In Livorno (Leghorn), most hustle off the ship to join even larger crowds in Florence and Pisa. Livorno is either ignored or dismissed as by Mark Twain in 1867:
‘We reached Leghorn in time to see all we wished to of it long before the city gates were closed for the evening ...’ (The Innocents Abroad)
Despite occasional light rain, Livorno is my kind of town and I have it more or less to myself. Much like the port for Rome, Civitavecchia, Livorno seems normal. Locals are actually pleased, even surprised, you’ve bothered to visit.
Veendam docks at the end of the street, a quick walk from …
… canals … okay, maybe not Venice, but dug by Venetians …
… a Renaissance fortress and more recent history. Among Livorno’s sons …
… was the opera composer Pietro Mascagni whose works include Cavalleria Rusticana. I love the intermezzo, even though Mr. Arcularis, in Conrad Aiken’s short story of the same name, thought it ‘wretched music’. He felt like crying. ‘It moves me too much, but in the wrong way … I suppose, like most people, I’m afraid of my feelings’.
Mascagni was born in 1863 …
… in a building facing onto the now nondescript Piazza Felice Cavallotti, used most days as a market. His birthplace has long since vanished.
Not far away, on the Via Roma arrived …
… painter and sculptor Amedeo Modigliani.
Google’s translation of a plaque ...
… on the house sometimes suggests genius, sometimes merely talent. Which may be why the artist, upset by local criticism, left his hometown in 1909. Before departing, he may have thrown some of his work …
… into the water near Livorno’s Fortezza Nuovo or New Fortress. Which led to one of the most famous hoaxes in art history.
In 1984, busts, said to be in Modigliani’s distinctive style, were recovered from the water. Two of Italy’s best-known art experts declared they were definitely Modigliani’s. Turned out they were done by local students using an electric drill.
Some sensitive contemporary visitors have apparently said Livorno’s 1626 Monumento dei Quattro Mori - Monument of the Four Moors - is ‘distasteful’, so that means it’s a must see.
The monument is dedicated to Ferdinando I de’ Medici, Grand Duke of Tuscany, and represents naval battles against the Barbary pirates. Four chained Moor prisoners are at the base. Supposedly the Moors who posed for the sculptures were freed.
The gate - note the thoughtful RIP - at the Antico Cimitero degli Inglesi, Old English Cemetery, is locked. I find a convenient low wall.
Dating from 1646, Italy’s oldest burial ground for foreign Protestants is an overgrown, photographer’s delight.
Novelist Tobias Smollet, whose grave was visited by Dickens, is here (so to speak) as are friends of Byron and Shelley.
A final suggestion: I highly recommend Livorno’s main Mercato Centrale, Central Market. Not only is it well worthwhile as a building, but has useful washrooms and I don't spot another obvious tourist.
Chancing on the Bar del Mercato di Camici Marco, which seems to mean Marco Camici’s Market Bar, I attempt some mangled Italian, ‘Buongiorno. Caffè latte, per favore’. To which a delightful man behind the counter - perhaps Marco - smiles and replies in English, ‘No, try local coffee, not coffee latte’. To which he adds an enjoyable pastry, total cost being €2.10, about $2.50 (US). And that’s a bargain in much of Italy.
As I leave, my hand is shaken and (unnecessary) apologies made for the showers. For some reason, I unfortunately forget to take pictures. Still, I return to the ship content and that's not my umbrella.
