An Hour In The Life Of My Italian Village During Covid.

 

From My Village By Train in 40 Minutes

Welcome back to my What’s On My Plate blog.  Today I just wanted to capture a small snapshot of life in my small village.   You could drive through it in only 4 minutes.   I will relate what I saw in our main piazza.  What happens here, I believe, is typical of most small towns and villages in Italy.   In the next few minutes you can read a bit about a typical morning in Italy.  Let’s start off with a visit inside the town hall we call Municipio.

I went in for  a short visit with our town mayor in his office.  Mayors are called Sindaco in Italy and like any town around the world they do their best to keep the lid on things.  Right now he is very concerned with the virus and the economy.  Money is tight, and he has to juggle upkeep of the village and the resources to pay for it.   My mayor is young, likeable, and has a genuine smile.  He tells me that he is a secondary math educator when he is not sitting in the Sindaco’s chair.  

My visit was more than interesting as his office was the place where my marriage took place.  All his furnishings were put back in place, so it did look a bit different.  I gave him a new painting to hang on the wall.  He has a great viewpoint from his window which looks down on the piazza.  

The point of my visit was to discuss an idea for our village to have a museum dedicated to watercolor paintings.  There is only one other museum in Europe dedicated just to watercolors paintings.  I believe this would be a real plum for us and it would bring in people from out of our region.  Plus, watercolor paintings do not get the recognition they deserve as most of the ones owned by museums are laid away in a drawer and not displayed.  They are known to lose their color intensity due to sunlight.  However, now we have a glass that protects paintings from this problem.  The door is open for this, and I am very hopeful.

His office is large, and on the walls are many plaques, flags, notary letters and honors.  The windows, all across the front,  are large and so it is well lighted.  The walls are colored what I would call an office light brown.  The table where we sat was a good height and the chairs were comfortable.  Italian furniture can sometimes be quite small and low to the ground.  Maybe I should write a blog about Italian chairs and furniture, which is much like their less roomy and low to the ground automobiles.  I have a hunch that the airplane seat designers are all from Italy!

Judging from what I have read on Facebook during the past election, I figured that my mayor was upbeat and wanting to improve life for our citizens from the seniors to the young.  When he mentioned that the village will build a new library, which will include a small concert hall, workshop rooms, and more, I felt assured that he is the kind of fellow that can pull it off.  The museum for watercolors could be part of this building, which became a big part of our discussion.  I left with a good feeling and knowing that I will be able to be a voice in the future.

Upon leaving the Municipio I walked through the portico that memorializes the names of fallen soldiers of both wars.  For a small village there are a lot of names.  Many have the same last name.  Also found here are notices that the mayor and his staff wish people to be aware of.  During elections there will be big charts that have all the candidates and their parties placed next to their official logo.  There are many parties in Italy, unfortunately because of this they have trouble working together.  Things are difficult to bring to fruition when there are not enough votes.  

The sun felt warm and I sat down on a bench near the fountain that shoots streams of water several feet in the air.  At night this is lit up, a kind of miniature Bellagio Hotel atmosphere without the music.  When there are no cars going by you can hear a pleasant shooshing sound.  It was good to sit in the sun and do some people watching.  I heard a voice calling to his friend across the piazza, and after a few comments they waved and said, “Ciao!”  Two women crossed the busy street, one pushing a baby carriage.  They were dressed warmly in black jackets and tight jeans,  a fashion here.  They both had scarfs which is also an item that Italians, men and women, don’t leave home without.  Italians believe that if you get a chill on your neck, you have a good chance to come down with something.  

From behind me came another baby carriage, this one pushed by what must be the grandmother.  Grandparents support their adult children by baby sitting in Italy.  You even see grandfathers pushing a stroller, everyone helps out, especially now with covid, the adjusted work schedules and schools being in session.  

The church bells began to ring, in the piazza they are pretty loud, I think they have four different sizes and randomly they clang to announce the end of church or the beginning.  These bells are so loud that one can hear them on a Sunday morning at 7:30, four blocks away,  when trying to sleep in.   When I first moved to Italy I thought these church bells were kind of romantic as in America, only churches in small towns have them (and only one bell), which they ring at around 10:00 and 11:00, and only on Sunday.   My father’s town in Colorado had only two churches.  His had a bell and my children always thought it was a big deal to have the privilege of pulling the rope before or after church.  My village church has the bells on an automatic system, no rope pulling here,  and now for me, not so romantic.

However, I have learned some nice stories about these bells in Europe.   There are novels about the bells and how the people tried to save them when the Nazis were gathering bells to turn into munitions and weapons.  The first time I heard of this, it was not a story in Italy, but in Holland.  There is a bell factory near Utrecht (huge bells) and they pointed out that the church across the street took down their bells during the night,  just one day before the Nazi soldiers came to haul them away.  There is a town in southern Italy with a similar story.  Bell factories are not a typical tourist place, but seeing the big bells broken out of a cast, and learning how they are tuned, gave me a real appreciation for them.  

Here in Europe there are many big churches where you can take an elevator to the top of the steeple and see the huge bells while taking in the view of the city below.  Those big bells are heavy, you have to wonder how much trouble it was to get them way up there.  Actually when in Europe one does a lot of wondering….How did they do that?

Across the piazza I could see that the bar where most of the customers are men over the age of 75.  There were only a few sitting at tables outside.  I have had a few coffees there, but I usually visit another bar closer to my home.  In a past blog I wrote about this old fellow’s hangout and I called this place the Old Farts Bar.   Even though I am at the age of them, I did not feel comfortable there.  I am not sure if I went there for 20 years I would feel comfortable there.  The bar where I go I know many of the people and several friends have been made there.

Parking their car at the piazza were two workers, who walked towards the Muncipio.  Their car is one of those very small cars owned by the municipality.  Functional, cheap and efficient, I am happy to see my tax euros wisely used and not being overspent.  These two men wore electric neonam colored garments, a type of clothing workers wear here in Italy.   Just past them,  I could see that the small gelato shop was closed.  It is strange to me to see an ice cream shop closed, but it seems Italians don’t go out for ice cream in the winter.  Could it be because they think cold is bad for the digestion?  You know that Italians do not like ice in their sodas, right?  Yes, if you order a coke here, no ice, unless you are at McDonalds or Burger King  where they give you more ice than soda.  When we go to America my Italian wife always tells the server, no ice!  Ice or no ice I am hoping that someday a Burger King will open here.  I miss those whoppers.  Even my friend in Kazan, Russia has a Burger King!  

If you could sit with me on this bench at the edge of the small piazza you would see a bread shop where they make the typical bread of Padova.  If you expect it to be like a bread found further south in Italy, you would be disappointed.  

Breads are one way that regions of Italy characterize their differences.  I actually have to make my own dark rye bread to get the taste I prefer.   They do make these bite size pizza things called pizzette. They are quite tasty, but habit forming.  Once I asked the shop clerk why they did not make dark brown bread, and the answer was because no one asks for it.

Just steps from the bread shop is the farmacia where prescriptions are filled.  We are modernized here!.  Yes, my doctor can send my prescription through an AP to the farmacia.  When I go in, they find my name on their computer and I walk out in just a few moments.  One can still go to the doctor’s office and receive a printed out prescription, but I would only use this if I have a need for something new.   Because of covid people wait outside after taking a number.  Due to covid, only two clients are allowed inside at one time.  There is a plastic barrier at the desk to protect the workers, and us from them.  Pharmacies are not like Walgreens in America where you can buy snack food, film, cooking gadgets, souvenir t shirts, watches, cameras, frozen food or shampoo and make up.  One will find only medicines and herb/bio things in Italian farmacias.  

Beef Cheeks and Potatoes
Home Made Here 

One thing missing in my village is a trattoria (restaurant).  We would be frequent customers, but for some reason we do not have a restaurant.  The many coffee bars serve food at lunch, but this food is not made there.  There is something about the laws that regulate what type of establishment can cook and what kind is allowed to serve food out of a box or the freezer.  A trattoria would be able to cook different pasta dishes, meat dishes and so forth.  We need one here.  It would give the village some charm.  All villages need a center, so if it was up to me, I would just drop it in right near our piazza.  

Mexican Combo Plate

I joke with my Italian friends about opening a Mexican food restaurant, or even parking a taco truck in my village.  This confirms how crazy I am, but also how I miss realistic Mexican food here.  I grew up in New Mexico, which still lives in my heart and as you can see above, my stomach.

 

Tamale

After covid is beaten I will take a bag of tamales to our Sindaco, we will celebrate our freedom with hot sauce!

It is not a busy day at my piazza, there are more birds sitting on top of the roof, than people walking past me during this hour.  Most people are staying home to be safe and going out only when they must.  I am one of those, this peaceful hour will be my last for a while.  Now I will go home and fill my time with painting, playing the piano and studying Italian.   I will dream of the travel we have missed so far since March, and then make plans for travel in the future.  My total count is now 42 countries, and my goal is to get to 45 before I cannot get around.  Let us all hope for a vaccine that will enable all of us to go and enjoy other places, people and customs.  I greatly wish this for you.  

Stay Safe,  Ciao!

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