Noto: Senza Carne (Without meat)

 Me the meat eater, chose this farm because it was senza carne, without meat.  Me the meat eater that would eat every part of an animal from it head to it hooves, have signed up to eat nothing but vegatables for a month.  Frankly I was not sure how this was going to go.   I am mad for vegatables like I am mad for a great pair of shoes for a splendid dress.  You can't really just have the shoes on now can you?

I check the refrigerator in the kitchen when I woke up from my nap to see if I could potentially sneak a stash there for private consumption if it was necessary.  I laughed at the idea of crouching in the dark with a leg of something, ripping the cooked flesh from the bone while the vegetarians slept upstairs.  I wondered if I would be visited by dancing cured meats in my sleep.  Ha.  Ha I thought.  Marianne you are silly.

I arrived to the kitchen door at 8:05, shoved a kitten in my jacket and waited for five minutes, American punctuality.  I knocked lightly, turned my back to resist looking through the glass.  After waiting I tried again, this time a little harder.  I hear the soft swoosh of feet dragging against  the flloor tiles in my direction.  Janne answers, bundled in a long scarf and wool sweater, in one hand  a book, her thumb still holding its place.  I smile, place the kitten on the ground outside and walk in.  The kitten tries for the door before I have the chance to shut it.  I watch while Janne scoots it outside with a swift pop of her felt Berkenstock.  "Wow I did not know that vegetarians kicked kitties."  I thought.  When I returned my glaze to meet hers she did not seem amused.  I don't have a poker face and frankly I am not sure what it is saying at this moment.   I could tell that my affection for beast was clearly a personal, solitary adoration this part of the world. 

"You are welcome to come in.  We are waiting for Massimo.  I do not know how long he will be."  Her words flat and foreboding. Basically in this instant I realize that the time quotes for meals are simply an idealized reality that will never come true not even once for the remainder of my stay.  It was not uncommon to eat at 10:30 at night once even at 11.  Usually times like 9 really mean 10 or 10:30 and a five minutes really usually means at least a half an hour but the truth is it could mean absolutely anything.  I take this in and make a mental note, always bring a book, always bring a sweater, always make sure that you pee before you leave the house.

I sat for a little while and watched Janne read.  I felt like a hologram.  Sophia entered the room and glanced over quickly but looked as though she wished she could have done to me what her mother had done to the kitten.  I write it off to adolescence and call it a day. 

"Ah,  I was writing a letter to my mom.  I think I will go back and finish it.  Should I come back in a little bit or can you call me when it is time for dinner."

She looks up from her book, moving only her eyes, knowing that she will not be away from the pages too long.  With a deep sign Janne replies "That would be fine."

"Yes but which",  I thought. I smiled politely, thanked her and went back to my room. 

I wasn't writing a letter to my mom but it seemed like a nice idea that probably an Italian would excuse and maybe like a little.  I went back to my little house and just worked in my verb workbook.  For some reason this comforts me in the same way that Highlight magazine did when I was a kid. There are not connect the dot pictures of monkeys in trees but filling in the blanks with verb conjugation completely consumes me and feels like company.

My stomach growling, I sang out loud to myself rubbing my belly.  "Hush little tummy don't say word, momma's gonna feed you but it won't be a bird. Ha Ha that's funny"  I state to myself and wonder what the hell I was thinking and if perhaps I might be unraveling a bit.     

It was almost two hours before the sound on the ceiling excited me and filled my belly with hope.  Above my head the scrap of wooden legs on a tile floor as if they were being pulled away from a table and the tromp of feet across the room, the crash of shutters and then "AH MARIANNE(EEE) PRONTI."  Massimo's voice was like thunder .  I jumped a little and I hurried my pace to arrive.  I did not know what Pronti meant yet but in the context of this situation I thought surely it meant come and get it. 


I took two steps at a time to arrive to supper.  I skipped shoving a kitten in my jacket and went right for the door.  Knock knockity knock knock.  Massimo answered.  "Is it a big bad Wolf." For a second I don't get it, then I realize he is playing with the acronym WWOOF.  "si, si, si Il Lupo." I replied. (wolf in Italian)  He flings the door open and asks.  "Ha fame?"  (are you hungry?)  Oh just a little. I smile knowing about my little song and my little lie.