VI Tuscan meeting

The subtitle is “The English at the seaside…”, the first of two on-the-sea rallies that the MGCCI calendar has in store for us in spring 2008: this one on the Tyrrhenian Sea with the other to follow in a month, the classic Gabicce Mare.
How could we resist it, given the long Liberation weekend? Liberty is a MG attitude.
There are 42 cars registered: while the "A" and "B" cars dominate, as always, the "wings" are surprisingly numerous; additional welcome guests include two Austin Healeys and a Morgan that has been following us in Tuscany for years.

In Pisa, Piazza del Vescovado is reached by passing through two gates: one in the 13th-century walls of Porta San Ranierino and the scaffolding surmounted by the camera that makes the Campo dei Miracoli area off-limits. The MGs are lined up in the shadow of the building, and before us opens the widening that provides a backdrop to the view of the Campo. Two things immediately strike us, coming from the north: the clear light and the almost summery sun that makes us savor the new season; and then down at the far end, the football derby-like crowd swarming the square. Well, the Leaning Tower, immediately to our right, with its harnesses high on the last rows of columns, looks like a convalescent athlete, the kind who goes around with braces on their elbows and knees. Like Gualtiero, who at the Winter Olympics was supported by a crutch and doesn't have one here, but continues to walk around energetically, hopping, hopping.
The Tower might seem like a predictable déjà vu to some, a half-empty bottle of the gathering. But no. The Pisan bottle is well-filled with a savory and fruity wine. Starting with that crooked Tower, which is the closest thing to the biblical Tower of Babel.
Either because the Pisans, at the height of their power, decided to erect a tower that would challenge Heaven, but found themselves subjected to the affront of the powers of the underground that tend to suck its foundations towards the depths: it is known that the infernal daimones are the best allies of the Eternal Father in the everlasting work of redemption from human vices.
Both because, as in Babel, a multitude of languages, and also cultural and commercial interests, multiply and merge on the lawn and in the monumental area.
Anyone looking up might have noticed that the Duomo's dome, topped by a sort of Phrygian cap, similar to the headdress of the Venetian doges, rests on an octagonal drum. This carries a wealth of symbolic implications that would have been worth exploring. But in front of the cathedral door, security guards regulate access, strictly limited to tickets, which you are encouraged to purchase at the Sinopie Museum on the opposite side of the Campo: here, the line is double. It's better to wander the narrow streets leading to the Lungarni, to experience the daily life of a city of 80,000 inhabitants and 50,000 university students. The Lungarni, with their aristocratic residences reflected in the river, evoke the historical connection between Pisa and Venice. Then try to reach Piazza dei Cavalieri, which overlooks the Normale and the Palazzo dell'Orologio, whose facade still bears visible some parts of the architectural structure of the Torre della Muta, where Count Ugolino was imprisoned, condemned to death by starvation by Archbishop Ruggeri, because he was a traitor to his country and his party.

The mouth raised from the fierce meal
that sinner, wiping it from his hair
of the head which he had damaged from behind.
[Hell - Canto XXXIII (vv. 1 - 3)]

The mouth raised from that bestial meal
that sinner, cleaning her hair
of the head that he was gnawing from behind.
Bram Stoker and his Dracula or the romantic myth of horror are nothing but pale imitations!
The Tower is called the Moulting Tower because carrier pigeons, which were the email of the time, or rather the bio-post, would moult there. Any reference to the idea of locking one's wife inside, to keep her quiet, is purely a figment of our imagination.
We return to the Bishopric at a brisk pace, because the departure for San Rossore is scheduled for 12.30 sharp, and the MG procession that crosses Piazza dei Miracoli splits two wings of the crowd.
Just outside the city, we take a straight road that leads us straight into the Mediterranean scrub. The Presidential Estate presents itself with its history and its numbers. Once a hunting reserve of the Savoy family, it became the residence of the Presidents of the Republic after the war. It was sold and entrusted to the Tuscany Region for management for nature and tourism purposes. The Estate, strictly speaking, covers 5,000 hectares, bounded by the mouths of the Serchio River to the north and the Arno River to the south. However, the overall area of the park, which includes the Macchia Lucchese and the Migliarino Estate to the north, San Rossore in the center, and the Tombolo Estate to the south, measures 25,000 hectares. Virtually all of the scrubland consists of woodlands and grasslands, wetlands, marshes, and waterways, stretching from the port of Viareggio to the port of Livorno, including the NATO base at Camp Derby.
Amidst groups of horsemen riding along the paths flanking the access road, we park under the pine trees next to the Sterpaia farmhouse, where we're served a rich menu that blends rustic and refined tones. The pappardelle with wild boar ragù is certainly unforgettable, a wonderful introduction to the park's aromas and flavors. We'll enjoy it immediately after lunch aboard four jumbo carriages—carriages with benches for about twenty passengers, pulled by teams of draft horses, except for the last carriage, where a large piece of quadruped that fits two is brought out of the stables.
We slip into the scrub, the four floats lined up, admiring everything listed above, trying to capture everything animated in the air, among the reeds, or in the thicket. We're told a healthy symbiosis has been established between targeted interventions and the spontaneity of nature. The park director tells us this when he unlocks the large enclosed area of the presidential chalet, amidst trimmed lawns, bushes, and manicured flowerbeds. The director receives us beneath the functional wooden architecture of the chalet built in 1957 by President Gronchi, a quadrilateral on branched steel stilts, consisting of four wings, one of which recently served as the buen retiro of Tony Blair and his family. Gronchi, on the other hand, lived a dolce vita in the full sense, not just in terms of film, as he frequently felt the need to escape the burden of institutional duties to come here to relax in the company of some of the actresses who made up Cinecittà's finest. A previous scoundrel who encouraged President Scalfaro, a devotee of the Blessed Virgin, to release the estate and chalet from the Quirinale's jurisdiction in favor of the Tuscany Region, so that the masses could enjoy the park's amenities. Life is also sweet for the wolf that has recently slipped into the park's boundaries; sighted, but not caught. At least for now. Because a densely populated settlement isn't for him...
Getting from San Rossore to Tirrenia, in the shade of the pine trees and along the busy Saturday streets, isn't exactly easy, especially if you also happen to see the AC Milan coach under escort heading to Livorno speeding down the middle of the road, among the cars forced to step aside...
We are guests of the Hotel Golf, immersed in the greenery of the Tyrrhenian pine forest.
At the gala dinner, we have important guests, Frigate Captain Davide Volpe, president of Tuttovela, and Lieutenant Commander Luca Anconelli, press officer of the Academy.
And partly to celebrate Gino Turchi, a professor at the CNR in Pisa and Gualtiero's cousin, and his wife Giuliana, who are currently celebrating their fortieth wedding anniversary and deserve credit for providing us with the right contacts in Pisa and Livorno, and partly to honor the Naval officers and their courtesy, our President takes out his note and begins to recite the first lines of one of Walt Whitman's most beautiful poems, while Gualtiero arrives with a splendid bouquet of flowers for the refreshed newlyweds.
Or at least - I seem to remember - that's how things went, in dry and straightforward words:

Oh Captain! My Captain!
our hard journey is over,
the ship has weathered every storm,
the prize we were looking for has been obtained, the port is near,
O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done; The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won; the port is near,
…
Sunday: it's the day of the Naval Academy and Tuttovela.
And it's also time to take stock.
The MGs crossing the Field of Miracles between two lines of people drawn by the spectacle within the spectacle: something that will remain in our eyes and hearts, because the Piazza has been granted permission for only two historic car events: the Millemiglia and the MG Meeting Toscano. Thanks to the Presidency of the Opera Primaziale for the approval, which worked a miracle for us. The gate opened for us in the most exclusive area of San Rossore and the Park Director welcoming us were also the work of Giuliana, who has already been with the State Property Office.
And Gino and his wife have allowed us to be here, lined up with our MGs in front of the main entrance to the Naval Academy. We begin with the photo shoot, courtesy of the Navy Press Office. We host a selection of cadets alongside our beloved MGs, and they will then lead us through the large courtyard where the motto PATRIA E ONORE (Homeland and Honor) stands out behind us.
The Naval Academy was inaugurated in 1881 and initially occupied only the area of the Lazzaretto di San Jacopo. This prestigious naval school was established, at the initiative of the then Minister of the Navy, Admiral Benedetto Brin, from the merger of the Royal Naval School of the Kingdom of Sardinia, based in Genoa, and the Bourbon Naval School, based in Naples, following the establishment of the Royal Navy.
It was completely razed to the ground by the Germans during World War II and rebuilt after the war with the same features. In the internal courtyard, facing the sea, stands the sunken brigantine, a three-masted ship that serves as a sailing training ground for first-year students, who will then embark on the summer cruise aboard the Vespucci.
I won't dwell on details that are well known. Two observations, however, deserve further exploration. The seriousness that permeates these young men and women, in their twenties, who have received, like an indelible character, imprinted in their DNA, a lifestyle that will translate into the fulfillment of the tasks and responsibilities entrusted to them. For once in an Italian institution, one feels like they're in good hands. A style that is both formal elegance and a mental and behavioral trait, which begins with a lifestyle choice, but is acquired with effort every day, through study and physical practice. I asked them how their day is structured: wake up at 6:15, immediately an hour of studying, then classroom lessons, physical activity in the afternoon, then from 5:00 to 7:30, studying again. Do the math: that's 12 actual hours a day. For the first time in an Italian school, I heard the magic word SELECTION, part of that perennial set of values acquired like a habit. Far from the behaviors and attitudes of trendy pretension that characterize much of today's youth. The second observation is the religious sense of these young people, which they also wanted us to learn when, after the brigantine, they took us to visit the chapel located in the left wing of the Academy. A religious sense of devotion towards the Navy's fallen and towards their naval and wartime deeds, engraved on the many plaques that cover the chapel's walls. The Navy, and with it these young people, are a single, immutable body and soul, which continues through time through the new generations of officers.
We'll find more of these young people at Porto Mediceo in Livorno, aboard the Navy's sailing ships, intent on polishing everything on board that needs to look impeccable. We enter the magical TUTTOVELA area, which will host the regattas of the 25th NAVAL ACADEMY TROPHY starting next Tuesday, and park our cars on the dock next to the corvette Palinuro, which is flanked by the two racing yachts Orsa Maggiore and Stella Polare.
Free to explore the stands, then at 2 pm, lunch (excellent seafood) under the pavilions of the Village restaurant. Mr. Marchiò, the person responsible for setting up the Village and stands, is here as a welcome guest. Or are we his guests? The fact remains that once again we can see firsthand how many authorities were involved and how many doors Gualtiero and his associates opened to ensure that MGCCI could boast this unique event.