Just Enough to Warm Up a Cold Day

Coming off one of the best trips of my life, I imagined it was going to be difficult to come back to reality; to Paderno; to class; to a dorm room.  I arrived back “home” around 1 pm Sunday.  It was a beautiful, blue-sky day, and the campus was literally a ghost town.  No CIMBA students were back yet, the high school boarders weren’t even anywhere in sight.  So, I decided to take a day trip to Crespano – the small town just west of Paderno.

Unfortunately, I didn’t make it there in time for the Sunday morning market, filled with fresh fruits, authentic trinkets, local meats, and more.  I did get to watch them take it down though.  The fruits, although they were not as glamorous as the grocery products I’m accustomed to seeing in the states, looked divine.  Everything looked so organic, so natural.  I love apples, I eat anywhere from five to eight in a week.  A particular vendor saw me gaping at the large Gala apples he had and jokingly whistled at me, so I quickly closed my mouth and looked up at him, just in time to catch one of them he tossed at me.  Embarrassed, I started fumbling through my purse for Euros when he shot me big grin and some warm eyes, implying it was fine and “on him.” 

After spending 10 days with my parents in Budapest, Salzburg and Vienna, I became quite accustom to our after-lunch/pre-dinner stop into a local bakery for a sweet.  We didn’t miss a day (or a dessert). My sweet tooth, which I thought was not capable of expanding any larger than it already was, has been magnified to the nth degree after this vacation. So, naturally, my next move from the closing vendors was to the gelateria.  Due to the hoards of people surrounding the door and the crowded tables inside, I knew the place had to be good, a local hot spot.  There was a wide variety of flavors, but none of them had quite the aesthetic appearance I was anticipating.  Blindly and overwhelmed, I asked for one scoop of nutella and one of banana.  The banana was on top and was that of a camel color, and the nutella appeared to have globs of something floating within.  After my judgmental eyes were done criticizing, I took a bite and quickly scolded myself.  The banana was dark because it was made fresh, that day, from real bananas.  The globs in the nutella were actual scoops of nutella.  It was delicious.  I sat down and took in the scene.

Although it was not the nicest venue I have ever been in, it was clean and it was cozy.  It was furnished with dark, cherry wood, and the pods of families – all generations present – made it all the more warm.  I sat long enough to order another, dare I admit, scoop of gelato and just observed. Groups of friends kept circulating in and out, but the families remained for long periods of time.  There was one family sitting close to me that I watched for a while.  I may not speak Italian, but I could tell they were close, it reminded me of my family.  They were all laughing, sometimes at what appeared to be a joke, and even sometimes at one another.  At first it was just grandparents and four teenagers, just enjoying a chilly Sunday filled with family and chocolate fondue.  Eventually the teens parents arrived and the mood was roaring.

I finally decided it was time to head out when one of the kids asked if I could take they’re picture, I was happy to.  I left with a smile on my face and some Euros well spent.  I walked up and down the old town for a little until it started getting dark.  The town is very simple.  Most the buildings are very "flat." No extravagant entrance, just a welcoming sign and a homey atmosphere.  Even the colors of the exteriors are muted, but a good muted, an old, authentic tone.  The streets are all cobblestone, except a few "new" ones with crooked dashed lining the middle.  The businesses proudly wave the Italian flag out front and churches are simple, standing tall and proudly by themselves.  

I'm not in Kansas anymore, and as cold as I was on that walk home, it was the warmest I'd felt since saying goodbye to my mom and dad in the Vienna airport.  The quaint and friendly town had put a the meaning of a true small town into perspective.  The old values, original architecture, pure and organic foods, and the generations of family and happiness...it was just enough to warm up a cold day.  Kansas is full of small towns, some known for their agriculture, some known for nothing at all.  But this town was like none of those, and none I have ever ventured to before.  I hope to be able to make it to a Sunday market, but if not, at least I have the memories of my day spent there, and joy it brought me in those brief moments are enough to last forever.