It is has been a month and a week since we got back from our
trip to Veglio. It seems like ten years
since we were there but at the same time, I have images in my head during each day
in which we are still there.
We had an unusual trip in some respects if we look through
the lense of a traditional vacation, but in other respects it was a very good,
meaningful visit. It was our first steps
towards being at home in the Valley. And being at home means that problems
exist in every day and in every family.
But at the same time, it means that we are home in a familiar,
comforting place that allows us to sink roots.
Being home sometimes means you spend days cleaning up things
you would rather not clean up. On this
particular trip, we had both of my brothers, Linda, Jocelyn, our daughter Alex,
Mark’s daughter Allyssa and Ken’s niece Shandley. We arrived on a Friday and settled into
Mario’s place down the hill in Oira. The plan was for a good, reconnecting dinner
at the restaurant next door and then an early night to rest and hit the village
first thing in the morning.
 |
| Late Spring Rain and a Full Creek |
We woke up to the sounds of light rain coming through the
valley. Our first order of business was
to clean out the parts of the property that had been long neglected or used for
livestock “storage” which was code for old hay and manure from various
species. That meant one group, largely
Ken and Allyssa took the rabbit merde in the upper room while the rest of us
cleaned out the various cellars and other stables that were needed for
temporary storage. Every one of us had
very mucky tasks that were made even messier by the constant drip of the late
Spring rain as the clouds had gathered against the Alps.
Just about the time we finished with the nasty tasks, Andrea
came up with the plan to move some items that had been temporarily stored by
one of the neighbors, Renato Balzarini(also the proud owner of the
rabbits), in our stable, down the path and up some old stone steps to
an attic owned by Renato. With only some
minor slipping and sliding, we worked for the better part of an hour carrying
some small furniture, boxes and various other items that needed to be cleared
from our little goat stable.
 |
| Clearing the Garden Path |
There was one particularly large piece of furniture, a
credenza, that needed to makes its way up into the attic. I grabbed the front end and Ken grabbed the
back and with a groan and wheeze, we starting packing it down the path and
started our way up the by now slippery stairs.
Ken’s boots were to the slimey point from the rain, the mud and the
remaining rabbit droppings that were still keeping him company.
Just about the time we were near the top of the stairs, I
gave a final pull over the threshold to get the weight off of Ken who was a bit
below me and by now stepping out on the top landing. All of the sudden, I looked back and Ken
disappeared off the landing and I heard a thud and a few inaudible words. I started yelling for help and trying to take
a few deep breathes, terrified on what I would find as I looked over the
edge.
 |
| Some of the Stairs are Not Yet OSHA Compliant! |
Finally, I pushed the furniture up into the room and made my
way to the edge of the stairs, looking down a full eight or nine feet. Ken was not moving and had landed on his side
and most worrying was not talking.
Climbing down, I was quickly joined by the rest of the ashen-faced
family members. Mark and I looked for
punctures or evidence of a major injury or bleeding and fortunately found
nothing. Ken was by that time starting
to talk and between the shivers was at once upset because he knew he was done
for the week and nervous about his shoulder that he thought for certain was
broken.
Meanwhile, Andrea was on the phone with his father who is a
medical doctor arranging for a meeting at the hospital once we got Ken down off
the mountain. After some lifting and
swearing, we got Ken to his feet and fashioned a temporary sling. Andrea loaded him into his jeep and made the
ten miles down the mountain and to Domodossola.
We anxiously waiting for several hours and finally got word that the
break was clean and with proper care surgery may be optional.
 |
| Attending Church the Day After the Fall...Just in Case |
Over the next forty eight hours, arrangements were made to
send Ken home through Geneva, which we did.
Upon his arrival, Kathryn whisked him up to UC Davis Medial Center where
they validated the diagnosis, rewrapped him and set out on the plan of a
surgery-free, but four month recovery.
On this particular trip, we were planning to spend some of
the days down the hill at Mario’s and
then some of the time at a restored house in Veglio owned by our distance
cousin Maria Luisa and her boyfriend(of 18 years)Angelo. Maria was looking forward to sharing her
hospitality and cooking with all of us and before we drove Ken to Geneva, we
spent Monday morning clearing brush and yet another stable(goats) before settling
in for a wonderful lunch prepared by Maria Luisa.
It was with great joy that Ken was able to be at the table,
wrapped like a mummy, but eating with one hand and even finishing his meal with
a little grappa. It was a bittersweet
moment as he said goodbye to our hosts and our extended Italian family
prematurely.
 |
| The Mummy Seems to Like Grappa |
Linda and I returned from Geneva at 2 in the morning having
taken the wrong train and getting stuck in our least favorite Swiss town of
Brig. But we arose at our scheduled time
to have breakfast on the mountain and begin our work.
Finally, the rain had cleared and we all
settled in for various tasks around the property punctuated by incredible meals
served by Maria Luisa with various guests including stone masons, roofers,
helpers, cousins, girlfriends. Andrea
had made a special request for some American bourbon and on more than one
evening we sat around or rather in the ancient fireplace sipping and talking,
planning and playing cards.
The ladies even took a quick overnight trip down to Florence
and really enjoyed the shopping and art and food. It gave Mark and I time to work with Andrea,
Marco and Massimo on clearing the final rubble from the house and repairing the
floors of the stables that will be used for storage.
 |
| GionPiero the Stone Mason Explaining the Ancient Arts |
On this trip, we also had the opportunity to do some “normal” tasks such as grocery shopping, buying a wheelbarrow, going to the car wash, shopping for underwear and socks, cooking, finding some much needed ibuprofen and getting to know the Italian medical system. Not exciting but it did give us a glimpse of what it may be like as we move from tourists visiting to establishing a real home with real Italian parts of our lives.
So we are now in a new phase of our restoration project
which is to get real about the cost, risks and effort it is going to take to
bring our dream to life. And, to try to
figure out how to have our feet in two homes with all that entails. How do we live part of the year in Italy, how
do we deal with being away from family for several months at a time, how do we
deal with working remotely or building a local Italian business.
 |
| Jocelyn and MariaLuisa Showing Language is No Barrier |
We do not know the answers to these questions but the
questions are in the back of my mind each day, each plane ride in the middle of
the night, each quiet evening spent in a hotel room in New York or a stinky
train from the middle of nowhere. I am
not alone in the thinking. Ken
especially with four months of time away from his day job has been exploring a
eco-tourist business that can share our experiences and the local arts and
craftsmanship.
Despite all the obstacles, the bumps, bruises and slings, we
are more committed now to creating a new home.
Of creating a clear picture in our minds of the day we can all raise a
glass on our new terrace that looks out upon the mountains.
 |
| Lunch Al Fresco at MariaLuisa's |
But for now, it is time to get back on an airplane to pay
for some more stone and beams…And to plan Veglio in Fall during the
Harvest. Shovels, picks and wheelbarrows
await us for our new Septic Tank!
