Over the next few days the electricity short-curcuited frequently, and until we learned that our capacity was a mere 3000 watts, we’d turn on the two stufe (1000 watts each) immediately upon entering the house, along with a couple of overhead lights. Throw in the computer and battery chargers and “boom!”; we are in darkness.
Fumbling in the dark and cursing the teeny lock that Fausto had put on the fuse box outside of the largest house, Ralph dutifully came to the rescue each time the lights went out, sometimes two or three times in one evening. It’s common in the Italian countryside to be suddenly thrust into darkness for a few minutes. Natives take it in stride and continue doing whatever they were doing until the lights come up again, always having candles at the ready.
I was determined to use the large kitchen fireplace for the first time. I constructed a small tower of twigs and logs from the supply that Fausto had thoughtfully provided. There are few things more evocative than the sight and smell of a wood-burning fireplace with its promise of warmth, coziness, romance and history. A fire, a book, a blanket, and the leisure time to enjoy them – these, to me, spell a happy and contented life. I approached this first flame with great anticipation of peace and tranquility.
The kitchen began to fill with smoke almost immediately. Ralph padded down the stairs and rearranged the logs and twigs to conduct the smoke upwards, but to no avail. I opened the front door to allow the smoke to filter outwards, and for a while at least the room cleared. But it grew cold, and I had no choice but to bulk up with more clothes or let the fire die down. I grabbed the camera and started clicking from every angle, capturing this inaugural fire for posterity; indeed, one of the photos, later uploaded and paired with poetic good wishes for the New Year, became my 2009
