If the Boot Fits (Part V) -or- “Call of the Wild”
Continuing story from “If the Boot Fits” (see side column for previous chapters.)
Driving through the Tuscan countryside was thrilling; -One beautiful vista after another…from the tree-covered hills to the patchwork of fields, -The regal cypress trees adding their signature Italian panache to the scene. It was an endless stack of picture postcards…impossible to settle on a favorite, as each one just seemed to surpass the last.
The views out our picture window on the train from Paris to Florence had given us one perspective, but having our own car and the freedom to explore at our own pace was truly wonderful. As we continued to make our way to the farmhouse we had rented in Umbria, we stopped to take in the local ambience whenever the impulse struck us: -A quaint little village for gelato; an abandoned farmhouse overrun with wildflowers…an outdoor market with an array of local fare.
For me, the most intriguing aspect of this country is the history ensconced in the architecture; whether it’s a simple farmhouse or the most elaborate cathedral. I love seeing the ancient stone structures jutting up proudly against the horizon as you drive through the countryside. And there is nothing better than venturing off the “beaten path” to discover the remains of an old abandoned structure or (if you are really lucky) maybe even an entire hamlet. I can just feel the creative energy of the ages in Italy; -It emanates from the stones.
After hours in the car exploring and making our way through Tuscany to Umbria, we were more-than-ready to see our home for the week. While our plane, train and automobile adventures had been fun thus far, nothing was sounding better to us at this point than the peace and quiet of our country farmhouse and the opportunity to just “be” for one whole week with no luggage in-tow and nothing to worry about.
We had been weaving our way up and over this seemingly endless mountain pass for the last hour and a half and were just coming out of the last of the switchbacks when we caught a glimpse of the valley below. Alex was reading the instructions from the manager again. We were to find a specific bar in San Leo Bastia and use their phone to call the owners. Someone would meet us there with the key.
As it turned out, San Leo Bastia was comprised of just two bars and one other rather non-descript building, so this was not a difficult task and in no time we had placed the call to the owner. While we waited for him to arrive, we wandered into a little room attached to the bar, -a petite general store of sorts. We found it quite charming that they had just one loaf of crusty home-made bread for sale that the woman cut a portion from for us as we indicated how much we would like. It felt as though we had stepped back in time about a hundred years.
We didn’t have to wait long and soon we had our key in hand along with the remaining directions to our house. It was up a hill we could see in the distance, about 4 kilometers to the north. It would require a bit of a drive up more winding roads, but nothing compared to the tenuous mountain pass we had just endured. The opportunity to stretch our legs combined with the prospect of getting to see our new abode had revived us and renewed our enthusiasm and so we didn’t waste any time in heading out. By now, the shadows of evening were creeping across the valley and I realized it would have been much more difficult to find our way on these back country roads after dark had we arrived any later. I silently thanked our good fortune for having made it to San Leo Bastia when we had.
As we wound our way up the hill, we realized more and more just how secluded the property had to be. We would enjoy very few neighbors during our stay; that was for sure. Branching off here and there were smaller dirt roads from the one we were on and every-so-often we would catch a glimpse of a house tucked back in the trees. Mostly though, we were met with densely tree covered hills with intermittent views of farmland stretching across the valley down below.
About halfway up, we passed a cluster of old houses so close to the road Alex could have reached her arm out the car window and run her hand along the stone as we passed. I slowed down to a crawl for fear that any moment someone would open up their front door and step into our path or that a small child might come running after a ball. An older woman was standing near the road with her laundry basket full of linens; most likely just bringing them in from a day in the mountain air and sunshine. She waited for us to pass, looking intently into the car as though taking in every detail of us for later identification.
Finally, we spied the sign on the fence we were looking for. Turning left, I coasted down the gravel drive and pulled to a stop in front of what would be our house for the next seven days: “Casa Corgiano.” Sitting dramatically alone atop the hill with the setting sun behind it, the 500 year old farmhouse did not disappoint. We alit from the car to take it all in.
Comprised of stone, the house had been only partially renovated, leaving much of the original aspects of the structure intact. It was common for the animals to be housed under the living area of the home and this area was still as it would have been back in the day. There were carriage doors on the ground level where the horses would have been guided in and several different stalls for various other animals the owners would have brought in for the night or harbored there during inclement weather.
Once inside, we were thrilled to see they had retained much of the authentic materials throughout…the large stone fireplaces and old stone floors and walls. The windows were new, but done well with wooden panes that opened in and solid wood shutters that opened out and fastened to the exterior with large hand-forged hooks and rings.
We were on the top floor and had a total of 4 bedrooms available to us including a tower room, a large living/dining room area, a relatively small kitchen and 2 bathrooms. On the entrance level, just off the main foyer, there was a large kitchen we could have used, but we determined it was much more convenient to stay contained on just one floor. There was also a finished apartment on the far end that was locked and closed off from us, though no one would be there during our stay. We had already been informed that the house and grounds were ours alone for the entire week.
There was more to explore; -One whole side of the house had not been renovated and looked as though it had gone untouched for hundreds of years…it was crumbling and in ruin and I looked forward to walking through whatever part of it I could get to. Some of it looked accessible, but other parts were boarded up with old wooden planks nailed across the door frame. I peered through the cracks of one such doorway, but it was too dark to make out anything except the outline of what appeared to be an old hutch. I determined any further explorations would have to wait. It was getting late and we decided to get settled in for the night.
After a delicious light supper of bread, olive oil and fresh sweet tomatoes, we were unpacking and deciding where we would sleep. Alex and I elected to take the room with two twin beds so we could give Gita the most grand of the bedrooms down the hall from us with the queen size bed.
The room we were in had a crib and other items stored in it and so I moved these out and into a bedroom we wouldn’t be using. We found extra blankets and pillows stored in an interesting old armoire at the far end of another hall. We lit candles and thoroughly enjoyed taking our time putting our belongings away and making each space “our own.”
Once we decided to turn in for the night, Alex read for a few minutes, but then was sound asleep in no time. I, however, took a bit longer to drift off. As thrilled as I was to be in this ancient house, I have to admit, I was also a little spooked.
There was a hole in the wall right over the top of my headboard and as I turned off the table lamp, I thought of it again. I had pointed it out to Alex earlier and joked that maybe we would see an eye peering back at us. Although I was now in bed well below where someone could see me, the idea of someone being on the other side of the wall in the unfinished portion of the house, seemed suddenly quite feasible. I silently debated this point for some time.
Finally, still chiding myself for being so ridiculous, -I gave up. The inane side of me won. I got out of bed, found a piece of paper…rolled it up…and plugged up the hole.
There! That will show “him” –(that slasher/ghost/ne’er-do-well of whatever variety.)
I scoffed at myself, fully realizing how ludicrous it was, but also knowing it made me feel better somehow. I suppose it falls into the same category as keeping all your body parts under the covers when you were a child. No hanging your hands over the side either. As long as you keep everything within the confines of the bed and particularly if you keep them covered up, you’ll be fine.
Back in bed, I listened to the creaks and moans of the old house and the wind causing branches to gently scratch the windows now and again. I continued devising plausible explanations for each new sound until –eventually- I did drift off to sleep. (Making sure all body parts were well within the confines of the bed and under the covers, of course.)
Suddenly, I was awake with a start. What in the world was that noise? Was I dreaming? I held my breath and listened intently, wondering if I had imagined it or not. Just then, it came again, “Aaaarrrgghhh.”
Someone or some thing was moaning. It was awful. Like a wolf baying at the moon, yet it sounded throatier or more guttural and it wasn’t coming from outside. It was definitely inside the house. I reached over and nudged Alex. “Alex. Are you awake? Did you hear that?”
“What? Huh?…NO.” Then it came again and Alex’s eyes flew open. We both stayed still waiting to see if it would come again.
“Aarroooohhh.” There it was again! Alex looked at me, her eyes large as saucers.
“Let’s go get Gita!” I whispered and started moving towards the door. –Whatever this was, I wanted us to be together.
Alex hesitated, afraid to move, but then quickly bolted from her bed as I started towards the door, motioning for her to follow.
There, we found ourselves confronted by the pitch-black hallway. I quickly scanned for dark forms in the opposite direction; –then we made a run for it…sprinting on tip-toe as fast as we could go across the cold stone floors down the hall to Gita’s room.
Just inside her bedroom door, the awful noise came again, “Aarroooohhh!” and just as quickly, I realized it was coming from her! My heart stopped.
“Mommy?!” I exclaimed rushing to her side.
“Oh. Was that me?” she said, sitting up and looking at both us sheepishly. Then with an embarrassed little chuckle, she cleared her throat and struggled to explain to us what she had been dreaming. “I…I… was dreaming I was a dog…but it was also something to do with an alarm clock. I think I was worried I would sleep in and not wake you up in the morning.”
I was still shaken, but also laughing with relief. Before we had gone to bed, we had talked about what we wanted to do in the morning saying we should get up fairly early so we could get more groceries back in San Leo and have the rest of the day to explore. Gita was the only one with a watch and there was no clock in the house, so Alex and I had teased her saying it was her job to make sure we all didn’t sleep in late like we just had that morning in Florence.
As we talked, we all confessed that we had felt a bit jittery before going to bed. We didn’t want to say anything for fear of making anyone else nervous.
“By the way, -What was with the, ‘Mommy?!” Alex asked me, laughing.
“What?” I said. Then I heard it replay in my head and realized I had, indeed said “Mommy” when I rushed to her side thinking something dreadful was happening to her. I have always called her “Mom” for as long as I can remember. I probably hadn’t said “Mommy” since I was a toddler. It was an interesting revelation.
The next morning over breakfast Gita swore us to secrecy, laughing heartily with us, but still flushing from embarrassment that her daughter and grand-daughter had come rushing in to find her “howling at the moon.” Driving out to explore for the day, all it took was for Alex to make a little whimpering dog noise under her breath to set us laughing to the point of tears again. –Good times.
It was amazing to realize that we had only been in Europe three days and we had already experienced so much; -particularly unexpected was the wide range of emotions we had covered in such a short period of time. I felt like I had gone through everything from the depths of complete exhaustion and frustration to the heights of elated joy and back again; –Even a dose of night terror with a bit of childhood regression thrown in for good measure. My stomach hurt from laughing at yet another round of Alex imitating Gita’s “night calls” and I wondered what surprises the remaining 18 days might have in store for us.
Casa Corgiano, San Leo Bastia, Umbria
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