life in an italian village Archives - Page 5 of 11

life in an italian village Archives - Page 5 of 11 - Itch.world

A three-minute escape to Italy.

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picture of boy holding an umbrella watching the Scampanata in Anghiari Italy

May 1, 2020 In Best Of, Live By Nancy

Intrigue, humiliation, and cake batter

I am feeling wistful that today would have started the month of the Scampanata, which happens every five years, and only in Anghiari. It is one of my favorite things about our village. In 1621 it was described as an ancient village tradition and was only postponed during two World Wars. And now.

Please do me the honor of reading the description below and watching the video and let us all pause for a moment and appreciate the things that make us human and connect us and that we do for the sheer joy of it. The things that we will need to rebuild and reinvent. The things I miss the most. (Article below originally posted in 2019).

*************

I want to jump through the screen, grab you, and say “You will watch this. Now.” Then direct you by holding your shoulder, with no refusals allowed, to the best screen in your environment, and I’d click here. Cause this story and video are my favorites yet.

But I am sitting on a Tuscan terrace overlooking a valley filled with rolled hay and sunflowers eating cacio and pepe made by actual Romans so I can’t. Instead I will use my words, as I always used to tell the kids.

I am going to tell you about this event that embodies what I love about Italy—it’s highly-local, quirky, and resonate with deep human fears and joys. Every five years, in the village of Anghiari, an ancient rite unfolds, but with up-to-the-minute alliances, tricks, and grudges. It’s the Scampanta. The centuries-old society that ensures that the Anghiarese do not oversleep. (The verb scampare means to be a near thing, a close call.)

The rules are simple. You volunteer to join the Society of the Scampanata and show up in the piazza three times a week, in the month of May, by the time the bells strike 6 in the morning. And you sign in. That’s it. Sounds so simple. And harmless. The complication is that if you oversleep a fate worse than what you can imagine awaits—and we’ve all had pretty horrible dreams about the repercussions of sleeping through the alarm.

Trouble is, it may not just be up to you and your alarm. In a small community tiny slights can build momentum and every five years is about the right pressure-release timer to get back at that person who always parks in your spot, or hasn’t mowed the meadow as promised. And as you need to be born in Anghiari, or a resident for at least ten years, to participate the social connections are deep and complex.

If you are late to check in you turn yourself over to the Society for your fate. If you live out of town there are people who will drive to your house to fetch you—sometimes with a police escort. Some days during the month everybody is there on time and you can feel the sense of disappointment in the assembled crowd.

You really need to see the video to see what fate awaits those who oversleep or are somehow prevented from arriving in time. Some unfortunates have woken up to find their front door bricked shut during the night. Others have had their cars lifted onto blocks in the wee hours and all four tires removed. Still others have been convinced by friends to go with them to play a trick on someone far from town and had the tables turned—finding themselves fooled into getting out of the car and then stranded in the woods.

It must have been really hard to make sure you woke up on time in the days before alarm clocks. There’s a history of Anghiari that was written in 1621 that refers to the Scampanata as an ancient event at the time. Not hard to imagine that its roots run deep into Spring rituals around the need to plant and till the land.

And it is unique. No other place on Earth has the Scampanata.

Next time you want to hit the snooze button just remember the lyrics of the Scampanata song:

“Scampanata, scampanata
in Spring you return to our halls
to visit the lazy who stay in bed
to break their sleep and their balls”

March 28, 2020 In Best Of, Live By Nancy

Three weeks into Italian lockdown and what helps

It’s hard to imagine life was once any other way. Going out for lunch, seeing friends, or even stopping for a coffee belong to another existence that’s so foreign that I hardly even miss these things. And it is almost impossible to imagine a future that is different than this limbo. Finding a balance as the world rocks is a fresh challenge every day.

Here’s some context of what Italian lockdown means. If we leave the property (even on foot) we need to have a form filled out declaring why we are out (emergency, doctor’s appointment, to buy food) and if we don’t have the declaration, or it’s not deemed appropriate, the fine can be up to €3000. A dog walk needs to be within 200 meters of the house. We can’t leave our village to go to the next one. The mandate to wear face masks outside the property will likely be imposed tomorrow, joining the nearby village decrees. Every restaurant has been closed for the duration so breaking the cooking routine with take-out is impossible.

But even with these extreme measures the virus marches on. Yesterday our village of 5,000 announced the first two positive cases.

Three weeks into lockdown here are a few things that I’m trying hard to do:

Grab every good moment and hold tight. I look hard for lovely moments and when I find them I hold them close to my heart for a few extra seconds. For me it’s when the light hits the valley in a certain way. The unexpected snow we had (photo above). When the whole family was in the garden planting a hedge. A line from a song. Evening fires. The dog and the cats, almost always, especially when Lola flies through the snow.

Be kind. The few times I go out I thank the people who are doing the essentials to keep the world moving. When I thanked the masked checkout clerk at the grocery store for being there for us and she got tears in her eyes. I thanked the postal woman for working as she slipped a package through our gate with gloved hands. And inside the house we are all cooped up together and it helps to step back and cut everyone some slack. I am finding that every act of kindness takes away a bit of the black knot of fear. I’d love to go further and shop for elderly people, or prepare meals for them, but it is too risky that we might spread the virus to them.

On a Facebook group for the village a woman posted that if anyone was having a hard time affording food for themselves or their families to turn to her and she would do what she can, with no judgement. Immediately others started chiming in, some in very tough financial situations, offering things that they could donate.

We lost one Olympics but gained a more meaningful one. It makes me happy that the scientific community is racing to understand and mitigate the virus and create a vaccine. John has likened it to a kind of Olympics of humanity with many people from all over the planet working around the clock to solve this thing, and to help others. More medals will be earned than we could ever give out.

We are all just people. So many friends are mentioning that video conferencing is breaking down the carefully constructed barriers between our professional and private selves. I vowed a few years ago not to work with anyone who I couldn’t really be myself with and it has changed everything. I think this is especially true for women who often need to be perfect professionals and sweep all evidence of a family and conflicting needs under the rug when they go to work. l hope this portal into people’s real lives changes the way we relate when things get back to a new normal.

Turn off the screens. I am working hard so hard at this one and failing most days. I have realized that I don’t need to know all the latest all the time. It provides a false sense of control but it actually just keeps me spinning. I am trying to check the news less — a bit in the morning and in the evening when the Italian infection and death rates are announced.

Cook. This is the centerpiece of what is keeping me sane. Creating something delicious and nurturing fills my soul with what I need. Tomorrow I want to start a WhatsApp group of inspired cooks I know to share what they are making. It would be fun to get inspiration from friends.

Ride the rollercoaster. Some days are much, much better than others. And some moments are awful. Like yesterday when I could barely get out of bed. The kindness clause above probably also applies to me. Meditation and walks help even things out.

And I saw fresh wolf tracks near the house. With the absence of humans wildlife is expanding their range.

March 15, 2020 In Best Of, Live By Nancy

How Italians are handling the lockdown with grace and style

Italians have never really had much of a national identity, with the exception of during the World Cup. Instead one’s allegiance is with the village, and maybe with the nearby villages or towns when a question of regional pride comes up. But this lockdown is different. There’s pride in the air about doing this extraordinary thing for the common good. Marry that to an insatiable need to connect, share, and be social and some creative and touching things happen. I feel an overwhelming sense that we are alone in our homes but all in this together. Right there now there is 70% approval rating in what the Italian government is doing and 70% of Italians agreeing on anything is a miracle.

All countries will handle lockdowns in their own way, with some novel ideas to burn off stress and connect, but I wanted to share a few things that have happened this week in Italy.

The stay-at-home flash mob idea is big. You’ve probably seen an article about it but my Italian friends are sharing videos from all over the country — the streets are truly filled with music. There’s some coordination through social media instructing people to open windows at a certain time and sing the national anthem, or a pop song popular in the 1970s, or a locally popular ballad. Six in the evening is a popular time for this and our village bells rang and rang in solidarity with the people singing yesterday, according to a friend of mine who is sequestered at the top of the hill in the old section and nearer the action. I dare you to watch this short video and not cry. (It was shot by Jacopo Losco, a first year university student in Milan, from his house and sent by a friend.)

Tonight we turned on flashlights from our windows at 9pm. People where waving the lights back and forth and calling out “Ciao!” across the small valley.

A Milanese friend says that everyone goes to their windows and applauds at noon in honor of the medical community and support staff who haven’t left hospitals in weeks. People are also lighting candles and putting them in windows in appreciation.

“It will be fine.” Kids all over the country are creating drawings of rainbows with the phrase “Andrà tutto bene” and placing them in windows. I went to the grocery store today and passed several. It warms the heart.

Life at the grocery store. John went yesterday, I went today, and we both had similar experiences. He got there at a bit before opening and there were about eight people in line ahead, everyone waiting very patiently. They let one person in at a time, with time for them put on the plastic gloves by the door and go into the store, and then they let in the next person. When I went today is was during the sacred Sunday Lunch so the store was empty. Both times everything was fully stocked, EVEN TOILET PAPER. Staff masked and friendly. All but a very few customers in masks. Clear demarcation on the floor for the “distance of respect” between people waiting in line. Both experiences were so calm and orderly. It seems to be that people feel like the government has the fundamentals — food, fuel, trash pickup — under control and they don’t need to hoard.

Online school is going well, so far. My friends’ kids who are continuing school virtually seem to be enjoying it. My friend in Milan said her daughter in middle school gets up every morning and gets dressed for online school. Her athletics teacher is even holding remote yoga classes, requesting that students get on their mats on video camera.

Pornhub is waiving their subscription fee for Italy. At least from what I’ve heard.

Signs of Italian pride are growing. People are starting to hang Italian flags from balconies. And this display from the air force with a sound track of Pavarotti singing Nessun Dorma, “let no one sleep”, is moving. And not in a chest-bounding, nationalistic way.

Italians are keeping a sense of humor. Here are two different memes that I particularly love playing on Italian women’s devotion to salons, and hair removal. The salons are, of course, all closed. Both memes show what Italian women will look like when the lockdown lifts (which was originally said to be April 3, but clearly no one knows. Which means it could be worse than this.)

Meanwhile I just got an alert that the death toll in the last 24 hours was a staggering 368.

I wanted to close with something circulating on Italian social media:

“This is an opportunity to turn an emergency into an opportunity of solidarity and unity. Let’s change the way we see and think. I will no longer say “I’m afraid of this contagion” or “I don’t care about this contagion”, but it is I who will sacrifice for you.

I worry about you.
I keep a distance for you.
I wash my hands for you.
I give up that trip for you.
I’m not going to the concert for you.
I’m not going to the mall for you.

For you!

For you who are inside an ICU room.
For you who are old and frail, but whose life has value as much as mine.
For you who are struggling with cancer and can’t fight this too.

Please, let’s rise to this challenge!

Come together…nothing else matters.”

I think Italy has come together like never before and I’m proud to be a part of it.

March 12, 2020 In Best Of By Nancy

Staying sane in Italy’s lockdown

We are three days into complete lockdown in our small village in Tuscany. My whole physical world has shrunk to the house above. It is unlike any other experience I’ve had, full of some surprising sweetness and introspection alongside the anxiety, limitations, and worry. I’m discovering a few things that help me cope.

In case you aren’t familiar with the details of the Italian quarantine we are allowed to leave the house only to buy groceries (at the nearest store), or go to the pharmacy. If you do happen to be driving (or even walking) the police can stop you at any time to check on your self-declared paperwork about why you are out of your house. The only movement allowed is to certain kinds of work, a medical appointment, or to buy food. If you are headed to work or a doctor the police will call your boss, or the doctor’s office, to confirm your story. If it doesn’t check out double points will go on your drivers license. The vast majority of stores and all restaurants, bars, and other social gathering places are closed. All schools of all levels are suspended. I saw a casket arriving at the cemetery today without any mourners, just the priest and undertakers, as even funerals are banned.

Although we are only three days into total lockdown we had a week or so before of very limited movement. Here are a few things I’ve learned.

I am not my work. It’s so easy for me to have my self-worth equal success multiplied by busyness. Suddenly it has all come to a grinding halt for the present moment and life is stripped down to the essentials. Additionally every day seems to have a few added hours. In this time I have been doing a lot of things I’ve always had on the list, like meditation, and other kinds of self-reflection. It has been really sweet time with John as we are both trying to figure out this new status, which could last a while, as a team and what will make it work for us.

Nature helps. I crave being outside. I take a long walk with Lola every day – the only time I leave the property — making sure to keep a careful distance from the one or two other people I see out. Walking among fields and trees, and working in the yard, change my mental state and always improve it. If I didn’t have a yard I think even an herb garden in a pot would take on a special significance.

Home projects are finally getting done. We’ve always had a long list of things we’ve wanted to do to the house and are finally tackling some of them. A large bookcase which has been primed but not painted for several years now finally has its coat of paint and has changed the room completely. The olives have never been as well pruned. If you think a lockdown might be headed your way you might want to get what you need to tackle a few projects.

Cooking feels healing. Luckily food in Italy is in plentiful supply including meat, fruits, and vegetables. We are finding one of the big things that feels essential right now is to cook great meals. We’ve been making souffles, ice cream, roasts, cooking steaks over the fire, having the season’s first fava beans and baby asparagus. Meals feel more like a celebration.

I can’t control anything. Always good for me to be reminded of this and build the trust muscle that can handle it.

Indulgences take on a new importance. We’ve been nurturing ourselves a bit more. Nightly fires are the focus of the evening. Hot baths, shower gels that smell really good, candles, books, flowers picked on walks all lift my spirits. John is playing piano more and learning a new piece.

The world has suddenly become very small and quiet. The air is clearer and crisper with fewer cars on the road, even in our rural area. It smells amazing.

The company of animals is even more precious. Thank God for Lola and the two cats. If you are going into lockdown this could be a great time to get that shelter animal and bond like crazy.

The work at home part. I normally work remotely from Italy and this article by Melissa Romo resonated for me. She writes about some of tricks of the trade she’s developed to kill it working remotely.

We are all in this together. It feels right and good that we are all attempting to curb this thing village by village, city by city. The mayor of the neighboring village posted a video last night saying that there were too many people out of their homes yesterday. Today a friend and I were going to walk our dogs together by the river but decided not to as it didn’t seem like it was sending the right message. We have to protect the grandparents in the village in every way we can. (The average age of the Italian victims is an astonishing 81.) Particularly in the North hospitals are completely overwhelmed in every way from beds to staff and we can’t let it get that way here.

Suddenly we want to reach out to people we really care about but don’t talk with often enough. And we are surprised to find that people from all parts of our lives are getting in touch with us. It is a lovely thing.

More later as it evolves for us all.

March 9, 2020 In Best Of, Live By Nancy

The village vs. coronavirus

What is life like under the shadow of the coronavirus in my small village in Tuscany? Much feels different since the weekend decree holding 14 million Italians in quarantine in the North, and just finding out we are included in the lockdown. Some things remain the same, like my daily walk where I often see locals out for trail rides.

The villages of our valley issued a statement that in addition to all schools being suspended (preschool to universities), so are sporting events, public and private events, including theaters and cinemas, all civil and religious ceremonies, including funerals (?!), discos and clubs. Visitors to hospitals and nursing homes are strictly limited. Businesses, cafes, and restaurants remain open but must guarantee that any patrons are at least one meter apart. If the measures are disregarded the punishment is three months in jail. Everyone who just fled Milan is supposed to self-quarantine for 14 days.

A friend in Milan was sharing her large consulting firm’s response to the virus (this was from last week, not sure how it has changed as of today). All entrances were closed except for one. Everyone entering and exiting had their temperatures taken. No more than two people in an elevator.

Our local grocery stores are still well stocked, including toilet paper (still don’t quite understand the run on that in the States) and we are working on our hand sanitization routines. Ok, load bags in car, return cart, sanitize hands and bottle before unlocking car. Drive home. Unload bags. Shit! Now the contaminated bags are in the kitchen!!

I saw an elderly man at the shared sink outside the bathroom at a tiny local restaurant counting while thoroughly washing his hands. Another man was doing our disinfection dance outside his car after exiting the pharmacy.

The pharmacy is one of the great things about Italian life. It’s the first line of defense for all matters of health with smart, trained pharmacist/doctors who consult with you about minor health issues, do small procedures, and give prescription medicine if they deem appropriate. Now only one person in at a time can enter and the counter cordoned off so all customers stand over a meter away from the pharmacist and register. The best thing is that they have contracted with a local lab to make hand sanitizer. Pretty impressive with only two stores.

There is suddenly a big push on social media to not go out in public, complete with its own hashtag #iorestoacasa “I stay at home”.

Where am I in all of this? Trying to adhere to #iorestoacasa despite my hatred of being cooped up. We live in such a small town that work, travel, hanging in cafes, and having lunch out every day are my escape valves, and now I don’t have them. I had to do an errand this morning and passed a cafe with tables in the sun where I badly wanted to stop and have a coffee but decided not to. I feel so cognisant of how many elderly people there are in our village and I want to protect them as much as possible. Unfortunately Donella and Sebastian cannot return from London for Easter. It’s fascinating to me that London and Donella’s university, UCL, one of the most international universities in the world, are taking so few precautions. According to Donella, London is 100% normal with the exception of a shortage of hand sanitizer. She is required to attend 200 person lectures and they have given no guidance to avoid the London Underground, nightclubs, or pubs which are in full swing. Quite the contrast.

I am tremendously proud of my adopted nation for how transparent and economically selfless the government has been so far — particularly in comparison to my birth nation and the UK which seem to be driven by politics rather than public safety. Testing is abundant, health care free, and people, at least here, seem to be aware that this is important and want to cooperate.

And there’s comfort in the age of this place. That the core of my house used to be a defensive tower in the middle ages, which I am sure has seen its share of people sheltering inside with the huge wooden doors closed. Embracing waiting and uncertainty is hard for us, and I am sure it always has been, and it feels like something I need to look in the face right now.

Meanwhile I am loving the Italian sense of humor which is coming out in full force on social media. A 30-something relative of John’s who grew up the same tiny village in Calabria where John’s grandparents lived (but now lives in the north) posted this:

It means “Nothing works, factories closed, nobody at school, cash is hoarded, refrigerators are full. All of Italy seems to be Calabria.”

Apparently the North/South divide of, well, everything even extends to pasta. Quartz had an article that in Milan the pasta aisle is often bare with the exception of the fully untouched penne lisce boxes. Penne comes in two varieties, striped or ridged, rigate, and smooth, liscio. The Northern Italians scorn the smooth type, apparently not even deeming it adequate to eat during a quarantine, while Southerners, particularly around Naples, prefer it. (That preference transferred to American Italians with the emigration from the South.) Northerners claim that the ridges hold the sauce better. Southerners believe that the ridges cook before the inner part of the pasta resulting in the outer layer becoming overcooked. And that the ridges were a by-product of the industrialization of pasta and the shortcuts that lowered the quality. A Michelin-starred chef from Naples, Gennaro Esposito, was quoted in the delightful Quartz article as saying that penne rigate was “the apex of weak thought.”

A couple of baristas from a local cafe who are as close to Brooklyn hipsters as we get put a series of memes about the village on Instagram. I loved one of their latest. It’s a comparison of the village with, and without, the virus. We are so remote it’s like we are quarantined most of the time.

Today I decided to get cozy and make comfort food for lunch as we decided not to go out. Here’s what we made:

Pasta alla siege

Free form recipe but amazing. We sauteed three yellow onions and then added pork sausage to brown well. I had made some of Skye Gyngell’s Slow Roasted Tomatoes that we added (about a cup of them), a two of jars of chopped tomatoes, bay leaves, loads of black pepper and dried red spicy pepper, red wine, a few dried porcini, and a pinch of organo. It was hot, a little sweet from the roasted tomatoes that added a nice complexity, the porcini gave it a rich undertone. Pretty darn good for a siege.

March 1, 2020 In Best Of, Live By Nancy

The plague in Italy … and coronavirus

Italy knows a lot about plagues which has taught them to be tough when handling something like the coronavirus. Medieval hill towns were built to keep out soldiers and marauders but the walls also kept sick people inside, or protected healthy people from sick strangers who were barred at the gate. The word quarantine comes from the Italian for forty days, or quaranta giorni, the amount of time that ships were required to be isolated prior to docking in Italian ports from the middle ages on during bouts of the plague. Venice even set aside an island in 1370 and built a hospital/quarantine center for sailors from infected ships to either get better or, uh, not.

A friend of mine from Milan who has decamped to the countryside to escape the current threat in Northern Italy is fittingly rereading Boccaccio’s The Decameron, in which ten people escape Florence during the Black Death to go to the country. During their exile they decide to tell a tale each for ten days to help pass the time. (Boccaccio started The Decameron in 1349 right after the Black Death raged in Florence, killing three-quarters of the city’s population including his father and step-mother.)

Our house, which dates back to medieval times, I’m sure has seen its share of disease, and was used as a hospital for patients during the Spanish Flu of 1918-19.

I think this long history has given the Italians a certain pragmatism about epidemics. We are not anywhere near the “red zone” in the north but the risk is on everyone’s minds. I’ve been fascinated to see how it plays out in day to day life.

The first thing I’ve noticed is a lot less cheek kissing when people greet each other, something impossible to imagine a few weeks ago as it is such a universal and ingrained behavior. Bars and restaurants are as packed as ever, but there’s a slight hush and subtle movement away if anyone coughs or sneezes and people are looking at one another to judge the appropriate response. The grocery stores seem back to normal but a week ago we went to stock up a bit more than usual and the atmosphere was thick with furtive glances into other people’s shopping carts (and we were doing the same). There seemed to be a careful watch for what was excessive purchasing. Many spots in the pasta and flour sections were empty, as well as hand sanitizer.

This pragmatism is also apparent in the mass testing by the Italian health authorities, over 11,000 people so far, which has caught positive cases that have not resulted in an illness but made the overall numbers look far worse than other countries that are not being as proactive. The speed with which lockdowns have been imposed on towns at the center of the outbreak was impressive, with people still unable to leave their community, although movement within the towns has freed up in recent days.

This is taking a significant toll on the economy with 200 million of euros of travel bookings cancelled — and tourism is 13% of Italy’s GDP.

Am I scared? Yes and no. Like people everywhere we’ve been increasing our handwashing, bacterial wipes, practice of not touching faces, etc. but I’m not too stressed about it, taking my cues from the people around me. I think we all realize it is highly likely to spread further in Italy, but that we will get through this together. Italy has seen worse.

February 23, 2020 In Best Of, Live By Nancy

Carnevale

One of my favorite moments of the year is when the village comes out to celebrate Carnevale. Here’s 41 seconds from today’s fun.

And one more moment.

February 8, 2020 In Best Of, Live By Nancy

Meanwhile at lunch…

I’ve just returned from a week in Paris followed by two in California and while my mind has been occupied by strikes and sales in Paris and traffic and tension in the Bay Area I kept remembering a few tidbits of news I wanted to share with you from the homefront.

Expansion at the farm stand

The farm stand, which serves a 10€ mostly vegetarian worker’s lunch made from their produce, always faces a significant issue when colder weather comes. Their unenclosed front porch, which holds four tables in addition to the two that fit inside, becomes much too cold to use and significantly decreases the number of lunches they can serve. But this year Michele solved it. I arrived one day to find him beaming with a decided spark in his eye putting the finishing touches on the porch enclosure, thanks to wood provided by produce crates, a few sheets of plastic, and a nail gun. This infrastructure, boosted by two pellet heaters, has done the trick and now they can operate at the full number of “tops” year round. I assume that the removal process to return it to an open porch come summer will not be too difficult as the installation took an afternoon.

The pig is no longer with us

Colder weather brings the spezzatura or dismantling of the pig. We were lucky enough to be invited to join a family for their annual event last year which was one of the most fascinating and completely Italian things I’ve done since moving here. The respect, care, and attention given to preparing a year’s worth of meat from an animal everyone knew moved me. A couple of days before I left the farm stand had killed their pig and completed the spezzatura. To celebrate Michele said they were preparing a very special lunch later in the week — freshly-made sausages and chestnut polenta — and asked if we wanted to come. I love the local fresh chestnuts (yes frequently roasted over open fires) but have a hearty suspicion of other chestnut-based delights. For many Tuscans if you combine chestnut flour with water, olive oil, rosemary, and pine nuts and bake the whole mess it is suddenly a revered dessert, castagnaccio. Unfortunately it looks just like a brownie. Do not make this mistake as I have.

Anyway, Michele was especially excited about the chestnut polenta. Silvia, standing behind him, mouthed that she was also going to make “something good”. With great reluctance John and I showed up the day of the feast and bravely opted for one order of the sausage and chestnut polenta. (We also got one order of the “something good” to cover our bases.)

The sausage and pancetta from the pig were delicious, as were the onions. The chestnut polenta was not as bad as expected, much better than the castagnaccio dessert, even though it had a strong resemblance to Play Dough gone wrong. But I did not opt for the sweet version of the chestnut polenta, served with ricotta, for dessert. Instead I ordered the classic ramp up to carnevale and Lent Tuscan dessert, castagnole, which are bits of dough that are fried and around here often stained with runny dark red sugar (Christ’s blood?).

Royal Fascination

John and I happened to be having lunch at another local favorite while the emergency meeting was going on between the Queen, Prince Charles, and Prince William about how they were going to handle Megxit. I didn’t know this because I was following with rapt attention but because the large man with work overalls at the next table was. Propped up amidst his quarter litre of wine and pasta was his phone, loudly streaming the live coverage from the U.K. as the swarm of reporters waited on any news of the outcome of the meeting.

God save the Queen. And lunch.

December 8, 2019 In Best Of, Live By Nancy

Postcard from a lunch in the woods

I’m at the Antica Farmacia dei Monaci Camaldolesi and it is lunchtime and I am hungry. I have just driven through miles of lonely, misty forest to get to the monastery and I’m surprised to see a restaurant opposite that’s open. I cross a little bridge over a rushing stream in a gorge in the forest and go in. I am the only person there and am shown to a table near a small wood burning stove.

The menu features lots of wild boar, freshly made focaccia, and sausages cooked over a fire. I order and another woman comes in wearing a forestry uniform and packing a gun. The owner follows her to the table carrying a large, freshly peeled carrot on a plate and puts in in front of her as soon as she sits. She quickly eats the carrot. The owner than asks her how the health routine is going and if she’d like her usual salad for lunch. With cheese. And her usual quarter litre of white wine. She agrees.

Two men enter, both dressed in a similar uniform, and also carrying guns. They look over at the woman, and she looks back at them, and the most restrained greeting I’ve ever seen in Italy is exchanged. They are then seated at the other side of the otherwise empty restaurant.

She leaves soon after. I wonder what the real story is. I think of how lonely it would be to work with people in the middle of nowhere that you wouldn’t want to have lunch with.

November 10, 2019 In Best Of, Live By Nancy

Happily Ever After

I was very excited to hear the news that Carlo and Armando got married — the first same sex marriage in the 1,000 history of the village. I have been impressed by the support and openness the village has shown the gay couples who have chosen to live here but the majority have been from America or other parts of Europe. Carlo was born and bred here and I wanted to find out how a tiny Tuscan village with a largely older population feels about one of their own taking a less traditional path, so I invited Carlo for a coffee.

When I say born and bred here I am not exaggerating. Carlo actually sleeps in the same bed he was born in, in the same room, in the same house. In his teens and early twenties he dated a girl for about six years but slowly realized that his sexuality was taking him in a different direction. He moved to the US for several years, Rome after that, and also lived in Arezzo, but the whole time life in his village was calling him back. He returned in his 40s to live in the house with his mother and would go out on weekends to clubs that were gay-friendly as far away as Rome or Florence.

One evening eighteen years ago he met Armando and they have been together ever since. He and Armando started spending weekends together as Armando had a cabin the the country and both were living at home at the time. One day Carlo’s mother said “Why are you always packing your bags and going away for the weekend? If you have someone in your life I want to meet her.” Carlo admitted to being deeply in love, but with a man. Without missing a beat his mother said to bring him over for dinner so she could see what kind of a person he was. Carlo still remembers the tension of the evening, but at the end his mother was nearly as in love with Armando as he was.

Armando’s parents both died as all this was going on, and Carlo’s father had died a few years previously, so both decided to move into Carlo’s birth home with his mother. Carlo remembers how close and welcoming his mother was from the start, treating Armando like another son. All of them would even go on vacations together. When she got sick with cancer both of them took care of her during the four-year course of the disease until she passed away.

The official coming out of the couple was equally supported by the village. Carlo said that he never constructed his identity around being gay, but just who he was, loving who he loved. He said that the village treated him the same before and after Armando was on the scene, and Armando was quickly accepted by everyone as being a lovely addition to the community.

Carlo and Armando had talked about getting married for the last few years and finally, rather spur of the moment, decided to do it. (Partially because the political climate here in Italy —as in so many other places — is always on the verge of shifting more extremely to the right and they wanted to take advantage of having this right to marry.) They didn’t send out any formal invitations but there was a notice posted, as for all things official, at the comune, or City Hall. There was a huge outpouring of support and enthusiasm as the word spread and over 100 people came from far and wide to help them celebrate. The outpouring on social media was equally impressive.

After 1,000 years some things were ripe for change. And I can’t imagine a more deserving couple to initiate it.