Arrivato: Night time

Well if you throw a rock you will hit something beautiful in this little city.  It is magnificent.  In the late 1600's an earthquake destroyed Noto  and damaged neighboring cities like Syracusa and Modica. Essentially what followed after was a huge pool of funds by the wealthy families in an effort to rebuild the city.  The result is a city with every inch, a few inches here in there perhaps not,  build during the Baroque period.  This is the only city, as far as I know, in Italy where this is true.  Certainly the only city that was constructed with such a focused and sweeping effort.  Stupendous.

I am grieving still for the lost photos and pray when I return that perhaps one of my computer genius friends will be able to extract what I could not extract myself using a program.   During my stay here I spent a lot of time wondering the streets at night in Noto alone.  The family often had business there and I was given a ride whenever they did.  Every night old men walk arm and arm in pairs to gather up with other men to chat.  Every one of them, dressed impeccably usually in a suit and a hat like little Cary Grants, often with little dogs in sweaters in tow.  In one of the public squares is fuzz ball table and kids of all ages gather to play.  The kids waiting their turn were often kicking a soccer ball around or just chasing on another in the shadow cast by yellow street light on neighboring trees.  There is an order to things here.  What I was a witness to on these evening walks was people in their lives.  They too were making passages on foot, their caveat before sleep. They were practicing the art of keep and making good company, creating the epicenter of modern Noto, the who did what to whom, when, which, why and where.

One evening I wondered into a palace.  Now this may sound silly the use of wondering in this sentence, but often a door to a palace is the same as any other place.  In a dark street when a doorway is open and lighted, I find it impossible to resist just poking my head in.  Often through these doors are gardens with amazing flowers and sculptures.  Most of these places I have wondered into are indeed private but I indulge myself for a moment.  This evening a polite man waved me in, promised me he spoke English, which he did not, asked for three euro and then pointed to the stairs.  I climbed the bare stone stairway to the second floor to find almost everything dark.  One room was lighted and furnished.  "Wow I have been taken,  still cheaper than a beer." I crossed the room  and leaned in to get a closer look at the drawer pulls on a piece of furniture when I was startled by a booming baritone "Buona Sera"

I turned to face the man.  There stood a guard looking firm and grim.  "Mi dispiace signore." I said taking a giant step back to try to create a gesture of apology for stepping in too close.  He smiled "Viene Signora" He motioned for me to follow through a doorway. He walked ahead of me switching on lights, pushing out darkness to reveal one amazing room after another.  I oohed and aahed like a game show contestant.  This pleased him.  Now he started swinging open doors marked Private and switching on more lights.

His cell phone rang, he answered it, continuing to motion me to follow.  He pulled back curtains, opened more doors inviting me onto a balcony.  "Vede" (You see) pointing to the carved rail and the street below.  His face was bright with pride like he had just pointed out his child.  I gasped.  He nodded with satisfaction, left me alone on the balcony, took a place inside and continued his phone call.  I poked my head in after a few

minutes and pointed to my pretend watch.  He shook his head and waved to me with a smile as if to say, look as long as you would like.  You will only have those photos and this night as a piece of your past, not a part of your every day.  Take as long as you like.