1969 - my gap year between Matriculation and Uni., the year I tagged along with my mother on her sabbatical – a year living in Rome.
1969 – the year I fell seriously in love, until it was time to return to Australia. Home beckoned, his offer of cohabitation did not.
1969 – I was nine years old when we migrated to Australia, eighteen when we returned in 1969. Only nine years, but somehow at that age it translated into a lifetime.
1969 – I reconnected with my childhood sweetheart. His politics were as right wing as they come; mine far left. It was not a successful reunion.
1969 - I didn’t make contact with Donatella, my childhood bestie, something which I much later regretted.
1969 – The Pincio. Every afternoon, rain, hail or shine, Maria would take me and my sister there for our constitutional. The Pincio was as busy as always: mothers with children, bike riders, adults relaxing, but it had shrunk. So too had the busy road where I was once nearly run over. It was, in fact, just a narrow lane.
1969 – An awkward afternoon tea with Maria, despite her being such an important presence in my childhood.
1969 – Meeting my father for the first time. I looked exactly like him. He had moved to Canada when my parents divorced, we to Australia. We met at the Florence railway station. I approached him with the memorable line: “Excuse me, are you my father?” He became quite emotional. We spent a week together exploring Florence. I met him again later in the year in London. Florence was also the name of his wife, who kept very much in the background. This was after all a father and child reunion. I thought her gorgeous, still do. He described me as my mother’s daughter, which I was. Until his death we continued to write to each other.
1969 – Siena, with the daughter of a friend of my mother. She was tall, sophisticated and stunningly good looking. She made me feel like a crass colonial. With her and a couple of her friends I went to the Palio, a horse race dating back to the 17th century. We had no tickets, and as it is Siena’s claim to fame, the event was booked out. Our companion got all of us in, charming her way through every ticket collector.
1969 – Betty from New York on her gap year. We met when I answered her ad looking for a travelling companion. We travelled together heading South towards Naples. We got on very well and stayed in touch for the next few years. Another regret was that eventually I was the one who stopped replying to her letters.
1969 – A massive demonstration against Richard Nixon then visiting Rome. My mother and I were accidentally caught up in it and arrested. I was horrified by the violence of the police. In the holding cell a very young man looked at my mother and somewhat stunned asked: “Signora, you are also protesting?” We weren’t charged.
1969 – Sperlonga in the 50s’ was a small fishing village between Rome and Naples where we used to go on holidays. Apart from the odd German, there were no tourists on the beach, only fisherman. In 1969 the town had become another tourist destination, the beach packed with bikini clad sunbathers. The grotto, used by fishermen to store their boats, was found to contain Roman sculptures belonging to Tiberius, Roman emperor.
1969 – Terracina, a larger town near Sperlonga. My grandmother had bought a flat in a mediaeval building in the hope of enticing my mother back to Italy. It overlooked the town’s main church. I would sit by the window and watch the weddings, the funerals, the baptism. It told me a lot about the town and meaning of life. Living opposite grandmother’s flat was a middle-aged couple. The woman was obese and could not manage the narrow, spiral stairs. She would lower a basket down the window which the traders would fill with her order. In 1969 while we were in Rome her husband died.
1969 – There were monuments, museums, stories, and histories present wherever I went. It taught me to respect the past. In Australia we are ignorant of our histories. We don’t value our poets nor our past, be it that of European settlers or that of our First Nation. We are a stunningly beautiful country lacking poetry, though to be fair, this is slowly changing.
1969 – Key events courtesy of google: 1) Neil Armstrong walking on the moon 2) More than 350,000 music revellers attend Woodstock in New York in August 1969 3) Sesame Street debuted on television in 1969 4) Paul Newman and Robert Redford starred in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.
1969 – My gap year pales into insignificance compared to these key events. For me however, it was one of the most formative experiences in my life. I went to Italy an overweight, immature eighteen-year-old, and in 1970 returned…. a thin, immature nineteen-year-old, slightly wiser, with unforgettable memories, plus a respect for history and storytellers, both of which have lasted a lifetime.
Delfina Manor
July 2024
1969 – the year I fell seriously in love, until it was time to return to Australia. Home beckoned, his offer of cohabitation did not.
1969 – I was nine years old when we migrated to Australia, eighteen when we returned in 1969. Only nine years, but somehow at that age it translated into a lifetime.
1969 – I reconnected with my childhood sweetheart. His politics were as right wing as they come; mine far left. It was not a successful reunion.
1969 - I didn’t make contact with Donatella, my childhood bestie, something which I much later regretted.
1969 – The Pincio. Every afternoon, rain, hail or shine, Maria would take me and my sister there for our constitutional. The Pincio was as busy as always: mothers with children, bike riders, adults relaxing, but it had shrunk. So too had the busy road where I was once nearly run over. It was, in fact, just a narrow lane.
1969 – An awkward afternoon tea with Maria, despite her being such an important presence in my childhood.
1969 – Meeting my father for the first time. I looked exactly like him. He had moved to Canada when my parents divorced, we to Australia. We met at the Florence railway station. I approached him with the memorable line: “Excuse me, are you my father?” He became quite emotional. We spent a week together exploring Florence. I met him again later in the year in London. Florence was also the name of his wife, who kept very much in the background. This was after all a father and child reunion. I thought her gorgeous, still do. He described me as my mother’s daughter, which I was. Until his death we continued to write to each other.
1969 – Siena, with the daughter of a friend of my mother. She was tall, sophisticated and stunningly good looking. She made me feel like a crass colonial. With her and a couple of her friends I went to the Palio, a horse race dating back to the 17th century. We had no tickets, and as it is Siena’s claim to fame, the event was booked out. Our companion got all of us in, charming her way through every ticket collector.
1969 – Betty from New York on her gap year. We met when I answered her ad looking for a travelling companion. We travelled together heading South towards Naples. We got on very well and stayed in touch for the next few years. Another regret was that eventually I was the one who stopped replying to her letters.
1969 – A massive demonstration against Richard Nixon then visiting Rome. My mother and I were accidentally caught up in it and arrested. I was horrified by the violence of the police. In the holding cell a very young man looked at my mother and somewhat stunned asked: “Signora, you are also protesting?” We weren’t charged.
1969 – Sperlonga in the 50s’ was a small fishing village between Rome and Naples where we used to go on holidays. Apart from the odd German, there were no tourists on the beach, only fisherman. In 1969 the town had become another tourist destination, the beach packed with bikini clad sunbathers. The grotto, used by fishermen to store their boats, was found to contain Roman sculptures belonging to Tiberius, Roman emperor.
1969 – Terracina, a larger town near Sperlonga. My grandmother had bought a flat in a mediaeval building in the hope of enticing my mother back to Italy. It overlooked the town’s main church. I would sit by the window and watch the weddings, the funerals, the baptism. It told me a lot about the town and meaning of life. Living opposite grandmother’s flat was a middle-aged couple. The woman was obese and could not manage the narrow, spiral stairs. She would lower a basket down the window which the traders would fill with her order. In 1969 while we were in Rome her husband died.
1969 – There were monuments, museums, stories, and histories present wherever I went. It taught me to respect the past. In Australia we are ignorant of our histories. We don’t value our poets nor our past, be it that of European settlers or that of our First Nation. We are a stunningly beautiful country lacking poetry, though to be fair, this is slowly changing.
1969 – Key events courtesy of google: 1) Neil Armstrong walking on the moon 2) More than 350,000 music revellers attend Woodstock in New York in August 1969 3) Sesame Street debuted on television in 1969 4) Paul Newman and Robert Redford starred in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.
1969 – My gap year pales into insignificance compared to these key events. For me however, it was one of the most formative experiences in my life. I went to Italy an overweight, immature eighteen-year-old, and in 1970 returned…. a thin, immature nineteen-year-old, slightly wiser, with unforgettable memories, plus a respect for history and storytellers, both of which have lasted a lifetime.
Delfina Manor
July 2024
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