summer is one long festa

Tonight after a cuppa with friends I wandered back through the village at around 10.30. Laughter floated up from the piazza. A party? No, just a typical hot summer evening. Approximately 30 people sat, lounged, lazed around the piazza, just chatting and laughing, enjoying the cooler temperatures (today was not so bad, apparently, only 37°. Yesterday we made 38°. I stay inside where I am cool).

I took the long way home, (across the piazza and doubling back along the road) stopping to chat on my way. The couple I had said goodnight to half an hour before assured my new clients that I wouldn't need a translator to help when we discuss their painting tomorrow.

As my grasp of the language improves I think I fit well enough into life in this village, but in other ways I don't blend in at all. Tonight I was wearing my "American dress", purchased when I was without luggage in Alabama. I like it, but I feel so terribly conspicuous in it here. I couldn't look less Italian if I tried! I seem to be developing separate wardrobes for my overlapping lives. A slinky evening top purchased in Italy needs to be lifted a couple of inches to be acceptable in Scotland where much less flesh is exposed! Tight-fitting tops are left in Italy when I go to New Zealand. Trousers and jeans sold in Italy simply don't fit the Antipodean figure, Australia, NZ and America cut the cloth more to our shape.

I stubbornly fail every time in the footwear department. Yes, I confess to owning several pairs of beautiful Italian shoes... but do I wear them? Hardly ever! It's good old comfortable flats purchased in New Zealand (with cobblestones in mind) for this practical fashion rebel!

Today I am grateful for laughter.