Flickr currently hosts a collection of photos and records from my various heritage quests: https://www.flickr.com/photos/40422516@N04/collections/72157634383384235/
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Showing posts with label Sovramonte. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sovramonte. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 5, 2020
Friday, May 1, 2020
Info Dolomiti
I was recently researching the history of towns in the Dolomites, where my paternal grandfather's family was from. Most sites were in Italian, but this one is in English, has interactive maps, and things to do in the area of my first heritage quest.
Via Claudia Augusta Altinate
The ancient Roman road that led from the Adriatic Sea (Altino) to the Danube river, relives, after 2000 years of history, a new, fresh season. Conceived in 15 B.C. By the Roman general Druso Maggiore, adopted son of the Emperor Augustus, the route was designed to open a passage through the Alps during the military campaigns in Austria. The huge project was completed only 60 years later by Drusus's son, the Emperor Claudius (41-54 A.D.).
The Via Claudia Augusta can be considered as a bridge between different cultures, environments and emotions: it is a symbolic itinerary that crosses three countries (Germany, Austria and Italy) featuring an enormous variety of landscapes and traditions, art treasures and culinary specialities.
In the Belluno area, the route first crosses the Feltre, starting from Castel Tesino (province of Trentino) passing the towns of Lamon, Sovramonte, Pedavena and reaching the center of Feltre. Then the road climbs up to Cesiomaggiore, where in Villa Centenere is exhibited one of the two milestones of the Way, and then leadsn you to Busche. After crossing the Piave river, the itinerary continues through the towns of Lentiai and Mel, featuring its imposing Zumelle Castle, and arrives up to the Praderadego mountain pass which separates the province of Belluno from Treviso.
Worth a visit:
Via Claudia Augusta Altinate
The ancient Roman road that led from the Adriatic Sea (Altino) to the Danube river, relives, after 2000 years of history, a new, fresh season. Conceived in 15 B.C. By the Roman general Druso Maggiore, adopted son of the Emperor Augustus, the route was designed to open a passage through the Alps during the military campaigns in Austria. The huge project was completed only 60 years later by Drusus's son, the Emperor Claudius (41-54 A.D.).
The Via Claudia Augusta can be considered as a bridge between different cultures, environments and emotions: it is a symbolic itinerary that crosses three countries (Germany, Austria and Italy) featuring an enormous variety of landscapes and traditions, art treasures and culinary specialities.
In the Belluno area, the route first crosses the Feltre, starting from Castel Tesino (province of Trentino) passing the towns of Lamon, Sovramonte, Pedavena and reaching the center of Feltre. Then the road climbs up to Cesiomaggiore, where in Villa Centenere is exhibited one of the two milestones of the Way, and then leadsn you to Busche. After crossing the Piave river, the itinerary continues through the towns of Lentiai and Mel, featuring its imposing Zumelle Castle, and arrives up to the Praderadego mountain pass which separates the province of Belluno from Treviso.
Worth a visit:
- Lamon, Sovramonte and Pedavena;
- Feltre and surroundings: the Cathedral with the archaeological area underneath the church yard, the old town with Piazza Maggiore square and Alboino's Castle, the Civic Museum and the “Carlo Rizzarda” Modern Art Gallery, the Diocesan Museum of Sacred Art, the Sanctuary of the Saints Vittore and Corona in Anzù;
- Cesiomaggiore: Villa Tauro alle Centenere where are on display the two milestones that marked the Way, the “Toni Bevilacqua” Historic Bicycle Museum , the Ethnographical Museum of the Province of Belluno and of the Dolomiti Bellunesi National Park;
- Lentiai: Church of Santa Maria Assunta;
- Mel: Piazza Papa Luciani square and the Zumelle Castle.
Thursday, June 27, 2013
Servo->Feltre
The café was supposed to reopen at 2 p.m. so I decided to wait, get a hot chocolate, and ask when the bus back to Feltre was expected.
In the meantime, I sat on a bench and wrote a sort of information request in Italian using a dictionary I had brought with me. A bus showed up and I thought I might hop on it and head back to Feltre. I finished my note, folded it up with my calling card, and put it on the front door of the municipal office.
I scurried back to the bus stop and the bus pulled away. I waived my hands and shouted, but the driver didn't stop. By this time it was raining, and cold.
I walked up to the café and asked the woman behind the bar what time the bus was coming. She said 2:20; I had about 12 minutes. I thought the bus that had just gone by would just go up the way to the next village and loop back through Servo on its way to Feltre in a few minutes.
I sat and waited, and waited, and waited.
I drew a "Feltre" sign, preparing to hitchhike again.
The bank across the street reopened and customers came and went (well, maybe three or four... Sovramonte is not as bustling as Feltre).
A woman came out of the building behind the bus stop and told me there would be no more bus to Feltre.
I just sat in the cold rain with my scarf over my head holding my little Feltre sign. A handful of cars passed, everyone stared, but no one stopped to pick me up.
Eventually I decided I'd just have to start the walk back (~20km) - maybe someone would pick me up on a more main road.
I stood up and approached two old men in front of the bank and asked them which way was best to get to Feltre by foot. They thought I was crazy. I said I knew, but there was no other option. They asked what I was doing.
I told them about my heritage quest, and one of them said he was from Zorzoi and was surprised he didn't see me there this morning. The other said his surname was Bellotto! I couldn't believe it. I think I might have shoved him in surprise - get out! He showed me his ID, and sure enough, he was a Bellotto. He told his friend to drive me down to the bridge so I could hitch a ride to Feltre from there. The friend said he would, but he had to go into to the bank in the meantime.
While he was inside, I pulled out the photos I had brought with me and asked Mr. Bellotto if he recognized anyone.
He didn't. I asked what his grandfather's name was. He said he was old and couldn't even remember.
Mr. Bellotto hollered at everyone who passed (about two people) and asked if they spoke English. One woman going into the bank spoke a little English and stopped and chatted with us a while.
She said her last name was Antoniol. I told her I thought that was my great great grandmother's maiden name. Then the other old man came out of the bank. Ms. Antoniol asked me what the other common surname of Zorzoi was, and I said D'Incau, as it appears on tons of gravestones in the cemetery. The man from Zorzoi exclaimed that D'Incau was his surname. So, there I was, standing in a circle with representatives of three of the main families of my great grandfather's homeland.
Mr. D'Incau said he'd take me to the bridge and I gave Mr. Bellotto a huge unexpected hug. I was so happy to have met a cousin, even if we're not closely related. I made him take a picture with me and he gave me a kiss.
I wrote down my Skype on one of my calling cards, but I don't think he even knows what the internet is.
I hopped in Mr. D'Incau's car and he drove me to the bridge. He was just as aghast as I was about what a small world we live in. It was really neat.
He asked how old I was, and he said I was just a child when I told him my age.
He asked if I had eaten, and I said I had just had a panino. I was wondering if he was going to invite me to dinner or something - no such luck.
I put my sunglasses on top of my head since it wasn't very bright, and he remarked at how beautiful my eyes were. I asked if he thought they were Bellotto eyes. He said he didn't know. If only I hadn't worn them in the picture above, we could have compared!
He asked if I would send him a postcard, and I said I would. I wrote down his address (which isn't much of anything - Zorzoi is so tiny there aren't even street names!) and gave him my business card as well.
Once we arrived at the bridge he got out with me and spoke to another girl at the bus stop. They talked forever, flirting even though they were decades apart. I kind of zoned out, tired and dazed from my journey.
The bus finally arrived and I took it all the way back to Feltre.
In the meantime, I sat on a bench and wrote a sort of information request in Italian using a dictionary I had brought with me. A bus showed up and I thought I might hop on it and head back to Feltre. I finished my note, folded it up with my calling card, and put it on the front door of the municipal office.
I scurried back to the bus stop and the bus pulled away. I waived my hands and shouted, but the driver didn't stop. By this time it was raining, and cold.
I walked up to the café and asked the woman behind the bar what time the bus was coming. She said 2:20; I had about 12 minutes. I thought the bus that had just gone by would just go up the way to the next village and loop back through Servo on its way to Feltre in a few minutes.
I sat and waited, and waited, and waited.
I drew a "Feltre" sign, preparing to hitchhike again.
The bank across the street reopened and customers came and went (well, maybe three or four... Sovramonte is not as bustling as Feltre).
A woman came out of the building behind the bus stop and told me there would be no more bus to Feltre.
I just sat in the cold rain with my scarf over my head holding my little Feltre sign. A handful of cars passed, everyone stared, but no one stopped to pick me up.
Eventually I decided I'd just have to start the walk back (~20km) - maybe someone would pick me up on a more main road.
I stood up and approached two old men in front of the bank and asked them which way was best to get to Feltre by foot. They thought I was crazy. I said I knew, but there was no other option. They asked what I was doing.
I told them about my heritage quest, and one of them said he was from Zorzoi and was surprised he didn't see me there this morning. The other said his surname was Bellotto! I couldn't believe it. I think I might have shoved him in surprise - get out! He showed me his ID, and sure enough, he was a Bellotto. He told his friend to drive me down to the bridge so I could hitch a ride to Feltre from there. The friend said he would, but he had to go into to the bank in the meantime.
While he was inside, I pulled out the photos I had brought with me and asked Mr. Bellotto if he recognized anyone.
He didn't. I asked what his grandfather's name was. He said he was old and couldn't even remember.
Mr. Bellotto hollered at everyone who passed (about two people) and asked if they spoke English. One woman going into the bank spoke a little English and stopped and chatted with us a while.
She said her last name was Antoniol. I told her I thought that was my great great grandmother's maiden name. Then the other old man came out of the bank. Ms. Antoniol asked me what the other common surname of Zorzoi was, and I said D'Incau, as it appears on tons of gravestones in the cemetery. The man from Zorzoi exclaimed that D'Incau was his surname. So, there I was, standing in a circle with representatives of three of the main families of my great grandfather's homeland.
Mr. D'Incau said he'd take me to the bridge and I gave Mr. Bellotto a huge unexpected hug. I was so happy to have met a cousin, even if we're not closely related. I made him take a picture with me and he gave me a kiss.
I wrote down my Skype on one of my calling cards, but I don't think he even knows what the internet is.
I hopped in Mr. D'Incau's car and he drove me to the bridge. He was just as aghast as I was about what a small world we live in. It was really neat.
He asked how old I was, and he said I was just a child when I told him my age.
He asked if I had eaten, and I said I had just had a panino. I was wondering if he was going to invite me to dinner or something - no such luck.
I put my sunglasses on top of my head since it wasn't very bright, and he remarked at how beautiful my eyes were. I asked if he thought they were Bellotto eyes. He said he didn't know. If only I hadn't worn them in the picture above, we could have compared!
He asked if I would send him a postcard, and I said I would. I wrote down his address (which isn't much of anything - Zorzoi is so tiny there aren't even street names!) and gave him my business card as well.
Once we arrived at the bridge he got out with me and spoke to another girl at the bus stop. They talked forever, flirting even though they were decades apart. I kind of zoned out, tired and dazed from my journey.
The bus finally arrived and I took it all the way back to Feltre.
Sorriva->Servo
Several people had told me to go look for historical records at the county seat (or something) in Servo. I was told it was just two kilometers away. I walked the way I had been driven thinking I had seen a city limit sign on the way in. I walked around what I thought was Servo for a while.
I walked by another church on a hill and saw a suitcase statue dedicated to all the emigrants of Sovramonte (of which my great grandfather was one).
I decided to check out the graveyard on the other side of the churchyard. There were more Antoniol and Bellotto graves, but no names I recognized.
After, I cut through some peoples' yards, got barked at by dogs, found a couple WWI monuments, and finally asked a woman where the municipal office was. She told me I was in Sorriva and had missed the turn for Servo. She said it wouldn't be open then anyways. I figured it was just closed for lunch/siesta and planned to wait for it to reopen later that afternoon.
So, I walked back to where the road split and turned right. By the time I got to Servo I was parched and feet were killing me. My plan was to sit down, have a rest, and a drink, and wait for the office to reopen.
Low and behold, the municipal office is only open from 8:30 to 9:30 every morning - one hour a day - oh la la. Plus, the restaurant, the café, and the grocery store were closed for siesta. (If you call it siesta to Italians they get offended. They insist it's really a 3-4 hour lunchbreak.)
So, I just sat by the bus stop and thought.
I walked by another church on a hill and saw a suitcase statue dedicated to all the emigrants of Sovramonte (of which my great grandfather was one).
I decided to check out the graveyard on the other side of the churchyard. There were more Antoniol and Bellotto graves, but no names I recognized.
After, I cut through some peoples' yards, got barked at by dogs, found a couple WWI monuments, and finally asked a woman where the municipal office was. She told me I was in Sorriva and had missed the turn for Servo. She said it wouldn't be open then anyways. I figured it was just closed for lunch/siesta and planned to wait for it to reopen later that afternoon.
So, I walked back to where the road split and turned right. By the time I got to Servo I was parched and feet were killing me. My plan was to sit down, have a rest, and a drink, and wait for the office to reopen.
Low and behold, the municipal office is only open from 8:30 to 9:30 every morning - one hour a day - oh la la. Plus, the restaurant, the café, and the grocery store were closed for siesta. (If you call it siesta to Italians they get offended. They insist it's really a 3-4 hour lunchbreak.)
So, I just sat by the bus stop and thought.
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
Dolomiti
I am an American mut – a quarter Italian, the most of anything.
My great grandfather, Romano Silvio Bellotto, was born in the late 1800s in the village of Zorzoi, which is part of the commune of Sovramonte. Roman’s father was Pietro, Italian for Peter. His mother’s name was Laurrie Antonil or Anonin.
Roman left Italy in the early 1900s, traveled through Europe, and hopped a boat to the USA. He moved to Pennsylvania and married my great grandmother, Giacinta DeBacco.
Giacinta is Italian for Cynthia. I called her Little Grandma, but apparently her nickname was Cinta (pronounced Chinta).
Her father, Antonio De Bacco came from Pedavena. Her mother, Angela or Angelina, was from Feltre. Her maiden name was De Pian, Dal Pian, De Pain, or something like that.
My great grandfather, Romano Silvio Bellotto, was born in the late 1800s in the village of Zorzoi, which is part of the commune of Sovramonte. Roman’s father was Pietro, Italian for Peter. His mother’s name was Laurrie Antonil or Anonin.
Roman left Italy in the early 1900s, traveled through Europe, and hopped a boat to the USA. He moved to Pennsylvania and married my great grandmother, Giacinta DeBacco.
Giacinta is Italian for Cynthia. I called her Little Grandma, but apparently her nickname was Cinta (pronounced Chinta).
Her father, Antonio De Bacco came from Pedavena. Her mother, Angela or Angelina, was from Feltre. Her maiden name was De Pian, Dal Pian, De Pain, or something like that.
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