There was the promise of rain this morning. Thunder and everything. Those huge drops started falling and I got excited because we really need the rain. Ruffino got excited too...who the hell knows why. Well, actually, I know exactly why.
We teachers of elementary school aged children learned to loath rainy days early in our careers. You get the double whammy of kids getting hyper because of the change in the weather and the inability to go outside to use all this added energy. "I HATE inside days" was always mumbled over and over in the teachers lounge and around the photocopier first sign of clouds. I hear it's different in the Pacific NW of the US where the stock is stronger and the little lads go outside even if it's raining, but not anywhere I've ever taught. In Denver we couldn't go out because the rain was tough on afros but that's ok, it never rains there anyway. And in Italy - forget it. There ain't no way of getting a little Italian kid out in the rain at all, and if you did you'd be hearing about it from their mama for the rest of the year because you surely caused pnuemonia. Well, I found myself repeating that stale teacher phrase this morning ... Ruffino was already nuts and we couldn't go outside.
Then I thought about those colleagues from rainy climates - screw it, we're going out in the rain. Who cares about the lighting. It's not like we are on the top of a mountain...oh wait.
Anyway, Ruffino and I set off on a walk to Maberga. I know I talk about being from Maberga all the time but, truth be told, David and I actually live in the suburbs of Maberga. This might be hard for some of you to believe but not only do David and I live in the suburbs, it's also a gated-community. Here's the gate:
Yep, we need a key to get onto our "private road". Gotta keep the riff-raff out, ya know. Never mind the fact that everyone who has a key has given a copy to their brother, cousin, and mother-in-law, so pretty much the entire valley has access to the road...but I digress.
This is actually Maberga.
No one lives there any more. There was a fire some time in the 50's (I think) and everyone's places were distroyed. There was no road going up here at the time (the resistents came and went on foot) so rebuilding everything would have been a major endeavor. So now, this beautiful little village (I think there were about 11 families here when it was at full capacity) is literally crumbling away.
Except for this place
See, there's actually a roof and windows. No one lives there but Colombo and Nucia use the place for, well, I don't know exactly for what.
Nucia was born here. She lived here until she married Colombo.
When Ruff and I got to Maberga Nucia and Colombo were their cleaning and preparing for the big festa in Maberga next Sunday. A few years ago Colombo with friend Agusto, rebuilt the village church. Now, once a year they hold a mass there and then everyone eats together.
After sharing a shot of amaretto, Nucia and Colombo posed for me by the church.
You might wonder why (800 years ago?) the very first inhabitants of Maberga (a group of monks) decided to climb all the way up here to build a monestary where there was nothing. Here's the reason I came up with:
Not a bad view, huh? Easy to know there is a God from here. That photo is taken from one of the abandoned houses' balcony.
Last but not least I will show you a picture of my mom and dad on Main Street, Maberga in honor of Father's Day (and Mother's day because I don't think I posted a picture of my beautiful mom last month) taken when they were visiting last autumn.
And, I'd like to report that the sun is now shining and the dog is sleeping so I can get back to knitting more little bags.