The Trials Of Being A Writer In Rural Italy

As you have possibly noticed, the site has been rather uneventful for the past couple of weeks. While writers block and life are always presenting their own potential setbacks, my current issue is more to do with my rural lifestyle choice and its resulting crummy internet, than it is any mental blockages on my part.

I moved to Italy back in May 2014 and boy what an adventure it has been! It had been a good ten months or so between coming over to sign the final paperwork, and packing up all my worldly belongings, and animals too, and starting out on the three day drive through Europe, towing my ancient battered caravan.

When we arrived the neat garden and yard had turned into a veritable jungle of foliage and wildlife, perfect for an animal nut like me but not so good when it came to moving everything in to the property. Add to that the water to the property bad been turned off and we ended up having to utilize the well in the top field in order to ensure that the animals were looked after, and to give us some very rudimentary washing facilities!

To make matters worse, we arrived at around 2am in the pitch black…well sort of! I managed to, rather cleverly, get myself seperated from the rest of the family, who were accompanying me in my little old fiesta, to help with the moving in part. I am not known for my fantastic sense of direction!

Long story short, I found myself half-way up a road that was really only suitable for goats, on an incline far too steep for my 1.6 Astra to manage to pull the caravan up. Add to that scenario that the caravan was not only too heavy for the handbrake to hold in place, while I went off to find help, there was definitely an impressive drop off just behind me, and all my animals were sitting blissfully unaware in said caravan, and you will start to build a clear enough picture of exactly how stressed out I was at this point!!

Miracle of miracles, after around twenty minutes of hair pulling, frantic phone calls to my mom and brother, and with tears welling in my tired eyes, a face suddenly popped up at the passenger side window. It took me a while to realise that this must have confused the owner of the face some, considering that the passenger side of a British car is the drivers side of an Italian one!

‘buona sera’ said the man, who looked to be a little older than my dad, ‘tutto bene?’

My Italian is still rather sub standard even now, but that much I understood, and without further ado, I proceeded to burst in to tears, much to his shock and my own mortification…It had after all been a very long three days!!

‘no, no…tranqilla’ he said coming round to the drivers side and patting my shoulder reassuringly. He then went on to explain, that his farm was just a couple of kilometers down the road, and that his son would be here soon with his tractor to come and save me. My relief was profound to say the least!!

I was in the middle of nowhere, in a country that I still didn’t know very well and somehow I had managed to snag myself a passing angel.

Another twenty minutes passed and my panicked family finally managed to find me, I asked them to unload the animals first off, to make sure they were safely in the other car, and shortly after they had done so the mans son turned up in his tractor, and the two got to work hitching up the car to it.

2 hours, a cup of coffee and two rather nice glasses of homemade white wine later, we had met the angels entire family.

Italians are some of the best hosts you will ever have the pleasure to meet. It didn’t matter that it was 3am by the time we arrived at their house, and our insistance that we didnt want to cause any more of a fuss fell on determinedly deaf ears. Within minutes of arriving, we had been escourted up to their living room, with its cosy crackling fire, and all but ordered to sit down and relax, as they laid out coffee, cake, olives, salted beans and a caraffe of homemade white wine.

It didn’t phase them that our Italian was rudimentary at best, and we gestured and sketched our way through two hours of really pleasant conversation. Being British we, of course, tried to politely excuse ourselves a few times, in an effort to let them get back off to their beds but they were having none of it!

When we finally did get up to leave, we were led first on an impromptu tour of the farm and animals, before being taken down to their cool cantina. We thought they were just proudly showing us the fruits of all their hard work, but before we could even take it all in, we found ourselves loaded up to the elbows with fresh fruit and veg. It was to help get us settled in at the new property, they told us with beaming smiles, and the grandmother then procceded to present us with a bottle of their lovely wine as a housewarming gift.

It was like a strange but wonderful dream! we went from living in the U.K where you were lucky if your neighbours even noticed if water was pouring out of the front door of your house (but thats a whole different story!!) to some sort of utopian society, where people who you had never even met before behaved better, and showed more caring and genuine concern about your wellbeing, than many of those whom you’d known for years! 🤗

With the sun coming up over the horizon and bemused smiles on our faces, we drove off towards the house (the right way this time!) Needless to say my angel (and neighbour as it turned out) Vincenzo, and his wonderful family were presented with the most lovely flowers we could possibly lay our hands on, the moment we could got to the closest florists.

In the years that have passed since that night, my love and respect for the people of this wild, untamed land has only grown in measure. Yes the internet sometimes goes for weeks at a time with little to no signal, which is still definitely frustrating, but would I swap this life for the one I had in the UK surrounded by state of the art technology and consumer driven industry??

Not in a million years!! 😊

 

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