There’s a lot to say-and it’s not even been a week. I am going to focus on one thing for now though, well...one person. Meet Pina. Picture a characterture of an older Italian woman and you’re halfway there. She wears big sunglasses, red lipstick (which often ends up on her teeth) big dark eyeliner and her hair pulled up in a hairgrip. She likes to wear dresses which float around like cloaks which have unnecessarily massive pockets so when she’s reaching into a pocket the dress moves down with her and it takes her forever to get to the bottom of it. She tops off her outfits with silver trainers. She has a janitor style bundle of keys which she’s often found trying to fish out of one of these infamous pockets. She’s warm, eccentric, serious, straight-forward, tactile and laughs a lot. She also cries a lot, randomly- but only ever for a second and then stops. I guess her husband’s death is still raw.
I moved into Pina’s house last Friday. She’s recently widowed and fallen out with her daughter and feels lonely/scared in her big house alone so the last time she came into the school (to get her letters translated to send to relatives in America) she asked Vicki if she knew anyone who would want to rent a room out. And then I came along. Perfect set up really-cheap rent, lovely apartment near the school and a great opportunity to learn Italian as she doesn’t speak any English.
But living with Pina has its fair share of challenges. I like my own space, probably more than most. I need quiet time, me time, un-wind time, whatever you want to call it time. It’s very English of me to be reserved and private and very Italian of her to be invasive and “in your face”. We agreed from day one that we’d be separate, do our own thing for meals and that I’d be in and out the house because of work etc. I did worry that she’d be tempted to “mother me” too much and the best way to tackle it, I thought, was to be kind but firm and draw the line regarding personal space and routines from day one. But it’s been difficult to do as she’s a very dominant woman. She gets insulted if I don’t eat lunch with her and on the first day when I cooked for myself she followed me around the kitchen and sat and watched me eat.
She then took me for a drive in the mountains. It was nice; radio on, arm out the window, the sun was out, driving past 100s of olive trees around bends up higher and higher. After a while we approached a cemetery and right away I knew who we were visiting. Her dead husband. Just as we pulled in, it started raining. Quiet poetic, really. It was beautiful-big grand tombs surrounded by mountains and a little old man by the gate with a van full of flowers to sell to the grievers. But I didn’t want to be in this situation so I stayed in the car with my book. It’s day one and I’m at the cemetery where her husband’s burried....in the middle of the mountains. It was poignant watching her walk up the footpath with her bright orange top, silver trainers and big umbrella though. Elegant and sad somehow. I felt a bit guilty but I took a picture.
She then returned, got in the car and then realised she’d lost her car keys. I still don’t understand how; she had her handbag with her and as she got out the car I noticed them in her hand. She went back to the cemetery to check-no luck. Came back to the car and emptied her bag-no luck. We both searched the whole car, under the seats, in the boot, under the car-no luck. Checked her bag again-no luck. She then managed to get the flower guy and other grievers all gathered around looking for these keys whilst getting hysterical, ringing people, yelling at them and then putting the phone down. Awkward. The flower guy and the grievers were sticking sticks, pieces of metal and even a rope down the grates in case they’d fallen down there. Me and Pina were then actually on her husband’s grave/tomb; she was pulling the flowers out of their vases, opening the glass case and moving all the pictures (of her husband, husband’s brother and some other random woman) around in case they were in there-no luck. Eventually, about 45 minutes later one of the grievers somehow found the keys. I still don’t understand where or how she lost them but it was all a bit crackers. At this point I was ready to just go “home” and lie down. After a long tour through the little towns she stopped at the butchers-I sat in the car. Then she stopped at the supermarket. By this point, I was getting a bit crabby. So I waited in the car. She was an hour. After that whole saga, she then told me that “we” are going to her friend’s house for dinner and when I said “no thank you I’m tired” she was like “I’ll have to ring them now and tell them you can’t come” when I never said I’d come in the first place. I just prefer doing my own thing. I feel powerless enough living in someone else’s house with pictures of her daughter’s face all around the room (one of which looks over me as I sleep) and Pina’s fut coats in the wardrobe that I don’t want to feel powerless over my eating habits and routines. I don’t want to be hostile or rude, but I want to do my own thing and be independent not get into the habit of hanging out with her all the time. I didn’t move to Italy to get into a dependent relationship with obligation or lack of freedom. And all that was in the first day of living with her!
So moving swiftly onto day two. First annoyance was waking up and getting dressed when suddenly Pina stated trying to get into my room. It was locked. The door handle just kept going up and down as she called out “Anna!” “Anna!”. It was 9.30 on a Sunday morning. I ignored her. She shouldn’t be coming into my room. I went into the kitchen to say “bye” as I was off out for coffee and she had all the pastries out waiting for me. She then told me we were leaving at 10.30 to go to her brother’s and returning at 4pm.I had to just say “no”-I had planning to do for a start and I needed a break. It feels brutal being so dismissive but I want this to work, and I have to be clear.
After coffee, Vicki lent me her bike so I could have the independence to go home, eat lunch, cycle to school, plan, and explore Foligno etc. So I leisurely cycled back looking forward to lunch and getting used to the place whilst Pina was out. Got to the front gate. Locked. Checked my large selection of keys. No key fitted the lock. Ended up climbing over the wall with a dress on. Classy. Got to the front door. There’s two locks. A top one and a bottom one. Challenge #1: The key for the top lock would go in but wouldn’t turn. Challenge #2: None of the keys would even go in the bottom lock.
After many failed attempts, I phoned Vicki. Vicki called Pina. Pina called her daughter. Her daughter arrived apologetically with her keys. Her key for the top lock worked, but for the bottom one didn’t. She then called Pina and they had a yelling match down the phone. Pina was then on her way back from her brothers. “So much for my day of independence” I thought, “i can;t even get in the door without Pina!” Not knowing where else to go I went back to the school and waited there. Vicki called. Pina had called her to say she was home. So I go back on the bike and cycled home. There was a storm. Thunder. Lightening. Torrential rain. I could hardly see and the road was like a stream (I was going to say “river” but that sounded too dramatic) and covered my feet as I cycled. I was absolutely wet through. Arrived at the house. The gate was left open. Rung the bell.....no answer. She wasn’t in. At this point it was 4.30 and I was soaking, tired and hungry. I rang Vicki (yep...again! she must love me). She rung Pina. Vicki rung me back. Pina was at the cemetery. Standard. Luckily once she eventually got back and let me in, Pina shortly went out again. She said something about keys and locks and times but at this stage my head was going to explode. The thought of seeing another key again made me to cry. I felt like Alice in wonderland and that tiny door and the annoyingly massive see-through table with the key on the top that she can’t get to. But the annoying day ended nicely with a Chinese and summerhights high with Vicki and her house mates. I have to admit, whilst this has just been one long rant, Pina is one hell of a character and her heart’s in the right place-I just need independence!
