When I set out for a walk, even if I say I'll be right back, my husband knows I may be gone awhile. This is not because I am a rambler or keen naturalist, but because I'm sociable. Our neighbours are contadini, who work outside most of the day. Ploughing, planting, harvesting, chopping, repairing, feeding animals, preparing food to store, or just hanging up the wash. These are the bones of survival- your food, your heat, your comfort and cleanliness. It is continous, relentless hard work, but they are always happy for a short distraction and a little company. So when I stroll up, and they are outside in the midst of chores, they always shout a friendly 'Caterina!' and stop what they are doing to say hello.
Achille's family are our closest neighbours. They are three generations, Achille and Vittoria, who are the dad and mom in their 70s, plus their two grown sons and their children. Achille and Vittoria grew up in our valley and tell stories of life here decades ago. They describe the peasants living in our house (about 20 people lived on the one habitable floor- now we have two and a half floors and there are 4 of us). They tell us about the feasts in the big storeroom at the top, to celebrate weddings and baptisms, or how the women gathered in what is now the hallway between our daughters' rooms, praying with rosary beads during the forty days of Lent
They tell tales of the Second World War, like when the Germans shot at our very house, because there were maybe partigiani hiding (there are still the damaged bricks near the old front door). Vittoria, who grew up in the now empty house at the bottom of our road, remembers when her father returned home from prison camp. She remembers her mother, who thought he was dead, rushing to him. Because her mother was just pregnant when he left, that was the first time Vittoria saw her dad and her dad saw her. 'Send a letter if it's a girl, a telegram if it's a boy.’ Vittoria chuckles every time she tells the story; she sees a lot of humour in things.
They like that we are here, and I like that. They say we bought un gran capitale. Our house hadn't been lived in for thirty years, so even after four years our presence is a novelty. We bump into people who have houses round the rim of the valley looking down on our house. They say, 'Oh yes, you live in the house with all the lights, we love seeing the lights. Tutto Illuminato! It keeps us company!'
