Today marks 2-years since I moved into my apartment in Boston, and boy, do I miss it right now. After 2 years of not having a roommate, sharing space again on this trip has been hard. I'm sure my current roommate thinks me horribly rude for going hours at a time without speaking, but it's just what I'm used to. I had a student once ask me if I ever talked to myself in my apt. because I was alone. The answer is no (but I do occasionally talk to myself because I am nuts).
Today was the first morning that I really wasn't into getting out of bed. I skipped my run, which was OK because my socks were still wet from washing them (speaking of socks, I packed five for this trip. Not five pair...five socks). After my shower I made caffé latte - a double today, which I may comet o regret. I ate some mixed fruit that our landlady had brought to us from her father-in-law's garden, along with a biscuit smeared with Nutella. Much like Bud Light tastes better in St. Louis, Nutella tastes better in Europe.
I loaded all of our plastic bottles into grocery bags so that I could take them to the recycling bins in Piazza Kennedy. With my courderoy bag, two huge bags of bottles, and a full water bottle for the day, I set out.
We are on the top floor at the bottom of 3 flights of slippery and oddly sweet-smelling stairs. Each day I use the buzzer to get out the door,a nd then walk accross the front drive to let myself out of the gate. We live on a very steep portion of the street, so those first few moments of walking can be treacherous. At the first corner is "the dog house". Most houses have little yip dogs who come scream when I walk by, but this one on the corner claims the loudest dogs, and it seems that they multiply each time I go by. Last night there were three.
At that intersection (of via S. Agata and...via S. Agata - it's like being in Boston) I turn left, and road curves a bit and becomes less steep. Another cross street comes up quickly. The cross street itself is winding, and I worry that a car is giong to zip around and nail me one of these days.
Down another shady hill we approacht he center of town. It is on this hill that I begin to see all of the old women out sweeping the leaves in the morning. I am not sure if each house has an old woman of its own or if there is some sort of "rent-a-nonna" program. The church is the first thing you see at the bottom of the hill. Novafeltria has three church buildings, but S. Pietro in Culto is the town parish. It is a lovely light stone church with a sonorous bell.
Once I pass the church on the way down from the aparment, the buildings become less residential, the road curves a bit more past some shops and becomes a cobblestone road. the school and the theater are both on this street. Also, some friends' apartment is here, so I often spend timet here if the trip back up the hill is too daunting mid-day.
So that's my walk most mornings. It can be quite beautiful, walking into the valley, admiring the mountains on the other side. Unfortunately if I gaze too much at their splendor I fall down. Speaking of which, my knee is almost healed.