PREFACE
'Will your eyes behold through the morning light
The city of gold and the harbour bright?
Willl your anchor safe by the heavenly shore
When life's storms are past for evermore?'
It's dark. It's early. I've just woken up. I hear bird song followed moments later by owl hoots. I'm at sea. It certainly can be difficult to guess the time in early November! Yes, this difficult year is finally coming to an end. The blizzard that blew in Covid in January has brought us Biden in November. Hopefully it will bring us the vaccine by December.
In the last 6 weeks here in Campania, we have not only moved seasons and but also moved house. In fact the two events happened simultaneously! On Monday 21st Sptember as our movers munched their panini, the monsoon rains arrived. To return the next day, just after the van had been unloaded. Time and tide, they say, waits for no man and we were certainly lucky! There's no holding back the wind!
Yes, it just kept on a-blowing! Unfortunately it blasted us into yet another Covid Lockdown about two months after our arrival in Giano. Confined to their casa, the owners of a villa on the edge of the village put up their Christmas lights. I noticed them at once as I walked home on that late Saturday afternoon. Lighting my path and raising my sunken spirit, at that moment Giano became my harbour bright. Our own Christmas lights followed less than a month later to a number of compliments.
Perhaps it is the remote nature of this village that has cultivated the tough independent spirt of the inhabitants? Situated as it is hidden in the hills above Capua, 225m above sea level and 25 km from the the province's capital, Caserta. Until the middle of the last century the only accessable route by cart or car was the steep winding one up the 'Sant ella' hill, from the village of Pignataro and the railway station below. Now it serves as one of three roads into the village so we have distinguished it as the 'scenic route'. It certainly affords the best view of the Campania plain, dominated in the distance by Mount Vesuvius.
If you make the ascent by foot or cycle as many locals are doing for exercise in early mornings or evenings, you will hear the quiet chatter of the cavaletti (grasshoppers) and the booming sound of gunshots from the rifle range on the right side of the hill. At the top of the hill things are quieter at the small chapel dedicated to the Madonna delle Grazie and the Trapezio, the abandoned retaurant where my husband celebrated his nephew's baptism in the 1990s.
It is here you catch your first glimpse of Giano, glistening in the sunshine. Its scattered dwellings extending over a large area of fields and olive groves at the bottom of a mountain range, framed by Mount Maggiore. The whole scene is lit up from mid-afternoon in winter and remains my favourite. Gazing down on this heavenly haven it is easy to accept the Council's claim that: 'the country has everything so that you can spend your life peacefully'. I certainly am and have no intention of seeking another!
Indeed the area has been enjoyed for thousands of years. We know that it was settled since the pre-Roman period by the Ausoni people which had settled between the Liri and Volturno rivers, the Trebulani mountains and the Veseris (Roccamonfina volcano)
When the Romans arrived about 290 BC they fought the Samnites for control of Teano, Capua and other Campanian towns. In 334 BC Cales became the first Roman colony and it was settled by farmers and shepherds. They chose Monte Fratiello, a wooden hill above modern Giano. Probably the first stone structure they built was a temple to the god Janus. (More in a forthcoming November blogpost). This structure gave the name of their settlement; Rocciano- from the vulgar Latin 'Rocca Ianio'.
Rocciano, then, is the oldest part of Giano Vetusto. It was inhabited from the 4th century BC right up until the middle of the 20th century AD- about 2,300 years! Now, however, it lies abandoned and largely forgotten, with its once proud buildings largely ruined. It lies less than a mile from modern Giano and yet I had no idea of its existence until about two months ago. Indeed I would never have visited it yet, had it not been for the kindness of Franco, a native and new friend. His family were amongst the last to inhabit Rocciano.
Rocciano largely consists of limestone houses, built on narrow alleys. Now you can only access the village from one road, Via Puglia, though I would advise any vehicle much larger than my mini! You can see the ruins of ancient buildings, alongside those of more modern construction, made of tuffa. Franco showed us the house where his grandfather was born and the olive mill and threshing floor where his family worked. In Rocciano we find a wide variety of fruits: Raspberries, amarene cherries, i lemons, apples, plums...alongside a plethora of olive and nut trees.
The fertility of this soil is clearly dependent on an abundant supply of water. With the absence of rainfall during the long hot summers in Southern Italy, it must come from underground. As the population of Rocciano expanded they settled on the lower parts of the hill, following these underground springs.
Indeed it was the abundance of wells (pozzi) that gave the present centre of Giano (where I live) its name, Pozzillo- terra dei pozzi. Our own home has its own underneath our living room. Furthermore three fractions of Giano have names connected to water: Pozzillo, Fountanella and Fontana.
In Piazza Pozzillo we listen to it bubbling in the fountain. In Bar Pozzillo we drink it in our iced aperitifs. In Fontana we watched it being pumped up to fill the tank of a fire helicopter (Thankfully!) Water, water everywhere and plenty to drink! We are awash with it!
However to actually swim in it I must head out of my harbour. For my wedding anniversary on August the 6th I choose the Thermal waters of Agnano. This thermal complex is situated on the southern side of Lake Agnano, on the edge of Naples
It is the largest thermal baths in Italy with 72 springs that generate 7 million litres of water each day. The modern day complex dates from 1912 and though now of faded splendour provides a good port of call to relax and recharge.
All in all, a wonderful day that began and ended with a haze of pinks: an anniversary bouquet from Franco's wife, Antionella and the sunset over Pozzuoli harbour.
It's late then when I head back to my own harbour bright. I see its welcoming lights glowing as I approach. No longer at sea now. A year on, I'm almost a genuine Gianese. Anchored in my harbour bright, I'm beginning to shine.
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