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April 1
There were no ghosts last night in the castle, and when I got up a few times to go down to the bathroom near the kitchen, the lights remained on and I hardly needed my flashlight.
We agree to not stay around, but to head back home. Before going to bed last night, Clark asked us to stay today for pranzo and seemed disappointed that we would not. So he offered to fix us a big breakfast. We are ready to get going, and it is a good thing, for when we leave just before ten AM, there is not a sign of either Clark or Liz.
We leave with three tiny lanterns that we purchased as mementos of our visit and drive out of the same huge iron gate, the car filled with people and luggage and coats. With only a stop at a nearby bar for café and cornettos, we drive straight through to Chiusi, where we stock up with groceries for the evening meal.
Nearby is a restaurant that Roy and I have wanted to try, Locanda Del Ribbollita. We agree to eat there, even thought they will not allow Sofi to enter and the manager is rude as can be. Pranzo is exceptional...housemade pastas and ribbollita and antipasto...and then we get into the car for the short ride home.
Once at home, we spend the next few hours relaxing on the terrace. Luigina and Enio and Alda and Baschia call down above us, asking when the bocce court will be ready. We don't know, but accept Luigina's kind complements about our gardens, which are just beginning to show their spring beauty. The trees are in blossom, the fields are tilled and weeded, and everything smells fresh after the rains.
Phillip sees an old motorino on Pia's land just across the road, surrounded by tall yellow wildflowers. She is there with her son to weed-whack, but Phillip and Donna walk over and ask them if they can stop and let Phillip take photos of the motorino. They agree, looking somewhat perplexed, but Tia beams when Douglass gives her one of their calendars and she realizes that the motorino will be the focus of an upcoming postcard. We will be sure to give her several.
Felice comes by, and is very confused as he is introduced to Donna, "le donna". How can a woman be named "woman?" he wonders. We thank him for tilling the field for the tomatoes, which looks wonderful and he laughs with us and shows us the new flowers on our lemon tree before departing for home.
A few minutes later we have a real spring rain, and Phillip sits on the front steps with a cup of tea, just enjoying the scene. Inside I prep for cena, Maria Callas serenades us from the living room, Sofi plays with her dirty toys while Douglass photographs her and Donna reads.
All the while, Stefano and Luca have been inside hanging Maurizio's pepperino headers. I love the way they look, dark and old. When they have been cleaned up they will appear somewhat lighter, but they look wonderful. Stefano will return on Saturday morning to finish, and then Roy and I will spot paint around the headers.
After Stefano leaves, we light all the candles in the kitchen, and start our meal of bruschetta, followed by gnocchi in a tomato sauce, then grilled veal chops on beds of rugghetta, homemade olive and rosemary breads hot from the oven, poached pears with gorgonzola, fruit and brutti e buoni cookies. We love having our good friends visit, and especially love these three, who have experienced so many changes in this house with us in the three times they have visited.
It is so good to get into our own bed tonight. Even Sofi welcomes her old cage.
April 2
We're up early again, because this morning I have an appointment in Viterbo for my EKG, as part of the ongoing quest for solutions for my migraine headaches. It takes less than 30 minutes from the time I pay (€11,62) to obtaining the actual EKG and its results, which we will later take to Dottoressa.
While we have been gone, the power goes out as Phillip uses the hairdryer while the dishwasher is on its cycle. So while Roy is on the phone to Donna, they figure out how to get the power back on. We are so used to the Italian power system that we are not fazed. Donna tells Roy that Phillip needs to go to the doctor, so we get back home by 9:30 and Roy and Donna and Phillip go on to Chia to visit Dottoressa. Douglass and Sofi and I stay home and listen to the opera while the fog clears and the blue sky opens up a glorious vista of the Tiber Valley.
Phillip and Donna and Roy return with praises for the Italian medical system, and Dottoressa in particular, who impressed Phillip with her kind and helpful manner. Roy tells me later that she was particularly gracious and refused to accept payment for the visit.
We are able to relax on the terrace for a little while, and Donna offers to give me a shoulder and neck rub. I sit on a little stepstool in front of her, and we agree that my problem is some kind of degeneration in my neck and upper shoulders, that holds stress until it turns into a migraine. She remembers that my neck and shoulders were especially tender at the castle, when she offered to massage my shoulders during my last migraine. She asks me if I am worried about the brain scan I will get next week and I am not.
We are sorry to see these dear friends go, but have a quick and tasty pranzo here before Roy takes them to the train in the next town. When Roy returns, Dino and Mario are here and are sitting by the marble table on the terrace, relaxing and waiting for him. They have installed Dino's arch for the gate to the olive terrace, and it is beautiful. Once they have been paid and leave, we realize we need two more roses for that cancello as well as the two additional Paul Lede roses to finish framing the new stairs, so drive to Michellini in Viterbo to complete our purchases (magari!) for this year.
We are able to buy their last two Paul Lede roses, and tell Tiziana that we want a companion rose to the Mermaid that will not have spines, because two of them will get caught on people going in and out of the gate to the olive terrace. We settle on Rosa Banksia, a small white ancient rose that flowers in clusters. We also buy two small teucrium, plants that have grey leaves and beautiful pale lavender flowers that we will clip into rounds later this summer. Tomorrow I will organize the pattern of how all the new little plants will be laid out between the big rosemary bush on the wall and the lavender field.
Roy paints the four stakes on the new stairs black, and tomorrow we will plant everything that remains in pots. This past week we have been able to stay outside longer, now that our clocks have been turned forward, and the extra hour of afternoon daylight makes it easier to relax before our evening meal.
April 3
We wake up to thick fog and Stefano arrives around 9AM to finish the pepperino headers. He thinks it is going to rain, but I am happy to report that it does not. Instead, the fog clears and we have a partly overcast day, perfect for working in the garden. Rocks, rocks, rocks, where ever I dig in the lavender garden.
Before he leaves, Stefano goes over the plans with Roy and me, and gives us some very good ideas. We give him the OK to speak with Roberto Pangrazi next, and we will approve the final plans for Roberto to take to the commune for permit. That should take three or four months. No hurry. In the meantime, we will plan and put in the irrigation for the gardens, and he will bring in a tiny Bobcat to clear the land in the back of the house for a cement pad.
"The great French Marshall Lyautey once asked his gardener to plant a tree. The gardener objected that the tree was slow growing and would not reach maturity for 100 years. The Marshall replied, 'In that case, there is no time to lose; plant it this afternoon!'"
John F. Kennedy
While the Bobcat is here, he will clear the land next to the living room window. That means it will be time to either relocate or chop down the large nespola tree, which by now is almost as tall as the house. I should ask Tia if she wants it...She'll just have to find a way to take it out of here. If we keep it, we will have Mario and a couple of other men work with the Bobcat to dig out the root and carry it over the garden to the upper olive terrace. If it survives, that will be wonderful. If it does not, we will have a lot of firewood. Either way, we will have a much better view of the gardens from the living room and from our bedroom windows.
Felice comes by, and tells us that, years ago, he participated in the Holy Friday event in the village as Jesus in chains. He mimicked the sound of the drums beating as he took each step. We ask him how many years ago and he tells us "tanti". There was a big deal in this village then, and we hope that the procession will be resurrected, with so many adults participating in events in the village on weekends, even though most of them live in Rome during the week. We remind him that the procession and benediction is tomorrow morning, news we confirmed today when the church bulletin arrived in our mailbox.
Tonight we go to an expat party at Alan Briggs' house, hosted by Alan, Tia and Bruce. We bring appetizers, my favorite salmon and green olive tapenades with crostini, and enjoy seeing so many friends who are back in town this week. We do not mention tomorrow, Roy's Confraternity Benediction, but Alan later mentions how moved he is that the village has accepted Roy. We come home and go to bed with visions of little people wearing red cassocks in procession like the children's book, Make Way for Ducklings.
April 4
This is Roy's big day. We wake to fog and claims of showers this morning and sun in the afternoon. A few minutes before we join the procession inside the centro storico, I am sitting outside on the top of the stairs with Sofi and she starts to bark. Mauro is at the gate. He has come to let us know that the procession is early today, in case we did not read our church bulletin. We think he is Roy's mentor in all this and tell him we are on our way.
Once up in the square, members of the Confraternity begin to walk up the hill and down the narrow streets with their vestments in their little plastic bags. Roy has his in his own little bag. The members of the Confraternity enter the little church and put on their red and dark blue costumes. Roy stays outside with me near the steps, waiting for his cue.
We watch the women appear, one by one, with their olive branches, rather than palms. Today is Domenica delle Palme, or Palm Sunday. Almost everyone in the countryside has an olive tree, or access to one, and for those who do not there are plenty waiting outside the old church where we are to begin our little procession.
The momentum builds. Don Ciro arrives and dresses in a red vestment embroidered in gold thread and stands in the now open door of the main church. We see Don Luca arrive and when he comes out of the church tells us all to walk to the front steps of the old church to begin the ceremony.
We all file down the narrow street and there are people waiting there already in the misty morning light. The two priests stand on the steps behind the table of olive branches, and Don Luca tells us we are here today for two things...one is the benediction of the olives and one is the benediction of a new member of the Confraternity.
Whoever does not have an olive branch goes up to take one from the bunch sitting on the top of the little table in front of Don Luca. We have ours that Felice prepared for us yesterday in our garden. I have an extra one and give it to Marsiglia.
Without mentioning Roy's name, Don Luca looks over at Roy, who is standing behind me in front of Vincenzo's house. Mauro comes over and asks for Roy's costume. He takes it and holds it as though it is a priceless treasure in his outstretched arms and returns silently and expressionless to the left of Don Luca, facing him. Don Luca tells Roy to come forward and stand at his right.
I am reminded of a picture of Roy taken on the day of his first communion. He was dressed in white shorts, white socks and shoes, white shirt and white dress jacket without lapels. He looked so sweet and shy. Today Roy looks sweet and shy, but is really serious. Earlier I told Felice and Marsiglia that Roy was "come sposa" (like a bride). I am so proud of him.
A few days ago when Livio spoke with Roy about today, and yesterday when Mauro spoke with Roy, they both asked about who would be there to take pictures. Roy assured them that I would do the job, so I pretend no one is around and move up to take pictures of Roy nodding to Don Luca, Roy putting the red gown over his head, Roy adjusting the dark blue cape and red cintura around his waist...all with the help of the Confraternity members gathered around him.
Roy is not blessed by the priests but we are feeling surrounded by blessings. We all walk to the main church, Roy behind Don Luca and Don Ciro. Following Roy are two carabinieri we know...One is the man we call The Little King (who looks just like the children's storybook character in his ermine trimmed red cape) and the other is one of the two carabinieri who arrived at our house the day of the robbery last May. They must consider Roy important "property" worthy of protection.
Once in the church, Roy sits on the altar with the priests. When the prayers are repeated, he mouths the ones he does not know and I am silently smiling. He does not fake this well, but everyone knows he is trying. Gianfranco, as capo of the Confraternity, stands in front of the San Liberato banner and statue. The other members of the Confraternity are seated in the front pews.
During this whole process I am calm, and during the mass I watch Roy, who catches my eye a few times and smiles with his eyes. I wish his mother could be here to see this, but know she is watching and so very proud. When the few hymns are sung, I notice how wonderful the acapella voices reverberate up and around the apse, like a profusion of tiny bells. At the end of the last hymn, the familiar one we sing at the end of each mass, a wave of emotion comes over me and I silently weep.
" Deh, proteggi fra tanti perigli i tuoi figli o Regina del Ciel."
The mass ends, and I walk up to the front of the church. Lucia takes my arm and congratulates us. I kiss her and thank her, telling her this is "piu importante per noi". She responds, "Bravo!" It is time for a posed photo of Roy with San Liberato, and then he changes while I wait outside.
Marsiglia and Felice are there to greet us, and Tiziano and Rosita and Ennio and Mauro and Livio and Gioliola and Leondina and Italo......By now the sun is shining and we return home on a cloud of joy.
Once home, we scoop up Sofi and get in the car to drive to the antiquariato mercato on the first Sunday of each month just north of Spoleto. It is time for a quick walk through, and then we'll meet Dick and Pat Ryerson in Montefalco, here for a couple of weeks at their villa on one of their first trips after buying the house.
We remember they bought their villa after barely looking at it a few years ago, and we drove up after they were back in California to take pictures all around for them. Once we emailed the pictures, we heard back, "I didn't know we had a balcony off the master bedroom...I didn't know we had that...or that...or that!"
All these comments were uttered with delight...a delight that continues each day they are here. They have made many friends in Montefalco and the surrounding areas, but then again, they are exuberant themselves and express a joi de vivre so pure that it is difficult not to be drawn to them.
It is quite sunny and warm when we reach the mercato. This is our favorite one. We like it better than the huge Arezzo mercato on the same weekend of the month. Prices are not cheap, but there are some really special pieces. Last year, Roy passed up a metal bocce ball player that was too expensive, and this trip the woman who sold it later to someone else remembered him.
Further up the line, we see a carved frame of a tiny two-seater bench, beautifully restored and ready to be reupholstered. We don't have a place for it, nor a client yet that can use it, but it is a real find.
Roy buys a kitch ceramic of two basottos in love, I buy an excellent book on Giotto, and we buy a crucifix with a black wood cross that Maurizo tells us later is at least two hundred years old, for not a lot of money. There are two pieces we'd love to buy but cannot afford: one is a framed watercolor architectural drawing of a garden done by a landscape architect, including descriptions done in Italian script. The design is geometrical, Italianate and quite old. The paper has been folded and the folds are yellowed. The edges are not square.
The other piece is an oil painting of a young Roman. It is beautifully painted, and although I'd like it better without the frame, the price of €1,200 is more than we can spend. There is always something special at these markets. So whether we buy something or not, we love exploring and learning about old pieces. If our business takes hold, we will buy these kinds of things in the future for our clients. Soon our website will have a blog for photos of items like these. For now, we just enjoy them for the moment and move on.
Sofi is hot and we must leave for Montefalco. We pick up a lug of fresh strawberries to share with Pat and Dick at a roadside truck parked near our car and drive the few minutes to meet them in the town square.
We are taken by Pat and Dick for pranzo at a nearby trattoria, which we fall in love with. Patrizia, the owner, speaks very slowly and we are able to understand everything she has to say. We are shown to a table downstairs where it is cool, and have her homemade soup of ceci beans and broth, a creamy egg and fresh asparagus sauté, bruschetta, cicoria, cheeses and mostarda, lots of local wine and a special sagratino after pranzo drink to have with biscotti.
We leave with full stomachs and a bottle of the sagratino. We will surely return. Patrizia and her husband have a special friendship with Dick and Pat and we think that they will be sorry when their kitchen is finished and they won't have to eat out all the time. But we really want to see their kitchen, which will be finished in a day or two.
Their kitchen turned out really well, and we see them having many fun meals cooking and entertaining at home. It is fun to see the house now, and the changes they have made. Sofi likes it, too, and races all over their back lawn through the freshly cut grass.
We drive home very tired, but are not back at home for ten minutes before the doorbell rings and it is Maurizio and Umi, coming to see how the pepperino headers look. They come in for a drink, and over wine and cheese and sliced hard salami they inspect today's purchases at the mercato and tell us about the latest news in Giove at the restaurant. It definitely will not open before Pasqua, but we agree to all go there together.
Once they leave, we are so tired that we feel like just deflated balloons, and close the book on a very memorable day.
April 5
The morning is overcast, and we sleep in, because we are not expecting anyone. After we do get up, we start to faux the kitchen in the areas around the pepperino. When it's time for pranzo, we have finished three coats of paint. It will take another day or two to finish, because the work is best done in morning natural light. We will leave the living room as it is, until the room itself is painted. We are not in a hurry for that.
Sixty-one little pomodori plants grow happily in the guest bedroom window. Fortified by a tall piece of white Styrofoam to bounce the daylight back onto the plants, we notice their changes daily. Felice has done such a good job turning over the earth in the tomato field, and is such a good teacher, that we are assured of a good crop this year.
In another week or so we will transplant the growing plants into larger pots, and only at the very end of April or beginning of May will they be transported outside. These tomatoes do not seem to grow as quickly as those planted last year. We are not in a hurry. Last year we had so many, and they were all ready at the same time. Perhaps we will plant them in stages, one group a week. Stay tuned...
Outside in the garden, we notice that the roses are really thriving. A good dose of food and ample rain has helped. Now it is up to me to watch to make sure that the rain and not enough sun will cause the roses to attract unwanted pests. So I'll begin spraying with a mixture of mild soap and water soon and pick up the few yellow spotted leaves I find.
The beginning of April marks the beginning of spring in a way, because Pasquetta, Easter Monday, is the traditional day for city-bound families to head out into the country and have a picnic. We see people everywhere busily getting ready for Pasqua. But we are sure not to make plans for Monday, because the roads will be jammed. Instead, we will have a picnic of our own here in Mugnano.
Mugnano will be flooded with relatives and part-timers from Rome this weekend. On the afternoons, scores of them will walk by our house on their afternoon passagiatta and we are sure to have some visitors. The neighbors are acting less tentatively with us, and this weekend we will probably even open our gate in welcome when we are out in the garden.
On Sunday, we will have abbacchio, baby lamb, which is another tradition in Italy. I won't go into it because it will likely turn me into a vegetarian, but let's just say it is excellent and only available in Spring. Roy drives to a special butcher in Giove who raises his own animals and orders a leg of Spring lamb, to be ready on Saturday afternoon.
On the road to Amelia this morning, we pass a man getting into his car on the side of the road with an enormous handful of wild asparagus. Everywhere, Italians pick this remarkable, very thin and delicate looking green. I tell Roy to take Felice for a drive some day to learn where to go to find it and how to pick it. Judith tells us they thrive in ditches where there is rain runoff.
I do know that it is lawful for people to walk onto other people's property on the side of the road to pick fresh herbs and vegetables, and recall last summer that on a ride from Lake Vico that there were cars parked outside professionally grown hazelnut orchards and people picking up fallen nuts that had fallen by the side of the road. We are yet to eat our hazelnuts from last year's crop, but they have dried enough and we will use them soon.
April 6
Time again to see Danieli about my hair, and we arrive early, in case there are a lot of people to get their hair done for Pasqua. I am the first. Danieli does not make appointments, so if I am not first I may have to wait awhile. Luckily today I do not.
While doing my hair, Danieli tells me that he will be in this Friday's Pasqua program at the local church. For the past ten years, he has taken on the role of one of the two evil men hung up with Jesus on crucifixes on Good Friday. He does look a little sinister, and for now does not have any bleached strips in his hair. We are sorry that we cannot see him, nor can we witness the other extraordinary procession in Orte, because Roy will be in our procession on Friday evening in Mugnano. From now on, when there is a Confraternity event, he will be here.
I am always struck at how the young Italians take on the mantle of tradition in their home towns. Not cool, would be the thinking in the US. Not so here. Young boys dress up in tights and costumes for elaborate processions, and in this case take on roles of historical figures with pride.
We drive to Amelia for work for Judith, and then come home for pranzo. It is so cold that we do not go out in the garden this afternoon. Instead, Roy drives to Viterbo to find two faucets for Judith (the ones ordered with the sinks are wrong) and Sofi and I stay home and take a dolce fa niente (afternoon nap).
Roy is especially good at this project management. We are determined that we can pick up the slack if a supplier does not give us what we order for a client, and this is a good example. The kitchen supplier kept the faucets from us instead of letting us know that the faucets that came in are not the same we ordered. We only found out when we asked for them to talk with the plumber about them before the sinks and counters are installed tomorrow. We like the supplier and will use them again. We are always vigilant and will continue to be so.
Judith is about out of time. She leaves on Thursday to visit her relatives south of Rome and will only be here for one day after her visit to them before she flies back to California. Tomorrow, Roy will hang sconces, work with the electrician, the plumber, the marble installer, the kitchen installer, to make sure everything is just right. In between, he will hang pictures, curtain rods, chip a little wall away in a closet to make room for a cabinet and do whatever else she needs.
I am on the phone and see Felice walk by the kitchen window. Roy goes out to see him and I follow in a few minutes. He picks bietola for us in the raised bed above the parcheggio, and I will make a soup with it tonight. While he is there, he bends over and plucks weeds. This is a never-ending project. He laughs when I tell him that I spent two days picking rocks from the lavender garden and think they have grown back already.
I walk him over to the new steps and ask him if he likes them. He does, and we walk up the seven stairs to see his potatoes sprouting...We count them off and find all 27. It is as if we are his grandchildren, and he is showing us a new treasure. When I ask him what the people in the village think of Roy as a member of the Confraternity, he tells us it is a good thing. Roy is now a paisan and I am a paisana. He could tell me we just won the lottery and I could not be happier.
April 7
Roy leaves at dawn for Amelia, and lazy Sofi wants to stay in bed. We do get up, and I look around for all my medical files, to take to Dottoressa. She has office hours in the village on Wednesday mornings, and I leave Sofi at home in her little cage for an hour and walk up to the centro storico.
Today is market day in Mugnano. It is a silly excuse for a market, with Big Tonino sitting outside Ernesta's Tabacci behind stacks of shoes, a porchetta and meat truck and a table of clothing. Yesterday the fruit and vegetable truck came to town, so there is something coming almost every day to this little village.
Dottoressa and I discuss all the latest findings and agree to wait until the last tests are taken and we return to Perugia to make any final determinations. I come home and Sofi and I work in the lavender garden for a while, digging up those pesky rocks.
Roy arrives home for an hour to have pranzo and get more tools. He will spend the rest of the day back at Judith's, supervising and working on various projects. While he is gone, Sofi and I work outside some more, and then come inside to change for cena. Judith is taking us for dinner at NonnaPappa, in Orte.
Roy comes in with Judith after dark, and they are both tired. All the work is done, or at least all that can be done today. We will return to the apartment tomorrow while she is visiting her relatives for Pasqua and I will see the results then. There is still work to do, and we will probably do that when she is back in California. For the first trip, she has made remarkable progress. Roy tells me that her apartment is really looking lived in.
Fidelia, who is the chef and owner of NonnaPappa, loves Sofi. So does her Jack Russell Terrrier who loves her a little too much. Judith brings Bianca, her dog, and the dogs are given free reign of the restaurant, along with a couple of other dogs of Fidelia's. More dogs hang out outside, and in people's cars. After dinner, there is a cacophony of howling when we go to our cars. We even run in to Jill and Mario and her mother and her mother's friend. Then it's time to take Judith and Bianca to Amelia before returning to Mugnano under a bright egg-yolk of a moon, low in the sky.
April 8
Today there will be two medical appointments; one with Dr. Lucchetti, the bone specialist for my shoulder and migraines, and later the brain scan at the big hospital in Viterbo.
Dr. Lucchetti is very forceful. When he asks me if I have gone to the fisiotherapia in Orte, I say yes, but Roy tells him I went five times (instead of the prescribed ten). I thought they were a waste of time. Instead, I have been going to Alice for massages, which have really helped. He is not happy with me that I did not follow his instructions to the letter.
Regarding my headaches, I show him the x-ray of my jaw, and he comes around and presses hard at the top of my jaw on either side of my head. "Does it hurt?" Of course it hurts, I think he is practicing "tormetare" with me.
He tells me I need a mouth guard, and asks me where we live. When I tell him, he wants me to see Dr. Fagioli. I tell him my doctor is Dottoressa, but he pretends not to hear me. I must go to Dr. Fagioli, for he is a specialist. Boh!
Driving home, Roy agrees that we should see Dottoressa first, and she has office hours this morning in Chia. When I do go to see her, she looks at me and rolls her eyes. If I do go to Dr. Fagioli (also known as Dr. Bean), the mouth guard will be very expensive. Very, VERY expensive. In other words, both doctors may be members of the same good old boy network. Instead, Dottoressa give me a prescription to go to the orthodontist clinic in Viterbo.
In the afternoon, we drive to Amelia and install a couple of simple lights in Judith's bedroom, while Cupido and his assistant re-channel walls in the living room and install the bigger sconces. They are so beautiful. I remember that they were the first items we found after taking on this assignment in December. The curve of the metal below the shade is the same gold curve on the edges of the ceiling frescos.
The room takes on an added elegance, which will be further enhanced with the addition of the beautiful tall carved mirror we found for her a couple of weeks ago. She agrees today that she wants it, and the antique restorer can deliver it on Tuesday, after having a beveled glass inserted in its carved wooden frame.
From there, we drive to the hospital in Viterbo. This huge hospital looks as though the building of it went to the lowest bidder. The cement faccia looks old and dirty. The floors are bumpy and duct tape and bumps are everywhere we walk. The building seems clean, just badly built. But when we find the room we are to go to, the space-ship looking machine for my brain scan looks very up to date. In five minutes, I am through, and the results will be ready next week.
On the Bomarzo road, we are stopped by Marshallo Zamponi, the head Carabinieri in Bomarzo. He wants to see a copy of our original Telepass contract. Roy tells him he will bring it in to the office tomorrow. We are never stopped by our "pals" for them to look at our documents...They always wave us on. We later find out why...
Today is Holy Thursday, and we have time to go to mass, so we drop Sofi off before driving into the village. At communion, we are given wafers dipped in wine. When it is my turn, I am somehow quite moved. The church is so silent and solemn this evening. There is time to sit quietly and think after returning to our seats. We read the gospel in our English missal and somehow time stands still. We are transported thousands of years back in time.
Don Luca does not arrive until the very end of the mass, so that traditional foot-washing of the priest does not take place. The older priest who we like very much performs the service, but we still do not understand all his words. The priests and Livio do take everything down from the altar, and light special candles on the floor. The mass ends silently and we return home, having time to think of the magnitude of this day and this weekend.
April 9
I feel a silence when I get up that hangs over us. Perhaps it is the overcast sky. Perhaps it is the day, Good Friday, known in Italy as Holy Friday. Tonight Roy will participate for the first time in the mass.
Roy takes the Telepass document in to the Carabinieri in Bomarzo, and Zamponi shows Roy a thick file on his desk. Going through it, he shows him document after document...."Diner....Diner....Diner...." We have no idea what is going on, but their file of our robbery last year is about all the action they are getting these days...
Roy also brings in an article from a local newspaper all about a ring of Albanian robbers who break into homes and take cars and cell phones and money...sound familiar? He tells Roy he does not think these men are the same who robbed our house but knows about them.
Today there is rain off and on, and the highlight of the day is a visit to Alice in Amelia for a massage. I have not seen her in a couple of weeks. During a conversation, we figure out a number of things: 1) a mouth guard will not really help me...2) she can work on the muscles of my face above my jaw and aleve stress there instead...3) I will also go to another friend of Tia's who is a doctor specializing in herbal medicine.
It is imperative that I find a way to stop taking Imigran for my migraine headaches...Now that I have the translation of the report from the hospital in Perugia, I realize that I am at risk for heart problems unless I stop taking these meds pronto...We agree that this Dr. Lucchetti does not give the Italian Medical System a good name. Of course my head hurts when he applies too much pressure on the sides of my face above my jaw line....So although I'll keep my appointment next Wednesday with the clinic, I don't see a need for anything else from them.
I can't recommend going to an expert massage person enough. The pains in my shoulder
and my neck are remarkably better, and I call Tiziana to say hello and to let her know I am ready to take violin lessons again. Roy comes in for the end of my session and Alice gives him some pointers so that he can begin to give me a bit of a massage himself.
Later in the day he tells me that he wants to try to go to Alice for his back problems when he stands. I am hooked on her, and think it is a good thing that Roy tries her as well. At €20 for an hour-and-a-half session, she is irresistible.
I want to make pasta with little clams using a tiny pasta in the shape of a cup, called orrechetti (ears). Once I cook the clams, I take a tiny set of tongs for ice and instead use them to de-shell the cooked clams. Once that is done, I can dump the pasta in the sauce and we can have it while it is still hot. Being served pasta with clams never is a great success, because by the time I take the clams out of their shells the pasta is cold. This pasta is especially wonderful, because the juice from the tiny clams sits in the bowl of each piece of pasta. With home-made rosemary and olive oil bread hot from the oven, Roy is fortified for his debut as a Confraternity member at tonight's church program.
Well, it is raining as we drive up to church, and we don't know what this means for the procession. Roy takes his little bag into the sacristy and dresses with his "brothers". When they all come out, Roy sits in the front row between Mauro and Enzo, Tiziano's father. But there is to be no procession tonight, so Roy has no job to do.
At the end of the mass, Roy and I drive home and Roy takes out the list of holy days where he will be dressed. The next day will be April 24th, which is the feast day of San Anselmo. San Anselmo is the patron saint of Bomarzo, our town. (Mugnano is a frazione of Bomarzo, which is something like a neighborhood.) This will be the day before the Palio in Bomarzo, and we will certainly be there.
April 10
Holy Saturday begins with an overcast blanket of clouds above us again. We surely are getting lots of rain for the garden, but are hoping that we will have some sunny days soon. Tiziano comes for a visit, and we sit around the kitchen laughing and talking in front of the fire. Yes, we have a fire today, although we thought it was time to put all the wood away. The weather is cool and a beautiful fire in the fireplace takes the edge off the cold day.
We are learning more names of the people, and names of the Confraternity members, but mostly talk about Tiziano's archaeological finds and his quest to find a suitable place in Mugnano to house them where they can be on view for the public. We also share some ideas about how wonderful it would be to have a little bar in the village, for coffee and as a meeting place.
We all agree that our bocce court, if it is built, will be a wonderful addition to the village. We are still looking for someone to design the court and give us guidance before taking the plans to the local town council.
We then spend a few hours working in the garden. Those rocks just seem to grow. Today is the third day I have raked the soil around the lavender, and I swear there are new rocks where yesterday there was beautifully raked soil.
We also agree on a design for a mattone border between the lavender and the tufa wall where the huge rosemary plant grows, and drive to Gadi in Attigliano to buy the mattone. At home, Roy starts the job, and we rig up a string for a plumb line. You would think we knew what we were doing...
Mass is late tonight, and although we are tired we go anyway. The mass is long, but it feels good to be there. I am frustrated that I do not know all the words, but we have read the missal in English to review the basic information. Tonight, there is the candle lighting, and a tiny fire is built outside the church, where the first candle is lit. From there, we all enter the dark church, and from the rear of the church candles are lit, and then the light is passed from person to person until the whole church is lit by candle light.
I miss Father Rossi's Easter masses at San Rafael's in California, but by next year hope to understand the language well enough to be comfortable with the homily and the mass itself here. For now, we know most of the responses and prayers and our four hymns by heart.
Walking home, the dark sky is clear and the stars glow overhead, making the universe seem so very big. We think about the Resurrection, and I wonder about what life must be like for people who do not believe...Without hope, without something out there to believe in, life must be very empty.
April 11
We walk up to Easter mass, and it does not rain, although the sky is dark and the air feels damp. A neighbor calls out, "Auguroni!" (which we later figure out is a great big greeting.) Adding "oni" on the end of the word makes the word much bigger, as adding "ini" makes it smaller.
Don Luca is here for mass, and I am impressed. This is his littlest church, but he gives us every consideration. He darts back and forth from Bomarzo to Mugnano in his motorcycle or his black station wagon like the wind...He is a great, great priest and we are so fortunate to have him. Although he appears quite young (under 40), he speaks and sings with conviction and really knows what to do at every turn.
Today, the church is full, and we see friends we have not seen for a long time here, including Stefania, Claudio's sister. She is lovely, and sadly is losing her apartment in Mugnano. It has been sold. We see her walk with Dani by our house on their way to Claudio's after we return home. By then, Sofi is outside and barks to let them know she is boss...at least until someone comes in the gate for a visit...
We spend most of the day in the garden, after finishing the painting in the kitchen. Roy is willing to let me step up on the ladder, and I remember the coaching we received years ago from the Day Studio about doing paint treatments on walls...Sponging in a drift pattern, using a random direction, works wonders.
We are able to finish three layers in less than two hours. Since we have a very small space to cover, we feel great satisfaction when we step back and think Patsy Braebent, who did the original wall treatment, will approve.
After pranzo, I go back out to the garden to rake rocks and rocks and more rocks from around the lavender. This cool weather is a blessing after all. Roy completes the mattone project, and it really looks beautiful. We will plant the rest of the roses, santolina and teucrium tomorrow if it does not rain. In between raking, I take kitchen scissors and trim boxwood. I like this approach instead of using big clippers. The result is more natural, less like a crew cut... The garden is looking really great....REALLY.
Tonight I'm too tired to make the big Easter pranzo we planned, so we defrost a lasagna and tomorrow I will make the pranzo we planned for today. After dinner, we get out cards and play Scopa. We are not very good at it, but it is fun, and it is better than sitting around watching TV all night.
April 12
We did not go to church this AM. Today is Pasquetta, but puor troppo, it is not a day for a picnic. The traditional day for picnics will have to wait. We are told that in Italy,
"Natale con i tuoi, Pasqua con chi vuoi" (Christmas is for the relatives, but Pasqua is for whomever you want.) Perhaps that is why Mario and Fulvia and Paola are here in town without their parents for the long weekend.
The rain continues all day. I cook for most of the morning, including a chocolate cake, spring lamb in a lemon-egg yolk sauce, roast potatoes and stuffed baked carciofe alla Romana. Served with a big red wine, I am happy to sit down when the cooking is finished.
I will cook this meal again, and will vary the recipes. Too much broth in the lamb, potatoes cooked just a minute too much, artichokes not baked long enough. But Roy seems to like it all very much, and there is plenty left to eat for another meal. And the chocolate cake is just right.
The lamb and the artichoke recipes are old Roman recipes, and I am taking a risk. I will make this meal for Lore and Alberto, who are not only Roman but extremely knowledgeable about good food. Lore and Roy share the same birthday, so I want to cook a birthday pranzo to celebrate all our birthdays...Alberto's in late February, mine in mid March, and Lore and Roy's on April 20th.
It would please me so if I could cook a successful Roman meal for them. I remember cooking lemon risotto for Claudio to rave reviews, so feel pretty confident that I can pull off this meal for our dear friends next week. We will see...
We hear from Pat and Dick, and may see if we can help them with a septic challenge. We think we are Italian experts on septic tanks. They leave for California on Wednesday, and although they were here for two weeks, we were only able to connect with them once. We look forward to seeing them again when they return in June.
After pranzo, Sofi and Roy and I walk up to the village in the soft rain. Sofi wears her little raincoat, and shoosh-shooshes as her little legs move against the little lined red coat. On our way back, we pass Lydia's and she tells us that the lottery will be held in a minute in the village square.
We walk back up with her, and about thirty minutes later, the lottery takes place in the old school. Luckily we do not win anything. There is a stuffed dog that looks like a giant Sofi, an alarm clock, a suitcase, some clothes, food...and we have another opportunity to see some of our neighbors and practice our Italian.
Back at home, we play some more scopa and end the day quietly.
April 13
I tried not to dwell on it over the weekend, but this morning we return to Amelia to the eyeglass store for a retest. Saturday we had a disastrous experience when going to pick up my glasses. Not only were they not tinted the correct color, they were bifocals instead of progressive lenses, and worst of all the prescription was wrong.
The young woman chattered away at me like an angry little bird until I went outside to bring Roy in to talk with her. I was determined to have a successful outcome. Without the correct tint, the glasses are merely ordinary. And of course I must be able to see correctly through them.
When we enter the little store today, she looks at me and beams, while reaching out for my hand. It appears that over the weekend she came to her senses. She tells us that she has worried about the situation and now wants it to work.
I show her my old glasses, and she checks them against the old prescription. Yes, they are progressive lenses after all. She agrees to resubmit a correct prescription, this time for progressive lenses in the correct shade of blue. When Roy asks what time tomorrow they will be ready, we all laugh. Next Tuesday, magari!, they will be ready...
After several requests from friends and relatives for information, here is some background on the Confraternity of San Liberato, and Roy's introduction to it:
Roy was first asked to join the Confraternity in our village after he made such a big hit as Babbo Natale (Santa Claus) at Christmas time. And that "gig" came because Roy was asked to be "Babbo" in a nearby much larger town, Orte, where my violin teacher lives and performs musical events with the children of the town. When asked by the local senior member of our church here in our village why he was doing this in Orte, Roy responded, "Because I was asked!"
So then Roy was asked to be Babbo here in Mugnano last Christmas Eve and then I think they naturally thought he was a volunteering type of guy. The Confraternity gig came from that. Eat your heart out, Mountain Play!
Roy is one of 25 members of the Confraternity of San Liberato the Martyr (San Liberato is our patron saint) in our village. At least fifteen of the Confraternity members do not live here full time. They were either born here or have relatives here or live part time either here or in Bomarzo, the town of which our village is a part.
There are only 52 households in Mugnano, and around 80 people live here full time. Most of them are at least 70. During feast days, the town swells to about 130. On those days, you have to get up early to take a shower, because by the time 8 AM rolls around, there is no water pressure....
Here's some Confraternity background: In Italy, there are men in every town and village who act as silent workers to help the priest on special days (feast days, holidays, etc.) On many of these days, there is a procession, and the men carry the town or village's saint on a bier, or a huge crucifix or the Confraternity banner, or other items.
Their role is solemn, and in their special costumes lead the men and women of the village in a huge procession following the priest. If you have seen any old Italian movies with processions, you can imagine us in one of them and that is what it is like.
There are also processions for every funeral, every wedding, but the Confraternity does not participate in them. We participate in all of them because we are part of the fabric of the village and want to be as much a part of the village as we can. There are about five funerals here a year, and the processions go from the little church in the village square, down the hill to Via Mameli, past our house, further down the hill and then up to the cemetery.
As a matter of fact, the Klu Klux Klan has patterned their hooded costumes after Confraternities in Spain, which are similar to those in Italy. The white hooded costumes are used only on Holy Friday, and larger cities and towns have white hooded men dressed to carry the crucifix in a procession on that evening. Our village does not have the white hooded contingent. The Klan took the idea of the costumes and changed them to signify whatever it is they do for totally different reasons. The Costumes of Confraternities are colorful, and generally do not include hoods.
We hope this information is helpful. We continue to research what the Confraternity means, and this is yet another subject for us to learn more about.
The rain finally stops, and we walk out in the dark to the lavender garden with Sofi before going to bed. Up above the potatoes growing in the upper garden, we hear an owl, or a loon, or some kind of winged creature, calling out as though it has lips and is forming a long "ooooooooooo" sound. Wish we knew more about identifying birds, and owls...Let's add that as yet another subject to learn about. So much is new to us, so much of life is a mystery...
April 14
Rain again, and it's time to visit the orthodontic specialist at the hospital in Viterbo. Just as I thought, he checks out my jaw and writes a prescription for me to get a mouth guard. I bore him, and take him away from reading today's paper. Instead of making an appointment for the mouth guard, I file it away and we go home instead.
Alice will work with me on the muscles around my jaw, and I think this will be much more effective than a guard. I have another session with Alice and wish I could go to her every day. The results are remarkable, and she gives me exercises to do for my neck and jaw.
We cannot resist little gifts for our grandchildren, two girls who are expected in the middle of June. The shop we find in Viterbo, Prima Sogni (First Dreams), is delightful, and of course we come away with two dresses and tiny slippers with butterfly bows that we will mail to our angels.
April 15
The weather finally clears, and we are able to plant three roses and do some weeding. An email comes in from Marilyn Smith that she is planting her heirloom tomatoes. Ours will not be ready to plant for at least two weeks. Although we planted our seeds two weeks later than Marilyn, she has been working overtime to get them going like Jack's beanstalk.
I can finally spray the roses. That means a mixture of: 1 litre of water, one small glass of denatured alcohol and two spritzes of liquid soap, all in a spray bottle. We have so many roses that I have to remix this potion at least three times, but am able to find a few leaves curling up with critters inside. The liquid works wonders. I do not want to resort to chemical means. The Lady Hillington roses on the front path are already blossoming.
When Felice comes later in the afternoon, I take him around to show him our latest handiwork. But up in the potato patch, I see that the peach tree has curly leaf disease.
Felice tells me I can use the same potion that I used on the roses, so I mix up a batch and he and I spray the tree. He assures me that it will be fine.
Below us, Sofi bounds all around the lavender garden, throwing her head back and tossing her little stuffed dog in the air, over and over again. She darts back and forth, loving the running and the company. In less than an hour, it begins to rain again, so we go back inside to a warm fire and the couch in the kitchen.
April 16
Diego called us a few days ago, and we miss not seeing him. We want to see how his new construction project is going outside Orvieto. He has purchased two old casales and is completely restoring them on spec, hoping to find buyers. We are interested to see them because he is a good friend and also has such good taste. We also think we should be aware of them in the event we come across anyone who might want to purchase one. At this point, if someone buys one or both of them before they are finished, we can work with the new buyer to help them get their homes finished as well.
We drive to Diego's first, and it is raining. We drive to the location in his fierce old Fiat, which can get up the hill with no problem. He has driven over 500,000 kilometers on this car, and it is still going strong. It is a good thing that Sofi is at home, because a construction site in the rain is a real mess. Today is no exception. But the first house, which has three-bedrooms, should be ready by July. It is really a work of art. The views of rolling green hillsides are beautiful from each room. Driving up, we are flanked by 100 cypress trees. Diego really knows how to frame a location. We will have pictures of the house on our site soon.
We ask about his daughter, Serena, who we like very much. She is studying to be a chef with Paul Boucuse in Lyon, France, and was home for a few days. When we ask about her old boyfriend, Diego tells us that that relationship is finished, and he is happy about that. Enrico is compared to a piece of Baccala, a stiff piece of dried fish. Funny, coming from Serena's father, a young 72-year-old. I think Serena is 19.....
A call comes in from the eyeglass shop in Amelia, and they need to take another measurement. We drive up, and on our way hear from Tia that it is time to put their old dog, Ivy, to sleep. Try as she might, she is unable to find a vet to put Ivy to sleep. So the daughter of a neighbor, who is a vet in Rome, will do this on Monday. Ivy can hardly breathe. It is sad for Tia and Bruce, but Ivy is probably relieved.
Italy is a strange place when it comes to pets. They love them, but abandon them without a second thought. And they don't kill them, or have them neutered, just let them fend for themselves. There are numerous places that have hundreds of unwanted dogs running around, called Canile Municipales. This country is in the Stone Age in this respect. We remember going to a few of them before purchasing Sofi, to try to find a small dog. It all worked out for us, but we cannot forget the sad site of so many abandoned dogs.
On the way to Amelia, we stop at the Giove castle, to find out when the restaurant will open. John Band is there, the owner from California, and he invites us to come on Sunday, opening day. We will drop by to see what it is like, and will probably return for a meal with Tia and Bruce or Maurizio and Umi.
Don Francis calls from Padova. He is leading a religious tour from San Francisco, and we think we will see him in a week or so. We tell him about the Palio on April 25, Italian Liberation Day, and perhaps he and Cornelio will come for a visit and sleep over. Looks like we should plan a big dinner after the Palio, with Alan, Tia, Don Francis, Cornelio at least...Roy will be in a procession in Bomarzo the day before in honor of Bomarzo's patron saint, San Anselmo. And then the Palio, Sienna's out of town tryout for a few of the horses will take place on the 25th. Tia can't wait for a repeat performance. We are sorry that Bruce will miss it again this year.
April 17
This rain just goes on and on, day after day. We see a program on TV about Global Warming, and perhaps that has something to do with the very weird weather. For an hour or so the rain stops and Sofi and I go out in the garden...she to romp in the lavender field and me to clip more boxwood. I am amazed that we now have 91 individual boxwood plants, each shaped in a ball. How did this happen?
Well, Sarah first put in forty at the end of 1998, twenty on either side of the front stairs. When we began the front wall project, we extended the front wall. Those boxwood on the side of the stairs that were affected were moved closer to the lavender. When the wall was completed, there was room for twice as many boxwood to complete the design on the front terrace and it was not safe to move the boxwood back.
So we had twenty from before that were moved to another part of the garden, and we also planted eleven taller oval boxwoods as a kind of wind break between the lavender and the front wall, in addition to the forty new boxwood and the original twenty. We also have four short boxwood hedges.
I really love boxwood, and now clip them with small kitchen scissors, instead of the larger Felco shears I used to use. This way they don't look as though they have crew-cuts. But it takes much more time. I use this exercise as a kind of meditation time, clipping only a few plants at a time. My mind wanders, I clip, I stand back, clip a few more...This is one of my recurring activities.
Tonight before going to bed, I hear the owls calling out loud and long, even through the closed bedroom window. After the rain they seem especially loud. I feel they are guarding us, always calling from the same spot above the olive grove. Otherwise, it is so silent here.
April 18
We think the attendance at mass today is at an all-time low. There are only twelve of us in the church at mass time. But no priest. We hear some rumblings outside, and Don Ciro appears, followed by about ten parishioners. So we have a small group, but everyone sings loudly and it is good to be here.
After mass, we pick up Sofi and drive to the outside mercato in Viterbo, held on the third Sunday of each month. It is cold, but the rain has not reappeared, although the sky is menacing. I find a tiny old modo di dire plate from DeRuta. We have been collecting these little plates for years, but gave away a lot of them for gifts before finding out that they are no longer made. So finding them is part of our ongoing treasure search. It cost all of €6.
From Viterbo, we drive north to Montefiascone, overlooking Lago di Bolsena. Today is the end of a ten-day antique mercato, and we are able to pick up a very old framed piece for the kitchen at a rock bottom price. Perhaps it is because it is raining and also is the last day of the mercato. Perhaps it is because I use my negotiating trick of naming a price and looking and smiling, without saying another word. We take 1/3 off the price and Roy looks at me amazed that the seller actually caves in.
I am rather amazed myself, liking the experience more than the actual piece. It is a still life, well done, but not particularly important. It will complete the back wall of the kitchen. Some day we will replace the little painting with a better piece and will restore the frame. But it looks fine for now, and we like it.
Unfortunately, it means moving a sconce from the side wall near the fireplace to the other side of the painting, which will create a mess on the back wall and we will have to repaint there. Roy is not happy and we spend an hour or two sulking...Roy about opening up the wall to run electrical and me because he wanted to just use an extension cord....
We can't stay angry at each other for long, and wind up in the garden, weeding as the sun comes out. Sofi runs around on three paws, her front right paw hurting somehow. I cannot find anything wrong with it, but know she is not pretending. A few hours ago, when spraying the roses on the front path again, Baschia and his master walked by and we took both dogs off their leads so that they could play. Sofi did not run much, mostly laid down by the front path. We will take her to Dr. Cristalli tomorrow if she is not better.
Roy and Sofi and I sit on the bench in the lavender garden to take a break, and in about five minutes we hear noise at the front cancello. It is Felice, so we all move to the front terrace and sit with him in front of the living room window. For about half an hour he talks away, and we figure out some of what he is saying.
There is one particularly interesting segment, in which he tells us that every leap year, the months of March and April are cold and rainy, so very little planting is done in those years. That may be correct, but he thinks Leap Year is every five years. It feels good to correct him, and he nods and responds, "Ah, Beh!" with a roll of his right hand, as though scooping up a handful of petals right in front of his chest.
He is always a happy man, but complains today about the village festas, held on the first weekend of May. Each year, a new person is in charge, and lottery tickets are sold in advance, but the prizes are cheap and not very good. Our favorite prize one year was an entire prosciutto, which sat on a chair while the band concert played in front of it, as though it was watching the off-key musicians. Chairs were at a premium, and most people stood. So the chair seemed to laugh out loud at the people congregating around it, like a tuba, "ho, ho, ho"...
Felice tells Roy that Marsiglia thinks Roy should be in charge of the festa. Groan. I tell Roy later that when the bocce court is ready, he can be in charge and we will christen the court then. That should give us a few more years to stall....
April 19
Sofi is not better, so we drive to Terni, and Dr. Cristalli's associate, the tiny young Dottoressa is there. She once drew blood by mistake from one of Sofi's nails when we asked her to clip them and does not like that exercise. So when we show her Sofi's paw, she tells us that one of her nails is roto (broken) and has to be clipped back further than the break. Yikes!
Who is more upset, Dottoressa or Sofi or me? Sofi's little body is shaking like the machine in a paint store that mixes the cans of paint after the formula is done. I can feel myself turning green with Sofi in my arms. Roy seems like the only sane one. Dottoressa calls out, "uno, due, TRE!" and then Sofi follows right behind... "WHHOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
A little iodine, a cotton swab and a bandage, and we are done. This visit is free. Yes, free. She even gives us some iodine to take home to swab her paw tonight.
On the way home, Tia calls and we all start to laugh when I explain that we have just left the vet because Sofi broke a nail. No wonder she is sometimes called Principessa. Sofi feels much better, although sleeps most of the day, probably because of the shock in the vet's office.
And yes, it rains again...On a quick trip to Amelia to finish a quick project for Judith, we come out of her place to see the rains of Ranchipoor. I am imagining Tia, thinking, "All this rain, and nowhere to store it for the summer. Drat."
April 20
This is Roy's turn. It is his birthday, and yesterday I bought a ripe avocado, called a Mango in the local Coop market (!), quasi-sour cream, green onions, nacho chips, ground meat. Roy is hankering for Mexican food and a few weeks ago bought a Taco kit. I will make guacamole and salsa and we will have chips and then make tacos. You have no idea how exciting this is to Roy, after five months straight of nothing but Italian food. I suppose even paradise gets old after awhile....
The meal itself is lots of fun. I make a chocolate cake in the morning while he is out doing errands, and do all the chopping and prep work for the tacos. The actual meal is like a party. Although I was never a fan of Mexican food, I admit it tastes quite good.
This afternoon Roy drills through the back wall of the kitchen...It is 50cm thick. He has the tool...a 60 cm drill...and wants to get the other sconce moved in time for pranzo on Thursday. Lore and Roy share a birthday, and she and Alberto will arrive in Mugnano on Thursday for an extended visit. I will make another cake then, probably a Sacher Torte, and baby lamb and artichokes Roman style.
The sun comes out for a brief visit this afternoon, but it remains cold. Amazingly, it does not rain. The sun decides to stay out, the temperature warms up, and several hours after he starts the project, it is finished. An admirable job, drilling out the back wall of the house and in again. When he finished, we look at the wall and it looks as though the wall has always looked that way.
We watch another Italian film tonight with English subtitles, and I am getting used to the format and cadence. The language is beautiful, and the more I hear it, the more I understand.
The night sky is clear and so very beautiful. Sofi and I go out to the garden after the movie, and the air smells sweet. Tomorrow should be a beautiful day, the first without rain in over a month.
April 21
Today is just gorgeous. I can't breathe in enough of the fresh spring air. We spend a lot of time in the garden...weeding, planting the rest of the roses and santolina and teucrium, clipping boxwood. When Felice comes by in the early evening, the garden looks so good that he decides he does not have to work. I think he is tired. With the first good weather in weeks, he worked overtime in his plot of land below us in the valley and he obviously is not in the mood.
Earlier this afternoon, Gino calls down to us from Via Porta Antica above us. We cannot figure out what he is saying. So before we know it, the bell to the gate rings and it is Gino. We invite him in, and he wants to climb up the front stairs by himself. A young 96, he sits on the bench in front of the kitchen window chatting away. He tells me to sit with him, and Roy brings over a chair and faces him.
He declines my offer for a drink of water, and then tells us all about his land, how someone in Rome "left him behind", that he was born north of Orvieto. Pia comes by a few minutes later to borrow a newspaper. She is burning weeds on her land across the street. I invite her up, and she sits with Gino on the bench while I get the paper.
They are sort-of relatives...His granddaughter, Laura, is Pia's sister in law. Laura is married to Francesco, our vigili urbani (local policeman). We know Gino is getting dotty because he does not even know who Andrea is. Andrea is Laura and Francesco's son.
Evidently this visit from Gino is going to be a daily occurrence, for when he leaves he tells us he'll be back tomorrow.
Before we know it, Aurora arrives for a visit. We walk around the garden and take a look at the tomatoes, then go inside to hang out until dinner is ready. A bottle of wine, lasagna, a salad, homemade bread hot from the oven and cookies make up this simple meal.
We spend the evening reminiscing and talking about how Italy has changed her in these few short months. Part time, she is working with a very well respected realtor, and his name sounds familiar. I think Sarah Hammond spent a day with him when she came to visit one June. Now Sarah owns a second home in New Mexico. It is funny how the years change our plans....and our ideals.
We think we may find a way to work together...she on her real estate sales and Roy and I on our project management. We tell her about Diego's properties, and will introduce her to Diego next week if her boss is interested in representing Diego.
After Aurora leaves, we walk outside under the stars to take a look at Roy's great planting. The santolina and teucrium look beautiful, even in the dark.
April 22
I wake up with another headache, but Lore and Alberto are coming for pranzo today, so there is no time to hibernate. The weather is clear and fresh from all the rain. Roy cleans outside with the aspiratore, cleaning up all the fallen leaves and petals and sweeping the two sets of stairs.
Inside, I prep for the meal, including cooking and frosting a Sacher Torte and readying the artichokes. By the time l'una comes around, the meal is ready. It is warm outside, clear enough to sit on the terrace under an umbrella and sip spumante before coming inside. We start with bruschetta with tapenades made of: pepperoni, artichoke, black olive, green olive and fegato (chicken liver), served on a hand painted ceramic platter from Cami in DeRuta with a bottle of San Faustino Merlo from Amelia.
The next course is abbacchio (baby spring lamb) with roasted crusty potatoes and artichokes alla Romana (baked with garlic, breadcrumbs and olive oil). Roy serves a special bottle of wine from Tuscany, Madre, from the Poggio Antico winery in Montalcino. I then serve a salad of mixed baby greens with gorgonzola and walnuts in a mustard vinaigrette. This is finished off with the Sacher Torte as well as a crostada brought by Lore and Alberto, and then café with tiny glasses of Sambucca.
I think the key to all this is to only eat a little of each item. At first nervous, I am pleased with the way the meal turns out, pleased enough to put a few of the recipes on the web site soon. I am behind at updating parts of the site, and have set a goal of May 1 to include a lot more on the places to visit, foods, etc. blogs. Magari!
While sitting around, Lore gets a call from Stefano, who is working on the restoration of the house next to theirs, which they now own. They must leave to meet him. Roy drives to Amelia to meet with the contractor who is to clean up Judith's roof, but Sofi and I stay home. The headache, which has persisted all day, sits over me like a blanket, threatening to smother me. I take out a sling chair and Edith Wharton's Italian Gardens, thinking I will read under the shade of the persimmon tree and an umbrella.
Roy comes back and we have a quiet evening. Tia calls to tell us that Ivy has passed away, and I encourage her to keep busy. Tomorrow we will go to the annual mercato in Montecastrilli for vegetables, and we encourage her to join us.
The evening ends with the wind picking up and fog returning.
April 23
We drive to Amelia to check in with the contractor, but he is nowhere to be seen. His worker is standing under Secondina's balcony, using a huge gru (crane) jammed into the tiny street between the two buildings, and won't begin on Judith's roof until tomorrow.
The gru looks like a science-fiction monster, its claws grabbing the steep incline and the treads on the bottom cocked at a dangerous-seeming angle. The worker stands in a little cab, which angles out just under Secondina's balcony. He is applying a finish coat of plaster and the quality appears first-rate. When asking Secondina how big her house is, she laughs and tells us that there are sixteen bedrooms. Some of the palazzo is beautiful, some of it is ugly. Perhaps one day we will be allowed in for a tour. She does not even know how old it is...14th century? 16th century? She is not sure.
We speak with Secondina for a few minutes and then drive to the mercato in Montecastrilli. Tia calls us later and decides to come then, after we give her the early report: come today. There are no crowds, and although all the stalls are not yet open, there is plenty to buy. We pick up two zucchini, six or eight san marzano pomodori plants, sedano, presemelo, a couple of sweet peas, five peach colored geraniums for the steps to the parcheggio, and are finished before eleven. The prices are amazingly cheap.
We are almost home before I remember that we did not buy rugghetta (arugula). But they did not have cappuccia (butter lettuce) either, and so we will look elsewhere for that as well. We did not buy their lettuce, because it is not the kind Roy likes.
My headache will just not go away. It drones on this time for it's second day. So we come home, and I retreat for most of the afternoon with Sofi by my side. When we get up, Roy has planted the geraniums and then I encourage him to go to the time trials for the Palio, which he does. He reports back that he watched five rounds of trials, and there was only one small mishap, with a horse crashing into a fence. No injuries. He buys our reserved seats for Sunday, and comes home.
Tia has warned me to not let Sofi out alone at night because of the owls. She thinks that they swoop down up on puppies, and I am alarmed. Remember all the lyrical thoughts I had about the owls? So I email Marilisa to ask her advice and she tells me that as long as Sofi does not go far from the house she will be all right, and to go out and call for her if she is gone for more than a few minutes. For the past few nights she has wanted to go out in the middle of the night. I am not a heavy sleeper, so think I will go out with her, watching where she goes. If she stays right by the house I won't worry.
April 24
Yesterday was Earth Day. There was no notice of it here, but my father died on Earth Day fourteen years ago. I still think of him fondly, and wonder what he is thinking when he looks down upon his children....
There is no procession this morning in Bomarzo, so for the second time, Roy's premiere has been postponed. We are sure next weekend he will be in full dress at our village's own festa, the Feast of San Liberato the Martyr. Roy finds out when Tiziano calls if we will have our "dig" this morning. It is foggy and Roy tells him no, let's try next weekend. Tiziano asks his father for the confraternity answer, and there will be no procession.
Roy calls to check in from Amelia. The workers will not start until later this morning. And after he hangs up, the fog starts to clear. Although the screen is on the front door, Sofi spends her time near me instead of roaming around the garden. I spend some time out there, but the light is too much for me.
I have turned the corner on medicine, deciding not to take any any more for my migraines. The medicine is so powerful that it may be having side effects. So I am trying to go "cold turkey", instead trying to study my records to find similarities between the headaches, weather conditions, food, etc.
By late afternoon I am feeling much better. We drive to Orte to see Tiziana's children's orchestra concert. This is an important concert for Tiziana and her sister, Simona, for this is the first time that they have received funding from the Province of Viterbo and the Italian government for their work. Tonight is the first of two concerts. The second will be tomorrow in Viterbo, but we have the Palio to go to in Bomarzo, so will not be able to attend.
It is good to see Tiziana's family again. We really miss not seeing them. After kisses outside the lovely little church, a beautifully restored Chiesa di San Francesco, we walk in and see Laura in the back. She leads us forward and we all wind up sitting in the front row. This is dangerous, because the cellists are right in front of us and we are very close.
Laura and Roy and I keep laughing silently. We have to lean back away from the musicians and toward Roy, every time there is an "up bow" in the first or second row. I suppose it is the musical equivalent of trying not to be gored by a silent bull.
The children are interspersed with professional adult musicians, and the program begins with Vivialdi's Four Seasons. The littlest ones stand in the center looking forward. The older children saw away at their cellos and violins on either side. The next piece, Rossinis's "Barber of Seville" is a little more animated. By the time the third piece, Borodin's Polovetzian Dance is under way, the group is really fired up. So when they play a fun piece written just for them, they show their obvious joy.
Tiziana is a remarkable teacher. The children love her. So playing is a joy for most of them. After the finish of "Oh, Susanna", which even I can play well, the audience demands an encore. Tiziana goes into the audience and brings up a three-year young girl with the tiniest violin I have ever seen. She stands there frozen in the center of the group as they play, and in the midst of the piece her eyes start to water and she walks over to her father. After the piece she is brought back to a great round of applause and she starts to smile. So when there is a second encore, she stands there and smiles. The parents really love these performances, which do so much for the confidence of the children.
After the concert we walk to a local pub for pizza with Laura and Renzo and Tiziana. Finally we have agreed to begin violin lessons again. We are not able to set a date until ten days from now, but my shoulder is better and I am more than ready to begin again. Perhaps this summer I will be one of the ragazzi sawing away on their violins in one of Tiziana's concerts...
There is a funny email from Austin that the people of the village call him Maestro Lindo, more commonly known to Americans as..."Mr Clean!" He is bald and Scandinavian, so the similarities are there. We now call him "Maestro!" Roy thinks it is funny that our neighbors have nicknames for the people in their village...We wonder what ours are?
April 25
How sad. We awake to rain...The sky is really overcast. By the time we connect with Don Francis, he and Sal are buying their train tickets, so we do not tell them that the Palio has been cancelled completely for this year...Instead, Roy drives to the Bomarzo Pro Loco and he is given his money back for all the tickets. He then calls Tia and tells her to come anyway for dinner. He also calls Alan.
Father Tiso and Sal arrive and we give them a late pranzo and sit around in front of the fire. When they arrive the sky is threatening, but there is no rain. So Roy gives them a garden tour. Father Tiso has not seen the completed project, although Sal came to see us about a month ago with friends.
They have a dolce fa niente (afternoon nap) and I get food ready for the evening meal. We invite Lore and Alberto to come for a drink after dinner. They love Don Francis and want to see him again.
The evening is a great deal of fun. Alan arrives with Tia. Sofi is in heaven with all her good friends around to kiss. And although Tia is very sad, missing Ivy, Sofi spends a lot of time in her lap to cheer her up. I tell her about asking Marielisa about helping us to find her a great dog breeder in Italy for Brittany Spaniels. We love Tia and want to do all we can to help her to find two new little puppies to love soon.
It is so good to see Don Francis in our home again. He is such an interesting fellow, so knowledgeable and full of life. Lore hangs on his every word. Roy and I stay up after everyone has left to finish the dishes. I think we have used most of them, and somehow kept the little kitchen from becoming a war zone with eight people and a five-course meal...
April 26
We wake to a gorgeous day. Not a cloud in the sky, and the temperature is mild and sweet. Sofi and I are able to do our drill of spraying the roses with denatured alcohol and a little soap and water before everyone wants to take off for a little adventure.
We toast some of the Biscotti di San Anselmo, a specialty of Bomarzo that has an anise taste to it, but it is like a big dry sweet bagel. Toasted with a little honey it actually tastes pretty good.
Felice comes by, and is able to meet the boys. Noreena also comes by when she sees Sofi and I on the walk spraying the roses, so I call out to Don Francis to come down and meet her, thinking he'll come back with some stories we do not know about her uncle, Celestino Natale, who built our house in the 1930's. Nothing new, but she will tell the entire town that we had an Italian-speaking priest as our guest.
There is not time for Don Francis and Sal to see the Monster Park in Bomarzo, a must-see, so we drive up to the old tow n of Bomarzo itself and walk around. The Church of San Anselmo is open. ( It is only open a few days a year) We are also able to go into the duomo so that they can look around.
We come upon a local, Enzo, who lives in Rome but waxes ecstatic about Bomarzo, the place of his birth. When he sees Sofi his eyes cloud up...His dog was poisoned to death a few months ago in Bomarzo. The person who has murdered all those dogs has still not been found. We remember Michael telling us that one of his big poodles also died this way.
We have a little time until their train, so drive then to the Orte train station. On the way, we drive up to the medieval center of Orte, and are able to take them into the little church that Alberto finished restoring. He and his friends did a really admirable job. Don Francis is able to read the inscriptions on the floor as well as one crudely done one on the back wall.
We learn that not all priests really are conversant in Latin. Many of them just take a crash course so that they can perform masses when they need to. Otherwise, many of them do not learn the language. Don Francis knows it so well that he is able to decipher arcane phrases. He is quite a guy. We hear that he is in the running for a very important assignment in Washington, DC, so he may be closer yet to his first love, Italia, very soon.
We are sorry to see them go, but spend the rest of the day doing a few errands and then working in the garden.
April 27
We take a ride to Terni on a quest for irrigation supplies, and we find most of what Roy wants at Spazio Verde. It is a beautiful day, but somehow I have a sore throat and am tired. I'm hoping this won't last.
At home, Felice comes by and readies the pomodori patch for the first plants...the eight San Marzano long Italian pomodori that we purchased on Friday from Montecastrilli. The rest of the tiny pomodori plants are far from being ready to plant. Roy moves the whole composting operation out to the olive orchard area. Not a big fan of the whole idea, I am hoping he will be more enthused about it in the new location.
April 28
Roy and I lay the black rubber hose from one end of the land to the other. We read that the hose needs to lay out in the sun for a few days to make it more pliable. I am hoping that Roy will call in Steve and Darcie to dig the trenches for this irrigation project. They traded us a day of work in the garden for two sinks...a fair trade all around.
Tonight after midnight, I am to get a call from Boston. The Valhalla, Inc. Shareholders' meeting will take place at that time, 6:30 PM Boston time. I'll be taking the minutes, so Roy sets up the computer and speaker phone for me downstairs. I am looking forward to it being over.
April 29
The meeting was not as bad as I had feared. Although I was conferenced in, the reception was so bad that I could not hear much of the meeting. I did hear that I was reelected to the 3-member board, and that my brother had some good ideas about possibly turning the upper floors into artist lofts/condominiums. Everyone's spirits were up and people were very cordial. I am relieved.
We drive to Amelia and pick up some more garden irrigation supplies at a very good place. The people at the agrigarden store are very friendly and give good advice. We are worried about our peach tree, but Felice tells us there is a lot of fruit budding on the tree, so we will do a little spraying of a non-chemical kind and see what happens. This negozio has both the Sant'Anna lattuga and rugghetta (arugula) that we have been looking for, so we bring them home happily.
Felice plants the eight pomodori and readies the earth for the other 60+ that will be planted outside in a few weeks. Roy has transplanted all the little seedlings into larger pots and we will have quite a harvest.
I have a sore throat, but agree to go to pranzo with Lore and Alberto, Tia, Alan and Roy at the Giove castle. This is a remarkable place. Although the castle/restaurant has only been open a couple of weeks, the meal is quite good. Yes, some of the dishes are not good, but overall we recommend it. The price is not cheap...it was approximately €35 per person for pranzo with wine.
The location is what is remarkable. The restaurant is in the ground floor of a huge castle in Giove, a nearby town. Meticulous restoration has taken place, with our friends Maurizio and Umi playing a major role. We admit that the furniture is not remarkable. Alberto is not pleased. But then his taste is for museum-quality furnishings. A few of the touches are "Hollywood", as is the owner, a California movie producer named Charlie Band, but the carpets are fine and the ambience is excellent. For once, the lighting is not too bright. And we are surprised that there is plenty of heat in this otherwise very cold building.
What do we eat? I eat ceci bean soup and a side of agretti, the green I like so much. I do not feel much like eating. But Roy eats a housemade pasta with asparagus and then a sausage dish with hot grapes that tastes wonderful. Other people eat lamb, veal medallions, flank stake over rugghetta...We start off with mixed bruschetta, plenty of wine and finish with a baked apple in a pastry crust that is really excellent.
The salads are the biggest disappointment. The wine list is large, and expensive. We have a Tuscan wine and then, in deference to Alan, a very good Australian import. Alberto likes the Tuscan, the rest of us seem to like the Australian. But overall, we give this a B+ rating. We will definitely come back.
How could I forget? At 4:30 we get a call that my glasses are ready. We rush off to Amelia and agree to take them to try them for a week. The color is correct, but the progressive lenses are less than perfect. Because the size of the lenses is smaller than those of my previous glasses, the space for the short distance measurement is very small. I will see if my eyes can adjust to these. If not, we will go to a technical specialist in Terni. These glasses really look great, so let's hope they work!
April 30
I wake with a headache, but try to be relaxed, because we will be off to Rome to the dentist in an hour. We arrive at the dentist and there is no place to park, so Sofi and Roy stay in the car and I walk in first. I want to speak with Dr. Chiantini first about my jaw xray, have my broken tooth repaired and then a cleaning. We agree that I need a crown for my tooth. Porca Miseria. €800. He agrees that if I continue to get my jaw massaged, I can do without the mouth guard, and he does not think anything from my jaw is necessarily causing my migraines. But he has me go through a series of contortions with my jaw to test it just the same. Ouch!
By the time I am through, it is time for pranzo, and Roy reschedules instead of getting his teeth cleaned today. We will have to go back next week for my second appointment, anyway.
With all the jaw testing and work on my mouth my head is pounding. I have a fever and cannot wait to get home. At home, I go right to bed. Before the next few hours are through, I have been sick five times and my headache is worse. Somehow the night ends and I am still among the living.
MAY, 2004
May 1
I am getting better, but am weak for the whole day, and spend most of it just sitting around. Roy paints the tiny iron lights we bought at the castle in Bologna a month ago, and finishes just before a pelting rain chases us into the house. Later, Roy hears that Ivo took pictures of hail in nearby Chia that were the size of ping pong balls....
Roy and Sofi walk up to get the free porchetta sandwiches at the festa truck in the square. I wait at home quietly. I fantasize about walking up to the dance with Roy later under the stars, gliding under the beautiful lights hanging over the tiny streets of our village in the design of a heart flanked by curlicues. I imagine myself as Kim Novak and Roy as William Holden in the movie, Picnic. I must have a fever. Instead we stay at home and watch a movie on our DV D.
Sofi and I go up to bed and before I know it the fireworks begin outside. But the location is different. The flashes and spritzes and halos of sparks burst forth closer in to our little valley. I can see them from my pillow, looking out the front window of our bedroom. It is only later that I realize that these are the Chia fireworks. This is Chia's festa weekend as well as Mugnano's, and tomorrow night is the night of the Mugnano fireworks. Sofi rushes to the side of my bed and cries out, so I bring her on top of the bedding for a few hours. She bounds around on the soft down comforter and then settles down between us, nodding off to dreamland.
May 2
At 8AM sharp, canons roar, and the real festa begins. The sky threatens, but the Polymartium Band from Bomarzo arrives on time at 9:30 and tunes up outside our house. For the next hour, they prance up and down all the tiny streets of Mugnano, playing with gusto, if not flair.
Sofi takes to her bed and we walk up to the centro storico. Cars are parked even below our cancello. This is a place that people who were born in Mugnano and moved elsewhere all come back to on this day.
The benches of the little church are moved outside when Roy and I reach the centro storico at 10:30AM, as is the altar and bier and statue of San Liberato. But before the mass the benediction takes place to honor the caduti, or "fallen"...these are the war dead. Roy and the members of his Confraternity are also part of the first procession.
Felice and Giovanni take the wreath and place it in front of the statue in the park at the entrance to the centro storico. This is a very moving moment, with Stefano, the Bomarzo mayor in full dress, saluting the statue and the band playing the Italian National Anthem.
Both Felice and Giovanni are in their eighties. They are here because they fought in WWII. Yes, they fought against us, but the Italians are known as lovers and not fighters. I have tried to read the writings of Malaparte, an Italian philosopher, about the Italians during these years, and perhaps it is time to take another look at them.
The mass begins next, after we have taken our seats in the outdoor church, and Roy is stationed behind San Liberato, flanked by his "brothers". Gino and Valerio are the newest members of the Confraternita today, and in a little ceremony in front of the crowd they are dressed and stand behind Don Luca and Don Ciro. Roy is already "seasoned", because his introduction and public blessing and dressing took place a few weeks ago.
During the homily, I can understand, or think I understand, that Don Ciro tells the congregation that just because Mugnano is a tiny village, don't discount it or its people. The people of Mugnano take their religion seriously. He speaks about San Liberato the shepherd, and what a fitting saint for this little country village. Anyway, that is what I imagine he is saying. Lore seems to agree with me.
As Lore has said, "Once a year, San Liberato takes a walk."
I have my camera with me, and stay back behind the women and then the men in the procession, who walk in front of the Confraternity. I want to get good pictures of Roy. So I follow at the end with the stragglers, but am able to capture him again and again on film. We hope to have a little slideshow of his procession on the photos page of this site soon. I am very proud of him. He is made to feel so welcome by everyone in the village.
But what's this? I think Roy will just stand behind San Liberato. But no. He will take turns actually carrying him with three other men. This statue and stand are very heavy. Soon after he takes one place, he is taken off, because he is too tall, and the statue leans over too much on its opposite side. He moves back and front and takes a place when there is a man his size on the other side to balance him.
Here is Roy in his first procession as a member of the Confraternita di San Liberato Martyre, stopped in mid-walk to watch the explosions in the valley at noon to honor the saint.
Whenever we see Giustino during these days, whose eyes are constantly rimmed in red, we ask him how he is. He responds always with the same phrase, "Piu avanti!" (Always forward!) In the old days, he even acted that way with gusto. He really scared me.
Poor old guy. My peace of mind is improved with his diminished ability to move quickly and reach out to give me a hug when Roy is not looking, but I do feel sorry for him.
Later in the afternoon we walk back up to the village. There is a band concert, which we skip, but think we are returning in time for the lottery. We miss it, but do not have any winning tickets. I am relieved. Instead, we arrive outside the tiny converted school to hear a comedian telling crude jokes. The people of Mugnano are not a sophisticated bunch. Give them someone who tells jokes anytime to something more serious. Their favorite are the medieval jesters and jugglers at the August medieval festa but they laugh at this fellow just the same. It is good to see so many people out enjoying themselves, so we take a walk around the village and then walk home.
At 10PM the fireworks start. These fireworks are so "in your face" incredible, because they are directly in front of our terrace. Because there is a valley down and to the right of us as we face southwest, the sounds of these fireworks are deafeningly loud. Sofi is really frightened. Roy wants her to take a look and see how she will do, but after two or three bursts I have to take her inside and we sit on the couch and hug until it is over about twenty minutes later.
We go up to bed and I settle in, thinking that we have weathered yet another village festa, met some new people, and look forward to introducing Terence and Angie and the angels to the neighbors at another festa, perhaps even next year.
May 3
As the day wears on, the sky begins to clear. But some of the locals have hoarded some fireworks and let them off periodically to tormentare little Sofi. Otherwise, it it so good to be outside and enjoy the terrace and garden.
I am thrilled to report that I started violin lessons again this morning with Tiziana. If you have played a musical instrument and loved it, you will know what it feels like. Heavenly. The sound from Uncle Harry's violin is beyond any earthly sounds. I have nothing really to do with it...I just move that magical bow.
Tiziana and I play our simple scales and tunes together, beaming as we move along each bar of music. From now on, we will have a violin lesson on Monday mornings, and then I will go to Alice for a massage on Monday afternoons, until she leaves in mid-June for an extended vacation.
So any stress on my shoulders from the bowing will be eased out. I can hardly wait to practice. Whatever did I do before I played the violin? Now that my shoulder is fully healed, the sound is better, I am more relaxed, and am really relieved that this wonderful instrument is no longer sitting alone in its case...waiting, waiting....
This afternoon, Roy and I meet Aurora and her new boss, who also sold Tia and Bruce their property in Amelia. He also showed Sarah Hammond around two years ago, and uses Fabiana Togandi as his notaio on his projects. We have a lot in common and perhaps will do some work together, handling projects for his clients. We have agreed to introduce them to Diego to see if they can market his property successfully, and take them there to look the place over. We want to go anyway, to take more pictures for our web site. We will post them soon.
Diego's project consists of two properties side by side on a mostly private knoll very close to Orvieto. Actually, the driveway is 2.5 km from the Orvieto exit to the A-1. We don't imagine actually becoming realtors, but are becoming quite savvy about local properties in our new business project management venture, so welcome hearing from people who are looking for property in Central Italy.
Johannes and Aurora and Roy and I meet up with Diego and take another tour of the property. We drive back to our car agreeing that we have to spend some time with Diego talking with him about next steps on the project. We also hope to see some other properties for friends and prospective clients coming over in June and are trying to schedule a trip around Umbria next week.
At home, the ground is really wet, but the roses are hanging in there. It is just too wet to spray.
May 4
I take out the violin and lay it on the bed, practicing at ten-minute intervals during the day. That way, my shoulder is not taxed and Sofi is not completely freaked out by the noise. I remember that Brinkley loved the sound of the violin. I am not so sure what Sofi thinks of it yet.
Outside in the garden, the roses are trying to hang on for deal life, despite bouts of rain. The lavender is thriving. Although this is their first year, we see the stems shooting out and the outline of the lavender blossoms. I think the flowering will be another six or more weeks away, but it is too soon to tell. Ideally, we will have our harvest shortly before Corpus Domini, so that we can distribute lavender to our neighbors on that date. But if the lavender is not ready, we will do it later in July.
We meet with Diego to talk about his project, and really want it to work for him. We are hoping we can give him some helpful guidance so that he can sell his two homes soon. Look for photos on our website in a few days. No, we do not want to be in the real estate business, but we want to help Diego. He is a good friend.
This weekend his daughter, Serena, will arrive home from Paul Boucouse cooking school in Lyon, and we will have dinner with the family and hope to spend some time with Serena. We are sure that Diego wants her to take over the kitchen at the castello subito and what a wonderful thing that she shares his enthusiasm. She will leave in ten days for a hotel in Provence for the summer. Perhaps we will visit here there, too.
Tia calls and invites us to dinner on Saturday. She is cooking for Jeremiah Tower and his personal assistant, Charles. They are going to take over a restaurant in Amelia that is part of a famous tiny hotel and will be setting it up soon. Not one to be intimidated, Tia decideds to grill...We discuss a few side ideas and I'll bake a little chocolate cake. This evening should be fun.
May 5
Yes, it is raining again when we awake early. This is an important day. My appointment at the neurological department at the hospital in Perugia is at noon, and we want to go north to a monastery in Umbertide before the appointment, to look for a religious statue for a niche on a wall in our garden. Don Francis told us about a group of nuns who are artisans who craft beautiful religious statues. He first saw them at Lourdes, and was impressed by the quality of their work.
We find the monastery at the top of a very rocky road on a kind of mountaintop, and it takes us so long to find it that we can only stay a few minutes. We will return for a tour of the monastery. But while we are there we find a lovely statue made of a polymer material of the Madonna and Child. We are told it can stay outside all year and the size is perfect.
We arrive at the hospital in the rain, but are not late. Then we wait over two hours before seeing a doctor. It is worth the wait. While we wait, we turn in all our research documents and test results. That information is tabulated and given to the doctor who we eventually see. The purpose of the previous meeting two months ago was to begin to collect data. This meeting today is to speak about results and next steps.
We learn that the very best hospital in the world for the study of migraines is in London, but this hospital in Italy is second, followed by the Mayo Clinic, a hospital in New York City and one in Arizona. This doctor has spent time at all of these facilities. He also studies sleep depravation. We are really in the right place. And he speaks a little English!
What we learn is that only about 10% of all migraines are attributed to food reactions, and migraines are genetic in nature. I do not remember anyone in my family who had migraines, but perhaps I am the first. No matter. That makes sense. I have detailed records of everything I have eaten since February 7th, and cannot find any parallels to food.
He recommends that I keep a consistent diet. What that means is to not make any sudden huge shifts in my eating patterns. So he actually encourages me to drink a little bit of red wine each day with a meal. That way, when going out socially, the chances of me getting a hang-over or migraine are much less, especially if I don' t drink a lot.
He likes the idea of my weekly massages, and we agree that much of my migraines are stress related. Because many of the headaches occur at night, or before dawn, and I do not sleep well, he comes up with a drug that is excellent for stress, sleep depravation and migraines. It is called Loroxyl, and is taken in drops, one hour before bed time. Starting at two drops a night in water, I will increase to six drops a night and continue on that until I see him again late in August. He also likes the idea of me taking Vioxx for ten days a month. Vioxx is a muscle relaxer. When taking it, I have a feeling of well-being, and seem to get fewer migraines.
I think we are on the right track, and we drive to see Dottoressa in Chia to tell her so. She is encouraged, and agrees that the doctors in Viterbo are not very good. She trained at the hospital in Perugia, so if we have anything serious to be done, she will make sure that we are taken to Perugia. Makes sense to me!
We come home for a small dinner and I begin the medicine...subito!
But as we drive up Via Mameli, we see two very large tufa blocks at the base of our property. Roy investigates, and the tufa has fallen from the top of the embankment, just below our property on the village-owned path. There has been so much rain that the bank is starting to come down. Groan.
Roy calls the mayor, and we have his cell phone number. It is just after 7PM. Roy apologizes for the call but tells him about the problem. Stefano tells him they have no money to do the repair, but that he will get someone out tomorrow to look the situation over.
Our approach to him from now on will take on a different tone. In the next few days, we will compose our first letter, followed up with a barrage of meetings and warnings. Because our property is located above the only street into the village, if the embankment comes down the entire village will be...marooned!
While we were gone today, Felice came and worked on the eight San Marzano pomodori plants already in the ground. Now they sit in mounds with gulleys on either side of them. Our little heirloom pomodori inside are still weeks away from being able to plant....Perhaps we will have a late harvest...end of August or even September. Michelle Berry is expected in September, so we hope to have some still here for her.
May 6
Today, we return to the dentist in Rome to measure for the cap for my broken tooth. The rain continues, but on our way out of the village we do not see any additional tufa blocks fallen on the road.
The dentist does a good job of prepping for the cap, Roy gets his teeth cleaned, and we return by way of IKEA for a few things.
At home, we see no evidence that anyone has come by to check on the damage to the path. We will be sure to get a letter prepared this weekend....
May 7
We're up at 6AM, because we must drive to Viterbo to get in line outside the Questura to renew our Permesso Di Sojourno (residency permit). Only the first fifty people are taken each day and it is impossible to get a number until the door opens at 9AM. The other day, we arrived around 8AM and there were about 75 people in front of us. We did not find out that we were too far back in the queue until after the door opened.
So today we are hoping we can nose up closer to the front of the line and that it will not entail a wait outside in the rain...Well, it will be a long wait; let's just hope it is not raining. We still have ten days before our permesso expires. It should renew for four years and then we can apply for citizenship. It is amazing that we have owned our property for 6 1/2 years....It seems like yesterday that we were little scardy-cats, dipping our toes into the big pond of Italian life...
So we arrive at 7:30 and the weather is clear. Roy walks up to the outside door and there are about 25 people in front of him. During the next hour, people come and go and he gets nervous, because people are saving places for others. We seem to be the only "old folks" in this queue.
Sofi and I sit in the car and I am able to watch the goings on. Roy disappears completely, so I assume he is standing by the inside wall. I can see the front door open and three policemen hold the crowd back. I can see the crowd pushing forward and then Roy appears, leaning in toward the open door. Somehow he gets in the door, I think before the numbers run out.
I close Sofi in her sherpa bag in the car and walk up the staircase to the office. Inside is pandemonium, but Roy is standing second in line at one of the windows. I walk over to him. The man in front of him finishes, and the man behind the window asks Roy for his number. Roy has no number. The policeman told him he did not need one. The man rolls his eyes, takes Roy's papers and walks over to a policeman behind the window. We are then told to go to another window and wait by a door.
We move over and a man comes out of the side door and speaks to us in English. He tells us to wait a few minutes at the window for European citizens. It is only then that we realize that this whole queue we have been doing for six years is probably unnecessary. The lines appear to be for people who are trying to get work permits.
When it is our turn, we give the man in uniform who appears to be the boss, all our papers...passports, Italian ID cards, previous residency permits, and the bolos, or stamps, that are required. He tells us to come back to another building in August to get fingerprinted and that this permesso will be good for two years. Roy asks him why, if the last one was for four years, but he tells Roy that the law has changed. In two years, he adds, the law will probably change again.
I nudge Roy to ask him, and he tells the man that his grandfather was born in Lucca. How long will it be until he can file for citizenship? The man's tone changes, and he tells Roy to go to our municipal Commune in Bomarzo and apply there. Once Roy has been accepted Roy can file for me. Could it possibly be as simple as proving that Roy's grandfather was born in Italy? We have his certified birth certificate. Next week we are sure to follow through on this and see Ivo, who is also president of the Bomarzo Pro Loco...
The rain dumps bucket after bucket on us all day. At times the sun comes out, and we are hopeful, only to see a bank of clouds whip overhead in no time at all and another rain shower explode like the puncture of a huge balloon.
We drive to Terni to take Sofi to get her nails clipped at the Vet, but we are too early, so do a few errands and return in an half hour to find the waiting room full of dogs and people. I am shocked to see a very ill Doberman lying on the floor, one of his paws soaked in blood. I turn around and we hightail it out of there. Sofi can get her nails clipped another day.
We come home and make plans for Tiziano to come tomorrow morning for a meeting. We need to write the mayor a letter about the bank below our path, which is falling...Is this déjˆ vu? Weren't we just here last year? We are sure the weather will not be clear enough to do any digging with Tiziano on the old Porta Antica at the top of our property. That will have to wait for another day.
So I get out a packet of lieveto and start a loaf of bread with raisins and cinnamon and brown sugar and crushed hazelnuts that we will have when Tiziano gets here. I have no idea if the recipe will work. It is our standard bread recipe, more sugar, raisins, cinnamon....
May 8
Sun appears, but there are clouds standing by like cymbals, ready to clap. I put a loaf of bread in the oven and it comes out after Tiziano arrives. This is not one of my best attempts. The lievito has a little sourness to it, so I think there must be a different lievito for baking sweet bread...I will ask Serena when we see her later this weekend. Because it is hot, the raisins and sugar and cinnamon help it to taste good anyway. But this is not a recipe to repeat. No matter. Roy encourages me to try new things, and the next time I make bread, I will remember what worked and what did not work with this recipe.
We speak for a while about Tiziano's projects and about the neighbors, but most of the time is spent working on our letter to the mayor. We have written the letter in English and then translated it through Google. Tiziano then works with us to rewrite it properly...
Dear Stefano becomes Egregio Sindaoco, Stefano. Lo siamo becomes L'abbiamo....and on and on. I especially like, "Si sono verificati movimenti di terra in almeno due punti della scarpata." The words take on such a dramatic tone...:L'area soto al sentiero...invadedendo ulteriormente....I can just hear the menacing music in the backgroud as the mayor reads the document and his eyes roll...
On Monday we will take the document to the Comune and have it stamped in officially. We will also make an appointment to meet with Stefano...this time by ourselves without a translator. "Speriamo" is my new favorite word. It means, "I hope". I have heard the neighbors say this so often that it has now crept into my tiny vocabulary. When I am hopeful, this is a good word to use. When I am cynical, "magari" (if only it were so) is the word to use.
We make a date for next Saturday to do the dig if the rain stops and we have a few days of sun. Speriamo!
Tiziano leaves and I prepare pranzo. We have not used the fresh peas from the market in Rome. So I sauté garlic in butter and olive oil, take out the garlic, add the peas and a little water and cover the pan. I heat a pot of water for orricchette (little round shaped "ears" of pasta).
While the pasta is cooking, the peas are almost cooked, then I add a few asparagus tips that were steamed yesterday after taking out the remaining water, add a little more butter, slice a tiny dry salame into matchstick pieces, add generous grindings of salt and pepper, minced fresh mint from the garden, fresh cream and raise the temperature.
The cream thickens, the pasta is drained and added to the pan. Topped with freshly grated cheese, this dish is a big hit. The pasta cups sit on the peas like little rain hats, and the sausage and mint add a wonderful flavor to this quickly prepared dish. I think this makes up for the bread this morning.
I sew a curtain for the area next to the armadio in our bedroom for extra storage with a piece of fabric we purchased last year. There is time to practice the violin and also to do some clipping in the garden and make a chocolate cake for tonight's dinner. Again, I have never made chocolate frosting, so experiment and the result is good. We will take the cake to Tia and Bruce's tonight.
Sofi stays at home, and I sit in the front seat, balancing the freshly frosted cake on a footed cake plate in my lap. We drive up through Lugnano over curved and rutted roads, and laugh remembering the old Mercury Marquis television commercials with the diamond cutter in the back seat as the driver negotiates through midtown Manhattan. As we take a curve, I balance the cake in the air. The road to their house is strrada bianca...a really rough strada bianca...but we arrive unscathed, even though the rain has begun again.
Tia and Bruce's other guests are Katherine, Jeremiah Tower and his assistant, Charles. Katherine has purchased the Il Carleni hotel in Amelia, and Jeremiah Tower is taking over the restaurant. In the Bay Area, you would know him from his restaurants: first an association with Chez Panisse, then Santa Fe Grill, Stars, Balboa Café...He now lives in Cozumel and, recently, Amelia. We look forward to his newest restaurant endeavor.
The evening is fun, as are the stories of fitting in to unfamiliar cultures. Food, wine, bureaucracy, robberies, terrorism, air travel, furniture, languages, pets...There is so much to talk about. We hope they will enjoy living and working in this beautiful town. They ask us where we live, and when we tell them there are about eighty people here Roy fantasizes on the way home that they ask him to name each of them. He starts at our house and is able to name almost every person on our street. What fun that we are able to say a few words with almost every neighbor we meet, and that we know their names.
May 9
While walking up to church, the sun shines through scattered clouds, and the profusion of
flowers on the front path is a joy. Our Lady Hillingtons are still strong. Their blossoms are remarkable, even after two thinnings out in the past few days. All along Via Mameli we remark that every house displays bright flowers, from Giusino on down to Vincenza. Even the roof of Francesco's cantina is covered in red poppies. The bank across from Dina and Italo's is covered in red poppies and yellow wildflowers.
Before mass, Marsiglia comes over to me for a hug, and afterward Valerio tells us that he and Elena are returning to Rome but will be back next weekend. Roy gives him the photo he took of Valerio and Gino as new Confraternity members last week and we agree to see each other again then.
At home, we greet Sofi and look forward to a relaxing day. We are able to do some planting in the garden and cleaning up. I am back about the boxwood, clipping here and there and also doing some spritzing. We take a turn at the roses on the front path, and this is the third day in a row that we have clipped flowers. There are so many that it hardly shows, but now that the older blossoms are gone, there is more room for the newer ones to open up.
The Paul Lede roses are finally opening, and they may be the most beautiful ones yet, big pale pink flowers with a very fragrant perfume. I can imagine them growing over the pergola going up the stairs to the Madonna and the vegetable garden. With a few more days of sun, the entire property will be an explosion of flowers.
Giuseppa comes by with Antonello late in the afternoon after a short shower and also brings his mother. Antonello is now about two years old and loves Sofi. He calls and calls out to her, and we invite them in to the garden. Sofi loves him and is very gentle with him. He laughs out loud at her antics, running around him like a wild dog, racing back and forth, in and out of the balls of lavender, seemingly with a smile on her little face.
May 10
We must go to the Comune...Now that we have the letter edited by Tiziano and also a lead on applying for Roy's citizenship, we have no time to lose. Roy calls the mayor, and makes an appointment for Thursday. I'd like him to check out the citizenship possibilities then with Ivo, but he wants to wait until his mother's birth certificate comes in from Adrian.
This morning I have a violin lesson, and I have been practicing often, at twenty minute stretches. This way, I do not get too stiff. And it is a good think that I will have massages after the lessons on Mondays. We are really getting into a good program. When I go to Alice, she also gives me exercises to do after I play.
Next week I will bring my violin to show her the contortions one must do with their left hand and arm. I want to be sure to be limbered up before June 16th. That is when Alice will travel to Seattle for more than two months. Somehow Tia and Bruce and I will have to survive without her this summer.
The jig is up? We received an email from Ivo, who is in Parma. He has visited our web site, and perhaps by now there is someone in the village translating all my journals...Perhaps this is Mugnano's own version of a reality show...
Tia calls to tell us that Jeremy Tower has reneged on his deal with Catherine to take over the restaurant at the Il Carleni. He will stay and write cookbooks instead. I suppose that is a lot less pressure for him. But it is too bad for Catherine, who now will need to find someone to take over the restaurant, which seats only about 40 people. They did not signal anything on Saturday. We are all wondering if it was something we did...
May 11
Time to go to Danieli again at the square in Sippiciano for my hair. Then this afternoon we will meet Aurora and Johannes to look for properties for Suzanne. We have a pretty good idea what she'd like, and hope to find something really special, with frescoes and a great terrace and view in a lovely old town for a reasonable price. Although we don't want to be realtors, if we can help her to find something, that will make us happy.
Three things have happened today that have me thinking about immortality. An email arrives from Karen Holmes of San Francisco State, telling us that it is judging time again for the annual Leo Diner Film Scholarship. We hope that Leo would be proud that this scholarship has continued for almost fifteen years since his passing.... I am reading Mark Helprin's book, A Soldier of the Great War, and read: "You live on not by virtue of the things you have amassed, or the work you have done, but through your spirit, in ways and by means that you can neither control nor foresee."
That has me thinking. An email has also just come in from my Boston attorney, telling me that my nieces will probably refile their lawsuit against me, which was dismissed because their lawyer neglected to file a brief on time. Yes, the suit is also against my brother and the building, and I am caught in the crossfire because I am also a shareholder. I will take the high road, let's leave it at that, but am so disappointed in my brother as well as the girls for the ways in which they choose to view the world. This lawsuit is certainly unnecessary.
We drive to Todi to meet Johannes and Aurora and fall in love with Montecastello Di Vibio. We especially like a two level apartment there with lovely views. This would be a great town for Suzanne. A tiny theatre is located in the town and it appears there is also an art school. From there, we view two places in and around Todi that we nix, and then are captivated by apartments in a town called Torre.
We will see some additional places in Lazio near Rieti on Saturday, and will also check out Orvieto. Whether Suzanne is interested in any of these places or not, it is a good thing for us to know about them for people interested in buying in Central Italy. Our Project Management work will come from leads like this, we believe, so want to be aware of properties out there.
I make an appointment with Giovanni, a doctor in Amelia, who Tia refers me to. I am doing everything I possibly can to get to the root of these migraines. I have no idea if he can help, but will meet with him tomorrow.
May 12
Yesterday there was no rain, and this morning is lovely. The birds are happily singing and we putter around in the garden. The Paul Lede roses are finally opening, and they are the most beautiful ones yet. Also ready to open are the white roses in the fiorieras and the iceberg roses by the front fence. The Cornelia roses near the olive trees are blossoming, as are the Buff Beauty roses at the top of the stairs near the giant rosemary bush. The Lady Hillingtons on the front path continue to explode with color, rain or no rain. These are really remarkable roses. All is well.
I am so happy to be able to play the violin again, and in this weather the instrument just seems to sing on its own. Roy tells me the sounds are stronger and more assured. I am not sure, but dearly love playing. Sofi even likes it now, and cries downstairs until I let her come upstairs with me. She sleeps while I practice. When I am through, we walk downstairs to find Roy just awake from a nap. Evidently I can put anyone to sleep with my playing.
Outside I clip a few more boxwood and move one of the benches at an angle just below the huge olive tree, to face more of the garden instead of the valley below us. I so enjoy sitting there and noticing the garden change from hour to hour. Today the temperature is quite warm. I feel like an old dog asleep in the sun, although my nap only lasts a few minutes before we have to leave.
I am glad that I went to see the doctor in Amelia this afternoon, but he does not know anything about bio-identical hormones and, all in all, is too eccentric for my taste. He gives me a shiatsu massage, and I feel better after Alice's massages. But he does give me some good guidance on how to sit and stand and hold my body to move pressure to the center of my body. I will probably not return to him.
He also shows me how to bend my knees slightly while playing the violin to relax my muscles. It works! Before I leave, he tells me to make a tea from stinging nettles, which grow all over our garden. He thinks it will take all the impurities out of my system, so I will try it.
While I am having my session, a rainstorm rages down so fiercely that ping-pong size hail stones pounce down upon the cars, ping-pinging like bullets. I think there are some phantoms looming above Italy, casting doom and rain below, week after week. This is still a really beautiful country, and in our little part of it I cannot imagine paradise any better.
May 13
This is the third appointment with the dentist in Rome, and we arrive early. There is not much traffic this morning for some reason. Because we are early, Roy takes a new route, and we traverse across Rome, around the Borghese Gardens, through some of the older residential areas, and the buildings appear like frosted cakes, lemon and peach and chocolate, some with licorice colored balconies. This is really eye candy.
Interspersed between residential areas are fallen-down ruins of the Roman era; tufa-colored squares and rectangles and arches still waiting for the return of their masters. Pines with natural crew-cuts, bobs of spindly foliage reaching out to the tops of several stories-tall buildings, stand together in Italian precision, reminding us that Rome was proud through the centuries, not just around the time of Christ.
We must return again for another visit. Dr. Chiantini wants to add a little porcelain to the crown, and Roy makes the appointment for next Thursday. After leaving the office, we drive to the Aventine Hill, close to the Tiber River, and our eyes take a glance at Circus Maximus and the Colosseum, before we arrive at our destination, the Garden Communale of Rome. Unfortunately, the garden will not be open to the public until Saturday. So we will come next week, and linger then over hundreds of varieties of roses, immaculately cared for, with provenance described at every new variety.
Originally built as the Jewish Cemetery of Rome, the garden was designed in the shape of a menorah. The cemetery itself was later moved, but the design has been meticulously maintained. So the neatly manicured paths wander around, some under canopies of black iron to hold the rampicante varieties. The bush roses stand alertly on their own, so vivid that on our visits we often see new brides and grooms arranging themselves for photo ops, as tho they just happened by.
At home, we putter around the garden, clipping more roses. It has rained again while we were gone, and the spring air is humid. Big, blowsy roses on the front path that have unfortunately blossomed are just too tired to hold on to their blooms; they droop mournfully, heavy with raindrops.
We take them out of their misery, dropping them one-by-one into a round wicker basket, and I pick up handfuls of their petals, breathing in their heady aroma and wondering if there is something I can do with all that spent beauty. Colors are pale pink and pale peach and darker peach and rose and more colors of pale yellow and peachy yellow.
Hundreds of birds surround us, clamoring for attention. The garden has been theirs alone while we were gone, and a remnant or two swoop away when I walk into their chosen area, singing all the while.
It is time to drive to Bomarzo, so Sofi gets a solitary hour to contemplate whatever dogs contemplate when caged in by their masters. We are able to drive up and park in the centro storico, but the Comune office is locked. We wait a few minutes and an artist appears through he doors of the Orsini Palace, next door. He is there to show a group of ragazzi (students) through the building, and we stand leaning against the front door of the Palace with him, talking about Bomarzo. He is a kind of PR person for Bomarzo, but admits to us that this borgo is semi-morto. We think it is a rather extraordinary place.
Roy calls Stefano, the mayor, and he tells us someone will be there to open the door. A young woman arrives and ushers us in, date-stamping our letter to Stefano and recording it into her big ledger book. Stefano arrives a few minutes later, and we join him at his big desk. We choose not to have a translator at these meetings, instead, work very hard at understanding what he is saying.
Today, he reads the letter intently, nodding his head in agreement with us. He tells us that Francesco came to look at the path the following day after Roy's phone call to him. What we learn is that the land that is falling down to the street belongs to the University Agraria, not the Comune. The Comune owns the narrow path between our wall and the hill.
So Francesco has spoken with Antonio, and the Universita has agreed to cut down the bushes and trees that bend in the wind and then fortify the bank with castagno. They will then also put up castagno poles for a handrail. We will try to speak with Antonio this weekend, for the project should start in about a week.
Stefano then tells us that Bomarzo is under the umbrella of the provincial capital, Viterbo, who gets the lion's share of all the money for public works. Since Bomarzo is small, it is a kind of errant stepchild, and gets little of the funds it asks for. Mugnano does not even exist in the eyes of Viterbo. If Bomarzo gets a pittance, Mugnano gets a handshake. Stefano reminds us, and we agree, that he is always there for us.
Just before we leave, Stefano tells us that he has read our web site. My mouth drops open. How did he know about the web site? We now know that somehow some one is translating this journal to the people of the village, and also to people of Bomarzo. He knows how much we love Mugnano, and that we are proud to live here, regardless of our sporadic bureaucratic woes.
The day ends with a walk out into the garden, taking in the fresh air, breathing in the fragrant perfume of the blosso