• La Sposa Rubata

I was simply overwhelmed when I arrived at the border, seeing the huge, half in fog hidden montains of Tarvisio for the first time. Even the air was different there. Loud laughing and fast speeking cheery people were sitting outside on the streets, drinking grappa or macchiato, or leaning out of their windows talking to their neighbors. I was captured from the beautiful sound of the language, and perceived immediately the so likeable southern mentality, even if I just attended the most northern point of the north side from Italy, I couldn’t negate the conspicuous apparent difference to Austria. The wind billowed the colorful laundry on the fixed lines between the two sides of the narrow streets. Each and every little hundred-of-years-old stone house had its own story and history. I wanted to see everything, and everywhere I looked I got to see many different wonderful lively masterpieces of both, of art and history. This land would definitely have been  the land to live for me. I lived there my own Renaissance. I didn’t have a tent with me, just a sleeping bag, I slept at the campgrounds al fresco, under the open sky, covered by sparkling stars. From the annoying mosquitos or from the soft rain I could escape into my car. How I loved it to be on the road! - to drive early in the morning into the light of shines of the rising sun, to perceive the importance from quite different things than usually when living in the city. There was no everyday life but every day a new chance to discover the life, not just to look at, but to see it. I didn’t take a camera with me, I detested to take photos to remember. I just wanted to keep the inner picture, the spirit of all. But I did send, alternately to my mother or to my grandmother, beautiful postcards from every city, where I had been. I was already on the road for seven days when I noticed, that it might get tight with the borrowed money. Accidently I was nearby to Verona, I did have R.K.’s home address with me, so I thought „why not?“ and although I didn’t even know, if she is at home at all, I decided promptly to surprise her. The street to her house zigzaked on a steep hill. I was fighting in vain with the gear shift, the motor died-off, and the car started to roll back in spite of the pulled hand brake. I only could bring it to stop, by driving it against a fence. But then the car didn’t start again, and I couldn’t get out of it. I lighted a cigaret, pondering about, what I could do, and prayed that no car would appear behind me, as it was a one way street. After the smoke break, miraculously the motor started again. I was already staying in front of the gate to their luxury villa, just about to ring, as a car stopped behind me. R.K. jumped out from it, suntanned and with a big smile on her face, she just came back right from her vacation. She was more than happy to see me, we had missed each other too long. I spent a wonderful time there in Verona, in the romantic city of Romeo and Juliette. Visiting the house, where they might have lived (but didn’t), I saw there the biggest graffiti icon of love, millions of signed loving hearts pierced by Cupid’s dart. I am just asking myself, what would have happened, if their love would have come not to the well-known tragic but to an unexpected happy end? She would have got most probably some screaming children, and the big love would have been fading in the mill of their day to day life. My conclusion was (and is), that the magic of the uncertainty and the road to the actual event is offering much more thrill. You are always longing for something out of reach, until you reach it.