Waking up at Midnight in Italy ©

I woke up as the plane touched down in Marco Polo airport and sleepwalked into Monica’s arms who was waiting for me at the arrivals hall. I hugged her until I realised that the people in the airport were giving us inquisitive looks.
Two double espressos and a car ride full of stories later we arrived in Udine*.

Even though it was past midnight the Italians stood outside the bars that populated the little winding streets; drinking, smoking and gesticulating.
- This street is so beautiful. Look at the rusty-coloured shutters. I looked it up while I was in the airport; This part of the city was built during the Renaissance. And the air, it’s so clean. I love it here.
Monica laughed.
- You’re weird. Udine could excite no one else. Wine?
- Si, Grazie Bella

She brought back wine and a small army of local men. Sergio, Gianni, Andrea, Tomasso and Lorenzo. In a small town like Udine people preserve the natural curiosity about newcomers that is extinct in London.

They spoke very little English and even though I have about five words of Italian we understood each other perfectly. They talked about vino (wine), grilliate (grilled meat) and Sergio’s pantalone. I asked it they meant Commedia dell'arte** and they fell about the place laughing.
They had been talking about Sergio’s new trousers but now I had apparently come up with a new nickname for him. I was very happy to have succeeded in making them laugh with one of my five Italian words but Sergio didn’t seem very happy to be called Pantalone*** from now on.

I was about to buy a round of drinks when Gianni excused himself. It was late you see and he had to go home and make love to his wife.
I looked at everyone’s faces. What a sweet, uncomplicated bunch of people and how easily they spoke about pleasure. When Gianni left, the conversation returned to grilliate and the problem we tried to solve was if they should have the meat before, after or with the pasta.
My sudden urge to come to Italy was becoming very clear to me. What a fool I was to think Dionysus was gone when clearly he was inspiring my every move.
I heard his voice say: "Etsi apla"/“It’s that simple”.

There were very few streetlights on the way home so the next morning I woke up to discover that we were in the middle of a beautiful green field. No wonder I slept like a baby.
Monica had coffee brewing and a feast of cured meats, cheese, fresh bread and eggs, all layed out for breakfast. Begin as you mean to continue, I thought to myself.


With cardigans and woolly socks it was just warm enough to sit outside. We planned our trips to Venice, the nearby villages and the best little eateries in the area.(Always plan the next meal before you finish the one you're eating. An Italian tradition that proved very easy for me to embrace)
We talked about the mysteries of life and how it is that people can live so far away from each other and yet feel a connection that has nothing to do with the amount of time they spend together on a daily basis.
And we hugged. We hugged like we were giving thanks for each other. It’s only when someone goes that we understand how precious every single person in our life truly is.

*http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Udine
**http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Commedia_dell%27arte
***http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pantalone