“The medieval tower leapt straight up into the air when the bomb went off,” Signor Fausto told me, “….and then disintegrated into chunks of rock.” I asked if anyone was hurt. “No, but many roofs caved in and homes were destroyed.” It was June 30, 1944 and occupying Germans forces were abandoning Montisi in retreat. “L’hanno fatto solo per dispetto” (“They only did it for spite”), he said with a resigned shrug of his thin shoulders. Actually, the bombing of Montisi’s 14th c tower – a faithful copy on smaller scale of the famed Mangia tower of Siena – was a strategic move by the Germans to block Allied troops tailing them. Grizzled Signor Fausto, wearing the typical coppola hat and large tinted eyeglasses – that didn’t dim the spark in his eyes – pointed to the massive truncated tower base with the commemorative plaque in the center.
[lcaption]Fausto, “local historian”[/lcaption]
We continued past the tower on the one main winding street of Montisi, southern Tuscan village perched on a volcanic rock outcrop with vistas stretching all the way to Siena on a clear day. A trio of elderly local signori in work clothes with long-handled brushes and buckets, on their way to clean a closed-up church, stopped to greet us.
One of them, Romano, told me that i was fortunate to be in the company of the “local historian”.
Curious to hear more about local sentiment for the tower, I asked them, too, about the 1944 bombing and their reactions, their families. They shared their stories and then – noting my interest in Montisi history – invited me into the Baroque church, la Cura, sorely in need of restoration. As we talked, Signor Valerio reached up with his long brush to swoop off the cobwebs dangling on the stuccoed sculptures.
[lcaption]Maria, Ghigo, Valerio and Romano, volunteers cleaning the church[/lcaption]
When I asked about hopes for restoration, Signora Maria (part of the cleaning crew), sighed, “There’s too much to restore in this country and never enough funds, “ as the men there cleaning nodded agreement.
The love of these elderly cleaning volunteers for Montisi was evident. One of them Ghigo – retired stonemason – gives life to his passione montesano in the sandstone reliefs he sculpts (they’re on the town walls, all over).
And passione per Montisi rang out in everyone I talked to in two days there, from the locals sipping espresso while reading the paper at Il Barrino to American architect Marcia (founder of the Montisi Film Festival) and British painter Liz Cochrane, both now home-owners here – and full participants in local life. And they’re not the only straineri who have made Montisi, their casa, dolce casa.
[lcaption]Liz’s “passione” for Montisi lives in her paintings[/lcaption]
A fresco by Liz of Montisi decorates the wall of Ginaluca’s restaurant where we had a buonissimo lunch cooked by his wife, Christina. Ravioli stuffed with pears and sheep’s milk ricotta, a meat sauce of local beef and chicken livers and of course, aglione (typical tomato sauce of southern Tuscany, highlighted by lots of garlic) were pasta choices.
We feasted on Christina’s Tuscan goodness right under a photo collage of most of the four hundred montesani living in the town today.
[lcaption]Christina cooks up the goodness[/lcaption]
And Liz and Marcia’s photos were there, too.
Read about nearby Trequanda
Read about Petroio, close to Montisi
Read more on Montisi
See more of Liz’s art
Read why towers are psychologically important to the italians
Read about Tuscan gem, Anghiari and its artisan market
[lcaption]Thanks to artist Liz Cochrane for her bellissimo painting of Montisi[/lcaption]
