Wednesday 18 June 2014

The Italian Spring Night

I had the great fortune of spending a couple of weeks by the enchanting Lake Como in the region of Lombardy, a region that I never expected to visit, yet upon my first visit landed itself on the top of my list of beautiful destinations in Europe.

On a warm night in the steep hills of Molina, a village that belongs to the community of Faggeto Lario, same as the nearby villages of Lemna and Palanzo, I learnt something new and unexpected. 

My sister's boyfriend, Andrea, told me to my great surprise that most of June belongs to spring, not summer, as I had previously thought, and my holiday to Italy was in fact a gentle spring break.   

The truth is that the Italian spring's rendezvous with the Italian summer is not until June 2, and
seeing that he is local to the area, I take his word for it. 

This cultural interpretation of the seasons speaks volume of the Italian way of life. In Italy, life runs on a pace of its own, not too slow and not too fast. Everything has its time and place and the moment is not only seized but lived and loved to the fullest.

In the bursting flavors of Italian cuisine, the consumer is simply invited to consume with care. I bathed in the succulent sweetness of the grilled bell pepper on my vegetarian pizza; I almost cried from joy as the juicy t-bone steak watered my veins with love and affection; the flawless rage of the angry pasta lingered in my memory long after consumption; the perfect mix of sweet and creamy homemade Amarena sorbet was the perfect finish to a lush lunch on a hot day.  

…and the coffee… the coffee is full-flavoured, rich and creamy. Coffee is forever ruined even to the most devoted addict after a visit to Italy.

The patience to enjoy and seize the pleasure in the moment it arrives is an art form perfected by the Italians. 

Everything about my time in Italy this June had an air of spring about it. I discovered Italy through the eyes of the traveler and understood why my sister radiates happiness in her new life.

For me, the simple visit to my sister was an awakening as powerful as the bursting spring itself.  
This spring became a time of discovery and an awakening of gentle beauty that all of a sudden bursts to life. 

An evening walk with my partner rendered me helpless to the magic of Italy's finest region.

The wild scent of ravishing plantation seemed to invade the dense night after a sizzling summer day, and the night sky was lit up by the glow of the waning moon and never-ending stars glittered in the sky from joy.

A quiet descent down a narrow and uneven pathway - as old as the departing ages of the past – was carefully treaded to seek a nocturnal view of a chapel hidden by tall trees, tall trees exquisitely green and tender in the late spring night.

Two gates separated the curious travelers from a world where the dead are honored by an array of candles from which a red glow lights up the night. A dim but magical world that is hidden behind the black gate that is neatly tucked away from sight in the darkness by an impressive doorway to the chapel’s mysterious interior decor.

On the journey down to the chapel, fire flies flew in the air, sometimes moving swiftly from one side to another. Every now and then, they stopped in the air to ever-so-gently explore the curious strangers coming down the dark pathway lit up with a bright, bright moonlight.

The pathway was rough and cobbled so long ago, the very hands who lay them in these steep hills, passed into the veiled world a long time ago.


Upon return to the concealed tulip villa, it the strong scent of an incense that is a  mosquito repellent, a scent that awakens the senses to memories of a distant home on the tip of the African continent and the thick and dry bushland of the infamous state of Goiás, that pulls me out of the deep spring night.

All that I needed on this perfect night, a night when the crickets sang to me as in previous destinations, was my Emma. How much her hound senses and vivacious spirit would have enjoyed the music of the night; how she would have tried to run down to the gate off our pathway just to run free alongside the shepherding donkey with his herd of sheep and goats, and play with the equally vivacious lambs and the young and curious goat kids.

She would have jumped up as she'd discover the bells around their neck in an attempt to understand from where rang the soothing sound of the Italian spring. 

The Italian spring night is truly bursting from life's elixir!       

The mysterious black gate. Photo by JB.

The old chapel and the cemetery during the day. Photo by JB.

The Tulip Villa. Photo by JB.

In the hills of Molina. Photo by JB.

Donkey on care duty. Photo by JB.

Casa of a donkey, goats and sheep. Photo by JB.

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