My New Little Big Life in Italia

My New Little Big Life…in Italia

“If you care about something you have to protect it – If you’re lucky enough to find a way of life you love, you have to find the courage to live it.” –Owen Meany, A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving

                                                           

Friends…I have arrived in Contignano, in Tuscany, Italy.

After packing and re-repacking, and attempting to make 55 lbs. of books weigh only 50 lbs. (impossible!), adding only SOME of the art supplies, building a quilted case for my accordion so I could carry it onto the plane like a backpack (think Sisyphus)…I have arrived.

Contignano is a small village of about 200 people and (I estimate) about 300 cats. It’s above the Agriturismo Montalla, where I host my annual workshops for artists.

For those who know me, and those who don’t…I have always imagined from a young age that I would be an old woman living in Italy (or Lithuania, but more about that another time…). I’ve spent many hours researching relocating to another country and to be honest, it’s not that easy unless you’re incredibly wealthy and can buy your way in to the tune of (minimum) $100,000.

Other options include:

A.)    Proving that you have relatives that came from there and then jumping through lots of hoops to acquire the right to reside in that country.  I don’t; I’m Lithuanian.

B.)    Marrying the village baker.  

None of these alternatives seemed like the exact best plan for me, although our village baker is a lovely individual, kind and hard-working, even though he is technically retired. I will refer to him respectfully as Signore M, for the purpose of protecting his identity from any unscrupulous, marriage-minded black-widows who may be inclined to entertain option B above. Hands OFF, ladies, this guy’s not for sale!

But since old-age is looming, and my meter is running, I have taken the plunge. I felt I needed to be in a place of great beauty, art and history. And cats. (Did I mention Italians love their gatti (cats)? Well, yes, they do!)

I am currently staying in a beautiful, tiny house within the village walls. There is an incredible view outside the kitchen door to the balcony of the surrounding hills and fields. It is perfect for me! And I even have a book shelf for the books. The landlord offered me a larger one, but wisely I declined, knowing full-well that more shelves would soon be filled with more books.

The kitchen is just the right size with a small fridge and gas stove. The freezer has one ice cube tray, plus room for one bag of frozen spinaci (spinach) and one small container of lemon gelato. (The limoncello, normally kept in the freezer, must live on the shelf on the fridge door now, with the water bottle. But it’s okay, they get along well.) What else does a girl need?

However, there IS a monster in the corner of the kitchen. It’s called the pellet stove. Although handsome enough, it is a complex system with a voracious appetite. Thankfully, the weather is getting warmer and I now know how I can put it to sleep. Pellets come in bags of 10 -15 kilos (22-33lbs) and since I park the car outside the village walls, I haul only 2 bags at a time to the house. I feel this is a good weight-bearing workout.

Upon my arrival, I was met by Clara and Adriano, who gave me the tour and the house key, and who tried, unsuccessfully (I admit to my ignorance of pellet stoves and the Italian language, but I’m confident I will learn!)  to explain the various options of the stove, such as turning ON and OFF. The next day, Claudio, one of the owners and my new landlord/neighbor, explained how to clean said stove. It’s actually pretty easy, and I do it every day. The plus side is, when it’s running, I have a charming little fire to look at while sitting at the table.

Utilities are all costly in Italy, which I knew. In America, we cry, “SAVE THE WHALES!!!”  In Italy, we cry, “SAVE THE WATER!!!”

I have always stressed this to my guests who visit on a workshop, hoping that they won’t stand in the shower for hours at a time. (They don’t, trust me…the water tanks aren’t that big!) Lucky for me, having lived in an RV for a spell, I understand the method of Getting One’s Self Wet/Turning OFF the Water/Soaping Up/ Turning ON the Water/Rinsing Quickly/Calling it Good.

In America, we are often clueless about our natural resources…we flush every time (Whatever happened to, “If it’s yellow, let it mellow. If it’s brown, flush it down?”)

Being mindful of our consumption just makes sense, when you think about the places that don’t have enough water, or clean water, or ANY water, for that matter. And besides, if we don’t save the water, saving the whales is an effort in futility.

What I appreciate about this place more than the natural beauty of the terra, the art and the history, is the sense of community. These people live together in close quarters, unlike we Americans, who all think the answer is to have our own acreage which we then enclose with a fence.

So far, I’ve been here less than a week, and I have already been out dancing  and partying TWICE with Claudio and his partner, Manuella. This is the season for Carnivale and it seems everyone plans on enjoying it, and I mean everyone!

There were young (YOUNG!) people AND older folk. All together! I even saw someone bring their baby, who got handed around to enthusiastic baby-holders!  And no one was glued to their cell-phones. The only person on the cell-phone was ME, attempting to use my Google Translate. And someone else brought their well-behaved dog (Someday I’m going to be bringing a dog with me into the restaurant, I guarantee it!)

But here’s the most amazing part: BOTH bands included ACCORDIONS!

I think I’m in the right place. Wish me luck with my Italian language skills.

23.2.2020.