Sunny Saturday Stroll

It’s 29 October and the sun is shining, there’s not even a whisper of a breeze. I’m in the town of Bomba; pronounced Bom-ba and not as I heard one Englishman once call it Bomber. So what can I do on such a lovely morning but take a stroll through the town.

The town of Bomba dates back to 1115 AD with documented proof being housed in the local council offices. It’s a small town, just 18 km2 (7 sq mi) and enjoys an elevated position over the river Sangro valley meaning from almost every part of the town you can enjoy amazing panoramic views .

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The town is divided by a main street, at the top end it is called Via Roma, and my stroll starts here. I stop and look down over the tiled roofs of houses that have a view of the lake, it’s around 11.20 and the streets are already filled with people going about their daily business. Looking down I watch as a small Piaggio: a 3-wheel Ape (a-pay) chugs up the winding hill with several crates of freshly picked olives. I turn and walk as slowly as the ginger cat that’s taking it’s time to cross the road. Local people wish me good morning as they pass me; some possibly wondering who the stranger with a camera is. I stop and pass the time of day with a man who has arrived in a small reddish-orange pick-up filled with wood.

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He’s unloading the wood and stacking it neatly inside his cantina, he tells me he’s done this every year since he was a small boy over 70 years ago helping his father replenish the family’s wood pile. I tell him my own wood pile is growing in preparation for the winter ahead and we both agree that there’s nothing better than the smell of a wood fire on a crisp winter’s evening.

I continue along Via Roma past the water fountain where locals buy their sparkling or still spring water for just 5 cents a litre – just bring your own bottle. I see a lady I’ve met previously and we pass the time of day, she comments on my lack of a jacket and I tell her the temperature this morning is quite similar to an English morning in May, to which she responds with, “Those poor English people having to live in the cold.”

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Via Roma changes to become Cso S. Spaventa and it’s flanked on both sides by tall buildings. Three storey houses and apartments keep this portion of the street in shade and there’s a sudden dip in temperature out of the sun. Entrances with steep steps lead to front doors and it again it amazes me how the aging Italian population take all of these steps in their stride. (no pun intended).

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To my right are streets with sharp inclines that make their way upwards away from the corso while on my left narrow streets become entwined with vici (alleys) in the historic part of town; here in this labyrinthine part of town small dogs bark at strangers who pass by and disturb their sunbathing.

 

One of the town’s churches sits in an elevated position and the road leading up to it is as slender as a wasps waist, yet still cars have managed to make their way up here; some with their wing mirrors pulled in so as not to damage them in these narrowest of streets.

 

I’m again amazed at the skill of these people to navigate these streets and their parking may look like a nightmare for some, but I’m certain there’s some pecking order / unwritten parking system here.

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I continue my walk, stopping occasionally to admire wood piles that are constructed with great precision, one house has what looks like an unused door to its cantina and here are stacked olive branches, each one cut to the same length so as to fit into the space exactly.

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My journey brings me along an alleyway where a scooter stands outside a house with an open front door where the aroma of cooking spills out infusing the air with a the rich tang of tomato sauce and basil. This scene is as Italian as it can get and again reminds me how the Italian way of life is so close to its perceived stereotype.

The alley opens up to the main piazza and here is an image of Italian life as it has been for centuries. Men fill the benches and sit around gossiping while the women see to the chores. One woman hands her husband a couple of euro to buy his coffee with as she steps inside the baker’s to buy their daily bread. There’s no expectation of change here, it’s not a misogynistic society, it’s just the traditional way of life here in central Italy that remains unchanged.

In truth if you asked most of the women if they’d like their menfolk to help with the daily shopping and cooking, you get a resounding, no. “Why let the men make a mess of things,” one lady once told me, “The wife would have to clear up her husband’s mistakes while making sure not to hurt his feelings.”

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I turn back towards Via Roma and make my way back to my friend’s house where again the aroma of cooking is carried upon the air, however this kitchen smell is very alien to this ancient town, as it’s chicken curry. I look across as a neighbour uses an electric winch to lift her shopping from the street up two storeys to her apartment and think to myself what a perfect way to spend a sunny Saturday morning.

Green Groves

October is here and although the heat of summer has passed it’s still warm compared to England. With the tenth month there have been changes. Today I stopped and noticed that the incessant chirp of cicadas had finished and also the olive groves have become carpeted with green. Where there was once just dust and dried grass there is now a lush blanket of fresh growth. Along the lanes yellow aconites have appeared, their petals splayed out for the last of the bees before hibernation. Wild cyclamen have also blossomed displaying their pink and purple bonnets and under the walnut tree in my neighbour’s garden a delicate yellow flower has pushed its head through the matted oxalis.100_7806

I took Alf up to the olive grove today, as he’s not been for a week or so and he was confused by the grass, he ran about with wild abandon, stopping to grab mouthfuls of this new green stuff that tickles his feet as he runs. He looks at me quizzically, asking what is this new thing? He then rolls over enjoying the feel and the scent. There’s a definite change in the seasons, the leaves on the trees are beginning to change colour and the olives are fat and ready for harvesting. I have to admit that early October is much more pleasant in Italy than it has often been in England.

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Giornata dei Donativi

We’ve just had our October festa here in Casoli and an enjoyable three days it was too. On the first evening we enjoyed a stroll around town taking in the lights that festooned the streets before settling down for a few drinks at the borgo. There was a music system set up in the corner and a young man sang a mix traditional and modern songs and the piazza outside the post office became an open-air dance floor, as previously mentioned in https://intheflatfieldidogetbored.wordpress.com/2013/10/15/dancing-in-the-street/.

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The second day is Giornata dei Donativi, (day of donations) the traditional parade to celebrate the Feasts of S.Reparata and S.Gilberto. Tractors have been cleaned and flat-back lorries are bedecked with decorations and to give thanks for the harvest, people attired in traditional dress march through the streets handing out samples of oil, porchetta, mortadella and wine. Music plays and small children squeal with delight as the whole town lines the main street to watch. The evening is taken up with a rock band playing in the piazza while fairground rides entertain the teenagers.

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The third evening again has musical entertainment as a singer/impressionist entertains the crowds as he takes off popular Italian singers, as he changes costumes various other artistes entertain before we slope off to the borgo again, I toast the end of the festa with a grappa before making the steep climb up to Christine and Bill’s house on Via Gianino, for chicken curry and to watch the end of festa fireworks from their fabulous roof terrace.

Here’s the link to my video of the three days edited down to ten-minutes: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=10151647308362187&l=7102226553622154958