We’ve come a long way- thank you for your encouragement and support. We’ve suddenly been trying to do the things we said we would do, and now it is two weeks before we leave to head back. So, some recall is in order.
Friday night we had tickets to a futball game – soccer as it is known elsewhere in America. We’d been encouraged to go by an Australian friend, Syd, who told us we HAD to go if we could. We got tickets. We rented a car for the weekend, and we made plans. The game was in Genoa – not so far, but all superhighway driving to get to someplace new, so we left quite early. There seemed to be giant parking lots, and we scoped out the one closest to our gate number. All cool. We went into Genoa, got lost, played around, and ate food.. When two & 1/2 hours before the 8:45 game, we were nearly there, every parking spot was full, and streets had been blocked off. People were pouring in from streets, sidewalks, and highways. And it was raining. We had the magic handicapped placard, and when we asked where to settle, they let us into the lot with all the police cars, ambulances, riot vans, etc. OH MY! But it was a good spot to watch all the security folks with their riot gear queuing up. Another Oh My – wait, what?
We got so lucky – we had a slight overhang above us, and while one row in front and the field continued to rain, we were dry and praying that the direction of the wind didn’t change. The crowd was getting wound up; there were tons of children of all ages, lots of medical personnel, and very loud music/announcers – saying something exciting! (we didn’t know what they said, of course.) Just before the pre-game stuff began, we all sang a rousing chorus of You’ll Never Walk Alone, in English. No, I don’t know why. I was up for that and knew all the words. Otherwise, I just sang along with la-la-la-las all night. I’m pretty good at that, and loud too.
Children came on to walk onto the field with the team after a display of anti-racism shirts and displays. Also, by the way, there were a lot of anti-fascist signs everywhere. Finally, it looked like we were going to begin — each of the Genoa players was announced. I’m not sure if the other side got any love — it was hard to tell with all the screaming and drumming. The stands were nearly full, and this wasn’t even a big game!
The field to our left—Northside—was raucous. Throughout the game, they waved flags of all kinds—not nationality, but maybe club flags? MANY flags, also including chanting, screaming, singing, and drumming. They added fireworks and flares, and at one point, the flares were tossed onto the field during play. Everyone just stood still and waited for a uniformed guy to come and remove them, then play resummed.
The tremendous noise never stopped during the whole game. Our guys tackled the opposition at one point by the expedient of wrapping his arms around the runner’s waist, and tackling him to the ground. There was, let’s say, a reasonably lenient tolerance of physical contact in this non-contact sport. The crowd sounded like a million bees all gathering for the kill whenever the ref called an unpopular call. I thought it took a lot of courage, given the crowd. Then there was the rain, which caused so many to race around the field and slip at a crucial time. Since I also like ice hockey – I was engaged with this one – what an occasion for passion and potential violence that never happened. So many children were there, and the game started at nearly 9 PM. I think no one sleeps on game night. Exciting, thrilling and fun.
Bettola: We have relatives in a small town in Bettola, about 2 1/2 hours from Chiavari, so after a late start due to game-tiredness, we got back on the road to visit and have a little lunch with our folks there, getting the latest and best news one can. Our cousin, the fantastic Francesco, is getting older, too, just like the rest of us, although he still has a fabulous beard and is a marvelous host. When we initially and later met him years ago, he was whining about his love life and the many women who didn’t seem to appreciate him, and the loss of young people from the small towns where the drain is affecting schools and jobs terribly. When we suggested that immigration looked like a solid plus for them – they were unwilling to go that far. They wanted people who looked like them and acted like them, with their Italian values. Meanwhile the town constricts more every year. I should say that my cousin, who is a great guy – has himself neither married nor had children, and maybe early 40’s.
This year, he began to grouse about girls who refuse to become women who are attracted to the more profound things in life. I think our boy is sounding like we all do at some point. Seeing the world with a different, more mature vision, and one that is concerned beyond the immediate. Maybe. There is a book out with a fabulous title that I haven’t read – the title is sufficient – it is “On Earth We are Briefly Gorgeous” I bet you all get the message – Yep, and damnit.
We drove home in blinding rain-slick highways, and I cowered a bit as Lew drove through tunnels and open sheets of the torrent, with his favorite Irish /Gaelic singing in the background. Don’t ask. It’s disconcerting at best to be taking the high road to Scotland, and you take the low road, etc., but he is the driver, so he gets his music.
We’d been invited to meet with some folks in Genoa on Sunday, too, so we went, excited to be asked. We don’t know people here, so any invitation is really thrilling. Again, we drove into Genoa, which is only about a half-hour away. Again, we drove through rain on the way back—sweet Molly Malone!
It is San Patrick’s Day today, although no one here is wearing the green. I think San Giuseppe, a Father’s Day celebration, will be a bigger deal. Poor S. Joseph—he got left out of so much, presumably. Even the celebrations don’t have him doing anything—just holding up the standards for chastity and celibacy without much notice.
Today, the rental car returned; it was sunny and gorgeous, and the sea beckoned us for our walk. Pedestrians stroll near the sea – which has the title of lungo mare – the long sea. It’s done by children and their elderly parents, elderly people and their friends, mostly arm in arm, the handicapped, those with children, who are sometimes the nonno’s of the town – all raising their grandchildren with such tender love, the bicyclists, skaters, baby carriages, and dogs – all of the dog walking done here day and night goes on! The promenade is a magnet, and we watched the giant lifting machine take a boat and raise it high enough to power wash, and then a robot vehicle came and settled below the boat, arms up to snatch and carry it someplace-probably for dry storage. Not much of that is done in the Denver area, so it is interesting stuff.
We made reservations at a local place for dinner Friday (Robertone) and have a few things planned before we clean up and bid a teary farewell. It’s been such a gift to us to have someone—son Tim—to cover and manage the properties I usually work on so we could do this. Knowing all that, leaving when it is time to go will still be difficult. But the plus is that we will see your beautiful faces and be a bit more available to those not within our local area. I already have a lunch or two planned, as well as a dentist – about that broken front tooth!!!