Hey buddy, can I borrow your battle axe?…

Travel info meter set to 89% Clever humour level set to 13… 12… 11%… 4%  Sunday May 4  Today is the big festival day in the cathedral square (Duomo). The Festa de Palombella happens every year on Pentecost Day and a representation of the Holy Spirit in the form of a dove is sent across the square in a special carrier from Via  Maitani on a wire to the front of the Duomo. I had no idea of what was to happen, only that it was a Catholic festival with significant meaning for people from a wide area around.

We were to meet Ted and Veronica in the square but by the agreed upon time it was impossible to pick them out of the gigantic crowd and our focus was on the celebration itself. It was hot as usual and we tried to get in the shade of the massive building  while we waited for the show to begin, but then so were hundreds of others.

At the appointed time horns signalled the entry down the street of troupes of people all in medieval costume parading to the square, then more trumpet flourishes and finally everyone looked up to the Via Maitani (a building of similar dating to the Duomo) and a cage with rotating flares and fireworks was loosened along the wire and it glided across the square with billowing smoke and loud explosions until it stopped at the front of the cathedral. The locals applauded and children were excited, but for the uninitiated, like myself, I was confused at what all the fuss was about, but then it was only after that it was explained to me what the meaning was and how long this tradition had been carried on.

Anyways, the crowds started to disperse and we had a vantage point on the steps of the cathedral and Carol spotted Ted in his traditional summer garb with camera slung around his neck,  looking for us in the crowd. She shouted to him to no avail and pushed me in his direction 15 meters away with still many people in between. I was anxious to see my friend and I waded through the crowd being as polite as possible (speaking Canadian of course, “pardon me, excuse me”) and within seconds was totally lost. Not only could I not find Ted (I was looking in the opposite direction of course) but turning back I couldn’t locate Carol either. The teeming mass was whisking me along the street farther and farther away from my goal (which at this point was  just not to be lost) until far behind me I see Ted and Carol embracing and then looking for me. I keep breaking my own record of futility in being in the wrong place at the right time.

Soon we are meeting with Veronica’s in laws and kissing cheeks and (Ted’s feeling like a Brillo pad, everyone else clean shaven) doing introductions. The European tradition of touching cheeks and smacking lips near the other’s ear breaks barriers immediately as it introduces an intimacy that our culture has no equal. A hearty handshake back home can convey a lot in an introduction but lacks the congeniality of this and it almost always has to end in a smile because it’s a small celebration in itself.

Eventually Veronica goes to spend a few hours with family and Carol goes to get freshened up for 20 minutes or so and I introduce Ted to an already favourite patio spot near the Duomo where we settle down behind a couple of Italian beers and get caught up. It’s a great day!

Carol joins us and after 30 minutes we are off to find some food and possibly a nice glass of wine as it is already ‘4:30 in Newfoundland’ as we say back in Castlegar whenever we’re trying to justify a happy hour.

We find a nice indoor establishment and Carol and I are enjoying some pizza and some red wine. Ted has his hand wrapped around a 660 ml beer which he purchased because it was the most economical by volume. Lately Ted has been disguising his abs with a pliable layer of flesh over top,  no doubt to keep the women away so as not to make Veronica jealous. He’s a real ladies man.

We have Ted to ourselves for the afternoon and walk the ancient streets sharing with each other little anecdotes that we’ve picked up already and he has been here once in the past so he has history to share, and it’s a great walkabout. Oh how I missed my friend. It’s another reminder of how long we’ve been gone and how important the people back home are to us. Soon enough we will be with them again but we will milk this trip until the end first.

Veronica picks him up before dinner time as they have family commitments and we set up a meeting for the next day when we will have Veronica’s brother in law’s car to take us out to see the sights (and sites).

Another leisurely evening on the terrace, this time with an Italian cigar for me and our technology gadgets in hand, and soon another day is done with more promise for tomorrow.

This an edit to the original post.

While we were on the terrace the male owner of the apartment who lives above us and has their entrance right beside our door popped out to greet us. Eleonora’s father, an elderly man (5years my junior) with broad smile inquired in Italian how we were enjoying the place and introduced himself as Claudio. I spring up from my chair with cigar smoke still curling from my lips thrust out my hand (the lip smacking cheek rub seemed a bit premature at this early juncture) and said in my best Italian “Je m’appelle Denis”! An outward groan from Carol, a glazed look from him as his hand goes limp in mine and we move to another language fiasco.

He has come to feed their 2 elderly cats which live on the terrace and prowl amongst our feet looking for scraps and generally looking motley. Claudio has brought them the typical Tuscan cat meal of prosciutto and Iberian ham in a cream sauce… what no wine? I couldn’t help but think that the cats couldn’t have much of an appetite after skulking into our place and nibbling on our cheese, scattering our papers, and then retiring to the terrace to dismember a defenseless lizard and consume it until only its skull is left in the doorway.  These cats suck.