Ciao from the shores of Lake Como! I’ve been working from here for the past week or so, and have been spending the afternoons with my cousin and her family, and my Aunty Hilary who has been here too.

Whenever I am here, life feels like a comedy/ comedy of errors. Key words: Panda, mountain, blind corners, beer, failed beer, bells, Tutto Molto Interessante, hospital, pronto soccorso, formaggio…


As two performing artists, I feel whenever I step into my cousins lives, that I have joined a plot containing many unexpected twists and turns: hilarious, scary, delicious, confusing and all emotions in between. No day is the same. 


(Beer about to be bottled – first batch made by me after bad news did not work out, never mind, this batch worked!).

My concerns before arrival were about my ability to conduct my work from here: reliable internet? Quiet enough? Etc. So far that part has been the most straightforward! Touch wood.

Here is the view from my lavender themed Airbnb apartment by the lake, and the path I take to swim each day “alla Foppa”:


Unfortunately my Aunty hasn’t been well, so my cousin took her to Milan where her partner’s sister works as a doctor. Scans came back with lumps in Aunty’s lungs. She said she feels ok, but it is all a shock and we Newmans have a propensity for not going to the doctor enough, and saying “I’m fine!” when not actually “fine”. 

We all started googling rapidly for anything other than the worst possible diagnosis, and tried to enjoy our time with Aunty here by the lake as much as possible, her health and energy permitting.

I said to her, as we drove down the mountain in the Panda, around blond corners with her hanging on tightly: “did you ever think you’d be driving down an Italian mountain in a 25 year old Fiat Panda with your niece”?. She said – No! 

Each day we had a party it seemed. On a terrace with 15 Italians around, speaking at once, under a grape vine or pumpkin vine, with friends playing live music..or by the lake at our favorite D Lounge, with Lalo playing live music there too, and us making plans to take over the bar one day and make the pizzas better ourselves – the usual chat:

And somehow the week passed and we had one more ramp party before Aunty Hilary flew back to Australia in the comfort of Business class to receive treatment and tests there. 


She was sent safely off, with instructions on how to use the plane’s wifi and promises that she felt better, and stronger, and that it was probably not what we most feared. Fingers and toes crossed. It certainly made us enjoy every moment with her here, and we had a lot of fun together. We had lunch the day before she left, in which there were about 5 conversations going on at once, in Italian, about things ranging from types of cheese, importing cheese to Australia, possible diseases she could have..regions of Italy and the different almond dishes in Sicily. Then everyone went back into the kitchen and prepared food for the evening party. 


Unfortunately for Catherine, another trip to the hospital was to follow. I woke up in great pain having accidentally eaten things I cannot eat: lactose and gluten (very difficult to avoid these things in italy, being the land of cheese and pasta!!). Thankfully Catherine was awake and came to drive me to the Pronto Soccorso – Emergency. All the way to Lecco I moaned and groaned, and then moaned and groaned in the waiting room, and then again on the trolley – fearing awful things again – then they put me to sleep with a drip and the moans and groans swiftly stopped. I woke up and was told that I must not eat cheese again, and sent home with a box of antacids and a sheet that said: “due giorni fa ha mangiato formaggio”. Oops. Very ouch this time.


The heatwave has broken, but every day is still a lake day, as Luca has discovered Fishing. Last week he had a long stick with a piece of wool and a cork and a paper clip. This stick was broken by a passerby looking for a stick for his dog at D Lounge during our dinner party which was devastating for Luca of course. Luckily a kind guest made him another stick fishing rod, and then the next day a friend at the ramp let him share a fishing rod with his son Andrea! So two boys, two fishing rods = tangles but no babysitting (other than watching from a safe distance while lying down on a towel). 

Perfect.

Ci vediamo 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s