The fireworks were spectacular, I'm told. I missed them, of course. I was waiting for Barbara to knock on my door so we could head out to the sports field together. She called out but I didn't hear her. She thought I was busy and went off without me. By the time I heard -- and I mean HEARD the fireworks from my room (My god, I swear the earth shook with the sound) and got to the sports arena, the light show had finished.
But the bonfire was reaching its glory. Huge, hot and dancing with joy.
I, however, am not joyful but pissed off today. A neighbour, a nosy woman, a busy-body woman, the type who equates rudeness with speaking her mind told me off. I had left some bread to the side of our exterior door, our own door, for Dog yesterday (see yesterday's post for more about Dog) and she told me to pick it up.
It hadn't occurred to me the bread would be there a day later. Dog had rejected my offering yesterday but I expected one or more of the four of five stray dogs around here would eat it. (I guess Martignano's stray dogs are well fed.)
I'm not saying the woman was out of line to ask me to remove the bread. But she was rude and patronizing. It's rich being lectured to over a few pieces of bread in a country where people shamelessly mar this beautiful landscape with their garbage. Toilet seats, old television sets, soda cans, whatever, in ugly piles along roadsides that cut through spectacular olive groves.
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| The bonfire burned big and bright in the centre of the town's sport's field |
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| Teenagers at the bonfire wanted to know where I came from and what brought me to Martignano |
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| In Italy a gathering of any significance or even insignificance includes food |
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