About us

It was not fit to work, however, the farmer had taught it all of Barbara’s streets.

If you needed to go somewhere, you could just hop on it, it wouldn’t bulge, and tell it, ‘Let’s go to the marshlands’, or, ‘Take me to the Canalecchia’, or even, ‘I need to go to the Pignocco’.

It would think about it… and then set off, with its waddling gait.

It would take a little while, but you could be sure it would take you where you needed to go.

That horse was a genius.

Sor Gentile had always his umbrella with him.

Some people said it was just to show off his wealth, but he was actually really generous. He was so kind, that in the end he left his beloved umbrella underneath Barbara clock arch, because he had no more need for it.

And since that day, if a terrible storm strikes, you can be sure you’ll find an umbrella to return dry home under there.

All thanks to Sor Gentile.

Even though he was crippled, he compensated what he missed in his legs with another great skill.

When you had to find water in some of Barbara’s crops, you could call him and he would get there with his wooden fork. He would get on it and start going up and down, a little crooked, until the fork and him would stop. It’s here! There was no doubt, he would always find water, even deep down.

And he also found wine, no fork needed there.

Everyone in Barbara knew that Bombo the Bandit had hidden his rich booty near the bridge.

Any time they had the chance, the boys would go looking for that treasure. They would dig up the land all around it, they would pull up rocks along the Ripe trench, and they would look into the nooks between the tree roots. And in the end, they would always wind up swimming in the river.

I guess that was the real treasure in the end.

Beghi stayed down at the Misa – one of Barbara’s two rivers – and was a passer for a living.

In practice, he managed a mobile bridge and helped you cross the river, by charging you whatever you could pay. He was so big he looked like a giant, and when the water was higher than the mobile bridge, he would hoist people on his shoulders, with all their luggage. He would stop midway and would refuse to continue until you promised him a gigantic bowl of pasta.

Luckily, he was not really greedy, only a chow down.

You would see Guarina setting off early in the morning, from Barbara’s city centre, and go down the forest trail.

She would scan between the brambles, look in the bushes, and scamper about even in the thorns. In her basket, she would collect petals, leaves, flowers, seeds, branches, mushrooms… until you saw her go back home, bent over, at sunset. She would cure a lot of diseases with those herbal concoctions. But if you tried your hand at it, even by using her very same recipes, nothing would work.

Only she could do it.

Once upon a time, Barbara’s kids believed that newborns were carried in Leverina’s suitcase.

When it was time, she would come out of her house, overlooking the square, and would set off at a brisk pace, with a confident look, and her suitcase by her side, clasping it with both hands. There was no need to knock. She would go in, and, a few hours later, you would hear cries and songs of joy.

Then she would go back home, with a much lighter-looking suitcase.

At Barbara’s tavern, there was a special table. It was reserved to the most high-ranking and cultured people in town – priests, noblewomen, former Generals.

They would get there one at a time, and when they were all reunited, one of them would motion to the inn-keeper, who would quickly bring some English tea. After taking their first sip, they would go on and comment on the news, talk about religion, come up with political theories, and so on.

If you walked right by them, you would be entranced by their conversations… and hope that tea would never end.