Piazza San Francesco, #4

Life at Number 4, Piazza St. Francesco

Life here is always interesting.  For one thing, the cast of characters is always changing, and with them, life at the apartment changes. The first few weeks there were three of us:  Jack Zerbe (a colleague from Guilford), Benedicte, and myself.  The three of us were, as the Italians would say, molto simpatico, with only one house rule:  always speak Italian.  

During Benedicte’s final week, a new couple, Karin and Jean Pierre, arrived from Switzerland.  They are very clean and wipe every surface several times a day.  The house has never looked better:  all the food from previous tenants is gone, the stove shines, and we have new dishcloths.  I’m trying to stick to the “Italian only” rule, but it’s difficult when Jean Pierre will only speak French or English. 

  

 Last weekend, two new folks, Anina from Switzerland and Fabio from Brazil, came to stay.  I’m starting to feel like the crazy American who lives under the stairs as I emerge to meet the new arrivals (my room is affectionately called the Harry Potter room for its interesting location.  The roof isn’t slanted or anything, and I do have a key, it’s just the whole staircase thing…did I mention that the new Harry Potter movie is here, dubbed in Italian?).  So now we are five.

We all like to cook.  Last night, by happy coincidence, we each came to the table with just enough to share.  Fabio made bruschetta with fresh tomatoes and garlic, Jean Pierre and Karin had a prosciutto pastry, and I supplied the (three guesses) prosecco.  So good!

The one constant, a man I feel like I can count on for anything from prosecco to a lesson in Italian wisdom, is Pino, our landlord.  Pino has a special gift for making a person feel welcome.  I don’t think there’s a person he’s met who he hasn’t charmed.  He arrives every Saturday with pastries and coffee for anyone who’s interested and always has time for a chat or the sensitivity to excuse himself from a conversation.  He spent his boyhood in the apartment and tells the stories of every room.  I thought I would feel invaded by having a landlord who is in the apartment so often, but instead I feel looked-out-for, knowing the gas will never be left on, no strangers will have wandered in, and that someone is close by to help when my door gets stuck.

Everyone left today, leaving Fabio and me alone in the apartment.  I’m looking forward to the potential of having a little true alone time (my room is great, but it’s even better to enjoy the solitude of the terrace or the kitchen) and I’m a little sad.  Laura left yesterday, Marina’s in Assisi and I’m feeling a bit bereft. 

On the other hand, who knows who might show up next week in Piazza San Francesco?