Venice-Art-Tours Blog

Liberation Day in Italy

We happened to be in San Dona di Piave today (25 April). A pleasant drive through the Veneto countryside, sun beaming, early summer in the air. S Dona is a lovely, elegant small city about 45km from Venice. We went here to collect some medical results of my mother-in-law. Today also happens to be Liberation Day in Italy, a fact which dawned upon us as we were blocked entry into the town square. The town was preparing for Liberation Day festivities (selling homemade jams, plants, balloons, and a parade was on offer).

Now you may ask, Hang on...just who liberated the Italians and from whom or what were they liberated?  You may recall that Mussolini joined the Germans to create the Axis in 1938 and Italy's army fought alongside the German army in expansionist endeavours, especially in North Africa as part of the Panzer division and in Russia. On 3 September 1943, the Allied (US and British) armies, led by US General Mark Clark (photo to right) and General Harold Alexander, landed in Italy at Salerno and Sicily and the Italian campaign began. By this time, the Italian army was useless to anyone. In fact, it surrendered to Allied forces on 8 September 1943, 5 days after the allied invasion of Italy. Italy had ceased to be an ally of anyone. With good reason, Hitler always distrusted the steadfastness of the Italians and especially of the Italian Army. Upon surrender the Italian Army promptly evaporated, disbanded, went home.

Clark's forces continued energetically to fight the Germans as they headed for the Fatherland and the Americans and British encountered large casualties, especially at Monte Cassino which saw 54,000 allied troops killed. Fr Tom Gibson (later part-time vicar of the Anglican Church of Venice) was a foot soldier with Clark and was at Monte Cassino. He tells us lots of terrible stories.

So, anyway, liberation day was the day Italy was liberated from its ally, Hitler. I guess. Not to put too fine a point on it, Liberation Day was the day the Americans and British liberated Italy.

So let's get back to Liberation Day here today. In my 8 years here when it comes to Liberation Day I have only ever heard or read about the "Partisans". You see, according to Italians, it was this tiny band of underground Italians who liberated Italy, not Clark, Montgomery, Alexander. Not hundreds of thousands of US Army bombs. Nope, it was a tiny group of guerrila fighters that saved Italy: forget the 782,000 American and British soldiers killed in WWII. And Monte Cassino and Sicily.

And the Italian army itself? What of it? 150,000 Italian soldiers were killed fighting as allies of the Germans, i.e., they were killed by Americans, Russians, British, and French! They never fought the Germans, although some thousandds of Italian regulars did join the Americans heading north, to their credit, but most in 1943 went back to their farms.

Finally, getting back to San Dona in 2007, I know it was foolish of me but when we watched this parade celebrating Liberation Day, I was thinking of the US and British men who died here and would have liked to see or hear some acknowledgement. I was fantasising about seeing Sgt. Father Tom Gibson with his monocle and with his dozen medals, walking with some of the local goverment suits and with some of the aged so-called partisans.  Twas a consummation devoutly to be wished.

So the answer to the question, "Who liberated them?" Answer: Yanks and Brits.  "From whom or what were they liberated?" The answer is not the Germans, their erstwhile friends who looked at the Italians as irrelevant. The Italians, quite simply, were liberated from having to do the right thing.

    

          

Graduation Day in Venice...

Summer has arrived early here and cafè life is active, with tourists as always, with Venetians, too, and with students. It's a time to appreciate the beautiful architecture here, all poised on canals which reflect the lovely gothic arches and coloured marble. Warm weather is here, linen jackets, short skirts, tourists, outdoor dining, evening walks, all among the beauties of Venice.

It's also the time to marvel at the graduation rituals here.

I have lived in New York, Cambridge, and Dublin and I can say that in those cities I witnessed no  university graduation party other than perhaps a celebratory dinner at a home or a restaurant. I don't recall any special or unusual rites of passage which would solidly embed graduation in a graduate's memory. Not so here.

Here the word is ... humiliation. Let me explain. We live near the university in Venice, and also near Campo S. Margherita which is famous in Venice as a venue for college age youth to meet and, naturally, to drink, either caffè or harder stuff. It is also the favourite venue for, what I would call, the graduation humiliation.

It works like this: here, students do not graduate en masse, it is rather done individually, i.e., the moment with some bureaucrat or other has issued a paper certifiyng that Giovanni Capone, e.g., has indeed completed his baccalaureat in accounting. By then a friend has organised a party, usually at lunch time, at a local bar which has outdoor seating. To it are invited parents, relatives, sometimes grandparents, and, of course, fellow students. So far so good.  After some kind of official presentation of the sheepskin, the group of students, parents and friends parade through the streets and campi of Venice to the venue of the party. Along the way, the students sing at 2 minute intervals the traditional graduation ditty (in Venetian dialect): "Dottore! Dottore! Dottore del buso dei cul, vaffancul! vaffancul!" which roughly translated means, "Doctor! Doctor! Doctor of the asshole, go stick it up your ass! Go stick it up your ass!"  Lovely. This ditty is sung repeatedly all afternoon. It must thrill the parents and grandparents. Then the group stops in the middle of a square and the fun begins.  Some creative spirit has created on a large poster a drawn caricature - usually obscene - of the grad, along with a long screed about the student, written with sophmoric humour about the student's life, sex life, personality, etc. The grad must read this aloud before all the party guests. It is embarassingly juvenile and excruciating for an outsider like me, so it should be unbearable for the parents and for any student with a semblance of taste.

But the coup de grace is the rite of humiliation which occurs while the victim is reading the poster aloud. His friends then subject the grad to a type of gauntlet, a purification by fire. For example, he may be forced to dress in a bra and panties and is subsequently doused with ketchup, mustard, and whipped cream or paint. Or he may be naked except for an athletic supporter and wearing a woman's wig and makeup. Get it? What fun! These are university graduates. I saw a woman grad (PhD) 2 years ago who was dressed in a loin cloth and was lashed to a makeshift cross for a mock crucifixion in the square. When all great joy and entertainment has been wrung from this, members of the troupe repair to the bar for refreshments. Meanwhile, the "Dottore" business is repeatedly sung.

I guess the above surpasses the simple pleasures of going to a decent restaurant, hearing a toast or two, and enjoying the agape of good friends and relatives. Just call me old fashioned.