Cappuccino & Cornetto

Before leaving Italy I couldn't make without a good breakfast at the bar on the main square of Saronno. Needless to say, cappuccino and cornetto (or brioche, as the people from Milan obstinately pretend to say) couldn't miss on the table.

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A Thinking Spot

One of my favorite thinking spots is the window in my children's room. From there I can look into the courtyard of the "court" next door, where another thinking spot is found. Leaning on the mast of an old barn no longer in use, someone put a couple of chairs pointing at the direction of the sun before sunset. The position was not taken by chance. In wintertime, our nearest star is so low on the horizon that a small piece of meadow surviving among the walls of a typical Lombard village center has little chances to be lit on a sunny day. When the sky is clear there's a short time frame in every single court for sitting somewhere and soaking with light.

Until not so long ago, from time to time, I could see an old woman sitting on the bench and smoking her smelly cigar while staring at the sun. I like to think that from that seat it is possible to look at another thinking spot, somewhere among the roofs of the surrounding houses.

Polenta

Polenta was once considered the poors' meal. Simple and easy. Perfect and practical substitution of bread. Companion of every kind of food. Warm and satisfactory. A meal that let lower classes feel like princes.

Nowadays it has become a rarity. No one has anymore time to spend standing beside the fireplace. Polenta's powder is only sold half cooked. One hour has shrunk into five, three, sometimes two minutes. Less than a microwave oven warm up. Instant.

So have become our gatherings at the table. Youngsters come late, sit and rush away soon. No time to stay and talk with their parents. What should they talk about? Who's this fault, I wonder.

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A Sanctuary

It doesn't happen so often to get out night time when I'm home. The night of the local primary school Xmas recital is an exception and it's great to see some corner of the town I'm living in with the same "eye" that I use to have when I'm business travelling. In some extent feels like the town got a little bit more yours than ever.

Viva Verdi - II

Viva Verdi

Giuseppe Verdi was born in October 1813. This one, more than usual, is a year of  great celebrations. Everywhere (I suppose) there are initiatives ongoing to let the children know one of our Nation's most prominent figures. In our town, primary school children were taught to sing Nabucco's "Va pensiero" (Chorus of the Hebrew Slaves). Needless to write that rehearsal was better than the final exhibition.

The coordinator

This is how it goes. There are some who don't take part to event and stand or sit behind the curtains of the stage but still need to make themselves heard.