What’s Italian for phew’ I’ve been walked off my piedi today in Bergamo Citt’alta e Citta Bassa (City High and City Low).
And phew too… Johnson, Schnapps and Co. are too late to quarantine me on my return. I was always flying back tomorrow evening anyway, so Sunday is troppo tardi, idioti!
That’s if I don’t decide to quarantine myself anyway with the Bergamoschi (the people that is, not the local sheepdogs who share their name. Although…!)
La Prima Citta
Bergamo, as we all know by now, is where Covid-19 entered Europe.
But they have taken the worst it can offer and are coming out the other side, and will prevail.
Or as they say here ‘Molamia’ (stay strong).
The Bergamoschi have done just that since Covid visited in March and shut the town off from the rest of Lombardy, Italy, and the world for four months.
But not from each other… or not in the ways that matter.
Matteo, my tour guide volunteered to help out the old and infirm.
Restaurateur Niccolo the same with his original ice cream and food.
And model citizen Emmanuele, who lives in a palazzo on the hill too, as a volunteer.
All are heroes… and all Bergamoschi are an example to us all
Perhaps it is in the blood. It is certainly in their history.
I am standing in the Basilica di Santa Maria Maggiore in Ciitt’alta.
Where the Bergamoschi built a new church after they were delivered from the plague in the 12th century.
And filled it with frescoes, magnificent paintings and special picture boards of other scenes where humanity prevailed over adversity.
Ma mi scusi. I have just eaten my own weight in food and drunk today, a small lago di vino and must now repair to my bed in the Hotel Excelsior San Marco.
While as the Veneto region is just over the horizon to the east, here’s the City of Frescoes Padova.
INCONTRA A VOI NELLA VIA