Big Trip Blog 4

Three weeks ago today, we were arriving at our little mouse house. Time continues to be elastic, stretching and contracting capriciously. We have had a little routine that works for us, dividing our time, as needed, with variations of sleeping, shopping, strolling, and focused work on both genealogy and editing of the first book, tentatively called Giovanni’s Echo (and subject to change for the better ). My friend Ed Geraci has foolishly encouraged me, and now I am into a groove of working on this every day. It is interminably slow. Lew does the same with his projects – all technical and undefinable by me. Mysterious “stuff” he is intensely doing. It works, in that random, strange way of the universe, Thank God.

Today being Friday, we sallied forth into the fray of the Friday Market – by the way – how does one sally forth anyway. It is, however, a nifty expression, reminding me of carrying packages, dressed up just a bit, and maybe a hat, out on the town. Which is what we did, minus the hat. Enjoyment and shopping intrigue abound when I see cashmere sweaters for 30 EU, scarves for 5 EU, and the town buzzing with activity mid-day.

We stopped at a cafe with walls and ceilings that had to be medieval. I would love to have some archeology background to tell you when (whence?) it originated, but I cannot. Old – it is old. We had two Cappuccini and one focaccia, chewy, oily, and salty. Price – a score – 4 eu. It seems that we will return. Often, the primary snack served in a bar is focaccia, sometimes little candies or potato chips. While there, the door opened, and a guy with bottles of wine walked in. The tender thanked him and put them behind the bar. I’m thinking it was some local stuff that is informally served to those in the know. They had a bathroom, too. a big advantage.

I want to talk a bit about bathrooms – toilets, actually. Progress abounds. The first time I came here, tourist toilet rooms had an attendant who was paid an EU or two to hand you a few pieces of toilet paper that were more plastic than paper. Everyone paid and de-watered together. When we later came here – on our first trip to Italy – there were few toilets. None available. To locate one, one had to go into a restaurant or a grocery store. We struggled to find such places when we needed them and often discovered the squatty-potty was the ordinary bathroom add-on for bars and restaurants. A hole in the ground, and if one was lucky, a hose attached to the wall for washing the space afterward.

Later trips included more bathrooms with seated toilets as Italy modernized, and occasionally, some had seats on top of the ceramic base. Most in-home toilets have bidets, of course, but I am being basic here. I suppose we were tourists, expected to figure it out before leaving our accommodations. Rural places we have gone to over the years have begun to change as well, and many of them now have actual toilets with doors, sinks, and water, often pumped with a foot pump for washing hands. The rooms are often multi-use for men and women, and we wash up in the shared sinks as often as not. I have a funny story that some of you know about how, in a little mountain restaurant, I tried to find the bathroom, missed it completely, and wound up in the family bathroom (in their upstairs apartment, for god’s sake) with all of their undies spread around drying. There are so many mistakes, and it is more amusing in the rearview mirror than in the moment when one realizes their error and cannot undo it. The walk of shame…

Toilets are built differently, with flush and water deeper, and we don’t have to flush multiple times, like the low-flush types we are required to use at home. And, now, they all have seats, too, at least in our air B&Bs. Hurray for progress and modernity in this regard, anyway.

We brought our own washcloths, which seem an American thing too – unused here and unavailable. Paper products, in general, are at one end of the spectrum or the other. Either the restaurants have such fine cloth-like napkins that I want to take them all home to use, or they have these plastic things that are unsuitable for most anything. Even Kleenex is higher on the stiff-0-meter and unaccountably unpleasant to use.

I’ve been looking at balconies as we walk around – lots of old palazzo types here with decorative balconies and remnants of a past golden age still lingering in the set of stones and designed extras. It is everywhere – paving geometrics in black and white, old gardens, walkways and hidden statues, giant doorways with fanciful knockers, and above the building, friezes, cornices, and ornamentation of all kinds.

Lastly, we have walked – and walked – using a store, a market, a sea view, or some other destination to aim ourselves toward. Many of you know I don’t walk much at home, and I’m winded and oxygen-deprived at our higher altitude. But we have extended our ability further as we stayed here, and today, for example, we walked 2.5 miles. I am so happy with this. It feels happy in my heart to move around and enjoy the visual feast of this little town as we continue.

Sending you baci,

Judy Lavezzi