Fancy Panda!

 On June 23, I watched our car being loaded on a transport and hauled off to New Jersey. From there it was to board a ship heading to the port of Genoa. The estimate was for 45 days "door to door;" our "revised estimate" promises that it will leave Jersey on September 4th. In the meantime, we bought a Panda! Actually, it's a 1986-87 limited edition Fiat Panda 750 and, in fact, it isn't called a "Panda" at all! It's a Scioneri. . .!

Scioneri. . . I love saying it . . . Scioneri. . . , Scioneri. . . , but before I sing a parody of "Maria" from "West Side Story," I should explain. It seems Fiat contracted with MOMO design in the 80s and created some "limited editions" of which, we are privileged to have one! We were told by the seller that there are only a few left and when insuring the vehicle this was very important to mention.

The first time you insure a car in Italy is very expensive. First, you must prove yourself a "good driver" and, after the first year, the rates drop considerably. So, to insure our Scioneri. . .  (Read that: Fiat Panda 750, w/suede interior and a fancy rubber horn-cover which reads:  "Scioneri MOMO") was going to cost us over 700 euros, unless . . . the car was registered as an "historic" vehicle. If the car was accepted by this special society, for only 120 euros a year in membership fees, the insurance rate would drop by 2/3rds! "Wow, that's huge," we agreed, and Gianni, the seller, was eager to help in the process (mind you, he never took the time to register it for himself) and offered to accompany us to meet an "officer" in the club.

On the way (I let Gianni drive the Scioneri. . .) we stopped for gas and I told the attendant, "pieno!" The attendant, whom Gianni called cugino, repeated, "pieno?" Gianni echoed, accompanied with a bit shock on his face, "pieno??" Once again--to Gianni and his cugino I said, "pieno!!!" Gianni shrugged and smirked a bit. What was that all about? What did I say? Was I being the "Ugly American" by wanting a full tank of gas? The 1000 euros we paid for the car was already in Gianni's bank, so technically the Scioneri. . . was ours--why not "fillerup?" Cugino washed the windows, topped-off the water and air, checked the tire pressure and we went along our merry way to meet this auto aficionado! Gianni turned down a side street in the Foce district of San Remo, properly double-parked, locked the car, and located the "official."

The men were talking very quickly, sometimes in hushed tones, oftentimes shouting, and I could see that the "official" was not convinced that our Scioneri. . . was maintained well enough to become a member! Finally, with much negotiation on Gianni's part, it was decided that. . . if we were to have a portion of the driver's-side door painted; then photograph the side of the car, being very careful not to display any part of the car's paint-peeled top; then take off the seat covers and take a second picture (required) though the passenger door showing-off the suede interior; then submit these two photos to the club's president. . . yes, yes. . . we might have a shot! In the meantime, I was advised by the "official," to pay the entire insurance fee, and once all the "repairs" and photos were made, the club fees paid, and, after the car was registered as an "historic vehicle" we could then ask the insurer to reimburse us the extra money we paid by insuring it as "just a normal Panda 750."

Gianni accompanied me to the insurance office and made a quick, but polite, exit. I phoned Rich, who stayed behind to withdraw the insurance money from the bank, and I briefly explained all we had to do to save money. In the end we decided it wasn't worth the effort--that, and after a few questions of the agent, we learned that Italian insurers would never reimburse us a cent.

Happily driving our own car up the hill to Ceriana we were glad to leave the traffic, the noise and exhaust smells of San Remo behind. Half-way up the hill we were keenly aware that the traffic and noise had dissipated but the exhaust smells grew stronger. An ever increasing scent of benzina filled the passenger compartment. The word "pieno," in Gianni's voice, went through my mind. "Pieno?"                 "Pieno??"          "Pieno???"

Please note:  If you ever "fill-up" a Panda be aware that, due to its design, a bit of gas will spill when you drive uphill.

At any given time, you'll find a half-tank or less in our Scioneri. . . !

Milano Overnight. . .

Rich and I will be driving to Milan tomorrow to attend the funeral of a dear friend's father. He was called "Prof", short for professore, and was one of the first people I fell in love with here in Ceriana, although he, as I, spent only summers here. Each summer his devoted daughter, Letizia would drive him down from Milan to escape the intense heat. When I met Prof he was in his late 80s and was holding a video-camera. He was always photographing with his "high-end" camera. His subjects included his dining companions at En Tu Furnu, but mostly, his films were of cats; his daughter's cats and the menagerie of strays here in Ceriana.  He'd rise before the sun and, camera in hand,  he and his daughter would begin their morning walk. He was a little shaky but refused her helping hand; headstrong and proud to a fault! They'd return from the walk and Prof would marvel at the day's shoot. I am in receipt of several of those videos!
Letizia would rent him a room near the level top of the town;  the small house of Thomas; the last time a room in Teré--our only hotel. The last time Prof was in town so, too, were 11 young ladies who shared the remaining rooms of Teré. The girls were here for Sororis a musical workshop a colleague and I arranged and conducted. I'm sure the girls were anything but quiet at night, but Prof didn't seem to mind, in fact, directly after their performance, he called them to his room to show-off the concert video.  He was 91 then and the girls were smitten.
That was two years ago. Last Summer, too frail to make the trip from Milan, I talked to Prof on the phone and offered my hope to see him soon. I'll see him again Wednesday.
Riposa in Pace, dott. Gianfranco (Prof) Montanari.

Ceriana's Home Movies. . .

Before Rich and I left San Francisco, mom and I had 57 three-minute 8mm films converted to DVDs and distributed them to our family. The "films" played in the background during our going-away party. Prior to this DVD reincarnation, these films were played only during very special family evenings. Dad would set-up a screen and take out each film from a little yellow box and thread it into our Revere projector. The films were silent but I can still hear their "soundtrack":  the  "Gr.r.r.r.r.r.r.r.r.r.r.r.r." of the projector; our laughter; the occasional teary sniffs; the protests, "not that one dad!"; the applause! These evenings were enjoyed by all, or so we thought. Once in awhile there'd be a guest who would have to sit through "Reno's Reels" and feign interest. That's the thing about family films; unless you're in them, or, at least, recognize all the players, they are very long three-minute experiences!

The other night in the square, Ceriana celebrated a special anniversary of "e garsune de Seriana," a girls chorus which sings in the local dialect. The spettacolo began with selections sung by the current group of garsune and ended with an alumnae group of adult women singing songs they'd sung on the same stage many years ago. Between these sets, the crowd, mostly all Cerianasci (individuals born in Ceriana), was shown videos (with sound) of Garsune performances taken from each decade since its formation. On-screen, we're the cherubic faces of singers from the 70s, 80s, 90s, 00s, and their conductor, Angela, who was "there" from the start! These vintage performances featured the same songs, the same conductor and many of the same faces, just "older" as the years progressed. After each recorded selection the crowd cheered as if hearing the song for the first time. Proper names and nicknames were shouted to the screen as individual faces appeared in "close-up". There was laughter; occasional teary sniffs. From time to time "ma dai!" could be heard from an embarrassed teenager as her "junior face" came into the crowd's view. Live singing joined the recorded voices and everyone knew the words. . . even the noisy little boys behind us would occasionally stop playing with their toy-cars and sing along! 

That night, as we made our way down the carrugio to our home, Rich and I spoke about how Ceriana is really one big loud and loving family. Rich said, "they clearly love each other so much they don't need tourists here to survive!" He then added, "it's amazing that we've been accepted [adopted?] here."

We will never be Serianasci, we're just happy being, a bit, Cerianese!

Quasimodo's "sanctuary" . . . the bells, the bells!

Sant'Andrea is, perhaps, the most beautiful piazza in Ceriana. It's framed by well kept homes, the north-side of the Oratorio Sant'Andrea, and the imposing campanile--who's duty it is to ring out the town's hours. Curiously, the hours are struck once, on the hour, and then two minutes later, they toll again! So at midnight; twelve bells; wait two minutes; twelve bells again! The bell rings just once (graciously) on the half hour. It's very interesting if you're woken by this midnight serenade and can't fall back to sleep because, in your semi-conscious stupor, when you hear the 12:30 toll, you might think you've slept an hour and that it's now 1 a.m. , however, it's important to wait two minutes to be sure! If after two minutes there's no second ringing, it has to be 12:30 . . . or. . . did you sleep past the 12:30 single ring and the two ringings of 1 a.m. and now, it's really 1:30? If so, you might have to wait to have this confirmed by the 2 a.m. ringings!
I've experienced this more than once after arriving here with profound jet-lag!

Never wearing a watch, I find the daytime bells quite informative and now that I have some land to work, just outside of town, I completely appreciate the double ringings. While hard at work the contadino will hear the bells and realize that an hour has past; but which hour precisely?  He takes a minute (two, actually) to wipe his brow and have a sip of wine and then he counts the second tolling to be sure! Brilliant!

Building a Stone Wall . . .

Who knows when this wall fell or what caused its demise. I could read a "how to" book, but there's a few wall-sections still standing, and with these as "templates" I will proceed and; hopefully, succeed! My thanks to Les and Helen for getting me started on this last Spring!

Ciao Tutti!

Hi,
This is a new blog where I'll be sharing my decision to live and "work" in Italy.
I hope you like it, if not, don't read it!