Going for a song

Signooooraaa!!!  SIGNOOOOOOOOORRRRAAAA!!!!

I dread it when I hear my neighbour’s voice calling me across the dividing wall between his back garden and our terrace as it did late Saturday afternoon last week.  Not because I don’t like him, but because he speaks with such a strong Neapolitan accent that I cannot understand a word he says. Vito assures me though that our neighbour’s speech is difficult to follow,  like Geordie accents for the Brits. Peering out of the patio doors to see him waving at me, I called back to wait a second and dragged Vito out to "translate".  

We were invited to a “serenade”.  I was absolutely delighted, as I’d never been to one.  What’s a serenade?  Well, it’s when a male lover sings under the balcony/window to his loved one at night.  Ever so romantic, but here also a tradition followed by some as an excuse for a pre wedding party.  Our neighbour’s lovely daughter is getting married tomorrow J Her father asked us along with other neighbours to watch the “spectacle” and after join them for something to eat in the garden of their beautiful villa.  How could we possibly refuse??

We were instructed to go at 9 p.m. (Italian time it turned out L) but finding no-one at the appointed place (their garage ramp) we returned home. The serenade was being kept secret from the bride and we didn’t want to be seen hanging about in the street.  Later hearing soft music we went to investigate but unfortunately it was too dark and there were too many people to see much. We could just make the young husband warbling nervously up to his beloved leaning over the terrace wall above to watch.

The bride’s mother, a slim, very young looking woman with long dark hair, black flashing eyes and a deep husky voice grabbed me when she saw me.  “I’ve been trying to find you all week to invite you, where have you been?” she cried enveloping me in a warm hug.  “Come, come,” she called leading us round with her other guests through her front gate and into their enormous garden.  The lawn was decked out with tables and and a whole buffet of our hostess’ home cooking laid out on a groaning table.  She is a WONDERFUL cook. I love it when I’m occasionally invited in for coffee and cake (usually when I’ve lost one of the cats and have gone there for help in finding it). The decorations were somewhat unusual though, one in particular

standing guard over "bomboniere"or favours. I'd never seen bomboniere given at a wedding or christening or similar kind of party before living in Italy.

 You can read more about the history of favours here

Sitting at a table with our other neighbours we spent a lovely evening catching up on news and laughing a lot.  There was live music from couple whose repertoire ranged from Peggy Lee to Prince, and children running everywhere screaming with glee.  I eventually found the bride-to-be, a carbon copy of her mother and was able to wish her “Auguri”.  All in all an unusual, very Italian and lovely way to spend an evening J

Example of Italian recycling :)

I love this house, and it really IS a house, where people do live, and it really is made in part from an old Roman Viaduct (as in ancient Romans).  

Isn’t it incredible? Reminds me of the old fishmonger's table at Ostia Antica.  Evidently built to last J Not quite as good as new perhaps, but certainly an innovative approach to house building!

Variety is the spice of life

I was talking to my neighbour (the one who always helped out with "er upstairs" endless conveyor belt of kittens) and she told me she'd seen another female with a full tum parading on her back wall this week. We agreed we hoped it stayed on the other side, however it put me in mind of other kittens which had passed through our doors over the years.  Most of the kittens "er upstairs" produced were sweet but pretty ordinary looking, but there was one litter where she excelled herself.  They were all absolutely beautiful.

They all went to very good homes but this time I told Vito I wanted to keep one.  Up till then we'd never chosen any of our animals - they sort of chose us.  This one was different.  I said to Vito I felt outnumbered living with three male cats, two male dogs and a husband. I wanted another woman in the house.  He didn't argue as he was probably more besotted than I was and it's not hard to see why.

She is a true female puss tat.  Incredibly independent, she can be just as demanding as her mother who she takes after in vocal terms at mealtimes.  Unlike our male cats she's very delicate and light.  We watch entranced as she gracefully chases after something whether it be a toy ball, or on one horrific occasion, a garden snake!   Definitely spicy (hence her name Chili) she is always (sometimes too much so) thrilling to watch, but the thing about her that amuses me most is the variety of places she finds to sit and sleep.   Sometimes she looks sooooo uncomfortable I don't know how she does it.

She's the only one of our cats that does this

and she sleeps in the strangest positions

and places.

 She hides in places you would expect to find a puss tat hiding  

and not such obvious places!

As I write she's curled up on the desk behind my computer.  We've taken in another female cat since her arrival (as well as her mother who she hates with a passion and attacks whenever she sees her) but every time I speak to her I find myself repeating the same thing over and over - and I mean it.

You are just soooooo pretty!!!!!!!

What's a borgo?

Something I never knew about before I came to live here and which I absolutely love are "borghi".   Judging by the reaction of many visitors we have taken to see one, they are not necessarily common knowledge so I thought you might like to know a little about them.

So, what is a borgo?  Drive anywhere in Italy and you can’t help coming across a borgo (borghi pl.) or several!  There are countless numbers in Italy, which can be found anywhere, perched on top of hills, bursting into view as your car rounds a bend in a road, or in the centre of major cities. 

Built in medieval times, although some foundations hail back to the days of the ancient Romans or even the Etruscans before them, borghi are essentially fortified villages.  In medieval times Italy was not a united country but a mass of independent states.  Land was highly prized and rich landowners fought regularly for control of it.  The local “Lord of the Manor” owned his borgo which he ran pretty independent of other considerations.  The lord lived in a castle protected by high walls.  Villages grew up at the foot of the castles and were encompassed by these same walls.  Although when visiting a borgo you find each has its own unique “flavour”, mostly all have fortified walls, a castle, a church and a market place in common.

Borghi for the most part are incredibly picturesque; some have centuries old buildings now decrepit and falling down, others are bright and buzzy, hot tourist spots. Yet others are renowned for being romantic or for their spectacular views over the countryside. Some are actually lived in, some are part used.   Wherever you go in Italy you can be sure to find at least one or two not too far away. 

Here are a few of pictures of the borgo at Pratica Di Mare just south of Rome.  The local landowner is reputed to live in the castle hidden in the thick walls, while locals and visitors to the area meet at the popular local eating places there, or buy specialty foods at a small (could stay in here forever!) shop.  The building in the photo at the top of this page shows the entrance, which is being renovated.  This borgo is part lived in and used and part derelict.  For all that is has its charm.