, and embrace modern customs of their own.

On Thursday nights, the students come out to the piazza en masse. The square buzzes with youth eager to relieve the stresses of the week, enjoy time with friends and make new friends. But in the early morning, when the last student has stumbled home, the festivities of the night have left their mark. Broken glass is scattered across the cobblestones, beer bottles litter the piazza and a city that was once the pride of the Renaissance capital looks more like any other small college town.

Staccioli draws a diagram to explain the strategic positioning of the old city.

Located in the seldom toured Marche region (pronounced MAR-kay) of Italy, Urbino was founded in 41 A.D. by the Romans for its strategic hill placement and its large supply of fresh water; however, it wasn’t until the Renaissance that Urbino became one of the most well known cities in all of Europe. Urbino’s power once rivaled that of Rome and Florence and its history includes tales of conspiracy, bastard sons and politically strategic marriages.  It is Raphael’s birthplace and a UNESCO World Heritage site.

Despite this, Urbino is now mostly unknown in the world, even by Italian citizens. Urbino’s great achievements in art, culture, and history are being lost. While its place in early modern European history, especially art history, is well acknowledged in books, the more effervescent history of lore, legends and family stories could well vanish.

Staccioli, a historian by hobby, was born in Urbino in 1944. He attended the University of Urbino and studied what was then called the “classics,” which included Latin, Greek, Italian, and history. He was married in Urbino, started a family here and has recently become a grandfather. His two children still live within the fortress walls and his son owns a popular café in the center of town. When asked how he came to know so much about the town, he responds with one, simple phrase that is understood without the need of a translator. “Passione,” he says, “it’s my passion.”

Staccioli has dedicated countless hours poring over history books, attending conventions and exploring the city. The stories and legends he has assembled are not found in any history books. He has knit them together after collecting various facts from each of his sources. Many are filled with compelling tales, ripe with intrigue and conspiracy, such as whispers that Urbino’s most famous duke, Frederico III, may not be the legitimate son of the previous Duke of Montefeltro. Much of his knowledge is derived from a multitude of old documents, history conventions and books, but some of it comes simply from listening and absorbing the stories around him.

This oral history seems lost on the young, Staccioli said. The apathy of today’s generation is something that Staccioli seems to struggle with. Walking to the top of the fortress, a stage from a concert the night before that has yet to be taken down provides a clashing juxtaposition with the view of the ancient city below. The grass is littered with plastic cups and paper from the previous night. He stands atop the hill and surveys the view below with a slight shake to his head. Through a translator, he remarks: “I understand the life of a student. I understand that they are young and want to have fun.”

Staccioli recognizes that students make up the youth of Urbino. Many of the year-round residents are old men and women. The students bring life to the town, and the money spent stimulates the economy. Without the students, the cafés are quiet and the piazza empty. Staccioli also recognizes that the students are the future for Urbino and they are a vital factor in the survival of his hometown.

There was a time in Staccioli’s life that he too was a student at the University of Urbino and didn’t grasp the importance of maintaining the past.

He walks through the old city. “Most people don’t realize how important the story, the history is. They focus on the girls, the cars, the things. There are some people who live their whole lives and never get it.”

He smiles as he watches his grandson run up and down the cobblestone street in front of his son’s café. The piazza is filled with students and all of the café tables have only standing room. “A few, as they get older, realize how great it is. Those are the ones who remember.”

Slideshow
Click on Image to Show in Lightbox.

The spirit of secularization has dramatically diminished Catholic practice in Italy. But some say a modernized faith can speak to life’s most important questions.

URBINO, Italy – As the priest sets the bread of the Eucharist on Carlos Mascio’s outstretched tongue, the sound of contemporary jazz blares from outside into the ancient walls of the San Francesco Church.

It is Friday night and the daily Mass is far from the minds of most of the residents of Urbino. Just outside the church walls, hundreds of people are drinking and dancing as a few faithful Catholics stand in procession to take communion.

As Mascio, 23, makes his way back towards the worn wooden pews a different type of music joins the commotion. The modern sound of guitar and electric keyboard begins to fill the room from near the altar.

For more than 200 years, in the late Middle Ages, Urbino was under direct rule of the papacy. Walking through its tiny cobblestone streets, you can distinguish Urbino’s time as a papal state in its dozens of churches bearing the crossed keys of St. Peter’s See.

But in a town where Catholicism reigned supreme, secularization, atheism and Bible-centered evangelism are now growing in dominance at a steady rate.

“Urbino is full of students who are politically oriented on the left,” said Laura Severi, a 21-year-old language student at the University of Urbino,  “In Italy, there is left and right politically speaking, and usually people belonging to the left don’t really believe in God.”

Both sides of the aisle tend to agree that in Urbino, religious practice has severely diminished and that the majority of Urbino residents are no longer religious.

“I think that religion has lost its traditions and young people cannot recognize themselves in its principles,” said Alessandro Merli, a 23-year-old philosophy student at University of Urbino. “The number of people going to church is already low and nothing suggests that it will rise again.”

Urbino is not the only place in Italy seeing a growth of secularism. A number of social measurements indicate a nationwide secularization over the last 20 years. For example, the number of Italians taking part in rites of passage consistently dropped from 1991 to 2004, according to Vatican statistics and a study by the Critica Liberale Foundation, an Italian political think tank. The study found a steady process of secularization in Italy as well as a  “diminishing appeal of Catholic ideas as regards family life and children’s education.”

While secularization continues to gain a footing in this ancient Renaissance town, there are some who are trying to reinvigorate the religiosity of the local youth.

Mascio, a political science student, is co-president of the Federazione Universitaria Cattolica Italiana (FUCI), a university-based Catholic group with about 700 members throughout Italy. The University of Urbino’s FUCI is the largest chapter in Italy, with more than 40 members, according to Mascio. He says their membership is actually much larger then that.

“We have 40 card-carrying members, but we have many more people who participate in our activities regularly,” Mascio said.

Unlike other Italian Catholic groups, FUCI is a university-oriented organization that focuses on communicating the message of the Bible with students. The Urbino group works directly with friars from the local San Francesco Convent to organize weekly meetings, youth-oriented Masses and street evangelization.

A FUCI Mass is a little different from a traditional Catholic Mass. For a FUCI Mass the pews, which are traditionally in two straight rows, are moved diagonally so that they face towards the aisle and are closer to the altar. A three-person band plays music on a drum set, keyboard and electric guitar throughout the service and an animated priest often gives a sermon which brings the students to laughter.

Andrea Cannuccia is the friar appointed to working with FUCI from the San Francesco Convent and also works for FUCI’s national management. Cannuccia said he believes these new types of services are vital for keeping and reinvigorating religious youth.

“We must be modern in what we do to keep young people interested. When we meet, we speak about one existential question and help the discussion with video, PowerPoints, images and group work,” Cannuccia said.

But FUCI is not trying to change Catholicism. FUCI believes the message of the New Testament is always new and very much important and relevant to today’s youth and world.

For Mascio and FUCI, the most important method for bringing people to the word of God and of Catholicism is to use modern language and methods as a means to introduce people to the timeless values and truth of the Bible.

For FUCI members, the group is simply a means to an end.

“We see FUCI as a way to turn people from vagabonds to pilgrims,” Mascio said. “Our goal is not to make FUCI grow. FUCI is an instrument to bring the Christian message to people.”

While statistics point to a secularizing population, Cannuccia said he does not believe these statistics are a realistic reflection of today’s population.

“If on one end it looks like religious practice is decreasing, actually from what we see and experience it is increasing. This year the number of FUCI members went up in Italy. Religious questions are now more important then before,” Cannuccia said.

For FUCI, the injection of modernity is just right. Melding the ancient message of the Bible with modern language and methods, members believe they hold the key to keeping Catholicism and the Bible well within the hearts and minds of Italy’s youth.

When asked about the future of Catholicism, Mascio turned the question to “the present.” “The present, because it is in the reality of the present that you find the truth.”

As Mascio takes his seat, a slight smirk appears on his boyish face as he listens to the music outside. For the religious youth of Italy, the echo of the streets is not at odds with the ancient communion rite. In some ways, in fact, it fits perfectly.

Slideshow
Click on Image to Show in Lightbox.

Eduardo and Carolyn Fichera returned to Italy, where their relationship blossomed, to raise their two children. Though at first adapting to Italian culture proved difficult, they’ now have found a comfortable life in Urbino.

URBINO, Italy — In 2006 Carolyn Fichera wondered if her move to Italy wasn’t a big mistake. Her infant son was crying, her neighbors in Nicosia offered her only criticism for her American ways – and she missed some basics of life in the states. Like a clothes dryer, and a babysitter. Living in Sicily, it turned out, was a lot more challenging than just visiting there.

“It’s one thing to talk about [moving to Italy], it’s another thing to live it,” she realized.

Today she looks back on that time during her first year here and can only smile.

It helped that she and her husband moved to this university town and it helped she has had more time to adjust to the new culture. But just as importantly the reasons that compelled their move in the first place have proven solid: A better life for their young and growing family.

“[Urbino] is a better environment for our family,” Carolyn said. “I’m more comfortable here and I think it’s because of the university, [which] attracts more foreigners, whereas in Sicily I felt like I was the only foreigner there. It’s not true, but I felt that way.

“I think it’s better here, it’s a little more open minded, a little more connection to other towns, to other cultures and to other ideas.”

For many Americans, the dream of moving to the Italian hill country is about putting a permanent claim on the romance found during vacations. For Carolyn Fichera and her husband Eduardo, it was about making a huge investment on the chance of securing a better quality of life for their children.

In 2006 Eduardo gave up a secure future in the form of a tenure-track position at Marquette University in the Milwaukee for a high school teaching position in Sicily, hoping the move would be a better life for raising a family.

The couple grew up half a world away from each other. Carolyn was born and raised in Philadelphia, while Eduardo spent his childhood with his father in Palermo, Italy. Upon graduating from the University of Urbino, Eduardo went to the U.S. to earn his PhD, where he remained to teach Italian courses at various American universities. In her time at Penn State, Carolyn traveled to Urbino for two summers for a language and a modern dance program. After her first trip, she took any opportunity she could to return.

In 1997, Eduardo and Carolyn found themselves in summer programs in Urbino, where they met through mutual friends. Three years later they were a married couple in  Providence, Rhode Island, with an infant daughter, Veronica.

But between the planning of play dates, cramming of daily activities and paranoia about safety, the Ficheras began looking for ways to give their daughter the childhoods they had enjoyed – something simpler, cultured and more laid back. Eventually the idea of moving to Italy became their reality.

“My mother was angry, my father said ‘Go for it.’” Carolyn said. “My mother said ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ – I only had Veronica then – ‘Veronica’s not going to know her family, and blah, blah, blah.’ My friends were sad that I was going to go away and other people were like ‘Oh, Italy, wonderful! I love Italy!’ I got the whole spectrum of reactions.”

The move to Italy provided the Ficheras with the simpler life they desired, but the transition to a small Italian town wasn’t easy for the family, especially Carolyn.

“It was more romanticized than practical, but now I’m content” Carolyn said. “It’s one thing to talk about [moving to Italy], it’s another thing to live it.”

The town’s small size and the people’s traditional mentality proved difficult for Carolyn to adjust to, especially when she gave birth to her son Saverio in 2007. Raising her two infant children without any friends or family took its toll on Carolyn.

“I really reached a low point there because at the same time everybody was telling me I’m not doing it right, [Saverio] just didn’t sleep at night and I was by myself, I had no help with the babies … and it was just too much for me,” Carolyn said.

Their move to Italy had surrounded them with the lifestyle they desired, but the size and inhabitants of Nicosia, Sicily wasn’t what they wanted. As soon as they were able, the Ficheras decided to move once again. This time the search for the best life for their two children brought them back to where they met years ago – Urbino. They quickly decided the  culture of the Renaissance college town offered the lifestyle they wanted for their children.

“It’s a very relaxed pace of life that allows … for some thinking about yourself, about your family, it’s allows you time to relax,” said Eduardo, professor of English and film studies at the University of Urbino. “You don’t feel like you’re … constantly pushed to achieve something. There’s not that idea that you have to run through life to get to whatever objective you have set for [yourself].”

None of this means they will never leave Urbino. Eduardo and Carolyn are adamant about raising their children in the best environment possible and they’re open to moving wherever that priority takes them. Each time they visit the states, their kids seem to grow more attached to that country. They  admit their family’s future might take place back in the U.S.

But for now, Urbino is their best place to live.

Slideshow
Click on Image to Show in Lightbox.

“One Love” hidden in the hills of Renaissance Italy

URBINO, Italy – Alessandro Fusco is leaning over a railing surrounded by lavender flowers and clay-tile rooftops when he suddenly jumps, waving his arms in excitement.

Wow! Take the picture. . . Come, come, come. A humming bird… please, please you see it? Stay here, it’s there. Phew! That was great!

Fusco, 22, is about as unconventional as a Jamaican bobsled team.

Born and raised on the Italian Island of Sardinia, Fusco is a full-fledged Rastafarian, a follower of the faith and lifestyle borne of the anti-colonialism, poverty, spiritualism and marijuana of post-war Jamaica, a Caribbean island he has never seen.

Marco Mollona and Alessandro Fusco meeting for the first time.

His dark brown hair is woven into long thick dreadlocks. He has his own reggae album entitled “Prisoner in Babylon” under his stage-name, ShakaRoot. He speaks English in a Jamaican accent, having learned the language listening to Bob Marley and other English-speaking reggae artists.

He pronounces the word thing as “ting.”

Fusco is also a sociology student at the University of Urbino. During his off-time he enjoys being out in the rolling hills and sleeping under trees, despite having the option of a roof over his head. He appreciates nature so much he will at times stop in mid-conversation to acknowledge the presence of a scenic landscape, a humming bird or an interestingly coloured insect.

Respecting Mother Nature is an important value in the Rastafarian movement.

“Rasta is all about respect,” he says. “Water is a holy ting, a natural flow you have to respect. You have to give thanks to the water, to the air you breathe.”

Rastafarian faith is Fusco’s way of life despite being raised and now surrounded by Italy’s Roman Catholic traditions. Fusco says people need to choose their own roads, follow their own paths and the Rasta life, no matter how odd it may seem here in Urbino, is his path.

Fusco is not the typical Italian. But he isn’t the typical Rastafarian either.

“You become a Rasta in your own way, not in another way,” he says. “So every Rasta man is different, unique in this world because he has his own spirituality.”

Fusco is not ethnically African even though the Rastafarian faith was originally founded by blacks who were in the fight for freedom from white oppressors.

He says he also abstains from any kind of marijuana use. Some Rastafarians believe that marijuana grew on the tomb of King Solomon and that it is useful during prayer.

In 2008, The Italian Supreme Court ruled in one case that it was not a criminal offence but a religious act when a Rastafarian smokes or possesses marijuana, but since then there has been no similar court rulings and marijuana-use remains a crime in Italy.

There is a special irony to an Italian youth or any Italian embracing Rastafari.

During the 1930s, the same time period the Rastafari faith originated, Italian fascist dictator Benito Mussolini invaded Ethiopia, which is considered the sacred Promised Land among Rastafarians.

Italian Rastafarian communities, predominantly in southern regions like Sicily, did not begin to emerge until the 1980s.

“So the relation between Italy and Rastafari is that you put yourself against the brutality made by the fascist people,” Fusco says. “I was born in a place that Mussolini created, so I put myself against those actions, even though those actions in a certain way created me.”

Iyared Mihirete Sellassie is the first vice-president of the Federation of Rastafari Assemblies in Italy (F.A.R.I), an organization that was created in efforts to centralize and organize the movement. Iyared  is seen by many of the younger Italian Rastafarians as a spiritual leader or older brother in the faith.

Iyared writes, “It is [a] heavy and proud task to bring the word of Rastafari to this land, where [early Christian] fathers suffered martyrdom and persecution in the very early days of Christianity.”

In Urbino, the Rastafarians are relatively few, and not a cohesive group. They are not even acquainted with each other, for the most part.

Marco Mollona, 23, is also a Rastafarian and a language major at the local university. Until recently, he had never heard of Fusco.

Alessandro Fusco and his friend Rocco Salerno preparing for a jam session with the hills behind them.

On an overcast day, while walking down a narrow cobblestone street, Fusco turned and instantly recognized Mollona as a fellow Rasta. They introduced themselves, and then both whipped out their cell phones to exchange phone numbers and Facebook information.

The two Italian Rastafarians then parted ways. Finally, after three years of studying in the medieval city, Fusco had another Rasta friend.

Meeting Rastafarians is not a top priority for Fusco, who says he has no prejudice and smiles with just about everyone he meets.

“The message of One Love: we are all one. If you speak to a baby, an old man, it’s the same message,” he says.

***

Mollona, who was brought up the traditional way, found the Rastafarian faith two years ago.  He says at first some people were not sure how to accept his new lifestyle, but eventually they came around. His mother complains only about his dreadlocks, although she has been getting used to the look.

Fusco has a very close relationship with his mother — “great love from mama,” he says. She tells him he is “free to find spiritual divinity in all things.”

Fusco and Mollona listened to reggae, among other genres, at a young age and eventually began to soul-search and think deeply about their lives.

“The first time you hear Bob Marley you get shocked by his music,” Fusco says. “When I first heard ‘Redemption Song,’ it gave me a great emotion inside of me; it was like I was crying. I fell in love with life in that time.”

Fusco also says he sees a lot of strong ties between Marley and his late father, both victims of cancer. He says Marley is a father-figure.

***

The field of the Fortezza Albornoz Park is packed and the sky is dark. Fusco  swivels through the dense smoke-filled crowd of laughing, singing and swaying students. The Sound of Sun, a female-fronted reggae band, is already on stage, meaning Fusco is late. He hops over a fence and finds himself backstage, runs up the stairs and joins the band in the most fluid, discreet fashion.

After a few more cover songs, Fusco is centre stage as his performance persona, ShakaRoot the crowd erupts in cheers as he belts out his own original reggae songs.

Fusco’s decision to follow the Rastafarian faith has been a long evolving process.

“So I was 11, and it was gradual. First I listened to the songs, the songs gave me a lot of emotions, so step by step I heard Peter Tosh. Peter Tosh just taught me a lot of tings about Rastafari in his music and gradually I became a Rasta,” he says. “You open your heart to Rastafari.”

Something Fusco is the most passionate about besides his faith, music and nature, is children. After he graduates from University in February 2012 he plans to travel to South Africa where he will teach guitar and Italian to the local kids.

“Identity is the most important thing. That is what I want to bring with my music, starting from children because every child in this world is different from the other.”

Fusco believes children and youth are the cornerstones of the world, paying reference to Bob Marley’s song “Cornerstone.”

“They say that the stone the builder refuses will always be the head cornerstone. To me every youth is the head cornerstone of the future,” Fusco says. “So, what we need is to open the doors to creativity. Like one song of mine says, ‘life is mine, like sunrise, let me shine, you give to me wings and shine, I wanna rejoice, let me fly’ so that’s my message y’know?”

Video