One hour ago I put the finishing touches to the final revision of Piemontesi ai confini del mondo (The Piedmontese at the world’s end), a book about 19th and early 20th century travellers, adventurers, explorers and other oddballs from Turin and Piedmont, that is set to be published in time for Christmas by a small but high-quality local interest publisher.
We have treasure-hunters in Egypt, African colonial adventurers, spies and soldiers in the Far East, missionaries, botanists, political mavericks, aristocratic thrill-seekers, polar explorers, painters and photographers, mountain climbers and mariners, spread over five continents, from the very beginning of the 19th century to the World War years. The only common trait, they were born in the industrial towns and the wine country of Piedmont, in Western Italy, right here where I am sitting.
They were all bogianén – the nickname that is usually applied to us Piedmontese, and that means “don’t move”; but it does not mean we stand still, it only means we hold our ground.
Karavansara 