Una Casa Abruzzese, and Two Aussies – Possibilities

1 to 14 March, 2021 - Bomba - (Italy)


Since last writing, we have begun the process of legitimising ourselves a fraction more. Having legal ownership of the house enables me to list the property as my residence, and for Italian bureaucracy to recognise that residency. In theory, it is a right, and they can’t deny me said registration.

That doesn’t mean they are going to make it easy. We are taking things “piano, piano” – gently, smootnly, slowly, quietly, however you want to translate the implied laid back phrase. One step, and then worry about the next. However, our town hall visit was met with a hurdle, when the lady taking our details became fixated on Jo (Australian) and her status. I tried to convey that we would sort her status out once my situation was resolved, but it was too late. She was convinced we weren’t understanding her, and that it was pointless continuing without a bilingual go-between. I didn’t believe such mediation was necessary, but it was becoming increasingly clear that we were not going to circumvent this roadblock without alleviating this concern of hers.

Two days later, my paperwork successfully submitted (thanks to interpretation and political skills of Perry), we are relegated to the waiting game. I don’t know if we will hear in the mail, or if it will come from the council, but the wheels are turning.

Our minds are slowing tilting towards the subject of potential. No longer do we look at this house and think of what it is, but we are starting to think of what it might be. Big projects and small. Big ambitions are starting to condense in our thinking, turning in to sketches and conversations. We have had a geometra (surveyor), a builder, and an engineer. Jo warmed them to our project with cheesecake. We were floored when they got rough ideas and quotes back to us within 2 days. I cannot recall getting a quote, even for a small job, that quickly in Australia.

So while the big remodelling jobs begin sifting and settling, some small things are pushing through. The front door needed a lick of paint. Did we do the correct thing, by enquiring at the council, first? Ignorance is bliss, right? Maybe Jo would have painted the door red, or blue, but no, brown is the colour for doors in the old town. Why would you want to paint a door blue? That’s a colour for seaside villages! Hmm, green? Better, but not in the old town. Brown. Have you considered brown?

We didn’t ask what colour window boxes need to be.

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Our First "Before" and "After"
We were told the door should be brown, being in the old town. So we painted it brown-ish. As far as we thought we could push our luck, still technically brown, but slightly not.


A Splash of Red
It may be high above the street, but Jo adds her touch of colour to the Bomba landscape.

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During these consultations, we have learnt some more about the house. The second cellar is now referred to as “the smokeroom”. It turns out that those blackened beams are not charred from a fire, but are the result of decades, perhaps centuries, of smoking meats. Hooks for hanging small goods line many of the beams. One or two large hooks were probably for an entire pig. We both know that the smokeroom has potential yet to be unravelled.

Food continues to be an anchor in our lives here. Within the walls, Jo continues to push her culinary skills, producing bread rolls in our crappy oven, and home made tagliatelle with “8 half eggshells of water” as an ingredient. How quaint! Her new favourite Italian chef, Stefano, who teaches recipes while teaching Italian, imparts his knowledge and plants creative seeds.di

Beyond the walls, we continue to have food based sharing moments with local residents. Soup swaps help use up large pieces of pumpkin, and receiving a massive portion of marinara from Lee was a delightful highlight. Jo made cheesecake and delivered segments as thank you gifts. This despite them being unevenly cooked (thanks to our dodgey gas oven), and being of unexpected consistency (thanks to different cheese, different biscuits, and lacking a food processor).

Bomba may not have a restaurant, but our village is on two very important schedules. Wednesday is market day. This market is greatly suppressed due to covid restrictions, but our favourite weekly visitor comes every time. The pork man.

To make everything feel complete, we continue our Melbourne Friday night routine. Takeaway. While Melbourne “beginning the weekend” takeaway was not always pizza, it often was. In Bomba, if you want takeaway pizza, it has to be Friday; and if you want takeaway on Friday, then I has to be pizza. How good can pizza from a mobile pizza van be? Awesome. Wood fired pizza from the back of a transit van.

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Neighbour, Lee, Maker of Marinara
We got a massive bowl of spaghetti marinara, cooked by our neighbour, Lee.



Seriously, Wood Fired?


Yep, Wood Fired
Our pizza guy, with his oven in the back of his van.


Life's Pretty Straight Without...
Fonzies - Twisties by another name... Which one is the original?


It Must be Wednesday
This is Nino. We generally just call him "The Pork Man". He comes to Bomba on Wednesdays, and has a mountain of Chicken and Pork on the go. We generally keep it simple - "un panino della porchetta e patitine" - roast pork sandwich and fries, but we did add a couple of succulent ribs last week.


Home Made Tagliatelle, with Salmon

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It may sound like we are spending a lot of time making home. While it is true, we were hoping to get out a bit more, the ambitions for the house have made it easy to not go far. This does not mean we have not done anything. We are exploring nearby villages, where and when we can.

Yesterday, after receiving a little tip, we made our first nature excursion by vehicle.

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Ruins of the Old Mill


By the River, above Cascate del Verde


Cascate del Verde
Little excursion to a nearby waterfall.

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Town life sees us turning more and more into locals. Hanging washing on our balcony; coffee in the piazza; attending mass on Sunday; tending flowers in window boxes. Life’s not bad in Bomba.

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Random Statue in a Niche
An odd little nod to Australia in a lane in Bomba.

Weather Closes In


Bomba e Lago di Bomba


Possibly the Last Dusting of Snow The cloud lifted after a couple of days, and this might be it for this winter.

CLICK FOR VIDEO
Time Lapse Sunrise
CLICK FOR VIDEO
Time Lapse Sunrise
The morning comes to Monte Amaro


Church, Bomba
While waiting for the mass, our first service in Bomba.

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Una Casa Abruzzese, and Two Aussies – Community

15 to 28 February, 2021 - Bomba - (Italy)


Community. A word I chose for the second blog entry, as a contrast to isolation and quarantine. However, when you choose to live in a village of 800 or so, then community means so much.

Our 14 day self isolation period came to its end without any officialdom. We woke, and were free to leave the house, but only by virtue of our own counting. There was no piece of paper in our possession stating “you are free on this date”. Circumstances though, were conspiring against us.

Our first impediment was, unfortunately, another bureaucratic 14 days. Thankfully, not house confinement, but still limited movement for all residents in Chieti. Our province began a two week period of “zone red” covid restrictions on that day. The limited distance we are allowed is less of an issue, as village dwellers like us are allowed to go 30 km. This is enough to reach good sized supermarkets and variety stores stocked with household goodies (like cushions to counter the discomfort of the kitchen chairs). The greater imposition is the fact that restaurants are restricted from providing eat in dining.

The second hurdle to our newly acquired liberation was environmental. The night prior brought around 10 centimetres of snow. In and of itself, not enough to keep us in the house, but enough to create reluctance of tackling the winding roads in our little rental car.

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Before the Sun, After The Snow


Iso Over
Coffee In the piazza, our first treat after two weeks isolation.


The Main Way in to Old Bomba
Through the arch, and down a bit, that's the way to our house. Poor snowed in plants.


Side View
The side view from our place. I cannot help but wonder how secure the tiles perched atop the chimney are.

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So, in spite of being released, we stayed very local for a few days. We bravely had our first espressi in the piazza. Gloved, scarfed, and beanied, but defying the cold with our brazen attitudes. As the sun worked its warmth in to the streets, we explored further, breaking in to the surrounding countryside, and capturing many interesting angles on our new home town.

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Snow Melting, Two Days Later
Much of the other side of the valley already returning from white to green.


Bomba, Through the Olive Trees


City Limits, Bomba Style Our first reasonable walk. Down the hill to the sanctuary, and back when we reached the edge of town.


Our Town - Our House is in There, Somewhere


Bomba from the Main Thoroughfare


Homemade Pumpkin and Ricotta Gnocchi
Jo is trying so many different things. This was an amazing meal.


Christ - Crucifixion
A wonderful depiction. Detail in the sanctuary of San Mauro.

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We even made it to nearby lake Bomba, around the shore some distance, and back via the old railway station. 13.6 kms, according to the GPS. Considerably more than we had set out to cover.

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The Unfinished Bridge
Eventually, we might find the story of what happened to interrupt construction of this bridge. Safe to say, it is now a very much abandoned project.


Returning Home, after 13.6 km
Our little walk ended up being a lot longer than anticipated. Never mind.


WTF?!
Possibly the most confusing sign I can recall seeing.

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In the previous post, I mentioned some of our new neighbours. Not by name, but by action. By name, Steven and Faye, the couple who brought us groceries. Perry, the artist with a passion to help Bomba discover its full potential and a neighbourly attitude the size of a whale. Let’s add in Jessica, at the shop named Claudia. Emy from Emy’s. Nikko who runs the tabaccheria, and his wife whose name we are yet to catch. Lee and Frank, next door but one. Lee, born in Bomba, grew up and married in Melbourne before returning some 40 years ago. We’ve met Domenico the policeman; Angela Marie in the council, and Marinella (I think); the priest; the lady who runs the fresh food grocer; Salvatore, cousin of the vendor of our home; and more and more regular faces in the streets and in the piazza. Our community is growing at a quicker rate than I can remember names.

It is becoming apparent, the locals know who we are. The grapevine has ensured that townsfolk give us knowing smiles and waves. A buongiorno or a ciao is always reciprocated with a similar greeting.

Jo weaved some magic by baking some banana muffins for some of our new acquaintances. Even where we mis-delivered (oops, wrong door, hey random person we’ve never met before, have some muffins), the love is obviously permeating (oh, thanks random person, we will enjoy this bottle of red!)

The first Bomba resident we met, though, had four legs. On our arrival, about a month ago, he growled and barked every time we walked between the car and our house. We did not see him until a few days ago, because we had not exactly worked out where he was. Maybe, best not to have found him. As Lee said, don’t try and pat him, or you’ll likely lose your hand. A very unpleasant and unapproachable beast, with one peculiarity. He howls every time the church bells ring. EVERY time. When the bells begin, by the second dong, we hear the howl build. Some days, the bells peal on three occasions, other days, they ring out six or more times. Without fail, the dog howls.

Deliveries are finding our house, sometimes requiring neighbourly assistance. Recipe books and a large box of Asian groceries. And a little treasure – a book of village and regional walks from Bomba, with our house on the front cover, from the 1990s, which we found on eBay.

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Featured on the Cover, Our House
This old tour book for Bomba and surrounds has a picture of our house on the front.

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Even a dropped item of washing made its way back to our house. The day after doing our washing, we opened the front door, and found a solitary bright sock hanging on our railing. Yes, it was ours, and yes, we had already noted its absence in our hung out items. We did not expect to find it again, and we certainly did not think it would find us!

Steven (aka “northern Steve” to differentiate him from the Steve we are yet to meet), again stepped up when we needed assistance to retrieve our first significant purchase for the house. We bought a fridge, and not only did he have a vehicle large enough to collect the aforementioned appliance, he had a trolley allowing easy transfer from parking spot to house. I guess our colour scheme is now chosen!

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Jo Models our First Reasonable Acquisition

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The decree banning restaurants from offering dine-in options was the limitation that made us most sad. Given the lack of eating options in Bomba, we had anticipated that a meal or two a week would be taken while out and about at neighbouring towns and villages. With restrictions, we would have to take away. And with that, the options become reheating at home, eating cold food, or eating in the car.

In Lanciano, around half an hour away, about dinner time, we decided we would have our first bought meal; we would just have to eat in the car. Not wanting to eat pasta with our fingers, we asked if they might have a fork. They decided that what we were proposing was a less than ideal way for their fare to be enjoyed. The restaurant shutters ratcheted closed, to keep out prying eyes. A cloth was laid on a table, cutlery was placed, and wine glasses were filled. We dined in ever aware that they were risking a hefty fine. As if the food was not tasty enough, the risk was like a condiment.

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Dine In Meal Number One
So, officially, we are in a "red zone" this fortnight. Restaurants only open for take away - dine in prohibited. So, after ordering a meal from this wonderful "unnamed to protect" restaurant, they took pity on us who had no eating utensils. They took a risk, closed the shutters, set us a table, and brought us our meals at a table. We stall return.

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Significantly, the fortnight ended with us paying the balance for via Forno 14-16. The reading of the four page document, naturally in Italian, was not a highlight of our time to date. But the announcement at the end that it was all official and we were now the legal owners, that was a memorable time. Sure, I nearly soured the event by almost knocking a large model ship on to the floor at the notary office, but I didn’t. So, it was all formalities until the end, when we concluded the deal by giving out some packs of Tim Tams.

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Our Place


Flight of Steps to Our Rear Entrance
Our Second Cellar is at the top of those stairs. And to the left, an entrance to the cellar which is beneath our cellar.

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