So I was at the gas station the other day fillin' 'er up when a guy popped his salt and peppered head into my open window (more salt than pepper).
guy: you wanna buy a house and some land in Maberga?
me (a little dumbfounded): um...what?
guy (in rapid-fire italian, almost without breathing): I have a house and some land in Maberga, a lot of land, and I never use it. I never go there. Why should I go there? Why should I have it. I haven't been there in years. I don't remember the last time I was there. I want to sell it. Well, I have to ask my sister too but she doesn't go there. Why should she go there? Why should she have land in Maberga? I'm sure she'll want to sell too. Do you want some land and a house in Maberga?
me (a little shocked by the babbling head of what must be an old Mabergino, whom I'd never met): I HAVE a house and land in Maberga.
guy: well if you want another one. or more land. I have a lot of land. or if you know someone who does. I live right there (pointing to the completely nondescript 1970s apartment complex across from the gas station). You can just find me there. It's a lot of land. And the house, it's near the church.
And then the guy was gone. I gave a quizzical look at the woman pumping my gas.
gas lady: he must have known you live in Maberga.
Yesterday I went up to Maberga Soprana for a walk with the dogs. I pondered living up there and was trying to figure out which house belonged to this Mabergino I didn't know. I do know who owns most of the places up there. Like this one