The Rural Countryside

I really had done a blog post this morning, but the wee ones that determine such things performed a bit of Bloggery, and it disappeared. My apologies- I am sure it was the best one I ever wrote… But, it is gone, and now I write at the tail end of a day instead of the beginning of the last one, so I am going backwards in time. Bear with me.

The process of traveling has taken us to the Holy, and most blessed laundry today, a marvelous experience that allows us to trade lots of dollars/euros for the right to a washer and dryer. That luxury is how we can travel with one carry-on for a month. Imagine, if you can, 7 of us trying to sort out each and every word of Italian directions before we get on with the laundromat take-over. We needed help.

We picked up cousin John at the airport at 10:30 last night, and pulled into our new hacienda before 1:00 AM. The hosts were tolerant of us, didn’t complain at our late entry, and still smiled at us from the coffee and pastry breakfast when we got up for breakfast.

We woke to an early morning view of the rolling hills in patchwork’s of vineyards, hay and other rural type growing things. God knows what—I’m from Chicago, where grouped blades of grass seem like the plains of Iowa. But this area really is soothing, and beautifully artistic in it’s undulating rhythms.

We went into Bettola, the next town over, a town which is the site for some of the first book I wrote (no- I am still editing, so it’s never been published). There was a group call for horseback riding- talk about fancy translation. I knew the word for horse, and by jumping up and down, with my hands on the reins, I managed to elicit real confusion, and fill in some missing evidence of the truth about the crazy Americani.

Finally we resorted to an Google translate app which translated for me with greater success, but much less pleasure.

Yesterday, we said our goodbyes to Genova, and left the palazzo that felt so steeped in history that one didn’t notice the lack of adequate handrails, multiple vagaries in floor and step heights, while enjoying the out of body feeling of life a few centuries ago. A couple of falls convinced us that some modern amenities and regulations were truly useful. Those people – unnamed – people – are still on 600 Advils, but nothing broke, and there was no blood, and nobody died. (the trip’s metric for success or failure).

We got to visit a friend, a wonderful woman who went way out of her way to teach me how to grocery shop, to take the bus, to ask for things, and to enjoy this city, maybe 15+ years ago when I first came here by myself.

It is an awakening to see the changes between those 15 years, both in myself and in my old friend, who now has dementia, and lives in a nursing home. Her face has lost much of the character that was so evident in those intelligent lines, the delicate arch of lively determination on her face, and the pleasure she took in teaching. She made this all happen for me, and saying goodbye was both painful and a harsh reality of one of the truths of life, even one as well-lived as hers. I am so grateful to have had this opportunity.

We did find a gelato shop on the way to the airport that sold sugar free… Score!

The internet has been sparse, even when they say they have WiFi – it’s not always something usable, coming in and out without warning.two bars? No problem.

We connected with our distant cousin at the La Vecchia Stazione, Francesco, and his girlfriend the lovely Francesca…. We love this man, who is regularly so gracious and entertaining to us whenever we come in. This time, we stayed for a few hours, while he tended to customers, and we snacked, laughed, and carried on a conversation about dreams, and desires. He did cut his beard though – that impenetrable thicket of beard growing – massively impressive, but it is his eyes that sparkle when he tells us about things, and what all is going on, his opinions, and gossip.

I guess I have gone on without the slightest idea of what I told you about yesterday, when this began, so goodnight, or good morning, wherever you are.

Thanks for all of the kind comments. You are thought of. Today, we visited the old church in the square in Bettola, and lit a few candles for one of my friends in radiation back home. Bringing blessings through intercession is good, and so is Saint Francis above those lighted candles. I think that often, God hears Good Intentions.