Out of Time

“I like this place and willingly could waste my time in it“. William Shakespeare – As You Like It (Act II, Scene IV), 1603.

Trigonometry for Goats

Open a map on the top left corner of Friuli, hard up against its western border beyond which there is only chaos and madness. Now draw an isosceles triangle between Monte Toc, the oddly named Col Nudo and the staggering (2,700m) Cima dei Preti; in the centre you will find the adorable and exceedingly laid back 8th century municipality of Erto e Casso.

My use of the word ‘municipality’ can, and probably should, be brought into question at this point as the total population of Erto is 340 (fewer than my Facebook friends), and Casso is barely there at all with just 35 souls (not enough to fill a school bus).

Astonishingly, the word Casso in Latin means ‘void’. Erto is also rather well named as it means ‘steep’ (as those of you who have been there are not likely to forget). Both villages are in strong pos- session of their own character and sit comfortably on the shoulders of dolomite giants, and their wizened and endangered inhabitants are in many ways, old goats.

Mr Capra Goes to Washington

Like most Friulani, those I met and spoke with, were good natured and had interesting stories to tell, and despite their toothless age seemed strangely youthful. In this timeless snow-globe of a place they, along with everything else, appear to have been pickled where they stood.

They certainly had no trouble negotiating the treacherous terrain and slopes that had my sixty-years-younger legs burning after only a couple of short minutes and even defeated my car.

I cornered one of these personable pickled people and told them I was a traveller. They seemed very interested and asked where I had come from and I told them Sydney. They asked if that was further away than Udine. I said ‘a little’ and they were impressed.

Then they told me about a daring adventure they impulsively undertook when they were younger (apparently they were also great travellers) and boasted how they had gone 100kms from home. They didn’t enjoy it at all and never did it again but occasionally reminisce about it as we are all prone to do – as I am doing now.

Penguins for Protection

I visited the region in 2001 and Erto was great, but it’s my memories of Casso that stayed with me and shone most brightly in the years since…

I remember staring up at it from below. Imposing and humble at the same time and in equal measure. As I approached, it seemed to me that the town was hewn from the surrounding mountains. It looked like it was part of the landscape and it belonged there. If it was only mountains and folded sedimentary rock it wouldn’t be entirely satisfying; and a town with no mountain range would be ridiculous. But both together make sense. It’s a bit like an old couple who, in their dotage, get along just fine and snuggle comfortably into each other.

Formed from a tight bundle of stonework structures with only narrow snow-split stone pathways separating them, the town is a delight to behold. Thick walled houses, chunky lintels and strong inverted V shaped roofs easily weather the extreme climate at that elevation (800m) and have done so for a thousand years. It’s easy to picture a rainbow falling in an easy arc from above, landing in the town piazza, and where, with a little industry, a pot of gold might be found.

Everywhere are classic examples of traditional mountain architecture that don’t disappoint. I can’t bear to imagine the herculean efforts required to raise a town here. The desire, the determination, the commitment – magnificent. Think about it for a second – and be in awe.

From a distance all the buildings appear to be huddled together as penguins do for protection and warmth, or perhaps more like a family enjoying each other’s company, or perhaps both. It is a mossy and unyielding spot and an unthinkable fifty generations of resourceful and independant Friulani have marched its streets over the many long, shivering centuries.

Neolithic Television and the Vermin

Despite the remoteness in space and in time, there is technology to be found. An impres- sive Alpine road winds through the area. An endless black ribbon of asphalt that vanishes over the horizon (if you could see a horizon here, which oddly you can’t). Italian roads are just fantastic. The road brings visitors, goods and services and connects the region.

In the town, telegraph and power lines spiral and bounce between the buildings. They are strung around ceramic isolators pegged to the stonework and somehow add to the charm of the place in a kind of cute way. Looks are deceiving and just because some parts of the place resemble a neolithic ruin doesn’t mean you can’t get decent TV reception.

Warm orange light spills out of open ‘scuri’ (shutters). Puffs of smoke rise from chimneys leading back to dozens of fogolars (fireplaces). People shuffle around with purpose but without haste. The streets are very clean. I smell no garbage and see no vermin. This is a civilised place run by civilised folk who need little and ask for nothing.

Dashing Squirrels

It struck me that there was a symbiosis between the antiquated hills, paths, buildings and the folk themselves. I could feel something in the crisp air or perhaps in the ground reaching up around my ankles whispering ‘relax’, ‘slow down’, ‘breathe’, ‘stay’.

I suspect that if I’d remained overnight in that time-lost place I may well still be there, writing this to you from a decrepit 400 year old barn with a satellite dish on its roof. I imagine I’d have slept like a newborn and dreamt of passing glaciers, living trees, stelle alpine and dashing squirrels.

Today I wonder what will become of such lovely hamlets when the old folk depart and the young ones leave. How can a town of 35 survive? Are they running out of time?

While discussing a beautiful old muraled floor gradually wearing away from millenia of passing feet, a good and sagacious friend from Nimis once told me ‘nothing is forever, one needs to enjoy, appreciate and then let it pass into memory’.

Perhaps it will be so with Erto e Casso, but I hope not, for they are magical realms, homing special people, where I made lasting memories. I liked that place and willingly could waste my time in it.

Drop in on Friuli anytime you feel like it using the live web cameras here: www.rifuginrete.com/ webcam#2