Once again, we spent the holiday season in our favorite place in the world. We were lucky this time, to be joined by one of the grown kids and her little family. It can be a little daunting, when you pack up and decide to put down roots in a foreign place, where you don’t know the customs or speak the language.
This trip showed that we are beginning to function. I didn’t struggle in the market, and was able to communicate with the vendors as needed, and simple things like ordering dinner were easier. It is all part of the adventure. We are also tackling end of year housekeeping on utilities. The way theirs are paid is different. They charge you “average” usage for a household your size, all year. Then at the end of the year, you send in actual readings from the meters, and are either charged or credited, as needed.
Water was a bit of a theme on this trip. It started with the washing machine deciding to flood our house. It didn’t occur to me at the time, but that happened just as a major change was happening in the house, with a stunning wall mural being hung. The water spread through nearly half the house, and we rescued a laptop off the living room floor, in the nick of time, only because the wallpaper man noticed the water was spreading that way. I had fallen off of our stairs the evening before, and was limping along while helping to stem the flood. The marble floors are now exceptionally clean, and the local appliance dealer is researching top loader washing machines for us, as we are not a fan of front loaders in general. We were very Italian and hung several rugs out on the balcony to dry.
We had some….interesting….experiences in the house this time, where water also ended up being involved. This time it was the kind out of the font at the ancient church in the piazza. The house was calm when we left, after having every corner, doorway, and window splashed. I all but bathed in the fonts of the half dozen or so churches we went into in Rome. I doubt I have ever been as catholic in my life. The events in the house were experienced by three different people, all at separate times, and that was enough to make me into a believer. We will be inviting the priest around this summer.
We hosted what has become an annual holiday party, though I really think we will skip in next Christmas, in favor of just a small dinner party instead. Our third floor neighbor came, which was lovely, and he gave us a priceless gift. He came with a photograph, old and tattered, of the palazzo that stood where our building is, after a catastrophic event. In Italian, the word “bomba” can mean many things. It makes us unsure what damaged the palazzo, which had been built in the 1700s. It could have been a bomb, in the second war, or it has alternately been attributed to an earthquake (we are in an active earthquake zone) or a gas explosion. We have two accounts that tell us another building down the street was damaged at the same time. A portion of the original palazzo still stands. If you look at the photo, everything from the arched doorway, over, to the left, is still there. Now I’m interested in seeing the interiors of that building, to see if any original details still exist. We are going to have to seek out someone at the town archives to see if we can get a more solid version of the story.
Water seemed to be an appropriate theme, because water flows, conforms, morphs, and changes. We are changing, too, the more time we spend there. We have a life there, already, that patiently waits for us when we are away.
Vagabond.Belle 