Some of you have written to me wanting to read more about
the routine of my life here. All
right. My alarm goes off at 6.05,
and the first thing I do is walk out on the porch – barefoot, but wearing
pyjama bottoms and an old HFOZ t-shirt - and just smell the air. It is still dark at that hour, but I
can get a sense of the day from the quality of light of the yellowish
streetlamps in the village below.
Usually mornings are foggy, misty and cold. I have some fruit and yogurt or a few slices of braesola for
breakfast.
The view from my apartment is a marvelous thing. I look directly south toward Dogliani
and the Maritime Alps. To the left
(east) are the hills of the Alta Langa and the sunrise. To the west, If I stretch, I can see
the Monte Viso, a Matterhorn-like peak on the French-Italian border. The light softens the contours of the
hills and valleys and seems to change the tonal values of the light that
reflects and shapes the landscape.
Some days, I stop in the village for a coffee, and even more
occasionally the IHT, but usually I just go straight to the winery, getting
there before 8.
The coffee machine at the winery is a marvelous, marvelous
thing. Everyone has their own electronic
“key” to which you can add credit.
I’ll have a cappuccino (or two) in the morning, then espresso the rest
of the day. If I could install one
of these machines in my home I would do so in a heartbeat. Mornings have typically been cleaning,
racking, pump-overs. Andrea always
calls me for a coffee break at 10.
At noonish, I head back to my apartment for an hour or so and make some
pasta, have some fruit and cheese, or dried meats. This work requires energy! I am losing my “gym” bod but am getting something else – my
weight hasn’t changed much, though, and some days I feel like I’ve even taken
off. Strange to be losing weight
in Italy.
While working, I take copious notes in a little Moleskine
that Luciano tells me to pull out every time he has new cusswords for me. I think he loves that little
notebook. He also has me write
down all the piedmontese sayings that he uses throughout the day. Piedmontese is a weird mishmash of
French and Italian, and I can sorta-kinda-somewhat understand it. For example, “don’t move” – “non muove”
in Italian – is “bouge non” in Piedmontese. However, it comes out as “boojahnong” which makes things a
wee bit more complicated. Usually,
my brain is about 8 seconds behind the conversation, which is a lifetime at the
speed these people talk. All of
them talk so frickin’ fast. I must
have a semi-intelligent face (???), because they all seem to assume that I’m
getting every word they say perfectly.
When it’s clear that I don’t comprehend, Andrea has the frustrating habit
of talking louder instead of slower.
I know that Americans do this with foreigners in the US as well – and
getting it firsthand, I understand how perfectly annoying this is. I’m not deaf, dude, I’m just trying to
understand.
By the way, Barbara does not like her picture being taken.
Afternoons we continue all the usual jobs, and if grapes
come in we crush. The latest crush
has gone on until 9.30. Typically,
though, I get home by 7 or 7.30, have a glass of wine (dry cheap rosé from
Sardinia is my new fave, especially at 3.75 euro a bottle), a few bites and a
shower to get the grape gunk off, and am in bed by 10. I will read or write in the
evenings. Some nights I go out
with friends but am usually just too beat. I have been sleeping so incredibly well these last 5 weeks,
in general. Insomnia only a few times so
far, which is a marvel.
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