Thursday July 8, 2010

Yesterday morning I took a walk up the road in Le Caselle and on the the main road in Quadro. A little power walk to try to burn some calories. It was also an opportunity to meet some of the neighbors on this little strip; Gino, a hearty old man with gold teeth; Rina and Berto, another Italian couple who sit outside in the shade all morning, then go inside when the hot sun starts to bake the pavement. They tell me that my next door neighbor is her sister. Everyone on this strip seems to be related to my neighbors. When I mention this to Judy she says “Of course”.

Another frustrating morning at the Post Office, as I try to arrange for my mail to be forwarded to Fausto and Judy. After waiting a long while to see the clerk, who of course speaks no English, I find out that I need my Codice Fiscal – a sort of tax number that is given to everyone – and I have left it back at the house. One thing I have learned from spending time in my mountain aerie is to make a list of everything I need to take with me when I leave the house.

My next infuriating task it to try to get Ralph’s phone working again. I have entered the wrong PIN three times and it is now locked, to the extent where even a professional isn’t able to open it. I take it to a local phone store and they are adamant that I need to buy a new SIM card and that Ralph’s phone number is dead – carta scaduto. I call Ralph in New York where it is 6am and he insists that they are wrong and tells me to abandon my mission for the time being. Later in the day I’ll try again in Marsciano at the Euronics store where a very nice employee named Jacapo sees me almost daily. I’m certain he is at the point where he wants to run and hide when he sees me walk in the door, but he is always polite, speaks English beautifully and appears to be extremely knowledgeable. I have met such extraordinarily nice people here, as compared to those I meet in the cities who are always on their way to lunch and can’t be bothered to answer a simple question like “where is the bathroom?” “Non so” (I don’t know), along with a shrug, is what I’ve gotten at the airport from harried Alitalia flight attendants, and from disingenuous young baristas who are standing a few feet from a door labled “Toilette”.

The trip is going too fast. I’m already at the point where I have to plan my itinerary carefully each day in order to get everything done. But it’s time to break for lunch; there really isn’t anything else to do at 1pm. So I stop at a supermercato to get some provisions, even though there is already enough food in the frigo to feed a cavalry, should one show up. I just like to shop in the stores. I crave more plump sweet peaches so I buy half a kilo, and some mortadella, which I have not tasted yet this trip. Also a ciabatta and a bottle of Orvieto. With my sack full of goodies I drive back up the hill to my seventh floor walkup.

It is very hard to keep this place clean. The spiders weave new webs faster than I can swat down the old ones. I am no match for them. Dirt and dust are constantly accumulating on the stone floors, more leaves fall from the trees as you are sweeping the morning’s collection off the terrace. I’ve promised myself I’m going to give up going for the pristine look. While white cotton tablecloths and white pillows on the outdoor ledge are very pure and Zen, it also means many trips to the Laundromat (or else buying a washer, which I will do eventually, but not on this trip), and I have not gone to all of these many years of effort to become a washerwoman or a scullery maid. I will go for another neutral color, maybe brown, something close to the color of dirt.

Later on at the Euronics store, Jacapo is off for the next few days, so I struggle with a nice young girl who speaks no English. She looks about 14 and of course is very well versed in everything electronic. Occasionally she calls for help from someone who speaks a little English, but mostly she enters data into a computer with great confidence and amazing speed, and announces that there is no credit on the card. I must charge at least 5 euro and then wait 12 hours and she will then be able to unlock the phone and Ralph will be able to retain his phone number. Rumour has it that if you don’t add money to a card for 12 months, the number ceases to function. I’m not sure if it get buried in the numerological graveyard or it becomes available for assignation to another user, but for all intents and purposes it’s kaput. Or so I’m told by the local phone store. The staff at Euronics swears otherwise. We’ll see tomorrow when I return after the required 12 hours.