The noisy neighbours didn't start talking until nine-thirty, which was fine by me. I was ready to be up and about my business by that time anyway. It was a blue-sky, sunny day. After doing a bit of what I optimistically call "writing", and loading the Rome photos (only 72 of them) onto the computer, I went outside to absorb some sunshine. It seemed odd that there was still large areas of snow on the highest mountains.
I sat down by the swimming pool for a while, where the swallows have been joined by their relatives, the Martins. They're both incredible pilots. The casale is part-way up one side of the steep valley, and Preci part-way up the opposite. For a time, I watched a small flight of the martins dancing like futuristic dogfighters in the sky. At one moment, I perceived the environment perhaps as the birds might see it: a deep V of airspace between the valley sides. We humans are so 2-dimensional.
I was surprised not to see many lizards near the pool, because there's plenty of sun-facing stone, ideal for basking. But they seem to prefer to be near the house. The lizards in the immediate vicinity are all small, no bigger than ten or twelve centimetres from nose to tail tip. I've been thinking of them as roughly mouse-sized. Up in the fields behind, I've seen distinctly vole-sized ones though.
Then, between the pool and the house, a large green snake came out of the grass at my approach and headed for cover. It must have been easily a metre long. Not dangerous I'm sure, but very impressive.
I'm making efforts to improve my Italian, of course, although I'm still very shy about trying to speak it. One feature that struck me as odd, at least compared to say, French or the English of thees and thous, is that the polite pronoun and verb for addressing someone is the same as the feminine singular, "She", except with a capital, "Lei", not "lei". But in speech, there's no distinction, so a waiter might politely ask me "What would She like to order, Sir?" Of course, it won't have that implication at all to a native speaker, no more than any language where words sound alike but have different meanings. I still think it's strange.
Stranger is the word in Italian for foreigner, too. "Straniero". To Italians, I suppose, being foreign is the same as being strange. They're probably right. I only worked out in the late afternoon that I'd actually got two separate sets of neighbours, and I think one couple may be stranieri. I said "buena sera" to the man as he passed near me, and he smiled and nodded, but didn't reply. Then he and the wife were having dinner on the terrace, and it was only half-past-six. It's also April. The young Italian couple next door got a lot quieter. I suspected at one point that they'd fallen out.
When I came back from Rome on Friday, there were posters about some sort of Spring food festival in Spoleto on Saturday and Sunday, but without any details, and no time info. I guessed late-afternoon/evening in the Italian way, and planned to drive into town to see what was happening. Then, in the afternoon, it began to rain and I almost changed my mind. But by five-thirty the rain had stopped and I returned to the original idea.
Of course, before I'd got half way, the heavens had opened again, apart from in the tunnel. I don't think I've mentioned the tunnel yet; an interesting part of the drive. It's four kilometres long, or 4030 metres, to be precise, and cuts straight through the mountain, saving a much longer round trip. I don't know how the length compares generally to road tunnels in Italy, but it seems like a long way to me. But that's the Italian way -- mountain? over it or under it, whatever.
Anyway, the rain had abated considerably by the time I parked the car, and I climbed (it's always climbing) into town. The food festival thing was more a trade show, and there were no freebies, but I didn't mind. Being in the early evening, there was a bit of life about the place, and I was content to walk around a bit before finding a restaurant (leaving it to a respectable time, nearly eight; and going for a place with customers already in it). I had a nice meal, and stitting happily enjoying it while idly thinking about the following day, suddenly realised that I had nothing for breakfast. The shopping trip was planned for the next day but I was already out of croissants. I didn't even have any bread. I surreptitiously slipped two slices from the restaurant bread basket into my raincoat pocket. Walking back to the car, carrying the coat, because the rain had stopped and it was quite warm, I kind of forgot they were there and they got a little squished.
A long drive to Leonardo Da Vinci airport at Rome to collect my visitor; a good excuse to take it easy in the morning. Of course, I had coffee and buttered bread for breakfast. I did consider trying to toast the bread on my two-ring cooker, but thought better of it.
After lunch, I stocked up on food supplies, especially croissants, and then drove South. No navigation problems or anything, apart from right at the end when trying to find the way in to the multi-storey at Fiumicino. An orbit of the car parks was necessary. I'd arrived with a couple of hours to spare, to get well-rested before the drive back, and was able to have a pizza in one of the airport cafes.
Having collected my visitor and departed the airport at about nine-thirty with an ETA of midnight, we did the long old slog back up in fairly poor weather, number of lanes in the road decreasing and number of curves per kilometre increasing by stages, until the final run up the "white road", or unsurfaced lane to Casale Carocci. It was indeed just around midnight as predicted.
It was raining in the morning, but we decided to go out anyway and hit the road to Norcia. Not too far and a nice town to introduce. In the main church, you can visit the crypt where twin saints Benedotto and Scolastica were born in 480. It wasn't actually a church crypt when they were born there, it was their late-Classical or early-Medieval family home, built on the foundations of an earlier Roman building. In the middle ages, the church was built over their birthplace.
We had a coffee and returned home. The rain hadn't been particularly heavy, but hadn't really stopped either. Then, after lunch, the rain did stop, leading to a quick trip out to explore Preci, and of course, the rain came on again as soon as we got there. Still, worth a look-around. Although not worth staying too long and getting very wet.
We drove back home for the remainder of the afternoon and then returned to Preci borgo later to have dinner at Il Castoro. I had remembered to look up the name in the dictionary, to find that it's "Beaver" in English. The restaurant is a wooden, barn-like lodge. Il Castoro. OK.
Beautiful sunny morning. Not a cloud in the sky. The original plan was to visit Spoleto in the afternoon, but it seemed a better idea to go early and take advantage of the sunshine. It didn't seem likely that it would rain at all, (although the forecast said so), but you never know.
Plenty of time to explore Spoleto and enjoy the Spring warmth. Then we decided to have a bite of lunch in a restaurant on Piazza della Mercata (La Mucca Pazza, the Mad Cow). We sat at the tables outside under the awning. Before the food had arrived, it started to rain. We had to move to a table nearer the centre to avoid splashes.
But before we'd finished eating, it really started to rain. With thunder and lightning. And then hail. Heavy, heavy rain, and it was a long way to where the car was parked. But it only required ten minutes wait after coffee before the rain abated. In fact, we walked all the way back to the car in the dry. And then it began to rain again.
But by the time we got home, the cloud had become broken again, and there was intermittent sunshine for the rest of the day.
I had photographed the poster in Assisi for the Calendimaggio celebrations, and although the main events weren't to start until the first weekend in May, there was a "Presentation of the Ladies of Spring" timetabled for six-thirty. We spent an idle morning looking out across the valley (and watching a lolloping hare) and later in the afternoon, drove to Assisi. Weather was variable.
There was a brief threat of rain in Assisi, but it didn't follow through. After the obligatory tour of the major tombs and relics, we heard the sound of drumming. It was guys in fake medieval costume beating the hell out of side drums with big sticks. There were brief parades of Lords and Ladies in costume too.
I hadn't fully got the grasp of what Calendimaggio involves, but it seems that the two parts of Assisi, the "upper" and "lower" wards, each have a society, the "Illustrious" Parte de Sopra, in blue and the "Most Noble" Parte de Sotto in red, who compete in various imaginary medieval spectacles. It's not just the costumed participants, there were spectators, young and old, with their tribal colours and logos. It looked to me as though Sotto had it, in popular support and effort invested.
We waited in the square with the drummers while the fancy dress crew took part in something in the town hall. Tourists weren't being let in, but from the polite clapping that could be heard from time to time, it was probably boring anyway. After an hour, they came out and paraded away again to the sound of drums.
Earlier in the day, we'd seen a long line of trestle tables being set out along a street, which would suggest that the party of that part were going to have a party. Often in Italy, nobody minds if outsiders turn up at such gatherings and have a free nibble or two, but in this case it would have been a hike to get down there (I'm guessing that they were Sotto) and we didn't go to see. Instead, we went to a nice vaulted restaurant for dinner.
It takes over two and a half hours to drive to da Vinci airport, but there is another option. We drove to Spoleto, abandoned the car, and got the train to Roma Termini. I hadn't thought to check that all trains were running, given that it was a public holiday, but ours was OK. Actually, on the drive down, the public holiday-ness had been very apparent, with far more traffic than usual, but all heading North into the wild countryside, and little going our direction into town.
In Termini, which is huge, we deposited one suitcase at Left Luggage (which took about fifteen minutes: possibly holday short-staffed) and walked to see a bit of the city. The Trevi Fountain (again), the Pantheon, the Piazza Navona. When the time came to go back to the station, it was quite a long walk for my visitor, but half-way back was the Barberini metro station. I hadn't used the Rome Metro before, but it would make another experience. The trains were packed tight with people. In fact it was like that old video footage of the Tokyo Metro where men were employed to squash passengers on, except in this case the squashers were all amateurs, the passengers themselves.
The Rome Metro isn't very useful for tourists, since the two lines, red and blue, cross the city like an X, leaving large gaps which contain the main sites of interest. It may be worth investigating the busses next time.
At Termini, we collected one suitcase, (which took about fifteen minutes: possibly holday short-staffed) and took the airport train, allegedly an express, but for the first half of the journey, through the suburbs, it goes very slowly. It's only when you come out onto the coastal plains that you get any speed up.
Of all the four hundred check-in desks at the airport, there was a long queue at only one. Yes, Aer Lingus. This was because the two check in agents were incredibly slow. I always have been unable to work out what takes time at check in. You present your documents, the agent puts a label on your suitcase, gives you a boarding pass and that's it. I estimated (because I was bored) that it was taking about three minutes per person, but it never takes me that long. Although it wasn't me departing this time.
I escorted my visitor to the departure gates, and went back to the station, buying my tickets to Spoleto. There was no financial benefit in buying both together. The slow express from the airport (half an hour) costs the same as a first class ticket between Rome and Spoleto (hour and a half), by the way.
The train to Spoleto didn't depart until after ten-thirty, due in at twelve-oh-five. It was packed with young people, presumably down in Rome for the day and taking the quite early last train home. I amused myself by turning on my GPS on the palm computer and watching the track across the map. Over 160kph "off road", since it assumes you're in a car.
Walk back to the car and drive home, arriving at one a.m. on the dot. There were NINE cars in the car park, plus another which had been let inside the barrier near the house (to collect luggage in the morning, I guess). All the apartments must have been in use for the holiday weekend. Quite a difference to the first ten days or so when I had the place entirely to myself.