So. We have this beautiful Piazza. … There are about 8 restaurants in the area…maybe twenty  or more little stores; crafts, clothing, tobaccos, ceramics, paintings – those sorts of things. Somedays, at some times, you can drive in and park. If you are a local you have probably figured out the rules and avoid tickets; but all others BEWARE!  Generally, here is the deal:  No entering on Sundays, or Holidays, or market days. You can park on weekdays early in the morning, until 11:00 a.m.  Then get out!  You can come back and park for a few hours later in the day…exactly when, I have yet to decipher . There are signs posted  – some with conflicting information, some brightly electrified; but they do not help.

I have been watching the Piazza traffic for 7 years now and have never heard a horn honk  (Actually, once there was a honking, but I think it was an American honking to tell his wife to hurry up with the roller suitcase from their BnB.) The cars slowly back-up, slowly enter…people walking between the action…dogs, children, old folks, and I’ve never seen an accident…it is a nice ‘Puzzlement’ as the King of Siam would say.

Don’t get me wrong; even though all these cars behave in the Piazza – as soon as they get out, it is another story altogether. What energy they stored up in the Piazza they let out by cutting you off as they pass you on curvy roads…riding your rear bumper even honking at times. It is ‘Heck’ to pay as a left wing politician would say.

Every schoolday morning – at about 10:45 –  teachers from our local kindergarten put their thirty, or so, wards into  little wagons, or attach them to a long rope – and walk them around our piazza…to air them out, I suppose.  This is called a “Passagginna” by the locals. It is one of the best times of the day…for both the young and the old.

I grew up in the American Midwest. There, children were meant to be seen – not heard. Children could only appear in public in good form. They were to defer to all adults. Show some respect. I think it was a good thing. I did not grow up so bad. But here in Tuscany it is different.

The children in our Tuscan town Rule. Some are dressed to the ‘Nines’. Some just come to the Piazza straight from the bed or crib. Fathers bring them everywhere, hoist them high in the air , twirl them round and round as if there were some kind of dance going on. Mothers let them crawl all over the place. Everybody waves at them, laughs with them.  This is not life is it? Maybe it is THE life.

My little town has four caffes…and at least eight other places you can get a coffee. One is better than the others. But I’m not going to tell you which one that is because everyone here would know what I said and I would be banished from the lower ranked forever – and would have to move. There are two caffes where the Barristas know what type of coffee I drink and when they see me hit the counter they make my coffee without my ordering it. In the rare case when I would like something different I have to go to a caffe where they don’t know me as well. Such are the problems here.

(The photo is of a poster depicting Cappuccinos produced daily by Baristas from one of the local caffes. )

Thank you for your time, this time….

Two examples  of ununderstandables which I dislike: 1) Bitcoins. I have tried and tried; but cannot understand them…all I come up with is ‘The Madness of Crowds’. 2) AI…and how it benefits mankind and how – at the same time – it is going to kill us all…and so forth.

Examples of  ununderstandables I have liked this week: 1) I was trying to write for this posting when outside my window I heard a band playing. I rushed to my terrace overlooking the Piazza and I saw this amazing troop of whatever they were, drumming drums, blowing on horns…the sight was a sight to behold. I quickly re-arranged myself and went downstairs to see more of it – and it was gone. What was it? Who? Why? How did it make money? 2) A few days later,  it was getting dark and it was time for a pizza. I walked out to go get a ‘Mozzarella’ and there, in what is usually our quiet in the evening piazza – was a new stage – set-up with a DJ playing to fifty or so Spin Cyclists  – furiously spinning away to rock’n roll. How’d they get there? Why here? Where is the money? By the time I finished my pizza the whole thing was gone.

Something very charming about this place, even though it might be living in a bubble which might be living in a bigger bubble. Who knows what is going on?

When I was child, my parents had some friends in Cleveland, Ohio, who had a nice home overlooking a golf course. My parents were about to go off to Europe on a vacation and the Cleveland woman said; “Why Travel? We’re here!” …and now many years later,  I understand her statement. Why leave a place if you really, really like it? Me? I like my Tuscan town and its Views…even more than the Views of the Cleveland golf course. But each to their own. This week I am having coffee and meals with some travelers from the States who tell me the views here are from their ‘Bucket List’. Mission accomplished. Soon they will go on and see other things.  Tonight, when I join them for dinner, I will ask them the ‘Why Travel” question.

So. Why am I Here? One of the reasons: This little town has a Fashion Show…one hour long, one night a year. Me? I’m a male from Ohio – not given to ‘Fashion’. Or to “Fashion Shows”. But this one is something else. At one end of our Piazza there is a little shop filled street called the ‘Borgo’. One night a year the store  (Named “Quarante” – or, ’40’ – after its address) hosts a show. They roll down a red carpet a couple hundred yards long, put benches along both sides and dress up various local members of the community to stroll down the red carpet and show off the goods. Some of the models are very young, some are quite the opposite…all are happy to be strutting down the lane. The crowd claps, laughs, waves at the models. – and the models tended to wave back. It is a good time. The woman who sells the newspapers, magazines and such – modeled this year. So did two of the waitresses from one of the popular caffe’s. So did some of the local waiters.  I think the guy who fixed the plumbing problem in our bathroom was sporting a nice brown leather jacket. Nobody from Paris or New York on the runway; but who needs that?

I hear, next week, a local band is going to play and march around in the piazza, in celebration of one of our favorite Saints. For me, better things happen here than were on my bucket list.