Twenty-four degrees, sunny with deep blue skies.
They say that Lago Maggiore has its own micro-climate. Certainly, Milan, no more than 100km away, usually has different weather to Carmine Superiore. And visitors often remark on the unusual mixture of temperate and Mediterranean plants to be found here.
Just as Carmine and the lake have curiously unique weather, so Carmine also has a unique social culture.
Carmine society is a patchwork of people. First, there are those whose families have owned property in Carmine Superiore for decades, if not longer. The Agostis, the Geninazzis, the Feuerstein-Chieras, the Ricottis. There are the families who bought houses here, mostly in the 70s, mostly German and all as vacation houses. There are those who live in Carmine Inferiore, Cannobio and Cannero but maintain a strong connection with the place and are often to be seen here. Many bear the Carmine surname; many are from the Albertella family.
There are those who, like us, in some way or another have made it possible to live here permanently.
And then there is the large number of friends and relatives who come regularly for visits, but who are more than just tourists, maintaining as they do ongoing friendships and traditions here.
These people come from all social strata, and many speak more than one language. Some speak as many as four, fluently. Fly the Italian flag here and you’re telling only a small part of the story. Fly the European flag and you’re getting warmer. Like it or not, this is modern Europe in an ancient setting.
For each of these people I suspect Carmine Superiore is something different : a holiday home, a unique restoration project, a place to raise children away from the hustle of urban life, the paese of one’s family. But I think I’ve detected a single thread in everyone’s characterisation of Carmine life. That thread is laissez-faire.
We have friendships and we help one another, but we take care to respect one another’s privacy and to mind our own business, as much as you can when you live close enough to experience one neighbour’s toilet habits, hear another's baby burp or watch yet another's tv. And it seems to me that Carmine’s version of laissez-faire has at its foundation the precious freedom to do what it takes, to invent ways of being that are pertinent to the physical situation, to draw one’s own line.
The authorities generally have no business here, and unless summoned, they usually leave Carmine to itself. This is for me an indication that Carmine society is essentially a healthy one, rather than one in which people need go in fear for lack of uniformed protection. For sure, a five-minute walk through the woods would be no obstacle to the forces of law and order should they be required.
I'm not suggesting that Carmine is some sort of utopia, or some strange anarchic commune. But somehow, and really what I'm trying to articulate, is that amid all the coming and going, amid the patchwork of social and cultural backgrounds, amid the periodic clash of motives, needs and desires, Carmine works.
On its own terms. In its own way.
And does it work well?
That's for you, Dear Reader, to decide.
Friday 5 October 2007
Carmine people
Twenty-four degrees, sunny with deep blue skies.
They say that Lago Maggiore has its own micro-climate. Certainly, Milan, no more than 100km away, usually has different weather to Carmine Superiore. And visitors often remark on the unusual mixture of temperate and Mediterranean plants to be found here.
Just as Carmine and the lake have curiously unique weather, so Carmine also has a unique social culture.
Carmine society is a patchwork of people. First, there are those whose families have owned property in Carmine Superiore for decades, if not longer. The Agostis, the Geninazzis, the Feuerstein-Chieras, the Ricottis. There are the families who bought houses here, mostly in the 70s, mostly German and all as vacation houses. There are those who live in Carmine Inferiore, Cannobio and Cannero but maintain a strong connection with the place and are often to be seen here. Many bear the Carmine surname; many are from the Albertella family.
There are those who, like us, in some way or another have made it possible to live here permanently.
And then there is the large number of friends and relatives who come regularly for visits, but who are more than just tourists, maintaining as they do ongoing friendships and traditions here.
These people come from all social strata, and many speak more than one language. Some speak as many as four, fluently. Fly the Italian flag here and you’re telling only a small part of the story. Fly the European flag and you’re getting warmer. Like it or not, this is modern Europe in an ancient setting.
For each of these people I suspect Carmine Superiore is something different : a holiday home, a unique restoration project, a place to raise children away from the hustle of urban life, the paese of one’s family. But I think I’ve detected a single thread in everyone’s characterisation of Carmine life. That thread is laissez-faire.
We have friendships and we help one another, but we take care to respect one another’s privacy and to mind our own business, as much as you can when you live close enough to experience one neighbour’s toilet habits, hear another's baby burp or watch yet another's tv. And it seems to me that Carmine’s version of laissez-faire has at its foundation the precious freedom to do what it takes, to invent ways of being that are pertinent to the physical situation, to draw one’s own line.
The authorities generally have no business here, and unless summoned, they usually leave Carmine to itself. This is for me an indication that Carmine society is essentially a healthy one, rather than one in which people need go in fear for lack of uniformed protection. For sure, a five-minute walk through the woods would be no obstacle to the forces of law and order should they be required.
I'm not suggesting that Carmine is some sort of utopia, or some strange anarchic commune. But somehow, and really what I'm trying to articulate, is that amid all the coming and going, amid the patchwork of social and cultural backgrounds, amid the periodic clash of motives, needs and desires, Carmine works.
On its own terms. In its own way.
And does it work well?
That's for you, Dear Reader, to decide.
They say that Lago Maggiore has its own micro-climate. Certainly, Milan, no more than 100km away, usually has different weather to Carmine Superiore. And visitors often remark on the unusual mixture of temperate and Mediterranean plants to be found here.
Just as Carmine and the lake have curiously unique weather, so Carmine also has a unique social culture.
Carmine society is a patchwork of people. First, there are those whose families have owned property in Carmine Superiore for decades, if not longer. The Agostis, the Geninazzis, the Feuerstein-Chieras, the Ricottis. There are the families who bought houses here, mostly in the 70s, mostly German and all as vacation houses. There are those who live in Carmine Inferiore, Cannobio and Cannero but maintain a strong connection with the place and are often to be seen here. Many bear the Carmine surname; many are from the Albertella family.
There are those who, like us, in some way or another have made it possible to live here permanently.
And then there is the large number of friends and relatives who come regularly for visits, but who are more than just tourists, maintaining as they do ongoing friendships and traditions here.
These people come from all social strata, and many speak more than one language. Some speak as many as four, fluently. Fly the Italian flag here and you’re telling only a small part of the story. Fly the European flag and you’re getting warmer. Like it or not, this is modern Europe in an ancient setting.
For each of these people I suspect Carmine Superiore is something different : a holiday home, a unique restoration project, a place to raise children away from the hustle of urban life, the paese of one’s family. But I think I’ve detected a single thread in everyone’s characterisation of Carmine life. That thread is laissez-faire.
We have friendships and we help one another, but we take care to respect one another’s privacy and to mind our own business, as much as you can when you live close enough to experience one neighbour’s toilet habits, hear another's baby burp or watch yet another's tv. And it seems to me that Carmine’s version of laissez-faire has at its foundation the precious freedom to do what it takes, to invent ways of being that are pertinent to the physical situation, to draw one’s own line.
The authorities generally have no business here, and unless summoned, they usually leave Carmine to itself. This is for me an indication that Carmine society is essentially a healthy one, rather than one in which people need go in fear for lack of uniformed protection. For sure, a five-minute walk through the woods would be no obstacle to the forces of law and order should they be required.
I'm not suggesting that Carmine is some sort of utopia, or some strange anarchic commune. But somehow, and really what I'm trying to articulate, is that amid all the coming and going, amid the patchwork of social and cultural backgrounds, amid the periodic clash of motives, needs and desires, Carmine works.
On its own terms. In its own way.
And does it work well?
That's for you, Dear Reader, to decide.
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