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Saturday, August 28, 9:30 pm:
Tonight is our last night at Case Rotelli. We're scheduled
to take a train to Milan tomorrow evening, then fly back to
New York on Monday morning.
Outside our neighbor, Alberto, is entertaining some friends.
He asks us to join him for a drink and I'm happy to see that
Franco Rotelli, his brother Piero, and Piero's wife, Silvana,
are also there. Sitting around and talking is one of my favorite
activities, even when I can only half participate. The talk
is about the Italian Lotto. The pot reached 30 billion lire
this week; that's $15 million U.S. and it's enough to set
Silvana dreaming about what she would do with it if she won.
A trip to the United States is the first thing on her list.
* * * * * * *
Franco disappears and when I finally notice I ask the others
where he went. Well, it seems he's left his sheep out and
now it's dark and he had to go find them and bring them home.
He returns 50 minutes later. The sheep had travelled all the
way to Cavezzana and figured they had been abandoned for the
evening. They had plunked themselves down and were camping
out in a field and Franco had to rouse them then drive them
back the 3 km to their pen. That's more shepherding than he's
has done all year, and when he returns he needs a drink. We
head to his cantina to try some of his bubbly white wine.
I only stay for one drink. Silvana has gone to bed and although
they're very polite about it I know I'm only here drinking
with the men out of their respect for Renato. A woman doesn't
have much to call her own here. If she has a job outside the
house it's probably an insignificant one -- just a little
something to supplement her husband's income. Giovanna works
as a cashier in a supermarket, Silvana is a waitress. Many
women here work only in the house, which is the hardest work
I've ever done and I don't do half as much as these women
do. I don't have a vegetable garden to tend to, or farm animals.
I don't prepare two- and three-course meals everyday. And
I've had a housekeeper clean my house for the last two years.
Hardly anybody here ever asks me what I do, which is okay
because it would be hard to explain anyway.
* * * * * * *
Silvana said she loves to dream about what she would do if
she won the Lotto. "Dreaming is one of the best things
about living," she said. Renato said he agreed, but I'm
not sure I do.
I'm very lonely here. It's partly the language thing (my
Italian isn't great, but almost everybody speaks a dialect
that I don't understand very well and so I never really improve).
It's partly the vastness of the countryside: the mountains
and the stars. I have trouble feeling that I'm a part of it.
My place is in NYC, where most of the time I feel like I have
some purpose -- even if that's an illusion. I'm always anxious
to get home.
This summer would have been very difficult had it not been
for the little digital camera given to me by Steve Lewis (thank
you again and again, Steve). The camera provided me with a
purpose: to share my vacation with my friends. Thanks for
reading and for sending your nice comments -- especially Bryan
for explaining to me exactly how Pisa's harbor vanished.
See you all in September.
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