Prairie Post
6-17-13
(today from Villagrande, Sardinia)
It’s a beautiful day, here, in this small village of Villagrande. The air is clear, the sky is dark blue, the temperature just right. They say that the lake they built some years ago has changed the weather, more fog and more rain than ever, but there is no evidence of this today. A cool, sunny morning brings out the good in everybody.
Three strangers have arrived from elsewhere, they clearly are not from here. They are just a bit too overdressed, their hurried walk gives them away, and they seem to be talking all the time. People here prefer a much simpler life. They hang out at the local bar, they sit around tables in cafés , they take a break, and there is no need to constantly analyze their own well-being. Life is much simpler here, in Villagrande.
Even though it is apparent that these strangers do not belong here, they are welcome into a dense social web of relationships. It is lunchtime – a time spent together, time for a good meal. They bring prosciutto and sausages, and their own special bread soaked in water. They bring pasta and parmesan and their own local red wine. They bring boar, pork, lamb, and beef. They bring fresh fruit, their own peaches, cherries and apricots, they bring cheeses and tomatoes, and risotto with mushrooms, they bring tiramisu and coffee, and you must finish with their local digestives. There is nothing simple about the meals they offer to visitors coming through town.
It is the atmosphere that is most remarkable around the long tables where people share a meal. They relax in togetherness, without a loud word, there is simply social togetherness. There is no rush, not hurry, no mission to fulfill. There is an exchange of a few words, enjoyment of the day with others, being there for each other.
It is not only their social togetherness that is striking, there is also a composed, relaxed personality noticeable among the people of Villagrande. No stern reaction to others, a faint smile every now and then, a no-worry attitude. After all, what is all the fuzz about? They are used to protect their sheep, and so they are used to protect each other. Their self reliance must be coming from many hours and days on the mountainside. They call it the “pastoral life.” A given responsibility is a taken responsibility. They are pastoral to each other as much as they are pastoral to themselves.
And they are active here, in this small community, walking up and down these hills, stairs, everywhere stairs, they are headed toward their own garden built into the hillsides of the village. They walk their sheep, and tend their goats. They are outside and walk, stairs and stairs and stairs, they are outside and breathe. There is nothing complicated about this philosophy, it is very down-to-earth way living, down-to earth relating, down-to-earth introspecting.
And they have a good sense of humor. They laugh or smile, they like to be with other people even if they don’t need to talk all the time. They like to create a mess but then bring things back to order, they like ideas, so long as they are not too abstract. They have family, and family is at their inner core. They say it’s a hard life, but a good life. Roberta is asking all the questions, she is engaged, she enjoys the interaction. And they enjoy her, because they know her.
Today they celebrate St. Basilio, the patron of the city. The only road through town is blocked off and the street vendors bring in their food, their crafts, their antiques. The church is too small today, so there are additional chairs outside, neatly ordered in rows. There is a procession with a statue of the saint in front, the whole town will follow with music and prayer. Afterwards, the extended family gets together for another feast. More than fifty people have come, and there are these strangers again. Of course, they are also welcome. There is food, food, and food. A piglet, lamb and chicken are roasting on a large grill. “You should never run out of food,” says Marcus, the father, “it would be bad luck.” Marcus stands up and leans over the tables to make his point. He always smiles when he gets excited, his short hair frames a bronze taint that he develops when he is out in the forest. Marcus is in charge here, in his quiet way. Because he is proud to share his experiences, he pours another glass of local liquor for everybody, because it is time to celebrate life.
They live in a blue zone, a longevity hot spot. They live a good life and a long life, here, where the sun is always shining on top of these beautiful hills and in the hearts of these humble people, where the food is local and plentiful, and where everybody puts issues aside to enjoy the simple life.