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National Geographic : 1936 Sep
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THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE In the spring of 1935 the prospective war in Ethiopia was viewed unemotionally by the mass of Italians. Little was known about the country, except that it was a place where bananas grew. Bananas, to the mind of a resident Italian, are perhaps the most desirable of all fruits. He regards them as a truly regal dish, just as some people re gard caviar. He has almost the same feel ing toward them that colored people are supposed to have toward fried chicken. At that time two young soldiers, on their way to a training camp, were engaged in conversation by an Italian woman who shared their compartment in the train. She wanted to know if they weren't thrilled at being called for the campaign in Africa.* They were not only unthrilled, but had given the matter little thought. They were not married and felt they might as well go there as anywhere. "But," she said, "you will have all the bananas you want! You will be allowed to help yourselves, just as we permit people to enjoy our grapes!" The young soldiers remained unmoved. Possibly they came from families that, like most Italian families, kept their grapes for themselves. At the same time, however, Italian men of property felt the step must be taken and Italy's acreage increased, but the wives of these same men were loath to think of their sons being called to the colors. With the imposing of sanctions the senti ment, particularly in cities, changed com pletely. The thought that many countries should tell Italy what she might or might not do, and coerce her into obeying their dictates, aroused a feeling of passionate nationalism and a grim determination to die rather than to submit to foreign domination. After witnessing some of the new enthusi asm in Naples and Rome, we felt it must be universal. On our arrival at our out of-the-way hilltop we found the farmer's son at home and expressed pleasure that he had not been summoned to Africa. "How has it happened?" we asked. He shrugged. "It's a miracle," he admitted. We found that while young men in coun try towns were quick to parade and sing in celebration of victories, they were not averse to remaining at home, working in See "Traveling in the Highlands of Ethiopia," "With the Italians in Eritrea," and "Hunting Castles in Italy," in the NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE, September, 1935. the vineyards or at their jobs as masons, plumbers, painters, and carpenters. In times like these, people in other coun tries are filled with amazement and appre hension for those who venture into a coun try at war, even though the actual fighting is three thousand miles away. However, persons living or traveling in a warring nation are often untouched by the war until they venture within about twenty miles of the front-line trenches. The feeling in Italy for a few months was bitter and hostile toward England, and a few anti-English demonstrations took place. But it has always been a simple matter for any foreigner, English or otherwise, to travel freely and with the utmost safety in Italy at any time, provided he takes the trouble to behave like a Bostonian on a Boston-New York train, who keeps his gloves on and speaks to no one. HIGH-SPEED HIGHWAYS CRISSCROSS THE NATION Travel conditions improved slowly in Italy before the Fascist regime. Since the Fascists came into power, roads and rail ways have advanced by leaps and bounds. In 1928, when we first motored from Naples to Orbetello, the main road was a succession of potholes, ankle-deep in pallid dust. An automobile progressing over that road had the appearance of a comet-a small object followed by a billowing tail of gray powder. Every main road in Italy was the same. In 1933 we made a swing by motor up the west coast road from Naples to Genoa, across the north of the country, through the valley of the Po and Padua to Venice; down the east coast road to Ferrara, Ri mini, and the picture postcard Republic of San Marino; then across the mountains to Florence, on roads not sufficiently impor tant to be listed on the map we carried. Every road on which we traveled was a hard-surfaced road, as smooth as a boule vard and practically free of dust. This miracle of road building was accomplished in less than five years. The trains have become more up-to-date and successfully live up to the Nation's boast that they always arrive on time. Some of this improvement has been achieved by scheduling long waits in railway stations. A train which is permitted to take out several minutes at one station can afford to dawdle a little along the way. 362
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