Arrivato: Valle Tortorone

Gigio

  I was collected from my post with the friendly helpful man by Janne and her daughter Sophia.  I was a nervous wreck wondering if they would think I was rude just showing.  I had arrange this date for my arrival a month before.  I had attempted to confirm with a call from Catania a few days before and spoke to her husband Massimo.  This call had mixed results.  I heard his voice, felt after that he probably he was expecting me, but when I identified myself to him he said.  "What dew yewe  wahnt?"  Rather than assign extra meaning to this greeting and allow it to question my discussion to go, I wrote it off to him not understanding some of the subtleties of the English language.  This is something you say to a  stranger that knocks at your door with a big brief case wearing a suit but maybe not to someone that is going to essentially be living and working in your house.  Okay.  Good for me.  Open minded and all.

I apologized for coming, kinda unannounced and for the call from the Santo.  She assured me with a flick of her wrist. her bony fingers fanning away my idea as it were a fly,  in absolutely perfect English that it certainly was not the first time such a thing had happened, for both Santo helping a WWOOFer headed to her farm and for a WWOOFer coming without calling.  It was just fine.

"He told me he wanted to take you to my house but i did not want this man to come there.  Once he was talking to me.  The next time I saw him he was driving a school bus.  He turned the bus around to say hello to me.  There were children on the bus Marianne.  This man is a little out of his mind." 

"Yes, but he was friendly and had a phone. But yes indeed a little crazy." 

 The car ride was quick.   I was asked the usual questions.  Where do I come from?  How long have I been here?  Why am I a WWOOFer?  It was pleasant conversation.  Janne ended all of her sentences with a sigh. which I was not sure how to interpret.  She just seemed a little sad and tired.  I don't think I did this to her. 
Sophia, her daughter watched her mother speak.  She stared at her mother as if she were portraying her. 

When we arrived Sophia extracted herself quickly and punctuated the gesture with a swift thud of the car door.  Janne whinced a little but her attention was steadfast on my arriving.  We went to the trunk.  She removed one of my bags.  When I moved to her to stop her, she held a firm flat palm up to face me in a clear gesture of NO. 

"Here is our house where we live and where you will come for meals.  Breakfast is at 8, lunch is at 2 and dinner is at 8:10.  You will work in the morning with Massimo until lunch six days a week with Monday off.  In the afternoons and evenings and your days off you are free to do as you like.  Now you are free to do as you please.  Dinner will be at 8.  If you are hungry now I have something for you."  I quickly replied no but was actually hungry enough to chew off my arm.

As she spoke we walked down a gradual slope covered in stone.  We arrived at what will be my little house for the next three weeks.


It is a little flat, kitchen, private bath and a large bedroom.     "You will have hot water in the afternoon.  I must make a fire everyday for this.  We are country people.  We work in the morning."  she looked at me with her chin tucked down and her eyes on me, as expecting a confirmation. "You are free now.  See you for dinner."

I ripped open my pack as if I were in some kind of a race and found a place for everything.  I was amazed how comforting it was to have my belongings in neat little piles.  My books stacked on a desk, my computer next to them, a notebook laid out and a pen ready to be used.  I folded my underwear and bras out of my water boots and placed them in a drawer, lined them up in order from lights to darks.  I never do this at home.  My work shoes, stored outside on my cute little porch.  City clothes hanging, work clothes folded.  I layed on the bed for just a moment and I was sacked by the weight of sleep brought on my hunger and relief again to have arrived in a new place, for the most part without incident.  Ah La vita-Troppo Dolce.   

The view from my little porch