Soak it in
The steep climb in the gondola took you from sea level, up several thousand feet, from the heat below to the cool breezes above, at the top of Monte Faito. The buzzing of Vespas, the constant cacophony of car horns, the odour of exhaust was below at sea level and up here was clear clean cool air. The temperature below was hot and sticky but here in the quietness, it was a balmy 80 degrees. Olive trees swayed and whispered, birds sang and their symphony was tender, dogs stretched out in the shade of the small cafe, and I sat with pen in hand, camera ready, letting this sacred space speak to me every time I sought it out. There were conversations with school children who wanted to hear about Canada - I shared about my country in their language. Sometimes it was English speaking tourists who had chanced upon this beauty and needed some help translating. There were days when the peeling back of the layers of my soul could not be done in the constricting confines of the four walls of my living quarters - only the wind and open space of a mountain top could hold the sacred of this work.Whatever it was Monte Faito became a place of soul soaking when I lived in Italia. Soul soaking that puts one in a place of inhaling the fragrance that begins to change the whole consistency and balance of Light and dark, of story, of pain and of joy, were the wind wipes away the tears and lets the sun turn them to diamonds.Tre Pini was a small ristorante. I say was because I know it has closed down now. Built with its back against the rocks, it nestled into the mountain side. Lina, whose family owned this place, became a friend who knew my face, and let me spend hours writing, while I enjoyed their delicious simple creations from the kitchen. At this time of year, August, the peaches were in plenitude. One way to enjoy them was to skin them, slice them, and drop them in a jug then fill it with home made red wine. We would enjoy the wine with our meal. When it was time to eat dessert the peaches would be skewered, then savoured as their wine soaked juice trickled down our throat. Intoxicating indeed! But mountain top experiences can be intoxicating. They are soaked in fragrance and flavour that at times cannot be described in our limited language of words.