I’m doing what? My brow is furrowed and my eyes are wide. I’m in Perugia. I walked into this apartment and was swept into dinner with Angelo and his friends. There was fine pasta, pineapple, beer, even conversation regarding art and its subjectivity. What a fine welcome back to Italy! I have missed it.
I took three planes, a train, a bus, and made a tiny hike with my luggage. Pietro, a rock-climbing pal of Angelo’s, met me to carry a bag upstairs. I walked into Angelo’s sanctuary and wanted to bend over in relief. What a dream.
He, Angelo, is a conscientious adult in the habit of separating all of his garbage: organics, papers, plastics and metals. He made me dinner in his bathrobe. He has a microwave! It’s a beautiful kitchen--one made to envy. He fetches his herbs from the pots lining the stairwell. He studied agriculture at university and he loves nothing more than to spend hours riding in his tractor (sound familiar?).
There are cherry wood floors throughout the top floor apartment. The sun beams in through the windows each day, and along with it, on occasion, a welcome breeze. The patio, just behind our bedrooms, holds a stone and iron table seating 8 and overhead are grape vines and a Japanese apple tree bearing fruit. I’m dazzled.
Aoi (ooowww-eee, remember?) tells me that Angelo only began preparing my room last week, as in, the room was empty and now there’s a bed and side table, writing desk, and completely finished bathroom with sink, toilet, and shower. He promises me a mirror every tomorrow, but for the time being I am content to use his.
There are two cats (gatto): Prepri, 18 years of age with fluffy grey fur that floats around the apartment throughout the day. He’s hard of hearing, has a bad back, and is seriously lacking teeth. That is to say that he has none! Oh, but he’s so sweet. The other, Margherita, is some breed of cat from Africa. She’s lean and hyperactive with an equilibrium issue. She had surgery to remove part of her inner ear this week, but Angelo didn’t seem to think it was going to go so well. I hope, for his sake, that it did. He sincerely loves his cats.
Ummm, well, I'm fresh out of inspiration for writing at the moment. So I hope this is enough for you to chew on until the rainy cold weather clears up out here and I can post some pictures of this place for you to see...Italian internet would be fussy, don't you know.
Ciao, ciao and ciao, for now.
A dopo (Later!)
I took three planes, a train, a bus, and made a tiny hike with my luggage. Pietro, a rock-climbing pal of Angelo’s, met me to carry a bag upstairs. I walked into Angelo’s sanctuary and wanted to bend over in relief. What a dream.
He, Angelo, is a conscientious adult in the habit of separating all of his garbage: organics, papers, plastics and metals. He made me dinner in his bathrobe. He has a microwave! It’s a beautiful kitchen--one made to envy. He fetches his herbs from the pots lining the stairwell. He studied agriculture at university and he loves nothing more than to spend hours riding in his tractor (sound familiar?).
There are cherry wood floors throughout the top floor apartment. The sun beams in through the windows each day, and along with it, on occasion, a welcome breeze. The patio, just behind our bedrooms, holds a stone and iron table seating 8 and overhead are grape vines and a Japanese apple tree bearing fruit. I’m dazzled.
Aoi (ooowww-eee, remember?) tells me that Angelo only began preparing my room last week, as in, the room was empty and now there’s a bed and side table, writing desk, and completely finished bathroom with sink, toilet, and shower. He promises me a mirror every tomorrow, but for the time being I am content to use his.
There are two cats (gatto): Prepri, 18 years of age with fluffy grey fur that floats around the apartment throughout the day. He’s hard of hearing, has a bad back, and is seriously lacking teeth. That is to say that he has none! Oh, but he’s so sweet. The other, Margherita, is some breed of cat from Africa. She’s lean and hyperactive with an equilibrium issue. She had surgery to remove part of her inner ear this week, but Angelo didn’t seem to think it was going to go so well. I hope, for his sake, that it did. He sincerely loves his cats.
Ummm, well, I'm fresh out of inspiration for writing at the moment. So I hope this is enough for you to chew on until the rainy cold weather clears up out here and I can post some pictures of this place for you to see...Italian internet would be fussy, don't you know.
Ciao, ciao and ciao, for now.
A dopo (Later!)
posted by Unknown at 12:12 PM
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