The Italians of South Wales or the Italians in the Rain

First of all with this blog let me thank all those people who have encouraged me with my blogging, you know who you are.  I don’t think I am a natural blogger, I only started it because some of my Twitter followers suggested it and I never cease to be amazed that people read my inane rantings but I am more than thankful that you do.

One barrier that I encounter in relation to blogging is finding a topic that I think people will be interested in and that is the case with the topic for this blog, but on reviewing my past blog I did notice that I had promised to recount my ongoing relationship with Italy.  This together with @edanaming who comes from an Italian family herself asking me about it has finally prompted me to commit my experiences to print. As my relationship with Italy covers some 40 years I have a lot to say I’ll split this blog in to two so not as to bore you too much, first I will tell you about the Welsh Italians and then I will tell you about my relationship with them.

You don’t need to have followed me for long on Twitter or read many of my blogs to know that I am a product of the South Wales Valleys. Now you may or may not know anything about the South Wales valleys or the people who live in them but you may be surprised that we are a pretty varied bunch. Prior to the industrial revolution the valleys of South Wales were one of the most sparsely populated areas of the United Kingdom so when coal mining and iron production developed in the area people had to move in to work those industries.  While some moved in from elsewhere in Wales, particularly the rural, agricultural West, others moved from further afield.  

My own surname is testament to the Irish contingent of this immigration but growing up in the valleys in 60s and 70s I was surrounded by immigrant families with their roots in Poland, Spain and of course Italy.  The Italians were an integral of any valley community at the time as illustrated by the character Bella Lasagne in Fire Man Sam. 

Every valleys community had their Italian café serving frothy coffee (cappuccino type concoctions made with Nescafe instant coffee), steamed pies (a strange South Wales delicacy),”singles” (cigarettes sold individually for the cash strapped) and of course that Italian staple, ice cream.

If you are interested in reading further about the Welsh Italians there is a good book out on the subject called “Lime, Lemon and Sarsaparilla” http://amzn.to/1LzIKad .

Another interesting fact that you probably don’t know about the Welsh Italian community is that the vast majority are from in and around one town Bardi in the Emilia-Romagna region of Northern Italy.  Over the years I have visited Bardi many times and it is an amazing place, a valleys town itself located in deepest rural Italy and where on market day on a Thursday in the main piazza you will hear Italian being spoken with a distinctive South Wales accent and where when I meet people there and I tell them I am from Merthyr the first thing they will say is “So you know the Viazzanis and the Fulgonis” which of course I do.

Another useful link if you want to know more about the Welsh Italians is The Amici Val Ceno http://bit.ly/1LkTVpc

Anyway, I digress, to be continued ….

A Little Boy From Merthyr Always, Always

“A little boy from Merthyr always, always” is a phrase well known  to many a person from that town that sits at the top of the Taff valley which people sometimes refer to as the capital of The Valleys. The phrase comes from a famous son of the town Dr Joseph Parry, composer of one of the greatest love songs the world has ever known, Myfanwy.  Parry like myself left the town as a teenager but as his famous phrase so succinctly sums up once you have the town in your heart and in your veins it stays with you always, no matter where you travel far and wide.

To some the town has less than a glamorous reputation, often exacerbated by negative media representations. Because of these negative images some might think that eternally carrying the town around with you in your bones might seem like some sort of proverbial ancient mariner’s albatross permanently weighing you down around your neck. Nothing could be further from the truth. I look at it as a resource that I always have with me that I can always reach for in my pocket if and when I need it, it is like the Swiss army knife of identities. Why?? Because it always offers you a grounding on what is important in life. I remember another local bard Idris Davies in his poem “The Day We Walked to Merthyr Tydfil” describing coming over the mountain from Rhymney on a cold winter’s night and looking down spellbound on the shimmering, twinkling facets of the house lights of that jewel of a town that is Merthyr. I know that view well and it is one that comes to mind when remembering the natural beauty that surrounds this town.

(This is where I was born; Gwaunfarren Hospital)

 Another resource that always stays with you when you are from the town is the wit and wisdom of its people,  which will always bring you back to the importance of family, community and friends. That spirit of the local people is steeped and is moulded by the proud history of this unique town.  From the Martyring of Tydfil through the kindling of the nascent industrial revolution to that hell on earth that were the local iron works that led to the internationally renowned Merthyr Risings, the boxing, boozing and brawling all associated with the town in the 19^th and 20^th Century reflect the strife and struggle that gives Merthyr people resilience, resolve and mettle that they use to rise to the challenges that life throws at us all.

So there we have it, what Merthyr means to this little boy who will be forever from the town, the people and the panache of the place is in my bones and in my blood and in my heart and soul. Sometimes those who have seen media representations of the town, such as those recently presented  by “Skint”, say to me “Well you’ve done well considering you come from such a deprived background”  I tell them I don’t feel I had a deprived upbringing at all and quite the opposite but the town gave me a particular resilience and bolshiness that I have always found has served me well to make my way in the world and proud of it I am.  
(Images from http://www.alangeorge.co.uk/)