omnia door stop
Wanderways Tuscany - Tours in Tuscany
Julian Frullania
WANDERWAYS TOSCANO
http://www.tuscanwanderways.com
A woodcutter Beppe
who taught us the art of ancient Tuscany to exaggerate the truth.
CHAPTER II - WOODEN leg BEPPE
Wonderful are the images of the hills of Florence before calling in the eyes of the traveler;
a fantasy of his old villas and churches of forest land should rest in honor of
the old pagan gods of the earth.
It was the morning, hard on the end of July, when he began to seek Beppe woodsman, the Genius Loci, again. We have chosen the unexplored trails Season Ontani village, accompanied rough a course to Mt Beppe Cereo where we expected to see in due course, the famous oak wood and stone - flat hill.
We passed a castle, tower-houses, villages, and at the end of a section of outlying huts and cottages beyond the House of colonic farmer, the junior resident of the lands of the count, as its name suggests. We walked through the dusty village road Caianello, suggesting a Roman origin.
We stopped for a hollow-cheeked peasant no defined age, who meet by accident while walking to the coffee shop in their finery Saturday afternoon, and explained that with increase of Tuscany commendable that the honor of the founding of the village was to be attributed to an unknown founder, rather than the Romans, although in truth not appoint Moses or Mars. Beppe said could be found sooner or later, somewhere on Mount Cereo if we look hard enough.
The broken branches and soft, spongy sheets stacked in the Erca banks in the winter and spring floods made our way up treacherous and punish. In the grove where he had filled the bottles with contadino Anchise ago few days, we saw the dark green shirt collar of a wine flask straw sticking decorum of the same small pool. On the bank beside the stream, lay the body of a man big, fast asleep, with legs spread widely across the floor, the back of his head on a backpack of course material.
"Beppe" in chorus, "Good morning!"
The woodcutter instantly awoke, his eyebrows arched high in the sharp awakening.
Without a glance or a greeting, sat down, reached into his backpack, pulled out a bottle and puts it on her lips to drink. His long white beard went from side to side while stirring the water around of the mouth. He gargles with his head tilted back, he turned to one side and the water flowed out on the floor. Immediately spread his thick, hairy arm to the bottle of wine, up from the stream and drank with joy.
"Actum est! One drink of red wine in a clean mouth restoration first thing in the morning! One of my many barbarous extravagance, "he said." I've been sleeping here since yesterday evening. In the summer sometimes just do not feel like trudging back home to the top of Mount Cereo when I have to be in town again the next day. Here, have a drink! "
He took us to a dock road where a swarm of bees buzzing Virgil complete around us. As she drank and splashed his face and neck with water cold, we had a few minutes to think of a heartbroken about Madonna and Child shrine, where the face of a chubby cherub looked at us with mock humility as an offer a prayer for travelers laden with a long way behind and getting around.
Beppe gesturing with his stump. "In recent days, well let's say that until recent years, a place of worship as the corporal and spiritual offering refreshments and a meeting point of trivia where you could talk to a farmer or woodcutter with a loaf of bread under his arm, an onion in his hand, and neck of a bottle of wine sticking out of his pocket small. Come! who are waiting for us in the village.
Before arriving at our table in the lower marble, yellow and white striped awning outside the bar at Gino Piazza della Chiesa in Ontani, Beppe had cupped his hands and shouted more or less in the direction of the bar.
"Gino, did not see us walking down the square? Do I have to Hee-Haw as a donkey to get your attention? Exit service of that great number of pigs on the banks of the city we got there and wine, bread, ham and a piece of cheese that our pastors give Bernard and Guido. And do quick! "
"Why are you so disrespectful to Gino?" We challenge, as we all sat down next to the command of Beppe.
"See," Beppe continued, ignoring our question, "the two brothers make the best cheese of the hill! He repeated his call for service." Gino! I'll show you bucket of lard! "
He got up, approached the fountain behind us, and filled with cupped hands with cold water, drank, licked his chin and the back of his neck and wiped with a green scarf and yellow large. He took a cigar box of polished silver pocket shirt, opened the lid carefully chose a full length Toscanella cigarette, struck a match along the right side of the fountain and swaying directly in the bar, making its way arrogantly by bank employees and a group of elegant ladies of the town were talking and drinking coffee at the counter.
Beppe was placed squarely in front of Gino and stagnant instantly with a fierce look.
"A glass of wine, and without delay!"
Gino interrupted his service, took a glass of wine from the shelf, polished to an exceptional degree of brightness, filled it with local red wine and put it on the counter.
An accident of applause came from the loggers in the corner tables. Repulsion was evident on the faces of the city.
"Now I have your attention?" Gino said as he left the counter and walked to our table.
Beppe looked with amusement on the sidelines while they filled the glasses. "Well Indeed, Gino, well done my dear friend. May our Mother and Child of the Snows have mercy on your soul and give you peace! You'd better sit here today and not in my corner private table in the bar. I see that your house is already full of garbage that the city office. You may go now! "
Gino can not answer. As he arrived, so meekly returned to his place behind the counter ready to resume its impeccable service.
The woodcutter now turned to us. "The best way to tell a story, I think, is to put in it, with the intervention of one's personality, but without ostentation. Technically speaking, Boccaccio continued outside his Decameron, but Dante the first person who walked through hell to paradise. Truths and lies relaxed venial situated in irreconcilable paradoxes of life to accelerate and promote the imagination. "
We nodded in a friendly way.
He spoke again with the brilliant, melodious accent, Tuscan today only by villagers in remote rural areas.
"Now tell me again. What is this? What do you write in the ugly little black books this time? "
Although this dramatic composition between Beppe and Gino was being played out on the counter, had noticed a thin boy, with curly hair as a teenager carefully walked towards our table, her eyes full of wonder, as he followed every movement made by the big lumberjack. Now he was standing at our disposal.
"That's it"! Beppe shouted, "in primis et omnia preliminary draw a chair and sit here in front of me and hear a man talk! If you wish to become a stalwart and skilful woodsman like me, you have to learn to work the hardness in your system. You get up early in the morning in the woods and start cutting and pounding all day knee-ground success.
Beppe drums forward to the marble-top with chopped stump of his left index finger. "Well, are you listening attention?"
"Yes, signore."
"See," he continued, looking at the girl with hard eyes, "I live on top of the hill of Monte Cereo. Where do you live and who are you? "
"Grazie, Signore," my name is Geremia Ventari, the name of my father ...
"Yes, yes, I know, Anchise, and your mother is funny Anastasia.
The usual buzzing swarm of lumberjacks and their wives had already developed their chairs around the table unwilling to spend their Saturday afternoon in the company of the story of the last Tuscan inflated. From the vibrant characters in the society around us, Boccaccio could have had any of seven women and three men. And many of their stories as well.
Beppe's move. There excogitated his foreword, in the meantime, and now waiting for the right moment of silence to fall on its mounting.
"Well, you see," he began, gazing expeditiously with faces around to make eye contact "is a known and indisputable fact, my dear Geremia, I live there in the top of our parent, Monte Cereo in Beppe's Bastion, a term adorned for my oak-and-stone home.
A free download of laughter came from the loggers.
"That old box of potato windows to the ground with ropes tied to not blow during thunderstorms," broke in one of the companies.
Beppe took a long drink Toscanella his cigar and blew a thick stream of smoke smell in his direction to stun him.
"Back in Monte Cereo, Geremia dear, as I said, it is so steep and dangerous that I have to tie my chickens to an oak tree to avoid falling off the hill. "
"Yes, I understand, "the youngster said, his voice trembling, fearing she had been too bold." Can I sit at the table? "
"And That's not all, my child, "Beppe continued," the heroic and faithful implementation of my duty as a lumberjack Ontani, I have to use my brainpower too! Want an example Thespian? "
Jeremiah did not know what to expect. "Sì, Signore" dare.
"Now, as we all know, is the lex scripta Ontani not Gino's Bar in the corner seat of the long wooden table near the door is perpetually reserved for Beppe woodcutter. That's me. When I enter the bar any idiot unaware occupant is forced to defend both. Now I realized when I was there a moment ago architect is not the swaggering, looking kind, private sitting in my seat at the corner of my desk. Now you just saw Beppe intellectual capital. "
Beppe dramatically exaggerated his limp as he approached his table. The man sitting in the corner was busy reading his newspaper, not realizing the danger at hand.
Gino service stopped and stood motionless, waiting for trouble. The eyes of everyone in the bar is now fixed apprehensively at the two men.
"You see, sir, "said Beppe the man behind the newspaper, in exercise of the most authoritative voice," is my leg, you know, my bad leg. "
The man lowered his newspaper and looked puzzled.
- "My leg of age," Beppe Mock continued, "you see, happened during the war when I was a toddler. I was helping my poor mother in the fields when a German bomb exploded near us and ... shrapnel, you know, I mutilated for life. It's my wooden leg, you see. "
"Oh, I'm sorry," said the man, standing at attention, "I apologize. No please take my seat. I'm going out now. "
Beppe sat in his private corner for the laughter and applause from his fellow lumberjacks.
Gino moved her lips, but stopped before reaching a smile.
The big man winked at Geremia now stood in the door. The boy's face was polished with pride.
Beppe stood up, took the hand Geremia, and joined us again. He filled the three glasses of wine on the table and once again sets in the bar of his magisterial voice, ordering the bread, wine, prosciutto, cheese and more drinks. Given this, the loggers and their wives even more huddled around our table. Gino appeared instantly at the door and dreams approached us with a varied selection of local products.
"Are you writing all these things down? "He asked." Well, do you have something to say? "
We looked at each other, and then Geremia, and shook his head. "Please continue, Beppe.
The face of the man of the woods to put on your mask bleaker. His voice was sarcastically Bible and played drums for the board in a constant rate with the stump, irritation of the child who blinked to the rhythm of the heartbeat. We all hope for the next Tuscanism inflated jet.
"You see, Geremia", advocated by the great man, "as the Bible itself says, a man can not remain under of an olive tree and wait to eat ripe figs, or standing in a rainstorm and open his mouth to a flurry of wine. Now I understand that this is not easy to understand for a child as you, but your father knows all things. If you want to be an accomplished woodsman, like me, this understanding of nature is essential. Now tell me, what are you doing in the city today, where Anchise and Anastasia? "
Geremia looked at him shyly. "My father has gone to the restaurant with some chickens and eggs, as we are accustomed.
And your mother? "
"My mother and my brothers are sitting in the small wall behind the church. My mother says there is more commerce happens there. She says that people who never attend church are embarrassed to be seen by Don Armando and reach the square to turn around to the back of the church. This morning, has eight chickens to sell. I gotta go now to help them. "
Beppe stood and all followed suit. He scattered through the Assembly of loggers and townspeople who had come to hear him and threw a handful of coins in his cup empty wine, repeating the child's name for itself, "Geremia, Geremia."
The privately disclosed to us that he was in his way back down the slope of the small group of abandoned houses, Borghetto, where an old monk, Guntelmo, lives alone in solitude parish.
"I will speak you two, "he said," the poor old soul would be very happy to meet you. I'll ask my friend Bruno to come too, and invite the boy Geremia. Can you come tomorrow evening? "
We nodded.
He picked up his bag of cloth and then we saw him across the square towards the church where the local priest, Don Armando, bowed his head to that floor, was watering a row of pots outside the door of the church with a long plastic hose.
Beppe could not avoid provocation. "Do not spoil the flowers, my brother, the Reverend, with water-Pee Pee Council pagan," sniggered. "Use your saintly patience and wait until the supernatural rainwater is reduced directly from paradise!
The priest looked at him for a moment of pious resignation and frustration turned his thoughts to their pots.
Like Gino, Don Armando had never encountered the audacity to challenge since it began Beppe time.
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