The last days of August...
I want Lockdown back. I think. Surely for the part of no vehicles… cars, trucks, vans, pick-ups, apes, motorcycles or, bicycles… and, for those airborne… no helicopters or, passenger planes. Only Peace & Quiet. OK… a few tweeting birds, clouds floating by. The later sometimes rumble…
I spent a full hour yesterday stopped in a massive traffic jam, and with a semi-crazed Weimaraner jumping from the passenger seat to the larger back bench behind. Said adored creature wanted to get a better angle by shoving his snout out the double picture sliding glass windows opened primarily for air. Not for entertainment or, sport. There was something aromatic outside. A sensitive nose. Trash along the road? Wafting of an imminent pranzo? Certainly not the saturated smell of fresh asphalt being laid on the highway ahead. I heard the teams of men and machinery to arrive at that conclusion. Too many cars, trucks, vans, pick-ups, apes, motorcycles, and bicycles between me and them for a view. The same story looking behind. Endless line of vehicles. As the clock on the SUV’s dashboard ticked the last minutes of that full hour, a gentleman in a bright white and new Peugeot SUV passing us in the opposite direction and seeing me and the Dog hanging out windows with nothing possible to do but hang, slowed and WARNED… Turn around. It’ll be another hour before you get to Aulla. A mere kilometre away. I did. And, it took a comparable hour driving over a series of twisting & winding back roads of the Lunigiana to breach the town’s limits. Better to move than to be stuck, I always say. I can run the AC, if the car is moving.
You know there is an active and oblivious authority operating when, at the worst possible moment… Like hey! At the height of the August Vacations you have to do this? With everyone racing around in their vehicles?… they march in men & heavy equipment to make some stretch of infrastructure safe or, efficient per il popolo italiano. Typically it is the autostrade. Now, they are going for the secondary arteries. As we are told, God rests in His Heaven above but, above the Italian government rests the European Union. An EU flush with funds coupled to a rabid bureaucracy eager to launch new edicts to make A Better European Community. A wonky bugle blow would be appropriate here. The EU feels its mission is Good Works. They throw money at them, ie the reconstituted Medieval Ponte of Codi-bridge. The latest, lo’ & behold, is the wizardry of our times entrusting upon us of a new form of asphalt, one which absorbs rain water. Fancy that? Somehow it does the trick and eliminates the risk of hydro-planning or, sliding into a slowed-down FIAT Panda during a cloud-burst while an elderly couple inside can genuflect passing the cemetery at Rometa. What a novelty! Not the cemetery. The asphalt. A blessing? Maybe. I’ll let you know towards November. We are loved and protected. By the EU. Someone has to do it. A Big Brother? Maybe, and when all the highways & byways of Italy are beautifully re-made & safe according to the terms of the EU bureau-edict. Black, smooth asphalt and bright white road markings. The beauty lays in the contrast, you know? The EU edict-ed that too. And, it shall remain ever so. Bureaucracies don’t change.
The Dog & I made it to Aulla. It was Our Wednesday Morning Mission. I must say it was a productive visit despite the hindrances and time constraints. Managed to picked up the prepared marble pieces for il Poggiolo’s home improvements before the place closed for pausa pranzo. And, more importantly, I got in some necessary shopping. It’s great to be a guy! New underwear! Certi modelli in 100% cotone e altri in 100% micro-fibre… the fabrics caress. Could be dangerous. Or, noticeable. And the colours? Black with bright green, grey with orange, white with Navy blue, and solid bright blue, petroleum, and asphalt. No kidding. I’d post a photo but I am too shy. Oh! And, new tight round collar T-shirts to go with the new slip-boxers. Checked out the nice lady at the local designer shoe store and waltzed happily out with new pair of Premiata trainers ON SALE in black, yellow & grey. Very cool. Very comfortable. Very well built. All the better for one with two hip ops walking the Dog. New drafting ink pens and a box full of black BIC pens purchased at the cartoleria, and then, off the Dog & I travelled home and as we had come. The Long Way.
But what an August it’s been. KA-KA-BOOM!!! Ferragosto. Work suspended ‘cause operai fled on a week’s vacation. Heat & humidity clamped onto to the Codiponte forecast like there was no tomorrow and there may not be with the Coronavirus spikes here, weirdly dressed families resembling cartoon characters in tell-tale bright colours escorting obese children clutching their mamma or, large groups of teenagers trooping up & down behind il Poggiolo to do what? Take a walk? In this heat? Check out il Borgo Castello? At 3PM in the afternoon? Anything to get away from i genitori? Admire themselves in the rear-view mirrors of cars parked in the Borgo’s Parking Lot exhibiting the current and most hideous feminine fayeshion to date of micro-boxing shorts and A-shirts? I sent the Dog to bark at them at our back gate. He did so willingly. I love his enthusiasm. A threateningly basso profondo. Good Dog. Squeals were heard as a consequence. He was awarded with A Mighty Reward. of a wurstel. Cars practically double parked below the Codi-bridge and Borgo Parking Lot. The list goes on and on, but I will refrain.
And yet, after nightfall, the world of Codi-bridge in August becomes softer, easy, cooler. Voices of folk outside on their terraces for dinner and after. Often well after Midnight. The muffled talks floats above the town’s rooftops. Many beautifully seen from the perch of our Loggia at il Poggiolo. From the heights of L’Appartamento Azzurro’s terrace, I can spy a few dinner tables set with the easy-to-wipe plastic checkerboard & flowers table cloths, plastic bottles of Coca-Cola & Fanta and water from Acqua Paradiso, plus many dishes & plates with traces of the evening meal. The calls of kids playing in the cool night air out on the Piazzetta. Often well after Midnight. Italian children. Guess they can. Schools re-open on the 14th of September, if all goes according to plan. We’ll see. Collections of people strolling below our house, meeting and stopping to chat with others out doing the same and before they risk Life & Limb on the Medieval Ponte. A nice rhythm pervades. Pleasant atmosphere. I let the sounds circulate and dissipate while chugging along with my book. 34 pages to go.
The August mornings I like the best. Both Dog & I up and out of the bed as the campanile strikes 7AM. What a racket. it reminds the Dog that he will eat shortly. But first… he goes to pee somewhere inauspicious in il Poggiolo’s garden. Me to open windows, make me a caffe’, maybe wash a few dirty dishes before His Excellency saunters in to be fed his breakfast. The Dog always looks astonished his bowl is not already full and on the rug next to his water dish. I take my caffe and a laptop to read the newspapers on-line out on the terrace… overlooking beautifully the Codiponte’s roofs… in a lawn chair You bought for Euro 10. Most comfortable chair for my Scottish fanny around. I savour the No Noise. Well, the birds can’t help themselves. Just Peace & Quiet. And a caffe. The Dog is on the bed.
7:15 Am at il Poggiolo in Codiponte, Tuscany Italy
Big Things...
I used to believe we were only entitled to One Big Thing in a life-time. Coming to Italy thirty-odd years ago was mine. My only shot at Big. Cannot recall how I did it. Oh, there are memories… my two best friends in the world put me on TWA… and stories… found work as a fayeshion designer through the back door until I had enough experience to enter at the front door and with no proper schooling in the subject… and many experiences… lived with You and his mother becoming a Saint Benedetto in the process… but, too much time has passed under the proverbial bridge and I’d rather not be bothered now to stop and reflect upon the how-to’s. Not in my character. There’s a family joke about me… one day, My Crazy/Wonderful Auntie asked… If I were to come to a fork in the road, what would I do? And my kid brother piped up… He would just barrel straight on through. My reputation forever cemented in my family.
I find myself at a fork. Can’t seem to get anything accomplished. I’ve arrested Life’s motion momentarily. Take stock as to why. Gads, a personal inventory assessment moment?
Perhaps, I have been too much alone? A probable cause of a self-imposed, and then, inflicted, Lockdown from the middle of February and, continuing on still today regardless of the subsequent easing of restrictions.
The Dog has been a comfort though he lacks the gift of conversation. Yet, he does insist to curl his 37 Weimaraner kilos on my legs as I read an autobiography of Dick Cavett. Anyone remember him? What I’ve read so far, up to Page 55… yes, I know, I ought to be further along, however, in my defence, I alternate between Dick and his often discussed travails with his dick and Hilary Mantel’s herculean third tome on Thomas Cromwell, The Mirror and the Light. Tolstoy is more concise. Poor, dear Thomas, badly portrayed in dozens of Hollywood and English films, his Destiny with an axe is unavoidable. The book is a slow trudge to decapitation. Rather kills any interest to finish the book. Unless, the how-to is of abdiing interest. Like Death in Venice. The Croesus-person could care less. A simple communicator, is he. Yawns if I’m too chatty. He may just imagine that his prime job is to stretch out on the other sofa-bed and sleep in my presence. He’s got that down pat.
Separation from You conspires a greater toll. Our relationship of late is mostly possessed of consistent telephone calls and text messages on Whatsapp. The messages are more successful than the telephone conversations. The former are often clever, ironic or culturally informative. There are links too. The later is like being grilled by your Third Grade teacher in 2 + 2. Not my subject. Not now, not yesterday and not tomorrow. Yet, like a Rottweiler, You delves… telephonically. I am often barely awake. Embarrassingly, my life at il Poggiolo a Codiponte is repetitive and a bore to. report… Got up, drank a caffe’, got dressed, walked the Dog, blah-blah-blah, sat out on the Loggia and watch the sun set behind the enclosing hills of our valley., done for the day. Fascinating. Could be to You, who is decked out in his hospital gear-par-excellence in a hospital and there’s only silence waiting for him at our home in Genoa. I suffer the interrogation as pleasantly as I can.
There was a bout of weekend visits from You right after our release to travel between Italian regions after the 3rd of June. Now, it will be three weeks until I will see You’s overly tan face… some Italians have to have a tan on… and shinning smile again. And his geeefts. The last were two stone ornaments now gracing the walls of our Fish Pond. But, damnation!!! I’ve returned to missing his talking to me when I am 50 to 100 meters away, his constant orders & commands for both house & garden, his professed admonitions to protect my interests… Do not put in double doors to the outside in the sala da pranzo!!! An absolute waste of money… while puttering in the garden with his self-proclaimed list of tasks held in his head… none of which are on my list for him to do… and leaving the mess for me to clean up.
You called this Sunday morning. He did not have good news. He said… Last Monday there were no COVID-19 patients in the hospital where he works. By Thursday there were over 30 and by late Friday night the count was 59. Several in Intensive Care. A spike. It set me back some. As predicted by Dottore You. He’s keen on lockdowns during pandemics. Break the circle. I suspect he’ll more than likely return to his old Temp-job as a Coronavirus dottore. You managed to beat the odds for three months and not come down with what survivors have said… It’s a bitch. And, by the way, eye doctors were the first to die in China from Coronavirus. You’s regular day job is as an eye doctor/surgeon. Will his luck hold? I am along for the ride though at a distance.
In my funk, I felt a need for a revision to my presumed Life’s Plan. Maybe one can have more than just One Big Thing? Credit given where credit is due? The mental motors stirred… an infinitesimal shift in perspective and, a thought slide into an anointed slot…
You’s pretty Big… to me… and though he barely cracks five feet. You & I have been together for twenty-two years. Un Big Amore. One which has survived through our thick or thins, ups ‘n downs, let the Good Times Roll, man. Hell! We even share real-estate. And, by Noon today, there were two telephone calls, three Instagram shares and four Whatsapp messages. I went to pet the Dog to share this discovery. There’s more than just one. There’s You…
…and there’s you too, Croesus-person!!! The Dog, unaware or, oblivious to changes in Spirit about, was thrilled to have my attention. HIs tail wagged. Devotion has its rewards. The Croesus-person’s been A Big Blessing. My sole companion from February 15th until June 5th. Pals together al Poggiolo a Codiponte… and with n’er a dead cat, comes when called, wakes me up like an alarm-clock, happy for any kind of grub, enthusiastic to go on a w-al-k in the Citta’ degli Alberi, prefers to sleep during the day yet, is an attentive assistant when I am assaulting the garden on some pretext or, mission and, does not complain when I watch episodes on Netflix. Books are quieter, he says.
And, the old stones of an 800 year old farm-house in a place in Tuscany know one knows about, keeping me grounded & standing just on the maintenance issues alone. The place threads Italy to You to the Dog to My Life. WOW!!! It is my home… on alternating weekends, Our Home… my kingdom, my seat on Italian soil. May I add, anchor too? The only place I care to be. A Big House surrounded by a Big Garden. Took four years to find it. Took another four years to rebuild and furnish it. I had help. Still much to do everyday. Inside and out. Sun-up to sun-down. And, in between walking the Dog and communications of various sorts from You. And, it’s our future. More plans & projects to perfect it. In the meantime, La Signora-neighbour in the Ugly Yellow House next door has turned ON the water. I am watering plants as I write. This day is sunny & bright & clear and not muggy at all. Dr Bacchus and Mr Hercules are at their posts. Unvaryingly. Ditto for all our urns. The birds are chirping. Unstintingly. The flowers are blooming, especially the hydrangeas. Purple, blue, fuchsia, pink and white. I can sleep in any one of nine beds. My pick though I have my preferences. There’s food and white wine in the refrigerator… yes, I am off the wagon. Enough glasses and plates and silverware for a party of 200 though it’s lately just me. So, again, I get to pick according to mood, I guess. The Dog has his dinner bowl. Clean clothes are in the drawers. However, I need more all white T-shirts. Life is Good. I am thankful. Singular is in the Past. There’s more Big than I realised.
