We pull into Imbersago, on the banks of the river Adda, while the sun is already straight overhead. We’re just four roasted chestnuts steaming in a cast-iron pot that happens to be shaped like a car. Even the air-conditioning is powerless to do much good.
We get out and stroll down the pier.
We pay for our tickets and board the ferryboat that links Imbersago to Villa d’Adda. It’s the only working hand-operated ferryboat in the world. There’s a steel cable connecting both banks, and the boat is hooked to the cable. It only takes one man to push it from one shore to the other. Brilliant.
In this case, there’s no doubt about the name of the inventor: this intriguing means of transportation is called the Traghetto di Leonardo.. Even though it’s been modernized many times over the years, it still maintains an old-fashioned appearance that the kids love. I jump at the chance to tell them the story of this particular invention.
“Leonardo was in love with a princess named Isabella. She lived in a castle not far from the building where the young inventor lived. The two young people had met only once, but it had been love at first sight. Isabella’s father, however, had already promised her hand in marriage to the son of another king he was friends with. Poor Leonardo had therefore never had a chance to so much as see her again. But he cleverly devised a way of staying in touch with her. He stealthily strung a thin dark cord from the roof of his apartment building to the little window of the princess’s bedroom. Because the cord was thin and dark, it was perfectly invisible from below. He used that cord to send the princess love letters and drawings in the still of the night, in hopes of winning her heart. One unlucky day, however, her father the king discovered the cord and went to call on his daughter’s courageous wooer. He threatened Leonardo with death, and the young inventor was forced to desist—this love story didn’t end happily. But a few years later, he remembered how he had used the cord and applied the same idea to the engineering of a ferryboat.”
“But why didn’t they build a bridge?” demands the ever-skeptical Eva.
“Maybe it cost too much, or else maybe the two shores weren’t solid enough for the foundations of the bridgeheads.”
“You mean, you don’t know,” concludes my little one.
“But you haven’t heard the whole story. Many years later, Leonardo, in honor of his beloved Isabella, painted his most famous painting: the Mona Isa.”
This time, the objection comes from Lorenzo: “It’s not called the Mona Isa; it’s called the Mona Lisa.”
“But only because of a typo in the first art history book to mention that painting.”
They’re dubious about that explanation but they pretend to believe me. I hurry along to the next point, to keep from giving them time to reflect.
“Do you know who invented printing?”
“Gutenberg!” cries Lorenzo like a quiz contestant hitting his buzzer.
“That’s right, but who was the first person to invent a printing press equipped with an automatic paper feed just like a modern-day printer? Leonardo da Vinci.”
“I’m not sure I like this Leonardo very much,” Eva decrees. “He invents too many things.”
We go for lunch in a little osteria that’s actually called Da Leonardo. The menu features seafood and in particular a heavenly but murderous fritto di paranza—a fresh-catch fry. I wish this journey could go on forever. It’s slowly turned into exactly the kind of real vacation I had hoped for.