Monday, June 28, 2010

What would the world be like if you were not able to enforce the law, for whatever reason? If systems were overwhelmed and couldn’t function, if angry citizens, realizing that their rights were no longer protected , rose up and stormed the barricades, each man thinking only of himself, his own immediate needs, throwing any sense of community and cooperation to the wind?

This was pretty much the scene at the Delta terminal at JFK on Monday, June 28 at 3pm, five hours before my scheduled flight. Stanchions, put in place to create orderly lines, had been knocked down. People broke into lines as the irate fliers behind them raged and railed, grabbing Delta staffers in search of justice, only to be met with indifference or worse, annoyance. Announcements were made every few minutes, searching for people whose flights were about to leave and who hadn’t gotten through the security check yet. That line moved imperceptibly , perhaps an inch every 15 minutes. All around me, fear, fury.

Halfway to the airport, I received a phone call from Delta informing me that my departure would be delayed three hours, so I was looking at 8 hours in the airport instead of 5. The Delta Sky Club is not exactly as I envisioned it. Two free passes came with my new Delta Amex card and I was looking forward to a bit of luxury instead of the usual mosh pit of economy class fliers. Turns out it must be very easy to get into the Sky Club these days; it, too, was rather crowded, snacks were mostly packaged, but yes, the booze was free, and there was television and computers and a printer, which came in handy when I realized I did not have my car voucher and had to get into my email account to print a new one.

An uneventful flight, just as I like it. And in an exit row with extra legroom. The Pisa airport is small, making everything much easier - retrieving baggage, get a rented car.

I manage to make it from Pisa to Sesto Fiorntino to find IKEA. But getting from there to Perugia, I take a wrong turn and end up eventually in Arezzo. It’s getting late. The supermarkets close at 7 and I have not done any shopping for dinner or for the house. I’ll never get to Todi before 7. Near Arezzo, I see a billboard for an IPER COOP, a sort of gigantic supermarket/department store. I manage to do a sweep before the place closes and get enough essentials to get me at least until tomorrow.

It’s past 9 when I arrive at Le Caselle. Even so, there is enough dying light to glimpse the exquisite landscape as I ascend the mountain. It’s been 24 hours since I left for JFK.

The house is a disaster. Admir appears not to have known that I was coming. The kitchen is covered with pails of cement, tarps, the sink is filthy, muddy handprints and footprints all over the place. My lovely wood and canvas lounge chair is soiled, beer bottles are everywhere. And I’m unable to find the key to the laundry room where the scaldobagno is, so I may not have hot water tonight.

It is eerily quiet here at night. Or am I just so used to the din of New York City that the sound of no sound feels weird? It’s nice.

I’m not alone. So far I’ve seen a lizard, a scorpion, several spiders, a host of moths (what is a group of moths called?) on the way up, a rabbit ran across the road. Suddenly I feel a responsibility to these living beings, even though I would prefer not to have to deal with them. Killing them seems senseless – there are many more of them than me. Can I cohabit peacefully with them?


Wednesday, June 30, 2010

It’s cleaner here since the oldest brother died and the vicini moved into a smaller house down the street. No more garbage in front of my garage, no more porcelain sinks and bathtubs strewn across the front yard. The dogs are still there but they are a bit less filthy it seems.
I left my cell phone battery charger in NY and the phone is so old that I could not find a place that carried one. I purchased a new phone for the same price as a charger. I went to the Mercato Usato to look at some used furniture, but I thought the prices were high and I hadn’t looked around enough.

Lunch with Fausto and Judy and her grandsons Tino and Ari. Once again I'm all fired up and no where to go once everyone shuts down at 1pm, so a long lunch is not just an option. After lunch I went to the Internet Point and checked on work emails. There were 35 of them and because of some computer glitch I was unable to answer any. I have to return tomorrow.

When I left I had gotten a ticket for not paying for parking. I have parked on this same street on many past trips, but it seems there are new regulations. The Italians have figured out a million ways to generate revenue for the state! I had purchased a broom and some plastic garbage bags so went back to Le Caselle to clean up. I will certainly have to figure out a way to deal with the bug situation. I am no match for the armies of ants, moths, spiders and other creatures that have laid claim to the Italian countryside. I fill three large trash bags with garbage – empty soda bottles and beer cans, paper towels, cigarette butts, paint chips, coffee grinds, insect remains and various and other sundries and assorted objects. I sweep the kitchen floor vigorously but there always seems to be new dust, fresh dirt. A battalion of ants march towards the leftover cookie crumbs from last night’s biscotti. I wipe them out with a swish of my sponge and make a mental note to clean thoroughly after each binge.

A moth appears from nowhere and flies dangerously close. I must have my swatter at hand at all times. At dinner tonight, Judy and Fausto tell of a miraculous new product that you mix with water and spray on the outside of the house, and all bugs disappear. This magic elixir was given to them by a neighbor and they don’t have the name or know where to get it.

Dinner was al fresco, with Judy, Fausto and the boys, Jane, Leslie and her half-Italian, half-American children Lucia and Marcello. We have rotisserie rabbit and also a fried version, which is delicious, pasta cooked in red wine, and a butter-less, egg-less chocolate cake which was extremely tasty and surprisingly moist. We discussed the difficult situations faced by American ex-pats who don’t have the proper papers. If you are older and you are not here for school or work, you have to prove a certain level of income or savings in order to assure the authorities that you will not become a burden on the system. Jane has to go to Immigration services tomorrow and she is deadly afraid of being deported, even though she owns a house here and has been here for many years.

Leslie’s children are very impressive, especially Marcello, age 18, who entertained us by singing “Putting on the Ritz” and spouting his knowledge of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. Judy’s grandsons are both talented musicians. It’s wonderful to be in the company of such unconventional children.

Fausto has made an appointment for Admir to meet me at Le Caselle tomorrow morning at 9.

Thursday, July 01, 2010

Admir was here at 9:20, contrite and full of elaborate excuses for the state of my house. He said he was planning to clean up the house when he found out I was arriving on the 28th. But on June 14th he received a call from his mother saying his grandmother was terribly ill and he had to go to Albania immediately. It’s hard to be angry at someone as sweet and gentle and handsome as Admir, even though part of me is convinced I’m being royally conned. I try to stay almost expressionless while ever so slightly skeptical. I show him the photos I took of the house when I arrived – the filthy sink, the cigarette butts on the kitchen floor. He apologized and said he felt bad.

He says he can finish the work in two days. Two days, I asked, incredulously. Can you do it while I’m here? Yes, he answers , but he doesn’t want to disturb me. That’s not a problem I say. And immediately I begin to envision the entry way covered with white stones and the fence around the property He will return tomorrow at 9am to begin to finish the work.

Franny has a bug and cancels our date for this evening. We reschedule for Monday. I drive into Marsciano to check my work email and try to find a charger for my camera, to no avail. Back at Le Caselle I make a delectable lunch of lettuce, mozzarella and hard boiled eggs with hummus, accompanied by some local Orvieto and rosemary grissini. After lunch I do something truly miraculous….I assemble the clothes rack I purchased at IKEA. Precisely following the pictorial instructions and without too many flubs I managed to erect a structure that looked amazingly like the drawings that came with the box. I am filled with pride.

Follwing dinner at Oasi – white pizza with fresh porcini and black truffles, I am sitting on the terrace at Le Caselle enjoying some grappa and peaches. There are faint sounds of dogs barking and the hills are dotted with nervous flickering lights. There are faint voices but I don’t know where they are coming from. A family at dinner or friends gathered for a card game. There is life here in this little borgo. People, dogs, insects, electricity, The night is heavy with stars. A tiny ant crawls across the computer screen.

Friday, July 02, 2010

The day began in Todi where I went to pay my parking ticket. You must go to the Post Office and take a number. It's not unlike going to the Motor Vehicles Bureau in New York only the cast of characters is different. The clerk asks for my passport but I believe I have left it in the car, so she uses my International Drivers Permit to obtain my name and address. When I return to the car I don’t see my passport, so I think I must have left it at the house.

Back at Le Caselle Admir is hard at work in the blistering heat. I feel sorry for him, working alone and trying so hard to make a better impression. I search the house but my passport is nowhere to be found. I look under the bed, in drawers, under sheets, behind the pillows, in my suitcases and the back to the car, combing every inch. Nothing. I know I had it yesterday afternoon so I must have left it somewhere – the internet place, at the restaurant where I ate last night, or at one of the stores where I shopped. I return to Marsciano and retrace my steps, certain that I will find it. But I don’t. I call Ralph and he suggests going immediately to the Caribinieri. The last time I lost my passport, nine years ago, it was winter and I was leaving in two days. I had to rush to Florence to the Consulate and get a new passport, which was a slow and frustrating process.

The Caribinieri asks for my passport number, and although I have traveled for years with a copy of my passport, I have not brought it on this trip. I have the number in my American phone, but when I turn it on I’m unable to find the memopad. I think there’s a copy at home so I call Ralph and ask him to find it. He can’t go until Monday. The good news is I have 12 more days here so there’s no rush. The bad news is if I don’t find it I will have to go through the laborious process of getting a new one.

Tonight we went to a Sagra in Collevalenza, which was distinguished not by great food, but by a large dance arena and a loud and lively band of four men and one woman, doing Italian and American pop songs. I am always impressed by the number of couples that get up to dance and how well they do. It’s tradition and it’s generational. Judy's friend Sabra explains to me that in Italy the family is sacred; families live together, married children and parents, grandparents, and they all depend on each other, share the income. Italian parents are required to leave their money to the children; they can only leave one quarter to someone else and there has to be a good reason. Even parents and children who hate each other are doomed to reconnect after death.

Saturday, July 3

I have definitely dodged a bullet. This morning I went to he Caribinieri in Todi and as soon as I told the officer that I had lost my passport, he miraculously pulled a copy of it out of a drawer!! Someone had found it in the Piazza in Todi and returned it to the local office. I drive up to the centro storico and get the passport. I am told that an old woman found it under the arch, she must have seen me in the post office and recognized me from my passport photo because she described exactly what I had been wearing yesterday.

Joy at knowing I won't have to go through the agony of getting a new passport. I go to Izzalini to an antique market and notice that tonight and every Saturday in July, they are having a Ben Gazzara film festival in the small piazza! A native son. If I don't make it there tonight, I will go next Saturday. It's a real Cinema Paradiso moment and one not to be missed.