The Republic Of… Cospaia?

Okay, if you’ve spent any time reading stuff I’ve posted here, you will have picked up on the fact that I find certain quirky historical facts to be fascinating. This one I stumbled across while I was pulling together some wiki links for my recent post on my day in Monaco.

So, without further ado, allow me to present to you… The Republic Of Cospaia.

What caught my eye about this particular former microstate was the way in which it came to be. The six extant microstates in Europe all came into being via some sort of relatively straightforward process.

  • Monaco has secured its independence by skillfully negotiating protective treaties with France and capitalizing on its status as a luxury tourist destination and tax haven.
  • San Marino, the self-declared world’s oldest republic, has maintained its continuity by leveraging its historical narrative and strategic diplomacy with larger neighboring countries.
  • Andorra has maintained its unique status as a co-principality governed jointly by leaders from France and Spain, a setup that has provided stability and neutrality, shielding it from external ambitions.
  • Liechtenstein has preserved its sovereignty through a combination of low-key diplomacy and economic strategies, such as becoming a financial center while maintaining close ties with Switzerland.
  • Malta secured its independence from British rule in 1964 through negotiations that led to its recognition as a sovereign state, and has since leveraged its strategic location and robust tourism industry to bolster its economy and maintain its autonomy.

So as you can see, those microstates all came into existence as a result of understandable (although in some cases odd or unlikely) situations.

Cospaia, though… is… different. Buckle up, this one’s a bit odd.

In 1440, Pope Eugene IV decided to sell some land to the Republic of Florence in order to raise money due to a struggle he was having with the Council of Basel. That seems straightforward enough, in a late-medieval, great houses maneuvering sort of way. However, an issue arose when the treaty was drawn up which defined the border of the lands being sold as being along certain stream, without actually naming the stream.

As a result, the Papal States and the Republic of Florence understood the border to be along two different streams. This meant that there was a small plot of land that the Papal States thought had been ceded to Florence while simultaneously Florence thought had been retained by the Papal States.

When the people living on this particular piece of land realized that neither Florence nor the Papal States was exercising sovereignty over them, they declared themselves independent, and formed the Republic of Cospaia, a microstate approximately two kilometres long and 500 meters wide, with a population of about 250 people.

But don’t take my word for it. Here’s the description of what happened from the wiki page:

The village became accidentally independent in 1440. When Pope Eugene IV ceded the territory of Sansepolcro to the Republic of Florence, by mistake a small strip of land was excluded from the treaty that delimited the borders. Having become no one’s land, the inhabitants promptly declared independence. As a result, the village was the Republic of Cospaia for some 385 years, but in 1826 it was absorbed into the Papal States by agreement with the Grand Duchy of Tuscany.

Map of the Republic Of Cospaia
Source: Sacesss, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons

When the two treaty signatories realized what had happened, they decided the tiny piece of land wasn’t worth worrying about, so they left it alone… for 385 years!

For nearly four centuries the tiny village existed without a government, police force, army or interference from its much larger neighbors.

When the pope banned the growing of tobacco across Italy, the tiny village nation took advantage of what amounted to a tobacco monopoly and proceeded to make bank over the ensuing years. Not bad for a country that only existed because of a mapping error!

Of course, Cospaia hasn’t existed as a separate nation for almost 200 years now, but I think I’ll add this as a stretch goal on my “Tour Of The Microstates” bucket list.

From Vatican City To Monaco

Okay, I’ll admit it—I have a pretty quirky item on my bucket list. While you guys are out there dreaming of skydiving or tackling Mount Everest, I’m working on something a little more low-key: visiting every microstate in Europe. You know, those tiny little independent countries that most travelers skip over. They may be small but each one has so much history that it’s hard not to be fascinated.

Take Vatican City, for example. I visited this one a few years ago, right in the heart of Rome. It’s the smallest independent state in the world, both in area and population, and yet it feels monumental. Walking through its halls and seeing artistic masterpieces that I’d only ever read about was surreal. It was like wandering through centuries of art and spiritual history all at once—a place that just gets you if you love art, history, or just a sense of the sacred.

Fast forward to now, and I’ve just come back from a day in Monaco—my second microstate checked off the list!

Talk about a contrast, though. Monaco’s all about the glitz and the glamour, from Monte Carlo’s’ casinos and those Mediterranean sea views everywhere you look. It’s like a tiny slice of luxury nestled into a space no bigger than a city park. From the famous Casino de Monte Carlo to the Japanese Gardens, everywhere you look had something new to offer, a blend of opulence and elegance with a dash of Mediterranean magic.

I know you believe me, but I’ve got some proof anyway… photos from my day in Monaco. It may be small, but it’s got a style that’s larger than life, so enjoy this virtual stroll through one of the world’s tiniest (but most dazzling) countries. It may be little, but trust me when I say it leaves a big impression.

Casino de Monte Carlo
Monaco Parks
Monaco selfie
Prince’s Palace
That’s about half of the entire country

“Born On The High Seas”

One thing I’ve been doing with my spare time lately is digging into some family genealogical history. That means I’ve been running search after search on some provincial archive websites for the past few weeks.

At one point the other day I had tracked down some records relating to my great grandmother. Emphasis on the “some.” A couple of records that I was looking for were proving elusive.

Eventually I found a record where great-grandma had given an attestation for the birth of my grandfather’s sister, which she signed with the surname “Rose.” Nothing odd about that, except my g-grandfather’s surname was McLean and her maiden name was Flynn. This might explain why I can’t find her death records by searching for Flynns and McLeans.

So, I dug a bit deeper, and I found a marriage registration between my great-grandmother and a gentleman named, no surprise, Rose. A wedding that was witnessed by my grandfather and his sister and that took place when both the bride and groom were 75 years old. Three weeks before the groom’s death, according to another record I found registered with the province. Huh. Well, it was the 1950s, so I guess things were different back then?

Anyhow, I have more free time than I know what to do with nowadays, so I ran some queries on young Mr. Rose as well. I quickly found another record relating to his parents that showed his mother was from Northern Ireland, and that his father was born… literally, and I’m quoting here… “On the high seas.”

I bet there were some interesting stories that came out of that family history!

Archived birth certificate showing child's father was born on the high seas.
Archived birth certificate showing child’s father was born on the high seas.

Suffice it to say, this was a much-too-long way to get to the joke this reminded me of:

I’m not saying ships were slow back then, but ships were so slow back then that a heavily pregnant woman approached the captain one day and says “I need a doctor, I’m going to have a baby!”

The captain says to the woman, “Ma’am, you shouldn’t have gotten on board the ship in that condition!”

To which the woman replies: “I didn’t!”

Anyone else got a funny/strange/unexpected story from their family’s past that they care to share? I’d love to hear it!

Remembering Stuart Maclean

When I think of truly great storytellers, Stuart Maclean is the first name that comes to mind. His stories on CBC Radio’s “The Vinyl Café,” were windows into the everyday lives of characters that felt like old friends. Stuart had this incredible gift for turning the simplest moments into something special, finding humor and heart in places most of us might overlook.

“The Vinyl Café” wasn’t just a radio show—it was a much anticipated weekly gathering, where I would get together with Dave, Morley, and the colorful cast of characters who occupied their world. Stuart’s storytelling was pure magic, balancing humor with tenderness. He captured the little quirks of life and made them universally relatable, which I think is why his stories resonated with people around the world.

What made Stuart’s work really stand out was his knack for making us laugh and tear up, often in the same breath. His stories reminded us of the importance of community and the beauty in the ordinary. Whether it was Dave getting into a ridiculous situation while cooking a turkey or Morley reflecting on the quieter moments of motherhood, Stuart’s tales always left you feeling both grounded and uplifted.

And here’s the good news—if you missed “The Vinyl Café” when it aired or just want to revisit those wonderful stories, you still can! The podcast “Tales from The Vinyl Café,” hosted by Stuart’s long-time producer Jess Milton, is keeping his legacy alive. It’s like a time capsule of everything we loved about his storytelling.

Check out “Backstage At The Vinyl Café.” Each episode is a reminder of Stuart Maclean’s unmatched storytelling ability. So, grab a cup of coffee, tune in, and let Stuart’s warmth and humor brighten your day.