Features
AT LAKE BRACCIANO
(Excerpted from Falling Leaves, an anthology of memoirs
by LC Arulpragasam)
Lago di Bracciano or Lake Bracciano was my hide-away when we lived for 30 years in Rome. It is a volcanic lake tucked away in the low hills of Lazio Province, about 20 miles north-west of Rome. It is a freshwater lake cradled in the crater of a long-extinct volcano. At a depth of 541 feet, it is twice as deep as the ‘Sea’ of Galilee. Its fresh water now serves as the source of drinking water for Rome.
The lake is surrounded by small hills and three picturesque village/towns, of which the town of Bracciano is the largest. It contains the castle of the Duke Orsini of Odelscalchi, which seems to have been well known even in the Middle Ages, since Shakespeare used it as the set for one of his famous plays. It also hosted the much-publicized wedding of Tom Cruise to Katie Holmes in recent times. I have only used the castle for its crenellated shade from the summer sun, while fishing! Sadly, the town of Bracciano is now losing some of its charm due to its rail link with Rome, which is fast making it a dormitory town.
The second town on the lake is Anguillara, named after its famous delicacy, the eel (anguilla in Italian). It is situated on a small promontory jutting out into the lake, still enclosed within its medieval walls, seemingly suspended in time. Its crest is an eel-embossed shield, which is emblazoned in marble on the portal of the town, from which narrow cobbled streets lead to quaint old houses, some dating back even centuries. Although Anguillara too has been expanding rapidly, fortunately this expansion has been outside its scenic walls. Anguillara is still known for its excellent seafood – but more recently for its excellent gelati! (ice cream)
The third little village/town is Trevignano Romano (Trevignano for short), which is the smallest and sweetest of them all. Historically a farming-cum-fishing village, it is bounded by the lake on one side and by farm and fields on the other: so much so that it was traditional for one son to take to farming, while the other took to fishing, it is dominated by a hill on which the ruins of a 15th century rocca (fortress) still stands. It is graced by a beautiful 17th century church, which even contains some Rafael-school frescoes. Its quaint, crooked, cobbled streets lead to equally quaint old houses, whose beauty and history are now preserved by strict building restrictions.
This is the village we chose for our peregrinations by the lake, using the fields around it for camping in our caravan, and later by buying a small apartment (jointly with a friend from London) on a cliff overlooking the water and the village. The patron saint of Trevignano is Our Lady, the Virgin Mother. Every year on August 15th (her Saint’s Day), the townsfolk take her ornate statue in procession around the village. After dark, they take her out into the lake on a highly illuminated barge, so that she could bless their fishing too. All boat owners with lanterns lit, join hands from boat-to-boat around her vessel, chanting their “Hail Marys” all the while. It is an emotional ceremony, which we sometimes joined. The village also has a serene cemetery built into the hill facing the lake, where I even dreamed that I would be buried one day!
The whole area around the lake was inhabited by the Etruscan people some 4000 years ago, long before Rome was born. The Etruscans are still somewhat of a mystery, although they have left behind a wealth of pottery, gold and beautiful ornaments. In fact in the1960s, young men from the village would go out at night, armed with torches and hoes, in the hope of digging up some Etruscan jewellery. A storm on the lake in the late 1990s (of which I read in a newspaper in America) shifted the sand at lake-bottom to reveal an old boat, which was carbon-dated back to 4000 BC!
My fascination with Lake Bracciano began almost with my arrival in Rome. I have always loved water, always longing to be by a lake, lagoon, river or stream. When I “discovered” Lake Bracciano, I bought myself an all-round boat which could be rowed, motored or sailed. It could be used with a motor for our family outings, but could also be rowed by the children or sailed by me. Next we invested in a caravan, called a roulotte in Europe, then found a lakeside campsite in Trevignano where we could park the caravan during summer and nip down there every weekend, since it was only an hour’s drive from Rome.
Ultimately, we agreed to move with three Italian families to an adjoining strip of land, where again I managed to gain the lot by the water. After three happy years there, the farmer wanted the land back and we had to move out again! Ultimately, we bought (jointly with a friend) a piece of land about 100 yards from the lake. Although I had so much wanted to be by the water, I could neither see it nor hear it in our new lot. I sorely missed its calmness at morn, the golden glow of its sunsets and the lapping of its waves, lulling me to sleep at night! In fact, I still use those images to aid my meditation some 40 years later!
Although I missed the sight and sound of water, I set out in earnest to plant our little plot of land with roses, vines and fruit trees. I also discovered that I had a ‘green thumb’: for whatever I planted grew and bore profusely in that fertile, volcanic soil. To provide summer shade, I built a large pergola over our caravan and planted sweet, eating grape vines to grow over it for shade. Within three years the vines had grown so profusely that they not only shaded the pergola, but also provided an abundance of grapes. So much so that I could almost reach out of the window and pick grapes to pop in my mouth while reading a book in the caravan.
We spent many happy days by the lake. Each morning and evening we would jump in for a swim. When the kids were small, we would rise early, pack our picnic breakfast and take off in our boat to our favourite haunt. This was a little hill coming down to the lake in shady trees, which we called the “Count’s land”. The kids used to be afraid that this “Count” would “catch us”, since we would picnic uninvited under his shady trees. We were to find out later that the “Count” was not a Count at all, but only an ironmonger who had made his fortune during the War! The children swam in these shallow waters, while I lazily fished, and my wife read a book, while watching over us all.
There were many good times later too. My friend Paths from London joined me in buying a beautiful little villino (glorified apartment) on a cliff, which overlooked the old ruined rocca (fort) and the beautiful bay of Trevignano, with the sleepy village twinkling pink in the background. Regrettably we had to sell it when winding up our affairs in Rome.