Postcard from Bergamo, Italy: An unmerciful alarmclock

It went off every morning. Only one rooftop away from our fifth floor window in the apartment we rented in Bergamo, Italy, this past summer. There was no way to be lazy and sleep through the clanging bell because it sounded as though it was next to us in bed. Fortunately, it waited until daylight and didn’t feel compelled to let us know as each hour passed during the night.

A block away, the bell hanging in the 11th-century Torre del Campanone tolls 100 times at 10 p.m., a reminder of the strict curfew imposed by Germans in the town during World War II. But then, until morning, all is quiet.

The alarm clock is among the eccentricities encountered renting apartments versus staying in hotels. This rental was located on the fifth floor directly over the main pedestrian street passing through the Alta Citta. Restaurants were only a few steps away.

But on weekends or if tour buses had just unloaded passengers downhill, we had to be careful stepping into the street from our doorway so as not to get run over by the herd jamming the narrow street, much like the crowds on the River Walk at home. One of those play-me pianos below echoed of “Chopsticks” way too often but, sometimes, would attract really talented pianists to sit down for a spell.

The window provided a daily weather report, and the landscape seen from the windows on the flights of stairs at the rear made the climb easier. We also enjoyed birds-eye views of parishioners bearing saints on parade or wedding parties headed to or from one of the numerous churches. And the street was so narrow, we even made an Italian friend on the fifth floor across the street who traded blues guitar licks with the Mister one afternoon.

Love this inexpensive way of slowed-down travel….

 

Postcard from Bergamo, Italy: Steering classics round and round the town

This is the first of a series of “postcards” almost lost in the shuffle of 2016; their delivery has been delayed by more than six months.

The first automobile race through the city’s gates and around the walls of Bergamo was held in May of 1935. Alfa Romeo, Maserati and Bugatti cars completed 70 laps on the winding narrow streets of the hilltop town to attain a distance of 150 miles.

In 2004, the city began hosting annual reenactments of that first event. I’m not much of a car-person, but even I could not resist the charm of these classic cars cruising circling the upper city. These beauties were among the participants on a drizzling day in May of 2016.

The main trophy awarded for pre-war classics at the Bergamo Historic Gran Prix Circuito dell Mura is named in honor of the hometown racing hero, Guilio Foresti (1888-1965). Foresti drove for virtually all of Italy’s famous carmakers. Fans of speed remember his 1927 efforts to break the British speed record of 174.88 miles per hour in Pendine Sands, Wales. He drove a Djelmo, a test car of Prince Dejaleddin. According to William Pearce on Old Machine Press:

On 26 November 1927, Foresti took the Djelmo out on the sands to make a few runs. As was typical, Foresti wore only goggles and no other protection. The Djelmo had exhibited a tendency to fishtail at high speeds. While travelling on the beach at around 150 mph (240 km/h), Foresti lost control. The Djelmo rolled several times, and Foresti was ejected from the racer. Miraculously, Foresti suffered only minor injuries and walked toward rescuers. The fact that he was ejected clear of the rolling Djelmo and into the soft sand probably saved his life. The Djelmo was destroyed. Prince Djelaleddin had lost interest in these speed projects: the Djelmo was never repaired and the twin-engine racer was never built.

Fortunately for amateur photographers, the classics in Bergamo’s Historic Gran Prix cruise at a much tamer speed. The main challenge appeared to be to keep these vintage vehicles in running condition.