The season has changed. This time I can feel it, it's not the false spring we had a few weeks ago before getting blindsided by a sudden chill, rain, and snow in the mountains. No pullover necessary until the sun goes down, and no extra blankets on the bed. It's actually a relief in a house that doesn't welcome warmth as a daily visitor.
Our own house renovations move on at what seems a reasonable speed, although the end of June deadline to complete everything looks precarious. Quotes are due from plumbers and electricians, and we're deep in the mire of selecting bathroom, kitchen, window, door, and other fittings. It's all become suddenly daunting, and is beginning to consume our free and thinking time. These are good things, I imagine.
Relationship with the builder and architect are tenuous at best, although they seem to have accepted the fact that our tastes are not theirs, and our suggestions are now met with a begrudging resignation rather than the "Bruto!" (ugly) and "Costa doppio!" (it costs double) that we've become familiar with. It's tiring being persistent, but it's necessary, although the irony is not lost on me that I'm frequently confused about my role as client or servant. Our architect even asked us point blank whether he thought Italians were stupid, this in reaction to our request for a different heating system than the average Italian employs. Unfortunately I wasn't quick enough to retort: "No, but do you think we are?"
It is rather exciting, though, seeing things take shape. Grouting and detailing on the exterior walls is nearly complete, returning the house's appearance to its former brick-and-stone elegance.
It's also been a busy social time, with a trip to Florence to hook up with a South African friend, with whom I did a leisurely tour through the heart of Tuscany before returning to Marche for the weekend. And then it was Easter, needless to say a big event here. Regnano was replete with its part-time residents, including our English friends and landlords, and our Italian friends from Bari in Puglia, and so there was much catching up. We also attended a large Easter dinner courtesy of our Irish friends, who fed 23 in total with the traditional roast lamb - delicious. After several bottles of Marche's best wines, we - the Argentine chef, this South African and his son, and a number of Englishmen and Irishmen and their sons - ended up playing rugby on the stone patio to end off the festivities.
We did stop for a moment to consider the plight of thousands upon thousands of lambs who, in that first week of April, were literally led to the slaughter, all across Catholic Europe. Reminds me of turkeys at Thanksgiving in the US. The day before the Easter weekend I was driving home behind a pickup truck, which had in the back a dog, some farm tools, and a lamb. It (the lamb) looked at me curiously, with an angst bred no doubt (a) from being separated from its flock, and (b) from being subjected to this alien and frightening journey in the back of a strange vehicle. It's angst was clearly justified, and these were among the last thoughts of its brief life - that was indeed its death wagon.
Julius has undergone substantial change in the past month or two, and it seems as if he's matured a couple of years in that time. Don't know what happened, but we look on with bemused interest. His best friends are now all Italians, notwithstanding the availability of English-speaking children, and he numbers girls among them. I don't remember even considering girls as humans at age 11, let alone befriending them (but then again I grew up in a rather male-dominated, distorted environment). His feet are now rooted to this place, and he kicks and screams when we suggest weekend trips away. He's also been devouring the Lord of the Rings trilogy (the books) which arrived a few weeks ago, and he's on track to complete them all in the space of about 5 weeks - not bad for a pre-teen. As we suspected, Julius has established himself quicker than any of us, in spite of his reluctant beginnings.
Maria has also settled in well, and is the primary reason we have a lot of friends. She also has a new job, doing the same thing as before - importing cars from Germany. This time, though, she only has to travel to Tolentino, and her boss is actually our neighbour with the Weimerana (see the previous "Canine sagas" post). Surprisingly (to me), she actually enjoys the job, being the only person in the office, and is responsible for the entire process, from proposal to import. Could be a good experience to learn about importing things into Italy.
Maria's job has meant that I'm now Julius' taxi and house cook, two responsibilities that are somewhat eating into my own job (writing) aspirations. Oh well, I guess it's a load I have to bear. After all, it's not everyone that can wake up in the morning as I did a couple of weeks ago, get dressed, and say: "I think I'll go to Florence this morning."
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