Off topic but my hometown that I left at the age of 17 is divided into two parts, the oldest on a hill dominated by a castle built in the 1100s an area called the borgo, and the more recent part that dates to the 18th/19th centuries in the plains below where I lived. In the 60s it expanded to what once were farmlands outside of town and modern homes were built, thanks in most part to emigrants principally to Germany and Switzerland that every month sent the bulk of their paychecks back home to their families.
In the middle, between the higher and lower grounds, rises the church of Saint Bartholomew, our patron saint, erected in the 1700s and the tallest building in town. People are very devoted to the saint because and old tale recounts that he saved the village from Saracen mercenaries that had been ****** and plundering in the area but spared us by the pleadings of a mysterious old man that turned out to be Bart. The feast, on August 24th, is a 3/4-day extravaganza with rides, decorative lighting, marching bands, food stands, fireworks, a big procession and concerts of various types with the last one headlined by a well-known national singer or band.
The castle is the symbol of the town, unfortunately in need of repairs, the homes below were once occupied by nobles, (the closest to the castle), but mostly by serfs and protected by a wall encircled by towers that the vegetation has rendered almost invisible and with little population left. The ruler was a duke that answered to the Normans and owned most of the lands. It is said that on wedding nights the duke got to be the first to sleep with the brides, a duty imposed on him to check if they had been virgins or not. Not a bad gig and he probably approved of the ugly ones without having to sleep with them.
Despite living in America for most of my adult life I feel the need to visit my birthplace every few years, a location from where I have great memories of and tons of friends old and new. People welcome me to their homes with warmth and prepare delicious meals for me while here in America I'm virtually invisible because of age.
I visit in August for the feast because natives living elsewhere return home and reunions are nice, but also to be present at a medieval weekend in the ancient part above. There are old games from those days, volunteers that dress like our ancestors, minuet music played, parades with jugglers, witches, duke and duchess, even a costumed wedding walk and ceremony that includes the priest and guests.
Sorry for the trip down memory lane and Forza Milan!
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