Best of Italy

Love Letters - Pietro Bembo to Lucrezia Borgia

2009-12-11T00:37:00.000-07:00

Lucrezia Borgia was the daughter of the Spanish Cardinal, Rodrigo Borgia, who later became Pope Alexander VI. Much scandal regarding incest and murder surrounds her. She entered into a passionate affair with Pietro Bembo, (1470-1547), a respected poet and scholar who became a Cardinal in the Vatican who became enraptured by her.

Born of an aristocratic Venetian family, Pietro Bembo wrote many adoring poems to Lucrezia, and they carried on a long correspondence that continued well after they parted. Theirs was an affair of great affection and respect.

Venice
October 18, 1503

Eight days have passed since I parted from f.f., and already it is as though I had been eight years away from her, although I can avow that not one hour has passed without her memory which has become such a close companion to my thoughts that now more than ever is it the food and sustenance of my soul; and if it should endure like this a few days more, as seems it must, I truly believe it will in every way have assumed the office of my soul, and I shall then live and thrive on the memory of her as do other men upon their souls, and I shall have no life but in this single thought. Let the God who so decrees do as he will, so long as in exchange I may have as much a part of her as shall suffice to prove the gospel of our affinity is founded on true prophecy. Often I find myself recalling, and with what ease, certain words spoken to me, some on the balcony with the moon as witness, others at that window I shall always look upon so gladly, with all the many endearing and gracious acts I have seen my gentle lady perform--for all are dancing about my heart with a tenderness so wondrous that they inflame me with a strong desire to beg her to test the quality of my love. For I shall never rest content until I am certain she knows what she is able to enact in me and how great and strong is the fire that her great worth has kindled in my breast. The flame of true love is a mighty force, and most of all when two equally matched wills in two exalted minds contend to see which loves the most, each striving to give yet more vital proof...It would be the greatest delight for me to see just two lines in f.f.'s hand, yet I dare not ask so much. May your Ladyship beseech her to perform whatever you feel is best for me. With my heart I kiss your Ladyship's hand, since I cannot with my lips.

San Nicola - Italy's Original Santa Claus

2009-12-05T10:36:00.012-07:00

Saint Nicholas (270 A.D. to 346 A.D.) was really Nicholas of Myra, a saint and bishop in Turkey. Many miracles have been attributed to him. He is also known as Nicholas the Wonderworker. He had a reputation for secret gift-giving, such as putting coins in the shoes of those who left them out for him. Because of this, he became the model for Santa Claus. After his death, his relics were brought to Bari. That is why is also known as Nicholas of Bari.

Saint Nicholas is the patron saint of sailors, merchants, archrs, and children. For his help to the poor, Nicholas is the patron saint of pawnbrokers; the three gold balls traditionally hung outside a pawnshop symbolize the three sacks of gold.

He was born into wealth, and using his inheritance, would give anonymous gifts. People began to suspect he was the gift giver. After he died, people in the region continued to give to the poor anonymously, and such gifts were still often attributed to Saint Nicholas. How many of us initiate a Secret Santa project in our work places and schools?

His original tomb can be found the Basilica of Saint Nicholas in Myra in Turkey, but the Italians acquired his relics in the 11th century. Some say his relics were taken by thiefs or pirates. Others believe they were taken in response to a vision by which Saint Nicholas himself appeared and commanded that his relics be moved in order to preserve them from an impending Muslim conquest.At the tomb of Saint Nicholas in Bari, some observers have reported seeing myrrh exude from his relics and when using this myrrh for annointing, resulted in numerous miracles. Vials of myrrh from his relics have been taken all over the world for centuries, and can still be obtained from his church in Bari. Currently at Bari, there are two churches at his shrine, one Roman Catholic and one Orthodox.

There is also a Venetian legend that most of the relics were actually taken to Venice (where a great church to St. Nicholas, the patron of sailors, was built on the Lido), and only an arm was left at Bari. This tradition was overturned in the 1950s when a scientific investigation of the relics in Bari revealed a largely intact skeleton.

In Myra, the relics of Saint Nicholas exuded a clear watery liquid which smells like rose water, called manna (or myrrh), which is believed by the faithful to possess miraculous powers. After the relics were brought to Bari, they continued to do so, much to the joy of the new owners. Even up to the present day, a flask of manna is extracted from the tomb of Saint Nicholas every year on December 6th (the Saint's feast day) by the clergy of the basilica. It is however worth noting that the actual relics are entombed several feet below the floor, at sea level in a harbor town, so the occurrence of watery liquid may be explained by several theories. However, this does not stop many believers from holding to the presence of the liquid being a miraculous manifestation..

One legend surrounding Saint Nicholas tells of how a terrible famine struck and a malicious butcher lured three little children into his house, where he slaughtered and butchered them, placing their remains in a barrel to cure, planning to sell them off as ham. Saint Nicholas, visiting the region to care for the hungry, not only saw through the butcher's horrific crime but also resurrected the three boys from the barrel by his prayers. Another version of this story, possibly formed around the eleventh century, claims that the butcher's victims were instead three clerks who wished to stay the night. The man murdered them, and was advised by his wife to dispose of them by turning them into meat pies. The Saint saw through this and brought the men back to life.

The most famous legend, however, describes a poor man who had three daughters, but could not afford a proper dowry for them. This meant that they would remain unmarried and probably, in absence of any other possible employment would have to become prostitutes. Hearing of the poor man's plight, Nicholas decided to help him but being too modest to help the man in public, (or to save the man the humiliation of accepting charity), he went to his house under the cover of night and threw three purses (one for each daughter) filled with gold coins through the window opening into the man's house. One version has him throwing one purse for three consecutive nights. Another has him throw the purses over a period of three years, each time the night before one of the daughters comes "of age". The third time the father lies in wait, trying to discover the identity of their benefactor. In one version the father confronts the saint, only to have Saint Nicholas say it is not him he should thank, but God alone. In another version, Nicholas learns of the poor man's plan and drops the third bag down the chimney instead; a variant holds that the daughter had washed her stockings that evening and hung them over the embers to dry, and that the bag of gold fell into the stocking.

The Roman Catholic Church has allowed for one scientific survey of the bones. In the late 1950s, during a restoration of the chapel, it permitted a team of hand-picked scientists to photograph and measure the contents of the crypt grave. In the summer of 2005, the report of these measurements was sent to a forensic laboratory in England. The review of the data revealed that the historical St. Nicholas was barely five feet in height (while not exactly small, still shorter than average, even for his time) and had a broken nose.

Among the Greeks and Italians he is a favourite of sailors, fishermen, ships and sailing. As such he has become over time the patron saint of several cities maintaining harbours.

Today, Saint Nicholas is still celebrated as a great gift-giver. Medieval nuns used the night of December 6 to anonymously deposit baskets of food and clothes at the doorsteps of the needy. Also in medieval times, on December 6 sailors and ex-sailors would flock to the harbour towns for church celebrations. On the way back they would stop at one of the various Nicholas fairs to buy some goods, gifts for their loved ones and invariably some little presents for their children. While the real gifts would only be presented at Christmas, the little presents for the children were given right away, courtesy of Saint Nicholas. This and his miracle of resurrecting the three butchered children, made Saint Nicholas a patron saint of children and students as well.

In Roman Catholic iconography, Saint Nicholas is depicted as a bishop, wearing the insignia of this dignity: a red bishop's cloak, a red miter and a bishop's crozier.

The episode with the three dowries is commemorated by showing him holding in his hand either three purses, three coins or three balls of gold.

Depending on whether he is depicted as patron saint of children or sailors, his images will be completed by a background showing ships, children or three figures climbing out of a wooden barrel (the three slaughtered children he resurrected).

Saint Nicholas (San Nicola) is the patron of the city of Bari, where he is buried. Its deeply felt celebration is called the Festa di San Nicola, held on the 7-8-9 of May. On May 8, his relics are carried on a boat on the sea in front of the city with many boats following (Festa a mare). On December 6 there is a ritual called the Rito delle nubili. The same tradition is currently observed in Sassari, where during the day of Saint Nicholas, patron of the city, gifts are given to young brides who need help before getting married.

In Trieste St. Nicholas (San Nicolò) is celebrated with gifts given to children on the morning of the 6th of December and with a fair called Fiera di San Nicolò during the first weeks of December. Depending on the cultural background, in some families this celebration is more important than Christmas. Trieste is a city on the sea, being one of the main ports of the Austro-Hungarian Empire and is influenced mainly by Italian, Slovenian and German cultures, but also Greek and Serbian.

Mamma Mia: Good Italian Girls Talk Back

2008-09-22T22:01:00.002-06:00

I had the distinct pleasure of being one of the 18 Italian Canadian women who contributed to this anthology. It is a collection of stories that will make you laugh and cry, shock and surprise you.

The book was published in 2004 and became instantly popular. I recommend it as a definite must have!

Growing up a second-generation Italian woman in Canada is not as easy as it looks. In fact, it requires the keeping of secrets, the telling of lies, the casting of curses, and the patience of a saint. Here 20 Italian-Canadian women share their stories — some comic, some tragic, some nostalgic, all true — about living a double life with a private/public split personality. Intimate, inspiring, brave, and confessional, these tales reveal women old enough to reminisce yet young enough to revolutionize. Balancing between the Old Country and the new, a respect for tradition and the need to break with it, this collection is a rare and surprising blend of humour and candor that promises the perfect conversation-starter. Mamma mia, what will they dare say next?

Favourite Links

2008-09-13T15:40:00.066-06:00

AUTHORS OF HISTORICAL FICTION

Anita Davison

Anita Davison - The Disorganised Author

Anne Whitfield

Brandy Purdy

Christopher Gortner

Elizabeth Chadwick

Elizabeth Chadwick - Living The History

Gemini Sasson - My Dog Ate My Manuscript

Jeanne Kalogridis - History is a Bitch

Kimberly Eve

Leslie Dicken

Lisa Yarde

Lisa Yarde - The Brooklyn Scribbler

Margaret Tanner

Michelle Moran - History Buff

Ronald W. Adams

Rosemary Morris

Susan Higginbotham - Reading Raving and Ranting by a Historical Fiction Writer

Tristi Pinkston

Wendy Laharnar

* * *

BOOKS

Book Mooch

CLEWS

Historical Novel Review

Historical Novels

Historical Romance Club

Historical Saga Novels

Luckee Reviews

Reading The Past

Risky Regencies

Unusual Historicals

Word Wenches

Yesterday Revisited

* * *

HISTORY

Antiquarian's Attic

Damn Interesting

Dr. Fong's House of Mystery

Dump Diggers

Echoes of History

Executed Today

Food History

Historical Boys

Historical Tapestry

Lights Camera History

Lost Fort

Metropolitan Museum of Art

Medieval History

Passages to the Past

Raucous Royals

Royal Anecdotes

Tea at Trianon

The Critical Times

The Modern Historian

The Victorian Era

The Victorian Peeper

The Virtual Dime Museum

Tudor History

Wonders and Marvels

* * *

ITALY

2 Baci

Becoming Italian

Becoming Italian Word by Word

Best of Italy

Bleeding Espresso

Feast of the Seven Fishes

Italian American Girl

Italian Pride

Italy From The Inside

Italyville

Lost in Sicilia

Recipes Most Wanted

Roby Santini

Rues Kitchen

Seven Fishes Blog

Under An Olive Tree

* * *

WOMEN'S HISTORY

Enchanted by Josephine

History and Women

History Hoydens

History Undressed

Hoydens and Firebrands

Marie Antoinette Gossip Guide

Scandalous Women

Slip Into Something Victorian

Tattered Fabric: Fall River's Lizzie Borden

Women of History

Writer of Queens

* * *

WRITING

Historical Fiction Writer's Critique Group

HisFic Critique Group

History into Fiction

Inspiration for Writers

Medieval Fiction Writers Critique Group

Plot Whisperer

Pub Rants

Query Shark

Seventh Sanctum

You Write On

Writer's Daily Grind

Writer's Medical and Forensic Lab

Writing the Renaissance

Alessandro Cagliostra - 18th Century Count

2009-12-01T09:57:00.013-07:00

Count Alessandro di Cagliostro (2 June 1743 – 26 August 1795) was the alias for the occultist Giuseppe Balsamo (also called Joseph Balsamo), an Italian adventurer. Alessandro Cagliostra was born to a poor family in Albergheria, which was once the old Jewish Quarter of Palermo, Sicily. Despite his family's precarious financial situation, his grandfather and uncles made sure he received a solid education, He was taught by a tutor and later became a novice in the Catholic Order of St. John of God, from which he was eventually expelled.

During his period as a novice in the order, he learned chemistry as well as a series of spiritual rites. In 1764, when he was seventeen, he convinced Vincenzo Marano, a wealthy goldsmith, of the existence of a hidden treasure buried several hundred years prior at Mount Pellegrino. Alessandro's knowledge of the occult, Marano reasoned, would be valuable in preventing them from being attacked by magical creatures guarding the treasure. In preparation for the expedition to Mount Pellegrino, however, Cagliostra requested seventy pieces of silver from Marano.

When the time came for the two to dig up the supposed treasure, Cagliostra attacked Marano, who was left bleeding and wondering what had happened to the boy—in his mind, the beating he had been subjected to had been the work of djinns. The next day, Marano paid a visit to Cagliostra's house in via Perciata (since then renamed via Conte di Cagliostro), where he learned the young man had left the city. Cagliostra, accompanied by two accomplices, had fled to the city of Messina. By 1765–66, Cagliostra found himself on the island of Malta, where he became an auxiliary for the Sovereign Military Order of Malta and a skilled pharmacist.

Cagliostro claimed to be the son of the Prince and Princess of the Anatolian Christian Kingdom of Trebizond, orphaned and reared by the Grand Master of the Knights of Malta and, for several years, in the household of the Sheriff of Medina, who raised him as a Christian.

In early 1768 Cagliostra left for Rome, where he worked as a secretary to Cardinal Orsini. The job proved boring and he soon started leading a double life, selling magical "Egyptian" amulets and engravings pasted on boards and painted over to look like paintings. Of the many Sicilian expatriates and ex-convicts he met during this period, one introduced him to a fourteen-year-old girl named Lorenza Seraphina Feliciani, whom he married.
The couple moved in with Lorenza's parents and her brother in the vicolo delle Cripte, adjacent to the strada dei Pellegrini. Cagliostra's coarse language and the way he incited her to display her body contrasted deeply with her parents' deep rooted religious beliefs. After a heated discussion, the young couple left.

At this point Cagliostra befriended Agliata, a forger and swindler, who taught him how to use his talent for drawing to his advantage. This meant he would teach him how to forge letters, diplomas and a myriad of other official documents. In return, though, he sought sexual intercourse with Balsamo's young wife, a request to which he acquiesced.

The couple traveled together to London, where he supposedly met the Comte de Saint-Germain. He traveled throughout Europe, especially to Courland, Russia, Poland, Germany, and later France. His fame grew to the point that he was even recommended as a physician to Benjamin Franklin during a stay in Paris.

He was prosecuted in the affair of the diamond necklace which involved Marie Antoinette and Prince Louis de Rohan, and was held in the Bastille for nine months but finally acquitted, when no evidence could be found connecting him to the affair. Nonetheless, he was asked to leave France, and departed for England. Here he was accused by Theveneau de Morande of being Giuseppe Balsamo, which he denied in his published Open Letter to the English People, forcing a retraction and apology from Morande.

Cagliostro left England to visit Rome, where he met two people who proved to be spies of the Inquisition. Some accounts hold that his wife was the one who initially betrayed him to the Inquisition. On 27 December 1789, he was arrested and imprisoned in the Castel Sant'Angelo. Soon afterwards he was sentenced to death on the charge of being a Freemason. The Pope changed his sentence, however, to life imprisonment in the Castel Sant'Angelo. After attempting to escape he was relocated to the Fortress of San Leo where he died not long after.

He was an extraordinary forger. Giacomo Casanova, in his autobiography, narrates an encounter with Cagliostro who was able to forge a letter of Casanova despite being unable to understand it.

Occult historian Lewis Spence comments in his entry on Cagliostro that the swindler put his finagled wealth to good use by starting and funding a chain of maternity hospitals and orphanages around the continent.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alessandro_Cagliostro

In Progress

2008-09-16T15:42:00.008-06:00

The Scarlet Mantle
Mechthild of Ringelheim
Book 1
Women of the Ottonian Empire Series

Blessed with the gift of prophecy through dreams, Mechthild of Ringelheim knows she is destined to rise to great heights.

When she marries Heinrich Liudolfing she enters the dazzling, and sometimes treacherous world of the German court.

The turbulent clashes and personal destinies of the people caught in this medieval tale are magnificently interwoven in this sweeping novel of power and passion, loyalty and lies.

ORPHAN OF THE OLIVE TREE

In Medieval Italy, scandal and slander rip apart two families.

Dark secrets, long buried, threaten to destroy life-long friendships.

Twin daughters are separated at birth.

One will live a life of privilege.

The other is abandoned in an olive tree to live a life of humility in a monastery.

Fate intervenes and the truth will be exposed.

A story of a destiny that demands to be discovered!

The Blighted Troth

In 18th century New France, one man and one woman's wedding is prevented and their lives are in danger when an infamous, dangerous overlord threatens anyone who performs their marriage.

My Blogs

2008-09-14T15:41:00.006-06:00

Best of Italy

Echoes of History

Historical Novel Review

History and Women

Recipes Most Wanted

A Bloody Good Cruise by Diana Rubino

2009-11-26T07:10:00.003-07:00

Who doesn’t want to board an Italian luxury cruise ship and sail down the west coast of Italy? That’s what romance author, Mona Rossi, believes and so she organizes such a voyage for her fellow colleagues of the romance fiction industry.

Now, Mona isn’t your typical romance author. A woman of Italian heritage, she is in love with a handsome, stalwart, vampire named Fausto Silvius, who wants to make her his wife. But Mona isn’t certain she wants to enter into a life of vampirism, even if eternal life is one of the benefits. As the cruise departs, treachery plagues Fausto and Mona in the form of a husband and wife team of vampire hunters.

Murder and mayhem and, of course, blood drinking soon ensues. Trouble in the form of Fausto’s ex-wife adds conflict. And who is this terrible ex-wife? Why Lucrezia Borgia herself, who follows her vampire husband through the centuries and refuses to relinquish her claim of him!

In this light-hearted, often comical, paranormal romance, Diana Rubino spices up the pages with sprinklings of her southern Italian backgrounds. From the Catholic Church to rings of garlic, from nefarious members of the mafia to olio e aglio pasta, she truly brings a strong Italian flavour to this novel. Plenty of passionate love scenes add spice to the story.

A Bloody Good Cruise is an entertaining tale with a contemporary, unique plot and zany, colourful characters.

Quel Mazzolin di Fiori

2009-11-25T15:20:00.001-07:00

Some of my earliest memories are of this beautiful Alpini song. I remember after weddings or family get togethers, entire tables of people singing and harmonizing this song, while staff urgently cleared tables around us.

My uncle, Pietro Basso, comes from near the Bassano della Grappa region of Italy. My father, Dolfino Sichirollo, is also from the area around Venice, and so these songs were popular in their paese.

It is definitely a mountain song, traditional to the Alpine soldiers there. The words are so simple, yet so beautiful, their poignancy stirs emotions every time I listen to it.

It brings back some of the happiest memories of my childhood. It is such a poignant song and I was thrilled to find a version of it on You Tube for your enjoyment.

Now I will sit back and let this beautiful song transport me into the past.

A Soldier Away From Home

2009-11-10T12:18:00.015-07:00

A SOLDIER AWAY FROM HOME

Written by Glen Gregory Kelly at the age of 11

As I run across the fields of grey,
Will I make it, I hope, I pray.

And now and then I think of home.
The beautiful streets I used to roam.

The house I built by the sea,
There a child waits for me.

A loving mother by her side,
Along the beach we used to stride.

But now I know my uneasy fate.
As I listen,
watch,
and wait.

About Glenn Gregory Kelly
Glenn Gregory Kelly is a young poet and burgeoning author from Calgary, Alberta, Canada. His first work, "A Soldier Away From Home, was written for Remembrance Day and published at age 11. Glenn believes his poetry and literary works are inspired by the beauty that is found in everyday life, expressed by the subtle eb and flow of language.

Those of you who know me, are aware that the Battle of the Moro River near Villa San Leonardo in Abruzzi Italy occurred amidst my maternal grandfather's grapevines, land my family still owns and cherishes today. Due to my grandfather's diligence, his entire family survived the bombing of their home and the warfare in their back yard by fleeing to nearby caves that flanked the banks of the Moro River. There they lived for 8 long, hungry months, surviving on the charity of Canadian and U.S. soldiers and whatever else they could forage from the land.

When I first heard this poem, it moved me deeply, especially because the young talent behind it was only 11 years old when he wrote it. I am grateful to him for allowing me to publish it on my blog.

By virtue of this poem, and in honor of Rememberance Day, we pay homage to the many civilians and soldiers who found themselves together in such a tiny, unlikely village in cold rainy month of November of 1943.

My sincerest thanks to Glenn Gregory Kelly, who willingly allowed me to publish his beautiful words and to permit me to use it in my own, personal way on behalf of my family. It is a priceless gift and a wonderful treasure, a fitting tribute to the valiant.

We shall never forget.

Sacred Hearts by Sarah Dunant

2009-11-03T10:40:00.001-07:00

Ever since I was a child, I've been fascinated with women who choose to live a life of seclusion and sacrifice in a convent or monastery. So when I saw this novel by Sarah Dunant, one of my favourite authors, I immediately ordered it.

The novel explores how many women were forced to enter monasteries in Renaissance Italy, and its effects on the cloister and the individuals who lived therein. Meticulously researched, I found the entire novel fascinating. It is a tale well told and one I will definitely keep on my book shelf as an all time favourite.

Mukka Express

2009-10-03T08:46:00.005-06:00

Okay, so I got my Mukka Express in the mail this week. To tell you the truth, when I first opened up the package, I felt a little intimidated. This is because of the DVD that came enclosed with it. Having made espresso all my life with a stove top Moka, also from Bialetti, needing a DVD to make a coffee did scare me somewhat.

So I watched the DVD and followed the instructions to the letter. For ceran top stoves, it recommended setting the heat to medium-high, which I did, and it said it should take 5 to 10 minutes to brew. It also recommended slightly more water and slightly more milk. However, stoves differ and I must have a super fast one, because in less than 2 minutes, it had brewed and spewed milk out over my stove.

Even so, the capuccino was pretty darn good. In fact, they say that you should just make espresso in the maker for the first 3 times and discard it because the coffee won't taste very good.

So today, I tried again, this time with the lower minimum setting for the water and the milk. And I kept the heat down to a medium. It worked splendidly and I'm enjoying a nice mug of capuccino right now.

So far so good. I know it will take a few days to get it just right. Making capuccino from the Mukka Express is a little more delicate and fussy, but I think once I get it right, it will become a daily habit.

The making of a Ferrari

2009-10-30T10:08:00.002-06:00

Who hasn't dreamed of owning or driving a Ferrari these days? I certainly have. I stumbled across this video on the making of a Ferrari and thought it would be fun to share it with you. As usual, the Italians never do anything half-well. Their attention to detail and meticulousness is evident here.

The Miracles of Santo Fico by D.L. Smith

2009-10-16T05:34:00.003-06:00

I just finished reading this novel last night. It's a wonderful, heartwarming story of Tuscany and the people in a tiny forgotten village. I loved this story for its brilliant characters and the emotions it draws from you as you read it. A gentle, comfortable read, the authors prose is brilliant and often humorous.

Back Cover Blurb:

A magical story of love...and miracles.
After twenty years, Leo Pizzola has come back to the Tuscan village of Santo Fico, still single and still looking for a way to get rich. The town is as poor as it was when Leo left, yet some things have changed. Of Leo's childhood companions, only little guido whom everyone calls "Topo," embraces him. His best friend is long dead. The woman he once adored refuses to talk to him. And worse of all, the kindly old town priest seems to have lost his faith. Perhaps what Santo Fico needs is a miracle - even if Leo and Topo have to manufacture one themselves. Now, as one botched scheme after another unravels, something completely unexpected happens, and wonders indeed begin to transform this Italian town, including the greatest miracle of all.

Published around the world, this debut novel sparkles with the Italian spirit and emotions that will dance off the page and into your heart.

The First Line:

Sleep was the enemy.

Contact

2008-09-12T15:41:00.008-06:00

I am always happy to hear from my readers.

Please contact me at: mirellapatzer at yahoo dot ca

Praise

2008-09-15T15:41:00.005-06:00

Coming Soon

Excerpts

2008-09-17T15:41:00.003-06:00

A Scarlet Mantle

CHAPTER ONE
A.D. 909

I was born with the gift of prophecy through my dreams. Most people believe I have a gift, but I believe it is more of a curse. Last night, visions of the future beleaguered my sleep; a maze of symbols open to my uncertain interpretation, but when the tolling of the bells for prime roused me, I could not recall a single detail. All that remained was an unshakable sense that a strange destiny awaited me. Sometimes it is easy to interpret the meanings of my dreams, but at other times, especially if the dreams are sinister in nature, I fear they will become true.

Reluctantly, I pushed away the bed furs and rose from my bed. Through a small crack in the shutter of the window, I saw it was still dark outside. I washed and dressed then hurried to join the line of silent nuns and noblewomen headed to chapel. As I passed through the ironbound doors, a cold waft of air billowed my veil. I made my way to the far end of the nave to stand with the non-ordained women, and then looked for my grandmother, Maud, our Abbess. In deference to her rank, she stood in her usual place closest to the dais of the altar. Torches in sconces along the wall provided light and cast long shadows on the floor.

A rounded oak door at the front of the chapel opened and the priest entered. The hood of his linen over-gown covered his head and his long black vestments trailed behind him.

A cowled monk, his head bowed and hands clasped, followed him into the chapel and stood beside my grandmother. I had never seen this cleric before. He was tall and powerfully built and he advanced with a slight stoop of his shoulders. His walk was so rugged; it reminded me of a bull at full charge. He leaned over and whispered something to my grandmother who whispered back and made a small gesture with her hand in my direction.

The monk straightened and studied the congregation until his eyes stopped on me. He scoured my every feature, his eyes roved over my body from head to toe as if he assessed a breeding mare. My face grew hot and I tore my gaze from his. My shock yielded quickly to fury. He continued to watch me with such intensity, that for the duration of Prime, I could not concentrate on my prayers. Whenever I looked up, his eyes met mine. Once, his lips even turned up into a little smile. I seethed with mounting rage at the impropriety.

Prayers seemed to take longer than usual, and when they ended, I hurried away to the cloister and took refuge on a bench to catch my breath and still my racing heart. I breathed deeply of the fresh air to regain my composure. I had never experienced such scrutiny from any man, much less a monk. Everything about him vexed me.

The fresh air and sunshine helped, and soon, somewhat recovered, I made my way to the anteroom of Grandmother’s private quarters for it was the time of day when we embroidered together. Her assistant, who sat behind a small table in the corridor, gave me a tiny smile of recognition. At my knock, Grandmother bade me to enter.
I expected to find her alone. Instead, a man sat in a chair opposite her. My heart began to race. It was he - the same monk who had stared at me throughout the office of Prime once again beheld me with eyes as blue as a mountain lake. Instead of religious garb, he now wore a richly embroidered over-gown in the color of indigo that enhanced his eyes. Handsome, with an air of confidence about him, he rose to his feet and loomed before me.

Who was he? And why had he earlier dressed as a monk?

Grandmother smiled at me, displaying a few crooked and missing teeth. Although marred with wrinkles, the fading beauty of her youth gave precedence to rich wisdom. Widowhood had brought her to the convent, but goodness had elevated her to the rank of Mother Abbess. Everyone loved her, but no one more than I.

“Come,” Grandmother motioned to me. “I would like to introduce you to Heinrich, the Duke of Thuringia. His father is Duke Otto of Saxony.” She turned to address the duke. “Lord Heinrich, this is my granddaughter, Mechthild of Ringleheim.”
I had heard of the man, but had never seen him before. When I curtsied, he offered me his calloused hand to help me rise.

“I’m honored to meet you.” His voice sounded self-possessed. A glint of interest sparkled in the pools of his eyes.

“He has come here specifically to meet you.”

Confused, I looked first at Grandmother and then at the man.

Grandmother bit her lip and stilled her hands. “He wishes to marry you and your father has approved the match.”

The room became suddenly quiet. My legs became weak. Tongue-tied, I could not speak. He conveyed his interest in me with frequent glances and abundant compliments. My stomach churned with trepidation. I had taken to cloistered life and hadn’t anticipated marriage for many years. The sisters fascinated me. Shrouded in somber colors and wearing a wedding ring that signified their union with Christ, their pious elegance drew me as a cool spring draws God’s creatures. To relinquish my life in this beautiful convent was inconceivable. In accordance with my rank, my father insisted I come here to be educated under his mother’s guidance, to learn to read and write Latin, how to dress, to whom I should give precedence, which person could travel by horse litter, who might mount a horse or a mule or a donkey. All the decisions a noblewoman must make to keep a well run home and reading and writing Latin. I had already learned much, but many more lessons remained.

A knock on the door interrupted us. Sister Ricburg entered with a silver tray upon which sat a decanter of wine, a loaf of bread, and a quarter of cheese. Her veil was closed over her mouth and cheek to cover a large blood-red birthmark that stained her right cheek. I had formed a friendship with Ricburg because of the mark. Many believed it was the mark of Satan, but if one looked closely, they could see it was almost in the shape of a cross and not evil in the least. Sister Ricburg was short with a tendency towards plumpness. She was eighteen years, four years older than I was, and a nun. Not a day passed when I did not seek forgiveness for my envy at her ordination.

Her entrance stopped conversation; a welcome reprieve for it gave me time to think. She served the duke before Grandmother and then peered at me curiously. I declined the refreshments with a tiny shake of my head. The knot in my stomach kept me from eating. Ricburg nodded and left the room.

I gathered my courage. “Please,” I began as I tried to hide the tremor in my hands, but failed dismally.

The duke gave me his full attention, his eyes piercing.

I hid my tightly clenched hands beneath my over-gown. “I am not ready to marry. I hoped to remain here and learn a while longer.”

The duke exchanged a look with Grandmother and I noticed how her face softened when she looked back at me. “You are of marriageable age. It is already decided.”

Heinrich faced me, his look serious. “Your father and I have been in negotiations for quite some time through our envoys. All that remained was for me to meet you. Since I’m already here, I wish to depart with you as my wife. To prove the sincerity of my offer, I ‘ve brought betrothal and wedding gifts.”

His confidence annoyed me, but I understood. Because of his rank, my father would never refuse such a union. My heart ached with defeat at the realization my fate was sealed.

Heinrich turned to face me. “I’ve provided you with lands and people of your own to govern. I’ll give you the means to perform a great many acts of charity. You may continue your reverent service to God, but as a married woman. All you desire will be mine to give you.”

“Why?”

His luminous eyes widened in surprise then gentled with admiration. “For many reasons. I’m the sole remaining son in my family and no longer married. I must wed and beget heirs, but my wife must be of untarnished virtue.” He smiled graciously. “Both your beauty and piety are proclaimed far and wide.”

The sincerity of his words moved me, yet I could not open my heart to him.

“You have my most solemn oath that I will hold you in the highest esteem to my dying breath.” His eyes locked onto mine and therein, I saw gentleness and honesty. My resolve started to crumble and self-doubt crept into my thoughts, but I forced the feelings away.

Grandmother rose to her feet. “My lord, I am certain your journey to Herford has wearied you. I shall have someone show you to your accommodations so that you may refresh yourself before the midday meal. We can speak about this later.” She opened the door and called for her assistant. “Please go to the kitchen and tell the sisters to prepare an extra trencher for the meal. I’ll send Mechthild to help soon.” Grandmother closed the door and returned to where we stood.

Heinrich took a step closer to me. “I’m honored to have met you, my lady. I look forward to your company during the meal.”

The self-assurance in his voice took me aback. I cast him one last look then summoning as much dignity as possible, walked gracefully from the room, suppressing the desire to flee.

My Books

2008-09-18T15:43:00.007-06:00

COMING SOON
FROM ETERNAL PRESS

A lost ancient treasure. A 100 year family feud. A woman who must choose between two men: one bound by a dying wish, the other bound by desperation. And a passion richer than the bloodstone pendant she wears around her neck.

In medieval Italy, as spirited and stalwart as any man, the brazen Countess Morena is betrothed to the impoverished, black-hearted Count Ernesto; a man desperate to escape his mounting gambling debts by marrying her and laying claim to the ancient treasure secreted somewhere in the underbelly of her castle. Morena meets her match when Amoro, the handsome and brash heir to the Duchy of Genoa, swears an oath upon his father’s grave to claim her as his bride and end the feud between their families. Soon, Amoro’s virile charm awakens the passion in her steadfast heart. But a treacherous plot ensnares them; Ernesto abducts Morena and renders Amoro helpless. Embroiled in a life-and-death chase, Morena learns that not even the devious madness of her captor can destroy her love for Amoro as their hearts unite and their destinies become one.

HEINRICH THE FOWLER

Tenth-century Germany is a divided country, ever at the mercy of its ruthless, power-hungry dukes.

Then Heinrich, Duke of Saxony and Thuringia, meets the virtuous Countess Matilda of Westphalia. Reluctant to wed at first, Matilda slowly grows to love her charismatic and courageous husband who dreams of one day uniting Germany and becoming king.
But as Heinrich's attentions turn again and again to waging war upon the enemy Magyars and growing ever more powerful, turmoil plagues him and he is charged with treason.

With a death sentence upon his head, Heinrich fights back until a twist of fate helps him realize his ultimate dream.

The turbulent clashes and the personal destinies of the people caught in this medieval tale are magnificently interwoven in this sweeping novel of power and passion, loyalty and lies.

Amidst bloody wars, scheming dukes, towns under siege, and virtuous women, Heinrich and Matilda conquer the world of their times. History and fiction combine to bring to life this tangled, tempestuous era.

MAMMA MIA: GOOD ITALIAN GIRLS TALK BACK

Growing up an Italian woman in the New World sometimes involves the keeping of secrets, the telling of lies, and the patience of a saint.

In 25 stories, 18 women share their tales of rememberance and resistance - some comic, some tragic, some nostaligic, all true.

Their voices echo from coast to coast, across generations, and across the Atlantic as they talk about living a double life with a private/public split personality.
Intimate, inspiring, brave, and confssional, their words reveal women old enough to reminisce yet young enough to revolutionalize.

Balancing between the Old Country and the new, a respect for tradition and the need to break with it, this collection is a rare and surprising blend of humour and candor that promises the perfect conversation starter at the next wedding, funeral, or book club.

Mamma mia, what will they dare say next?

Biography

2008-09-19T15:44:00.014-06:00

My Biography

A true blue Taurean in every way, Mirella Patzer (nee Sichirollo) was born in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada, but grew up in Calgary, a city famous for the Calgary Stampede, oil companies, and the wild west.

Although an avid reader of historical fiction, she never aspired to be an author. But when she discovered the rich World War II history of her mother’s family (the Moro River Campaign was fought on her grandfather's vineyards - still in the family's possession today) she decided to write about it one day.

She is first generation Italian Canadian who hates housework, winter, and wearing socks. She loves books, cooking, writing, and a good helping of tira-mi-su. She retired from her career to care for her young grandson while her daughter pursued a degree in Criminal Justice and later law school.

Her first short story, The Holy Lance, won honourable mention in a writing contest and was included in the Canadian anthology, Tall Tales and Short Stories by Tall Tales Press. Her second short story, Down Three Steps, was featured in the Canadian anthology, Mamma Mia: Good Italian Girls Talk Back.

Mirella is currently working on a novel of the life of Matilde, First Queen of Germany. Meticulously researched and filled with memorable characters, A Scarlet Mantle is the fictionalized biography of one of the most fascinating and influential women of the 10th century. Mirella is contemplating a future novel on the life of Adelaide of Burgundy.

She shares her life with her husband, a polygraphist, two college-attending daughters, and a rambunctious little grandson who frequently interrupts her work with a variety of unanticipated, yet humorous calamities and disasters. Her house is brimming with books and toys. For her, life couldn’t get any better.

Mafia - Death by Crocodile

2009-10-03T09:37:00.005-06:00

How would you like to be invited to dinner and then find out that you are the dinner. Well, that's exactly what happened to a few unsuspecting businessmen invited over for dinner by a local Mafia boss in Italy.

While searching for weapons at the home of this particularly hard-nosed mob boss, the anti-Mafia police squad stumbled upon a Caiman crocodile on the man's terrace. The creature weighed 88 pounds and was almost 6 feet in length. The mob boss kept the croc well-fed on a diet of live rabbits and mice. Apparently, the mob boss would take his invited guests up to the terrace and threaten to set the beast loose on them if they didn’t pay him extortion money and give him whatever favours he requested. Nice!

That particular species of crocodile originates from South America. No one knows how the man managed to smuggle the creature into Italy, although I'm sure the Italian police will try to find that out. Needless to say, charges are pending.

The creativity of the Mafia is often shocking. I once learned of a man who was told by the mafia to kill himself or be killed by them. The man did as told and dived headfirst into a well.

Pope Joan by Donna Woolfolk Cross

2009-10-02T10:03:00.001-06:00

Synopsis:

For a thousand years her existence has been denied. She is the legend that will not die - Pope Jon, the ninth century woman who disguised herself as a man and rose to become the only female ever to sit on the throne of St. Peter. Now in this riveting novel, Donna Woolfolk Cross paints a sweeping portrait of an unforgettable heroine who struggles against restrictions her soul cannot accept.

Brilliant and talented, young Joan rebels against medieval social strictures forbidding women to learn. When her brother is brutally killed during a Viking attack, Joan takes up his cloak - and his identity - and enters the monastery of Fulda. As Brother John Angelicus, Joan distinguishes herself as a great scholar and healer. Eventually, she is drawn to Rome, where she becomes enmeshed in a dangerous web of love, passion, and politics. Triumphing over appalling odds, she finally attains the highest office in Christendom - wielding a power greater than any woman before or since. But such power always comes at a price.

In this international best seller, Cross brings the Dark Ages to life in all their brutal splendour and shares the dramatic story of a woman whose strength of vision led her to defy the social restrictions of her day.

Opening sentence - Prologue:

It was the twenty-eighth day of Wintarmanoth in the year of our Lord 814, the harshest winter in living memory.

Opening sentence - Chapter One:

Thunder sounded, very near, and the child awoke. She moved in the bed, seeing the warmth and comfort of her older brothers' sleeping forms. Then she remembered. Her brothers were gone.

Pope Joan is one of those remarkable novels that evokes images of a spectacular time and period. Pope Joan's achievements, in the face of social oppression against women punishable by death, are remarkable, even in today's world. How a impoverished child, abused, ignored, and trod upon, achieved the greatest throne in Christendom is truly a marvel. But that is not the only reason why this story is so endearing. It is the impeccable research and details into the Dark Ages that makes this novel resound with vibrancy.

The novel is rich with intrigue, murderous plots, deadly secrets, adversity, religious zealots, and power mongers. Add to this, a secondary plot of love and loss, and you have a tale that is truly riveting. It is no wonder the novel will soon be made into a major motion picture.

Cappuccino with the Bialetti Mukka Express

2009-09-23T11:41:00.006-06:00

The Italians have done it again! They've invented a simplied way to make a cappuccino! I learned about the Bialetti Mukka Express from a colleage of mine, Lucy Bertoldi the owner of one of my favourite blogs, Enchanted by Josephine at http://www.enchantedbyjosephine.blogspot.com. She emailed me the information and I immediately went online. I couldn't resist ordering it. Now I can't wait for it to be shipped so I can try it out.

Here is the video advertisement:

Italy's Anglo-Italiano Invasion

2009-09-22T22:45:00.000-06:00

I recently read an article written by an English gentleman who works for a company dealing in Italian Real Estate. He congenially allowed me to share his entertaining view on Anglo Italian colloquialisms with my readers. I hope you enjoy his article as much as I did.

* * * * *

Brits don’t do other languages very well – which perhaps explains why we spent centuries making the rest of the world speak ours.

As a 40-something-year-old Englishman, the four years I’ve spent trying to master Italian haven’t been the easiest. At times I’ve half-wished that a couple of hundred years ago we stopped off in Italy to colonise that too.

Low points that still make me shudder? Confusing ho scoperto (“I discovered”) with ho scopato (“I ******”). It was only our second meeting – but I hope my future mom-in-law guessed what I was trying to say. Don’t even get me started on the time I tried to ask a waitress in Forte dei Marmi about leaving la mancia (the tip)…but instead asked her what to do about la minchia (a crude term for penis).

So with all I’ve gone through to learn the world’s most romantic language, it’s a slap in the face to see half of Italy now hell-bent on replacing it with an ugly hotch-potch of Italian and English.

Looking for somewhere to stay on that vacation to Venice? If gli hotel are fully booked, lo staff might suggest un bed and breakfast. Staying in town for longer? Try un loft with un big open-space or un residence. In between sightseeing, you can fare lo shopping at un shopping centre nearby – full of i fashion outlet and i discount shop.

Among the worst offenders are the media – with le news that i VIP and le showgirl have been using il private jet di Silvio Berlusconi to attend i party at his mansion – where the Italian Prime Minister allegedly slept with una sexy escort.

It’s not the first time he’s made un gaffe and the scandal has left il feeling between il tycoon and his voters at an all-time low. No wonder he’s complaining about lo stress and il suo privacy.

Following il summit di G8 in Italy – attended by altri leader such as Barack Obama and le first ladies – Berlusconi has called un meeting of his cabinet to tie up un nuovo budget. But a newspaper has un gran scoop – during un briefing, Berlusconi blamed Il Ministro del Welfare for the budget hitting un record.

Some trade unionists have gathered outside to hurl gli slogan and to put uno stop to his proposals. But Berlusconi’s more concerned about what they think in il settore dei business. That and un nuovo poll showing most Italians think his fiscal plans will be un flop.

Or perhaps you’re more interested in soccer? La Gazzetta dello Sport has a report on il derby at il weekend between i due club di Milan, Inter and AC Milan. I fans couldn’t buy i ticket as il match era sold-out. David Beckham was il matchwinner for AC Milan a goal from un corner. It led to scuffles among gli hooligan, which gli steward soon sorted out. Leonardo, il mister di AC Milan, was simply relieved to have won.

Even worse are the beauty and gossip magazines, where you learn Madonna non è piu single and now has un nuovo boyfriend. She and il suo partner have been holidaying in un resort. Or read about Victoria Beckham – reputed to be una snob – wolfing down un snack while il suo bodyguard eats un sandwich.

A few pages on, una showgirl from un reality show is sipping i cocktail in un bar. She later enjoyed a spot of il clubbing before going home with un pop star from un boyband.

But is it really that difficult to say albergo instead of hotel, va bene, not OK, spuntino rather than snack?

Last year the Dante Alighieri Society began a campaign to limit the use of English in Italian. They’ve got their work cut out, now that Anglo-Italiano is il nuovo trend…

******************************************************

Ainsley Okoro works for the property for sale in Italy website Homes and Villas Abroad.com and specialises in Calabria property and Tuscany property.

Bread, Olive Oil and Grapes

2009-09-22T22:44:00.002-06:00

Ah, the memories of summer. When I was a child, my mother used to often interrupt our play to bring us snacks. She made bread once a week and on that day, she would slice a fresh loaf, spread it with a light brushing of olive oil and a tiny bit of salt. Then she would either slice grapes on top of it or bring the grapes to us in a small side dish.

I can't tell you what it is about this snack, but the three ingredients together are outstanding. It is a marriage of taste that explodes on your tastebuds.

To this day, I make myself this snack, even though it's never as good as my mom used to make.

But it's healthy and simple and quick. It's a wonderful taste of Italy that is sure to impress!

Panettone (Bread Machine)

2009-09-22T22:43:00.001-06:00

Panettone is a traditional Italian bread that is most prevalent during Christmas and Easter. My mother's kitchen always emitted the beautiful aroma of this bread before these holidays and she would make them to give away as gifts to friends and neighbors.

Here is my favourite recipe for the breadmaker.

3 1/2 cups flour
1/4 cup golden raisins
1/4 cup candied mixed peel and citron
1/2 cup milk
3 eggs beaten
2 egg yolks beaten
1/2 cup butter softened
1 teaspoon anise extract
1/3 cup granulated sugar
1/2 tsp salt
2 teaspoons each of grated orange and lemon peel
2 teaspoons yeast

Mix 1 tbsp of the flour with raisins, candied peel and citron. Add milk, eggs, butter, anise, sugar, salt, orange and lemon peels in bread machine pan or proceed as per manufacturer's instructions. Turn on machine and set to normal/basic bread setting, choosing light colour setting if available. Sprinkl reserved fruit mixture into machine when fruit alarm sounds or just as second kneading is ending. Makes one 1 1/2 lb. loaf.