Too many, if they remember Fascist Italy at all, dismiss it as a comic opera dictatorship led by a huffing and puffing Il Duce with jutting chin and pithy catchphrase, ripe for parody. But Italy from the 1920s to 1940s was not opera buffa, it was a very nasty place. And, for much of its time, the regime had widespread support.
Why the rant? Because in Civitavecchia I’ve discovered a curious war memorial.
The Italian battleship Roma was sent to the bottom in 1943. Not by daring Allied aviators, but by the Italians erstwhile allies, the Germans.
Italy’s initial enthusiasm for easy conquest quickly evaporated in the face of (what a surprise) serious opposition. Seeing the writing on the wall, the Italians signed an armistice with the Allies. The Germans, I suppose understandably, were a touch upset and proceeded to inflict unpleasantness on the Italians, whom Hitler largely regarded with contempt.
The Roma, on the way to surrender, was attacked by the Luftwaffe and sunk with nearly fourteen hundred sailors.
In the first of the plaques (above), note the Latin Caput Mundi in Mare Nostrum, which I take to have been the Roma’s motto. Schoolboy Latin (not my best subject) and Google Translate come up with ‘Capital of the World in Our Sea’. In classical times, Caput Mundi referred to Rome and Mare Nostrum to ‘Our Sea’, the Mediterranean. In expectation of a new Roman Empire, Mare Nostrum was notoriously revived by the Italian Fascists.
The second plaque records the ship splitting in two as it sank. This and two more years of war meant that Italy paid dearly for its embrace of Mussolini.
Abandoning history, I idle my way further along Civitavecchia’s seafront.
Fisherman and bulk carriers where warships once lay.
Mending day on shore.
Cleaning day at home.
Study in moods at a café.
Flirtation?
Scepticism?
Boredom?
Lost scarf on steps in front of the town’s railway station.
And then I chance - difficult to get a clear view - on the most extraordinary block of flats.
This is 9/11 Via Nino Bixio …
… and, as you can see, its design is unusual and repair unfortunately lacking.
Note the vents and multi-coloured glass in the doors. I am unable to find anything about the building, which looks out onto the fishing port. At a guess, it would appear to be from the 1950s or 60s.
Time for lunch. At Trattoria Sora Maria, founded, they’ll happily tell you, in 1885, I find what I’m looking for.
Naples, where we’ll be tomorrow, is often claimed to have been the birthplace of Pizza Margherita. Apparently not so, but no reason not to have it while in Italy. Avoiding Naples crowding and inflated prices, I have mine in Civitavecchia. Yum!
=======================================================
I’ve always found my stops in Civitavecchia thoroughly enjoyable. Similar to Livorno, it is too often overlooked. Here are links:
