Perugia

Well, that's settled. 

I've been charging around, all over Umbria for three weeks - Norcia, Narni, Terni, Citta di Castello - and it's finally come down to Perugia, and a small place in the country. It's not fancy. It's not posh or suburban. But it will do. 

I left Citta di Castello in a funk on Tuesday morning. It was hopeless. The logistical problems of having three cats, a house full of furniture - but no kitchen - and needing a place that was both close enough to the centro storico that I could go to Mass, but also needing a place with a garden and away from traffic - was impossible. There's a lot to tell about Citta di Castello, and I'm going to be writing about it elsewhere soon. Suffice to say here that it didn't work out, and is in reality quite a depressing place. I was glad to leave, in fact. 

I took the little local two-car diesel train down to Perugia and just wung it. Deciding to start from the middle of the bullseye, I got a hotel room (off-season prices quite good) in the middle of the centro storico at the very tippy-top of the "scala mobile" - the escalators that take you up from the train station at Porta Sant'Anna to the medieval town on the flat top of the mountain. It was cold. And windy. 

The hotel wifi found me all the realtors in town, and I made appointments. Came back to S. Marinella on Wednesday afternoon, fed the kitties and slept. Rested all day Thursday, and then charged back up to Perugia for my appointment on Friday. 

The hunt was strange, and it wasn't until a last-minute change of plans that it seemed to go from hopeless to solved in the space of ten minutes. 

The appointment on Friday sounded promising. I saw one place that was very nice and posh and modern, with a fireplace, four bedrooms (and two identical full baths next to each other, which seemed like a shameful waste of space) and a teeny garden, a beautiful view just outside the city on a bus route. It seemed pretty good, but it didn't "feel" quite right. The bedrooms were all extremely small and the price was a bit high for Perugia. I put it in the "I'll keep thinking about it" file. 

It turned out, however, that that was the last thing they had for me. There was another very beautiful and quite affordable "casa independente" in the country, but it needed transport, since there was no bus.

Anyway, by this time it was nearly bus time and I was getting painfully tired. I wandered back to the train station and found out there was about a 45 minute wait for the next bus. Remembering that I'd seen another agency on the strip not far away, I decided to go there and make my needs known, in stead of just sitting waiting. It turns out that this other place was populated with just the right sort of Italian lady - the mothery kind who can't resist a stray cat - and one of them spoke good English.

I explained the whole sob story and they said that a possible solution could be to take something for a shorter term near Perugia. This would at least buy some more time, allow me to be closer to P so I could be there to look for something more permanent, and would give the kitties somewhere to run about. They called the lady in Deruta (frazione of Torgiano, which is a frazione of P) and she agreed. They said to come back the next morning at 10:30.

So instead of going back to S. Mar, I took a room in the same hotel, and stayed. I thought it was quite a good suggestion, since I was starting to really feel the pinch of not having time to do this. I had told Lina I would be out of here by the end of March, but it wasn't looking good, even in Perugia - which is supposed to be the best rental market in the country.

So, I stayed, and was quite hopeful and cheerful. I went back the next morning, and instead of going straight to Deruta, the guy offered to show me a place in the country that was on a bus route. So we went waaaay out into the farm-y district, and close to a small village was this nice couple with a big farm house, down on the flat between Perugia and Torgione. They had set up a suite in the house for the mother-in-law, who I suppose has died.

It wasn't fancy or posh and suburban like my house in Norcia, and has only a wood burning stove in the kitchen, not much of a "salone" (lounge) but two very large bedrooms, and very bright. It's very much a country farm house mother-in-law suite built in the 70s. They're putting in a new stove and redoing the bathroom - even tearing out the old pipes - so that is going to take a little longer. They said I could take it by April 15.

I've been thinking about how to put it together, and thought the second bedroom would make a nicer living room/workroom than the tidgy little salone space, and then realized that the tidgy little narrow space - that has a big Umbrian double window at the end - sure looked a lot like an oratorio to me. Take out the fridge, the ugly little dining table and big hideous faux-wood china cabinet, and it's a perfect little home-chapel space. A lick of paint and some chapel-y decor, and bob's-yer-uncle.

Most of the socialising in country places goes on not in a formal sitting room but in the kitchen anyway. 

There is a ginormous terrace off the kitchen door, and that leads to an even more ginormous garden, which is all mine to play with.

Perugia has an abundance of second-hand shops, including two of my favourite shops: MercatinoUsato - which is like Italy's version of Value Village - so whatever is needed can certainly be had there. And they said I could have it on a year-to-year lease. I told them I wanted to return to Norcia,  but thought it would be quite a long time. And one never knows what's going to happen next.

I went away and thought about it for a couple of days, and the idea has really grown on me. I got a friend who's good at this stuff to go looking for transit and other services in the area and there's a daily train from San Martino in Campo, about a 15 minute walk from the house. (short bike ride). Perugia has a weekly Mass and a good Traddie community. I've visited the Universita of Stranieri and can sign up for their monthly course which is quite cheap at 400 E. 

Perugia seems like a big city on paper, with a population of 160,000+, but the city is actually really compact because it's on that mountain with nowhere to expand to. So that number includes all the frazione (villages and small towns within the municipality) which are really quite nice little independent medieval villages out in the country. 

The house is a bit isolated, basically in the fields between San Martino in Campo and San Martino in Colle. But it will be quiet and peaceful and safe, and the kitties will LOVe it.

The main thing, though, was how much I liked the couple. Somehow it was just one of those rare times when you hit it off with someone - especially Annamaria - and are instant friends. We talked about the house, then where I was from and what I did, and then earthquakes, and then gardening and cooking... (Thank God I bought a smartphone with an auto-voice translator!)

A huge part of the problem with finding a place has been the complicated logistics. I have cats and am not really a city person anymore, so I needed place in the country but close enough to town to do things, shopping and Mass-going and whatnot. This would be perfectly doable, and even cheap and accommodating, if I had transport. The problem I had, however, is that the transit service is good to the towns, but limited to weekdays, and dries up almost completely in the countryside. 

In the case of this house the nearest bus route only runs once a day! Fortunately, it's close enough to a village that has regular service that I can bike to it. But it was very discouraging. Every time I saw a nice looking place I would be told, "Oh sorry, no bus service." 

So, I've decided to make a big change. When I get there, I'm going to sign up at the Autoscuola to get the bottom-rung motorcycle license - the one the kids get - to drive a motorino up to 50cc. It's called an AM license, and if you are an adult you don't even need to take an exam. You just have to show that you've received the requisite number of hours of instruction, a short course. It's cheap at about 150 E and I found while I was out there hunting that I was having very little problem understanding what was being said to me. It's amazing how you magically discover you know more of the language than you thought when you are forced to use it. 

Anyway, the AM license is good for 50cc motorini, the Ape ("ah-pay," those little three-wheeled farm truck thingies) and even a smartcar. I've looked around the internet and of course there are bazillions of 50cc motorini for sale second hand, very cheap.

This would at least make it possible to buzz back and forth from the house to the train/bus station at San Giovanni in Ponte or even all the way up to the Porta Sant'Anna where the scala mobile takes you up to the centro. I have a friend who drove an 50cc motorino all the way from Paris to Florence, right over the Alps, so I think it will make a daily run up to the centro. I had one years and years ago, and it was great fun, and very cheap to run. The internet tells me the annual insurance is about 20 E. 

And once I've got one, it will open up a whole world of possible home solutions that were previously impossible. It's not glamorous, but it will work. I'm really annoyed at having missed that gorgeous house in the country. It was 150 m-sq, four bedrooms, huge country garden, all wood floors and big windows, camino in the kitchen, and 520 a month. A motorino would have made it possible to at least get to the nearest bus stop or mini-train station. But without transport of any sort, it would be impossible. 

So, that's where we are, and that's the plan.

I've just had an email back from the realtor who has said I can come up to sign contracts on Saturday. 

(Listen, Lord, if You wanted me to move to Perugia, You could have just said so. Like, in a dream or something. You didn't have to knock down a whole town... Just for next time, eh?)

~

Working out when to go home.

It's not quite this...


But it is this.

As you might have guessed, I'm OK. But I am spending every waking moment of every day thinking about when I can go home and start doing my life again.

I admit that for about five seconds I contemplated the idea of not going back. Maybe just staying down in the lowlands and being a Vatican reporter again.

HA HA HA HA HA HA HAAAAA!!

No.

(I was probably thinking this while I was in the City eating Japanese food with a friend of mine - neither of whom I see very often.)

Frankly, even with Norcia being described as being like a war zone, I'm this close to just going home. I'm so bored. I need my house. If this experience has taught me nothing else it's that I am to my core a domestic country mouse. I don't do cities, and I really shouldn't be away from my house for more than very short periods.

This camping out is OK. I finally settled in a little holiday flat in Santa Marinella. It's decent, clean and close to the train station. It's got every domestic thing you might need to survive and it's cheap because it's the off season. So I'm not suffering anything worse than homesickness (which is actually amazingly acute!) and boredom. But the fact is, we're physical beings and, to put it simply, your life happens where your stuff is.

the studio work bench

I've been thinking about what physical elements go to make up life. My art studio is in my house. My kitchen and all my culinary and garden experiments are in my house. My garden, my sewing, books, bike, projects... life.

How do you know you're not a mendicant? How do you figure out that you've got a more stability-oriented vocation in life? Try an earthquake or some other natural disaster and see how it suits you. If you feel relieved that you're free to move around and do lots of stuff out in the world, that's a pretty good sign you should look into the Franciscans. If you keep trying unconsciously to go to your book case and find a book or absent-mindedly think, "Oh, I should turn over the compost tomorrow," or "I really do need to bottle the last batch of beer," ... if you wake up every morning wondering where the heck you are...

I've got nothing to do here and it's driving me up the wall. Up there, especially since my house is OK, I could be of some help. I could go down to the zona industriale and help serve meals and sort donations and whatnot. There must be a volunteer signup sheet, right?

And of course, it's becoming clear that outside an extremely small number of places in this country (five, I think) the Faith isn't practiced. You can go it alone only for so long. Mass on Sundays in Rome is fine, but it's an hour long train ride. All the reasons I left Santa Marinella to live in Norcia in the first place are still out here.

So, I've been working on a list of basic things I need to start thinking about going home:

- electricity and running water - which I'm told we have at my house. No gas, but I've bought a cannister-run heater that is incredibly efficient and just before the quakes I got in a three month load of firewood, so heat isn't an issue. Cold showers don't scare me;

- a place to buy food, even a little shop where I can get the basics: meat and veg, rice, oil, milk, tea coffee and kitty food. I don't mind simple fare and short rations, but I really don't want to be another mouth that the volunteers and military have to feed. And there's always the kitties to think about. They're pretty good hunters, but they like their meals regular. I could prolly benefit from a little fasting but they can't. But, I'm told the shops are open in Cascia and a friend with a car has stayed in town. Also, the bus is apparently running daily down to Spoleto - not much further away from Norcia than Rome is from S. Mar - so if it comes to that, I can make a weekly shopping run. Also, the Umbria Journal says that the Coop (big supermarket chain that is the main food thing in Norcia) is planning to open a smaller version in a new building in the zona industriale by Christmas.

- (this is a big one) for a place to go to Mass. I actually left England because there were so few choices. I moved to Norcia in the first place to be closer to the Mass. Even if I suck about going to daily Mass, I need it to be close enough.

This latest update from the monks has given me hope that we could be closer than I had first anticipated:

"Starting next Sunday, the chapel will make it possible for us to offer Mass on the monastery grounds (San Benedetto in Monte) for the few brave souls still remaining in Norcia, providing immediate benefits to locals and to allow us to start getting back, if only a little, to normal."

kind of up there

Now, that's up on their mountain property, which is physically too much for me to get to every day. It's about 3 miles from my house and up the side of a mountain.

I have walked it, but the simple truth is that I'm not as physically strong as I once was (chemo... middle age... etc) and whenever I've done the hike, I've generally been good for nothing the next day.

Same road in winter. Pretty but kind of hard to walk on

I'd need to find some form of transport.






























- some kind of internet access that is at least regular if not constant so I can make a living. I've got my mobile internet stick, however, and can recharge it in Spoleto or Cascia. Not sure if it would get a signal there. On Quake Day, we were only getting sporadic cell phone signal, so I don't know. But my friend Emanuele is up there and seems to have daily access from somewhere. He's the expert and if anyone can get me enough internet to keep working it's him.

- and, last, but far from least...

FOR THE GEE DEE !!!*@#*&@;$!!%^!!! - ING EARTHQUAKES TO STOP!

JUST STOP!

STAAAAAHHHHPPPP!!!!

~

Latest earthquake news isn't very encouraging:

We had a 3.9 yesterday at 9:41 pm with the epicentre a few miles north of Norcia.

But the day's list is a lot longer and includes quite a lot more over 3.0:

3.1 just after midnight,


3.5 at 3:57 am,


3.1 at 3:41pm,


3.3 at 4:16 pm,


3.5 at 7:09 pm,


3.6 at 7:34 pm,


3.2 at 7:51 pm,


3.4 at 8:40 pm,

November 27 total: 88 above 2.0

And at least a few smaller shakes for every hour of the day.

That's a pretty big jump.

Up from November 26: 44 above 2.0 and only  2 over 3.0

So yeah, it looks like it's getting lively again.

~

But even with the quakes continuing, I'm wavering.

Dulce Domum

Home, for me, is what life is for.

~

Home is best...

...especially when you live here.


(Note to self: when waking from a week in Rome-Horrible-Rome and discovering that the decompression process has generated a blazing anxiety attack, do not start the day by guzzling down an entire pot of espresso. Oh, I'm just full of helpful tips today!)

All the nice shop people and local regulars were happy to see me. Several asked where I had been, and gravely sympathised when I told them.

Updates, updates:


As soon as I got home last night, I became enveloped by vague but overpowering anxieties. Then, as I was making the tea and went to gaze out the kitchen window for solace at my beautiful garden of wildflowers, I yelped in shock and horror to discover that someone had come and destroyed it utterly. I was white with rage and spent half the night unable to sleep, and the other dreaming about the end of the world. Woke with the anxiety attack already well under way. If someone can just come over to your house and ruin your garden like that, it's hard to feel very safe.

The "gardener," whose sole skill seems to be the operation of an industrial gas-powered weed-whacker, has mowed down to the bare soil every single living thing in sight, reducing to nearly a moonscape what had been a veritable paradise of wildflowers and green and verdant loveliness. I went down the hill to pay the rent, and had a word with the landlord and have been assured that from now on at least my own section of the garden will be left alone.

I was advised that the constant mowing is in an effort to discourage vipers, which I can understand. But when I replied that at least snakes kept the population of rodents down, I got a very odd look. (Italians are not very friendly towards snakes.)

I managed to explain in my still-halting Italian that "weeds" are in fact beautiful and valuable wildflowers, including orchids, and that on the 30 degree slope that takes up most of my garden they prevent soil erosion, retain moisture in the soil and fix nitrogen, allowing what little soil there is to remain fertile. I said that from now on I am going to be growing aromatics and ground cover plants on the slope in an effort to encourage soil and moisture retention, and that further mowing will ruin all my efforts. I think I was understood, for the most part.

~

Good news is that the upstairs flat, from which the Gashlycumb Noisies have at last removed their horrible selves, is to be let to a fellow-anglo from Scotland whom I know slightly, and who is well-known for being quite a civilised grown-up. So that's taken care of. This means that the menacingly young-looking people, and their two small stompy children, who were looking at it yesterday will not be coming, which is a source of great relief.

The only thing left is to figure out how my lovely Rome friends could work here, and then we could all live happily ever after.

~


Today, the second set of local Nursini parents asked me if I would be interested in teaching their child English. The first has a son who is fifteen and is failing English in school and also wants to learn to draw. Today's is six and just starting school in September and can already read and write in Italian. In addition, my own Italian teacher has asked me if I would be willing to trade lessons for lessons.

I begin to see a potential happy future fulfilling my lifelong dream of becoming a character in a Barbara Pym novel, cycling to Evensong every day, (though the 4 am start-time for Matins is a bit much) wearing tweed skirts and twin-sets and teaching the local children how to make a proper cup of tea.

Thank you, Grandpa, for teaching me to be a grammar-nazi! I knew it would come in handy some day.

~


While in Rome, I blew all this month's extra dough on art supplies. I am risking really grinding the finances down to the bone this month because I'm quite excited about the picture idea. The rent is paid and the bills can wait until I receive payment for a few articles I've produced recently, so all the expenses are covered (barely). And I've got loads of cheap protein and green veg in the fridge and freezer, so though things will be frugal and non-extravagant, there won't be any actual difficulties.

Thank God, again, I live here where it is lovely and cool and airy and green and beautiful, where my entertainment is all wholesome, holy and free, and the rent is cheap so I can afford to take this big risky shift in direction. I really do have great hopes for this painting idea and am moving forward.

I visited the artist supply shop in Rome and came away with some solid advice as well as sufficient art materials to get started. I got very lucky indeed and found two large and good quality books of medieval art, including one that is entirely about manuscript illumination and painting from the 4th to the 16th centuries. I'm all set to go.


As we go along, I look forward very much to outfitting the third bedroom, which is quite small and would be uncomfortable even as a guest room, as a studio. I am a great believer in not rushing. One acquires the pieces of furniture for one's home as one does one's friends; slowly and with careful attention to suitability.

But in the end, I'd be happy if it looked quite a lot like this:

Lovely, isn't it? It's "The Studio" by the 19th century water colour master Carl Larsson.

~

Note to the kind people who like to send me things:

I do love receiving these nice little presents of books from Amazon, and of course appreciate them the more since there is no English language book shop in Norcia. However, if I might add, it would be helpful if I got a bit of warning. One never knows what sort of thing might turn up in the post, and it is sometimes a bit alarming to get a note from the Post Office that a mysterious package has arrived with anonymous contents from persons unknown and parts foreign and far away.

You get my gist here... anthrax ripple, live tarantulas and whatnot... one's imagination can run along to some odd places in our uncertain times. So, send me an email letting me know what to expect. Thanks.



~

Home-home, homity-home!

St. Benedict also thinks it's a bad idea ever to leave the house.

~

So far as is possible, the monastery ought to be so planned that all requirements, such as water, mill, garden and the various crafts, are all available inside the enclosure, so that there may be no need for the monks to go out abroad, for this is not at all good for their souls.

Rule of St. Benedict, chapter 66

Well, I'm home from the Old Smoke. It was great fun, and there was much excitement. Perhaps the best thing about conferences and meetings, especially when you've been doing the same sort of job for a very long time and some of the shine has worn off, is seeing old friends and respected colleagues. When I was a lay-about teenager, and terrified of entering adult life, I rather wish someone had sat me down and described the pleasures of working life, and how you create a social world for yourself of fascinating people, contacts and acquaintances, as well as close and enduring friendships, that will stand you well in every aspect of your life.

I must say that a weekend like that, no matter how difficult or tiring it may be (my brain kept whispering "You're forty-nine! You're forty-nine!") very much makes you appreciate the colourful, complex and deeply engaging landscape that a long and fruitful involvement in public work can create. I can't help but think that a big part of the reason people get addicted to these silly online fantasy games is that they have not made sufficient use of the real life they've been offered.

Life isn't just for "living," which I think many people equate with enduring until the weekend or until happy hour, it's for building. Your day to day life is really no more than a framework, a blank slate, like my little garden; just a piece of mostly empty ground with a few built-in advantages and disadvantages, upon which we must exercise our imagination and effort.

But I must say, I am very glad to be home. All the fun aside, the noise, the crowds, the confusion, the dirt and grub, the awful buses, the constant pestering at every corner by gypsy beggars... even the road surface, whether you're walking or biking or driving, is like a complete assault on the psyche. Rome is a hell of a lot of work to deal with, a great deal more than I'm comfortable dealing with, and I'm very, very glad I live far enough away to make it pretty impractical to go there more than once in a great while.

Norcia is certainly close enough to go if you have to, and - even better - for people to come here and visit quite a lot. In fact, I've had a nearly constant stream of visitors since I moved here, and there have been days when, if I wanted to get any work done, whether paid writing or simply gardening, I've had to pretty much avoid town altogether. I certainly don't lack a social life.

But nice as it is to see people coming through, and fun as it is to tell them all about it and show them around, and introduce them to the joys of stewed wild boar and monk-beer, it is very nice at the end of the day to go home and sit quietly upon one's own stoop, and sip the tea and watch the birds settling down for the night.



~