No Email, No Shower, No English, Oh My!
Just consider me Toto to Danielle’s Dorothy.
The whirlwind tour that blew us through Mondaino began on a twisting, pale cobblestone road, one another impossible incline or cliffside u-turn at a time. By the time we had climbed through the hills our brains spun in place (almost exactly like the little green arrow on the thoroughly confused GPS).
This tiny village sits high atop the Rimini Province, surrounded by similar hamlets, most with similar narrow streets, similar active residents and similar terracotta-topped homes. They all revolve around an ornate, beautiful medieval church, each one more beautiful than the next. It is a world to which we are wholly unaccustomed. It is a fairytale in a foreign land, the kind of place they write books about.
During our time we encountered our very own guide (sort of our Glinda). She is exactly what you’d expect an older Italian woman to be, only you’d never be able to fathom the amount of love, warmth and genuine, honest-to-goodness, not seen in the U.S. kindness bundled up in her petite package.
(Sidenote – It all makes sense now! Anna, and every relative of hers/Danielle’s that I met – and there were probably about 15 - was tiny! It’s very obvious where the Blanch girls get their stature from – it is all at once enlightening and awesome).
Anna spoke no English, although she humorously attempted a few words to draw laughter. But Danielle and I persevered and I must say, we did very well. I was able to understand about 75% of what people said to me. I can’t communicate back as well but it truly is wonderful how much people can communicate by interpreting words, facial expressions, hand gestures and context. We carried on full conversations about sports, politics, weather, travel, family, food, food, no more food, wine, wine, no more wine and the giant mutant bees that live in Anna’s ceiling (I’m not joking, they were the size of prehistoric birds, I thought we were in Jurassico Parco).
It was strange to be led around through these small towns along the cobblestone roads, looked at like giants in a land of Munchkins. But Anna was proud to show us off; we were immediately and infinitely her family.
There was our very own wicked witch (an old man at a bar who may have been named Pino or Tino or something else, I don’t know, who began arguing with Anna and insulted her to the point of us leaving); kind Scarecrow with a brain (relatives Sara, 19yrs old, Elizabeth, 18yrs old, and Giancarlo, 16yrs old who spoke some English and helped translate our way through several meals); a Tinman with a heart (Anna’s cousin Pino, a small jovial Italian man with a heart as big as his persona, spoke loudly, hugged genuinely and helped show us off to the rest of the extended family; and even our very own Wizard (Vittorio – an old business partner of Danielle’s grandfather, who is sort of like the rich man in the house higher on the hill, his home and family were breathtaking, his hospitality unquestioned and he sheltered us for a couple hours during a sudden and serious thunderstorm).
In short, this world was a circus mirror of our own.
(Another sidenote – in Italy we have now encountered the Italian versions of even our dogs! Vittorio owned a bigger, slightly shaggier version of Bond! Complete with big brown eyes, black fur and a white stomach and that look of simultaneous fear and mischief. We also saw Italian Phoebe and the most uncanny similarity, Italian Indy! In Verona we were eating at a streetside café when a little dog who looked exactly like Bren and Bethany’s dog Indy walked up and sat next to our table. He was slightly darker brown but had the same face, body and small goatee – he wanted food but eventually just laid down next to us then got up and sauntered around the corner).
Anna is Danielle’s grandfather’s cousin. She had never met us but took us in with open arms and gave us an unforgettable experience. By the time the whirlwind blew us out of Mondaino, I was never more honored to be a member of this new family. I see it not just in the Italy extendeds but in the entire Blanch/Mencaccini brood – they are warm and loyal, altruistic to the bone and wear their tradition proudly.
There may be no place like home but somehow I feel like I’ll always have a home in Mondaino.
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