words and photography: Victor Caneva
Piazza Oberdan was buzzing as I pulled up. I’d never met Luigi Nacci before, but he knew to look for my trusty blue Panda. Soon, I exchanged a prodding nod with a backpacked man across the piazza – this had to be Luigi. He walked over and hopped in my double-parked Fiat and we got to know each other as we headed off to one of our favorite places, Trieste’s Carso.
Nacci is a local poet and author of several insightful books on Trieste, wandering, and living with a different perspective. Like many Triestini, Nacci grew up walking for sport or as a way to enjoy the fresh air and spectacular views the Carso offers. Sixteen years ago, however, his concept of cammino (pathway/journey) was revolutionized while hiking the Camino de Santiago de Compostela in Spain. Nacci’s experience was not a religious pilgrimage, but a discovery of a simpler existence as he disconnected from the frenetic pace of modern life and bonded with fellow travelers and the nature around him.
On the trail, he discovered that identities forged by our own effort or projected on us by others lose some of their power. Money, status, possessions, accolades and more of man’s favorite stumbling blocks don’t amount to much when in solitude under a starry night sky.
Many more cammini followed and soon, Nacci formulated his philosophy of “Viandanza” which he lives and writes by. The Italian word viandante means “wayfarer” or one who travels on foot. In combining via (way or road) and danza(dance) Nacci describes a way of life in which the wanderer dances on his path, whether he is currently on camminoor not. The wanderer’s path also dances because it is not simply a random traipsing, but a decision to interact differently with the modern world.
We arrived at the Santuario di Monte Grisa, which enjoys a particularly stunning view of the Gulf of Trieste. Several trails intersect there and we hopped on one that leads north toward Contovello. As we sheltered from the blasts of Bora wind at the Vedetta d’Italia, watching the gales lash the resilient Adriatic below, Nacci shared his surprise at how cammino had changed him.
Literature had always been the central theme of his life. He wrote and organized literary festivals – as he continues to do – but now he is also a guide with Compagnia dei Cammini, a national association devoted to championing the culture of the cammino across Italy. As I write this, Nacci is leading journeyers on a 5 day cammino that began at Molo Audace and will finish in the wild Carso north of Trieste. These cammini are not just treks, but slower walks that focus on experiencing nature and the kind of reflection seldomly possible in our hectic day-to-day.
I asked Nacci if he still finds novelty after wandering around and through the enigmatic Carso for so long. His answer was an emphatic “yes!” Nacci, who loves to go off trail, explained that this area is one of perpetual discovery. Be it a trench from the Great War, an unknown cave, or even a scontroso brown bear, a fresh experience is always around the corner.
The title of Nacci’s latest work, “Non mancherò la strada: Che cosa può insegnarci il cammino” (I Won’t Miss the Road: What Can the Cammino Teach Us) borrows a line from William Wordsworth’s poem, “The Prelude.” Wordsworth and others, like Thoreau, Blake, Emerson, Frost (the list goes on and on!) found that walking and contemplation go hand in hand. Trieste’s own Nacci continues in this distinguished tradition and invites the reader to join him on cammino. Whether we are moved to write a poem or practice some overdue introspection, a little cammino would serve us all well.
