Sunday, June 30, 2013
Saturday, June 29, 2013
Ciao, Belluno
For all my photos from this genealogy quest, click here.
Closing thoughts:
Two of the old folks I spoke to in Sovramonte kept saying something that sounded like "emer." At first I thought they were saying email funnily. I don't know if it is a hamlet nearby Zorzoi or what. I also don't know how I'll ever find out...
Mr. Bellotto and my little old lady friend also told me that all the Bellottos came from the hamlet of Pontete (a frazione of Zorzoi). I am not sure where it is or if I walked through it, but I figured I'd write it down.
I need to get someone to help me understand this organization; it might have some useful information! Maybe it can help me with the two quandaries above.
When I first got to the Dolomites, "widely regarded as being among the most attractive mountain landscapes in the world (according to the United Nations Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization)," I was so struck by their beauty I didn't understand why my ancestors had left. It's an official UNESCO World Heritage site for goodness sake!
After staying there for less than a week, in late June, I realized how harsh life must have been there more than 100 years ago.
There is still snow on the mountains; imagine how cold it must be there in the winter. And what kinds of homes did my family live in? Most of the houses I saw in Pedavena and Zorzoi seemed to have been built in the last 50 years. Perhaps my ancestors lived in old wooden shacks, or cold, stone farmhouses. Roads wouldn't have been paved, and cars didn't exist. Did they have horses? Did they hike everywhere?
One of the people I stayed with in Pren told me there was a lot of mining in the area since there were rich mineral deposits in the mountains. Perhaps that's why Romano Bellotto and the De Baccos chose to come to western Pennsylvania, so there would be some familiarity.
I wonder.
I hope they are looking down on me, happy with my quest. I hope one day in heaven to ask them how it really was, and to see how close I came to understanding my roots this past week.
Closing thoughts:
Two of the old folks I spoke to in Sovramonte kept saying something that sounded like "emer." At first I thought they were saying email funnily. I don't know if it is a hamlet nearby Zorzoi or what. I also don't know how I'll ever find out...
Mr. Bellotto and my little old lady friend also told me that all the Bellottos came from the hamlet of Pontete (a frazione of Zorzoi). I am not sure where it is or if I walked through it, but I figured I'd write it down.
I need to get someone to help me understand this organization; it might have some useful information! Maybe it can help me with the two quandaries above.
When I first got to the Dolomites, "widely regarded as being among the most attractive mountain landscapes in the world (according to the United Nations Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization)," I was so struck by their beauty I didn't understand why my ancestors had left. It's an official UNESCO World Heritage site for goodness sake!
After staying there for less than a week, in late June, I realized how harsh life must have been there more than 100 years ago.
There is still snow on the mountains; imagine how cold it must be there in the winter. And what kinds of homes did my family live in? Most of the houses I saw in Pedavena and Zorzoi seemed to have been built in the last 50 years. Perhaps my ancestors lived in old wooden shacks, or cold, stone farmhouses. Roads wouldn't have been paved, and cars didn't exist. Did they have horses? Did they hike everywhere?
One of the people I stayed with in Pren told me there was a lot of mining in the area since there were rich mineral deposits in the mountains. Perhaps that's why Romano Bellotto and the De Baccos chose to come to western Pennsylvania, so there would be some familiarity.
I wonder.
I hope they are looking down on me, happy with my quest. I hope one day in heaven to ask them how it really was, and to see how close I came to understanding my roots this past week.
Friday, June 28, 2013
Pedavena
This morning I got out of bed around 8 a.m. and caught the bus down to Pedavena. I walked straight to the city hall, but it didn’t open until 10 a.m. So, I walked to a café and had a hot chocolate.
There were several old men, and I thought I might ask any of them if they knew of my great-great grandfather, Antonio De Bacco.
While time passed ever so slowly waiting for the city hall to open, I decided to ask the servers at the café where the De Bacco grocer was. They said it was just around the corner. I walked over and saw the sign.
I went inside and milled around for a bit, looking at all the workers, trying to see if any of them looked like we could be related. After the crowd died down the main shopkeeper asked if she could help me. I asked if she was Ms. De Bacco. She said yes. I asked again, just to make sure. I told her my great grandmother’s maiden name was De Bacco and that her father was from Pedavena. I showed her my family tree and she said it was very impressive and must have been hard to put together.
She told me that she didn’t know anything about this De Bacco branch but to come with her and we’d ask her mother.
We walked next door and she rang the doorbell. A woman appeared in the upstairs window and the shopkeeper explained what I wanted. She said she was getting dressed and would be down in 10 minutes. The shopkeeper took me back to the store to wait.
While I waited, I bought some De Bacco bread. I figure it was from the De Bacco bakery. I also wanted to give some business to my paisans.
It was some of the best bread I've had in Italy.
Eventually, Mrs. De Bacco came to get me. She took me to her house and talked and talked. I’m not totally sure what she was saying, so eventually I told her I didn’t really speak Italian.
I’m pretty sure what she said was that she didn’t know any Antonio De Bacco and she didn’t remember her husband’s grandparents’ names. She told me another place to go and explore, near the brewery, maybe by the alpine club, but I didn’t fully understand. I just kept thanking her and left.
I still had some time before the city hall opened, so I walked to the church. Out front there was a statue to all the emigrants. There must have been so many of them from Belluno since all the places my ancestors came from have one.
As I was taking that photo, I heard organ music coming from inside the church. I walked up to the door and tried to open it, but I couldn’t. I walked around to the side door and couldn’t get that to open either. There was no one outside, and I didn’t hear any people inside, so I figured there wasn’t a service and kept walking.
I found the historic Villa Pasole, which may have been what Mrs. De Bacco was trying to tell me about. The signs said private property, so I didn't think there was a public museum and I left.
I walked back by the grocery store and went in to thank the younger Ms. De Bacco and tell her I was going to the city hall. She wished me luck – what a nice lady.
When I got to the city hall, the door was still locked. I sat on the steps and waited for the church bells to strike 10. Once they did, I rang the doorbell. At that very moment, a man opened the door.
I told him I was looking for historical documents; he told me to follow him.
He went into an office and I pulled out my De Bacco family tree. I asked if he spoke English or French and he said a little. I kept trying with my Italian. I asked if he had a birth certificate for Antonio, born in 1869. He typed on his computer. I looked around the office and anthologies of births, deaths, and marriages. Some of the records were from the 1800s. I was pretty excited. I wondered if the office in Servo would have the same kinds of documents on Zorzoi.
After a while the clerk said something about 1871. I asked if he had found an Antonio De Bacco born in Pedavena in 1871. He said no. He walked to another part of the office and brought a book back with him. The spine said 1871-. Turns out, they only started keeping records of births in 1871, two years after my great-great grandfather was born. He said I’d have to go to the parochial house to get the birth certificate. I asked where that was and he got out a map.
Somehow, he started looking for a record my great-great grandparents’ marriage. He found it in another book. Antionio De Bacco married Angela De Pian (from Pedavena, not Feltre) January 31, 188888. I couldn’t believe he had found them, and so fast! He typed out a certificate and printed it for me and stamped it for good measure. I asked if I could see the actual log with all the script. He put it up on the counter but said I wasn’t allowed to photograph it.
I asked if we could tell the newlyweds’ parents’ names from the log and he showed me their names. Fioravante and Polet Teresa were the parents of Antonio; Vittore and Bertelle Margherita were the parents of Angela.
I asked if we could look for Angela’s birth certificate, since she was born in 1877, after records started being kept by the city. He found nothing for De Pian. He figured she had been born in Feltre and that her record was there and that the marriage certificate was wrong. I asked if he could look up Dal Pian instead of De Pian. He found her. Angela was born a Dal Pian and married a De Pian. He took back the marriage license and said he would change it to Dal and send me the correct version. I gave him all my contact information and clarified everything with him in French. I’m expecting her birth certificate and their marriage certificate; I hope he doesn’t let me down.
After that very fruitful half hour, I walked back to the church. The clerk told me the parochial records would be in the priest’s house, just behind the church. I didn’t see a house and I knocked on whatever shed was there – no answer. There was a man nearby and I asked if he knew where I could find the parish. He said no, but to see if anyone was inside the church. One of the doors was open by then, so I walked into the sanctuary.
There was no one around, and no way to get to the back office. I looked up at the ceiling above the altar and said a little prayer. I am so thankful to have had such a wonderful journey, to have met so many encouraging people, to have seen such spectacular scenery – to have the amazing opportunity to really get in touch with my roots.
I sat down in a pew and pulled out a calling card. I wrote in very crude Italian that I was looking for Antonio’s birth certificate and would appreciate any help.
I left the card, with my Skype username and mailing address in Texas, near the altar, so we’ll see if I get anything.
I took the 11:03 a.m. bus back up to Pren very satisfied with my morning.
When I got back to the hippy hotel, Fosca told me what’s his name De Bacco had called her back and said if Antonio had a brother named Angelo, we could very well be cousins. I told her about my find and asked if she could ask if he knew Angelo’s parents’ names, then we could know for sure if Antonio and Angelo were brothers. The kid said he’d call his dad and let us know.
I left before I got an answer, but I’m sure Fosca will email me if it’s something positive.
There were several old men, and I thought I might ask any of them if they knew of my great-great grandfather, Antonio De Bacco.
While time passed ever so slowly waiting for the city hall to open, I decided to ask the servers at the café where the De Bacco grocer was. They said it was just around the corner. I walked over and saw the sign.
I went inside and milled around for a bit, looking at all the workers, trying to see if any of them looked like we could be related. After the crowd died down the main shopkeeper asked if she could help me. I asked if she was Ms. De Bacco. She said yes. I asked again, just to make sure. I told her my great grandmother’s maiden name was De Bacco and that her father was from Pedavena. I showed her my family tree and she said it was very impressive and must have been hard to put together.
She told me that she didn’t know anything about this De Bacco branch but to come with her and we’d ask her mother.
We walked next door and she rang the doorbell. A woman appeared in the upstairs window and the shopkeeper explained what I wanted. She said she was getting dressed and would be down in 10 minutes. The shopkeeper took me back to the store to wait.
While I waited, I bought some De Bacco bread. I figure it was from the De Bacco bakery. I also wanted to give some business to my paisans.
It was some of the best bread I've had in Italy.
Eventually, Mrs. De Bacco came to get me. She took me to her house and talked and talked. I’m not totally sure what she was saying, so eventually I told her I didn’t really speak Italian.
I’m pretty sure what she said was that she didn’t know any Antonio De Bacco and she didn’t remember her husband’s grandparents’ names. She told me another place to go and explore, near the brewery, maybe by the alpine club, but I didn’t fully understand. I just kept thanking her and left.
I still had some time before the city hall opened, so I walked to the church. Out front there was a statue to all the emigrants. There must have been so many of them from Belluno since all the places my ancestors came from have one.
As I was taking that photo, I heard organ music coming from inside the church. I walked up to the door and tried to open it, but I couldn’t. I walked around to the side door and couldn’t get that to open either. There was no one outside, and I didn’t hear any people inside, so I figured there wasn’t a service and kept walking.
I found the historic Villa Pasole, which may have been what Mrs. De Bacco was trying to tell me about. The signs said private property, so I didn't think there was a public museum and I left.
When I got to the city hall, the door was still locked. I sat on the steps and waited for the church bells to strike 10. Once they did, I rang the doorbell. At that very moment, a man opened the door.
I told him I was looking for historical documents; he told me to follow him.
He went into an office and I pulled out my De Bacco family tree. I asked if he spoke English or French and he said a little. I kept trying with my Italian. I asked if he had a birth certificate for Antonio, born in 1869. He typed on his computer. I looked around the office and anthologies of births, deaths, and marriages. Some of the records were from the 1800s. I was pretty excited. I wondered if the office in Servo would have the same kinds of documents on Zorzoi.
After a while the clerk said something about 1871. I asked if he had found an Antonio De Bacco born in Pedavena in 1871. He said no. He walked to another part of the office and brought a book back with him. The spine said 1871-. Turns out, they only started keeping records of births in 1871, two years after my great-great grandfather was born. He said I’d have to go to the parochial house to get the birth certificate. I asked where that was and he got out a map.
Somehow, he started looking for a record my great-great grandparents’ marriage. He found it in another book. Antionio De Bacco married Angela De Pian (from Pedavena, not Feltre) January 31, 188888. I couldn’t believe he had found them, and so fast! He typed out a certificate and printed it for me and stamped it for good measure. I asked if I could see the actual log with all the script. He put it up on the counter but said I wasn’t allowed to photograph it.
I asked if we could tell the newlyweds’ parents’ names from the log and he showed me their names. Fioravante and Polet Teresa were the parents of Antonio; Vittore and Bertelle Margherita were the parents of Angela.
I asked if we could look for Angela’s birth certificate, since she was born in 1877, after records started being kept by the city. He found nothing for De Pian. He figured she had been born in Feltre and that her record was there and that the marriage certificate was wrong. I asked if he could look up Dal Pian instead of De Pian. He found her. Angela was born a Dal Pian and married a De Pian. He took back the marriage license and said he would change it to Dal and send me the correct version. I gave him all my contact information and clarified everything with him in French. I’m expecting her birth certificate and their marriage certificate; I hope he doesn’t let me down.
After that very fruitful half hour, I walked back to the church. The clerk told me the parochial records would be in the priest’s house, just behind the church. I didn’t see a house and I knocked on whatever shed was there – no answer. There was a man nearby and I asked if he knew where I could find the parish. He said no, but to see if anyone was inside the church. One of the doors was open by then, so I walked into the sanctuary.
There was no one around, and no way to get to the back office. I looked up at the ceiling above the altar and said a little prayer. I am so thankful to have had such a wonderful journey, to have met so many encouraging people, to have seen such spectacular scenery – to have the amazing opportunity to really get in touch with my roots.
I sat down in a pew and pulled out a calling card. I wrote in very crude Italian that I was looking for Antonio’s birth certificate and would appreciate any help.
I left the card, with my Skype username and mailing address in Texas, near the altar, so we’ll see if I get anything.
I took the 11:03 a.m. bus back up to Pren very satisfied with my morning.
When I got back to the hippy hotel, Fosca told me what’s his name De Bacco had called her back and said if Antonio had a brother named Angelo, we could very well be cousins. I told her about my find and asked if she could ask if he knew Angelo’s parents’ names, then we could know for sure if Antonio and Angelo were brothers. The kid said he’d call his dad and let us know.
I left before I got an answer, but I’m sure Fosca will email me if it’s something positive.
Thursday, June 27, 2013
Una Sera Bellunese
Fosca, the girl who arranged for me to stay with her in Pren, took me to Feltre for an artisanal fair. We met some of her friends and had a glass of wine. I asked the bartender for something local, and he gave us some prosecco. As we were sitting outside drinking our bubbly, I noticed a De Bacco sign in the window.
It is a wine – and a sparkling one at that.
She told me it was a shame I was only in Belluno such a short time, and decided to ask her friends if any knew a Bellotto or a De Bacco. One said he had a friend with the surname De Bacco and told us to call him. We did, and he said we might be related, but that he’d have to ask his dad. He said he’d call us back in the morning.
Another of her friends told me there was a grocer in Pedavena named De Bacco, a bakery too.
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