C'era una volta... (there was a time...)

Giorgio passes by the bar, and I call him over. "I saw a photo with you in it, after dinner down at Le Cerquelle, with a small group of men. It looked cold, you were all wrapped up - was it a hunting party?" I asked.

"Ah no, it is a much darker story - we were celebrating the 'Brigante' from over a hundred years ago, who had to hide in the woods near Lazio..."

And thus started a most fascinating hour, grappa in one hand, the other for gestures, where we talked of old deeds, of a group of men who killed the local Count, and who hid in the forests for over 30 years. And of how, on the 12th of December, a small group travel to place a flower on the place where they hid, a constant annoyance of course to the Carabinieri, because it reminded them that they never captured  the outlaws.

"Can you imagine," said Giorgio, speaking conspiratorially, for these deeds, though old, could be alive today, "how difficult and hard it is to live for 30 years in the woods, with no fire, no smoke, little to eat...and yet the locals supported them, and when the Carabinieri came into the bar to ask if anyone knew anything, of course they denied all knowledge."

The story turned to the annual memorial trip, and of the need to have a strong 'baffo' (moustache) to look the part, a large hat or a hood, and a general air of seriousness. "Of course, those without 'baffi' are sent to the back of the coach, so that they don't ruin the look"

I showed him a photo from last Movember, of my fledgling moustache, and this raised a wry smile "Bravo" said Giorgio, "you would be at the front of the bus...but maybe it's a bit too dark, you need more grey!"

The spirit of the Brigante is alive and well in Papiano...