8/26 –
I have an addendum to last week’s entry about the pesto
sauce – it only needs to be warmed up to room temperature if it is still frozen
or cold when you want to use it, you never ‘cook’ it. If it is fully thawed out then no heating is
needed, the pasta will do that when mixed into it.
And I forgot to mention that I picked up a rug for the
kitchen and an apron at Annedia’s store on Saturday. When I told Pina she had to check them out right
away. She complimented me on my
selection - and then she called Aimone to come and see them, he says they are
beautiful and tells me I did a good job - and then she took me over to
Annedia’s store to tell her she had seen the rug and apron and they are
beautiful and Annedia complimented me on picking them out. Later in the day Emily came by to visit and
Pina asked if she could take her into my kitchen to show her the run and apron,
which of course I said yes and Emily also thinks they are beautiful and that I
made a good purchase.
We had a thunderstorm today and there was a heavy downpour
for about 30 minutes. I find myself
leaning out the window to watch and as I look up and down the street I see
others doing the same. It occurs to me
that I have become like the other Italian women that lean out of their windows
to see what is going on in town. And I
like it…
I attempted to read the newspaper headlines using my
English/Italian dictionary as I sat on the bench in front of the house. There were people on the other side of the
street sitting outside of Cinzia’s club talking about it to each other, not to
me. One asked if I could read Italian,
another said ‘I don’t know’ another said no and then something else – they had
a major discussion about it and it went on for several minutes. At one point I looked over, said ‘Ciao’, they
all responded the same and then I said in English. “I can hear you, you know. I know you’re talking about me” as I smiled the
whole time. I got head nods and smiles in
response (they have no idea what I am saying) and then I pointed to the paper
and said “io tentare leggere” (I try to read…) and laughed and said “Mama Mia”. All
laughed with me and Cinzia said “Brava, Lean-da, brava!” I
shrug my shoulders, smile, wave and then put my head back into the paper and
keep trying. Again their conversation
is about me and I hear September 5th (my departure date),
Pennsylvania and Chicago. And I think
Cinzia said this makes her sad…
The temperature dropped to 68 degrees around 10pm tonight. I return from a stroll around the town to
find Pina and Aimone sitting on the benches in front of the house. Pina is wearing pants under her dress, a jacket
and a scarf and says “freddo, freddo” (cold, cold) as I approach. I do my best to try to conceal a smile but I can’t
hold it back when she asks Aimone to go into the house to get her another
jacket. Its 68 degrees! Aimone has on a light jacket and I am wearing
a sleeveless shirt and shorts. She looks
at me and tells me to get a sweater. I
look at Aimone, he smiles at me and says “caldo, freddo, caldo, freddo” (hot,
cold, hot, cold) and we both laugh. I
am so in love with these two people, how will I be able to leave them? The thought of it makes my chest hurt and I
have to push the thought away…
Aimone goes into the house to watch TV and Pina asks me to
come to the plaza to sit with her and her girlfriends. As I am sitting there listening to the ‘chicks
cackle’ this is one of those times when I feel like a fool for not working
harder to learn and understand Italian.
For some reason I can understand around 70% of what Pina says to me
directly when we are alone, but when we are in a group conversation that drops
to about 30%. I would love to know what
they are talking about. They gossip and
gossip for hours and never run out of things to say. One of the ladies is the smart-alex of the
bunch and is always telling jokes – she is very physical and makes me
laugh. But when I laugh, she thinks I
understand what she is saying and then starts talking directly to me. Pina reminds her that I don’t understand but
I don’t think they believe her anymore. I do pick up on one thing in the conversation
though – it is about my stellar purchase of a beautiful rug and apron for the
kitchen. Pina invited them all to stop
by tomorrow to see them if they want, some say they will.
8/27 –
I took a walk this morning out beyond the end of town, which
isn’t as far as it sounds as it is a really, really small town. During my walk, I am passed by a few cars and
trucks driven by townspeople and they all waved at me and yelling ‘ciao’ as
they pass. They are mostly people that
frequent Cinzia’s club that have seen me all this time before but haven’t
really acknowledged me that much as I am just a visitor. But today, today they all wave and smile when
they pass me on the road. I have been
here long enough that I AM a townsperson.
The thought makes me happy and kind of sad at the same time…
When I got back from my walk I did laundry all by
myself. I know that sounds trivial, but
remember that the machine instructions are all in a foreign language and are
overly complicated. I mean, really, when
the wash cycle is over you manually have to switch the knob so it continues
onto the spin cycle. Why??? You can’t open the washer until the spin
cycle is done so why does the manufacturer force the Italian people to have to
babysit their clothes washer? Where is
the sense in this?!? Pina came over to
check on me and to help me work the washer, when I tell her I figured it out
and am now on my second load she is taken back.
“Brava Lean-da” she says as she kissed my cheeks – “Brava! Brava!”
After I hung the laundry on the clothes line I hop in my rental
car (that I have been paying for to sit in the parking lot) and take a drive to
the neighboring town of Sovana. It is another of the small towns that I
visited before on the 2006 trip, but I wanted to see it again to see if it
changed. Yea – it didn’t. It is even smaller than Semproniano. I think it only has two official streets, one
going in and one going out. But it is
still a beautiful and charming town that produces a very tasty red wine.
This is a map of the town - - - - the whole town…
The streets of Sovana
Outside the bakery.
Sovano Hotel and Resort… Resort???
The grounds of the hotel & resort.
The Cathedral.
Another road less traveled…
I spent four hours there and I counted about 52 tourists. I don’t understand how the businesses make
any money; but I did my part at the wine shop and hope the two bottles I purchased
make it through customs and into Pennsylvania.
I notice on the drive back that leaves are beginning to
change colors already.
Later that evening, Moreno stopped by and asked me to help
him with a business paper that he is translating from Italian to English. I haven’t read much English since I've been in
town, other than my blog, so it was a nice change to read someone else’s
words. While we were working together, Pina and
Aimone leave to go to Rosella for the night. That is where they live when not
in Semproniano. They will be back
tomorrow night and Pina tells me that Annedia can help me with anything I
need.
Getting back to the paper, the translation was a bit messy;
Italian uses a lot more words than English to express a thought so I helped to
rewrite a few paragraphs. When we were
done, I gave Moreno one of my CDs to remember me by. He told me he likes jazz
so I told him to come visit me in Chicago for some of the best jazz and blues
in America, he told me I could visit him in London too. We talked of other things and then he must
go. He thanks me for my help and kisses
me on my cheeks when he leaves. I tell him
to not say goodbye to me, I am not ready to say goodbye to him or anyone else
here – not yet…
Moreno
8/28 –
It is quiet in the house without Pina and Aimone, but
Annedia uses her key and comes in to check on me shortly after 8a. I stay up until about midnight every night,
as that is when the town usually shuts down and then I wake at 7a with the first
church bells. Why I get up so early, I
don’t know. I think, subconsciously,
that I want to experience as many wakeful moments as possible here but again I
can’t explain why.
My mind is racing this morning, thinking about how my time
here is nearly over… I think about
packing up my stuff, what I can take back, what I have to do for customs, where
is customs in the Rome airport, who will pick me up at the airport in PA, if I
should get a rental car, can I afford it… I’ve accepted a job in Chicago and
start October 1. I need to find a place
to live. I need to buy work clothes. I need new shoes. I need to buy a bed. I need to get my stuff out of storage. Who?!!
What?!! When?!! Where?!!
How?!! I need to figure this all
out in a few short weeks and spend time with family and spend time with friends and – and - and – and - MY HEAD IS GOING TO EXPLODE!!!
I need to silence all this reality noise and escape so I
decide to take a walk and grab my IPOD.
It all started out just fine, but as I get about half way around the town
an Andre Bocelli song comes on and it stops me in my tracks. Tears start to leak from my eyes and in a few
seconds I am a weepy wacko women and unable to stop. I take
a side road to hide myself from any townspeople that might pass by and for the
next 30 minutes as I listed to Andre singing in my ears I stare at the town and
cry a thousand tears… During moments of calmness I try to figure out
what I am crying about – why does town have such an effect on me? Why am I in love with this place? There is nothing to do – literally,
nothing! The main activities are sitting
on a bench and watching people and cars pass by, drinking coffee, shopping for
food, making food, walking around the town (which takes all of 20 minutes at a
snail’s pace) and then sitting some more.
I can’t speak the language very well; I can barely understand and I’m
never exactly sure what is going on. I
am covered in mosquito bites, I haven’t had a luxurious American shower in
months, I’m ‘jonesin’ for a Diet Coke, I miss having a real conversation rather
than one-word statements, I miss ‘light’ beer, I miss laughing with my gal
pals, and I miss my pillow... And yet I
am completely and overwhelmingly in love with this town, this place, and these
people. Why? Am I crazy?
Have I lost it? Is this a symptom
of menopause? Is it a vitamin
deficiency? Do I need more Omega 3?
Maybe it’s the mountain air…
Maybe there is something in the coffee beans… Maybe the baker adds something ‘special’ to
the bread… Maybe it’s an overload of zucchini… I don’t know…
All I know is I am a crumpled, weepy, sentimental, exhausted mess today.
Oh
Madonna – oy, oy, oy… I need another cappuccino.
I meet up with Maria later in the afternoon and tell her, as
best I can, that I am having an emotional day.
In a matter of minutes, she has spread the word to all that she sees in
the street. Annedia and Emily give me
hugs, which makes me tear up again.
Maria hugs me, and then Maurio (the 88-year old gas station owner)
hobbles over and asks me to marry him, saying I can live and work with him at
the gas station… I told him I can’t
because my Dad once told me that I was never allowed to work at a gas station. He was disappointed but agreed that it was not
the job for me. As Maria and I walk
around town, she tells everyone how sad I am to leave and all speak soft
comforting words to me as they stroke my arm or touch my cheek. At least I think they are comforting words –
I will never know for sure… Everyone asks
when I will be coming back, many say ‘August per festival, si?’, I say I hope
so.
Maria then leads me to the top peak of the town and stands with her arm over my shoulder as we look out at the town below and tells me how happy she is we met and became friends. Then she takes me by the hand and leads me to her house, she says “Lean-da, vino!” She only has a small room in a house where she takes care of the elderly mother and her handicapped adult son. She owns a home in Romania, and goes there a few times a year to be with her family. We all sit in the kitchen as Maria pours the two of use a big glass of homemade wine and a small glass of homemade Grappa. The mother and son get pineapple juice. We all toast and the son laughs as I make a face after taking a swig of the Grappa. Oy – it is strong! Maria rambles on in Italian, somehow forgetting that I don’t fully understand, but I can get the jest of what she is trying to tell me. She gives me her address and I tell her I will write, using the Internet to translate into Italian. We finish our wine and take a few more chugs of Grappa and then I have to go, Pina will be home soon and will be looking for me.
Maria then leads me to the top peak of the town and stands with her arm over my shoulder as we look out at the town below and tells me how happy she is we met and became friends. Then she takes me by the hand and leads me to her house, she says “Lean-da, vino!” She only has a small room in a house where she takes care of the elderly mother and her handicapped adult son. She owns a home in Romania, and goes there a few times a year to be with her family. We all sit in the kitchen as Maria pours the two of use a big glass of homemade wine and a small glass of homemade Grappa. The mother and son get pineapple juice. We all toast and the son laughs as I make a face after taking a swig of the Grappa. Oy – it is strong! Maria rambles on in Italian, somehow forgetting that I don’t fully understand, but I can get the jest of what she is trying to tell me. She gives me her address and I tell her I will write, using the Internet to translate into Italian. We finish our wine and take a few more chugs of Grappa and then I have to go, Pina will be home soon and will be looking for me.
Pina and Aimone get home around 8:30 and she is frantic
because neither they nor I have eaten dinner. She scrambles to get something on the table as
quickly as possible even though I am telling her I am alright she just keeps
fussing about the time. In a matter of
minutes, she has heated up some left over beef with gravy and beans. As she is dishing some onto my plate, she
asks if I like the beans – I tell her “in mio Mama cucina, non – e in Pina
cucina, Si!” (in my Mama’s kitchen, no - in Pina’s kitchen, yes!) This makes her laugh and she relaxes enough
to enjoy the meal. I tell them about my
emotional day, which makes them sad, and then tell them about drinking Grappa
with Maria which has them laughing again.
After dinner, Pina and I stroll up to the town plaza to sit with her
girlfriends as Aimone settled into his comfy chair and watches TV. And all is well…
Dear Linda -
ReplyDeleteThanks for continuing to write so well and for sharing your stay in Italy. I look forward to seeing you when you return to Chicago. Travel safely. Bridget