Going Solo

Fontanelle, Emilia Romagna

Sandro

Although there was the excitement of seeing Il Mondo Piccolo, I was apprehensive about the place. In La Provencia Della Parma, Fontanelle (not to be confused with Fontanellato) was in the middle of nowhere, literally. And as fate would have it, that is where I met Alessandro.
With eyes as blue as the legendary British cornflowers and golden
brown hair, and that smile!
With just "you", "me" and "stop" the only words in his English lexicon, we managed communication just fine.

We had exchanged a few polite sentences with Iuri as the translator before I had left for Fontanellato with the two Canadians.
Upon return from Fontanellato, I asked Iuri whether I could borrow his bicycle to tour Fontanelle. Sandro was in the backyard and I asked Iuri if he might like to join me. It would be nice to have company in the Bassa (flatlands of Emilia Romagna). Sandro was more than happy to join me and even took it upon himself to be my tour guide. We pedaled over the bridge into the little village, the birthplace of Giovannino Guareschi. While he kept looking over his shoulder to check if I was alright, I kept fearing he might fall over if he didn't look ahead.

The afternoon was wearing down and the village folk were cooling off in their front yards, greeting neighbours and catching up with the day's gossip in general. Sandro would greet them with a hearty "bongiorno" and ask how they had been as we cycled by.

He warmed up to my idea of taking pictures, and soon there was no field, bale of hay, turnstile or flower bush that he would not pose in front of. All I could do was laugh and click wherever he decided was good place to pose. I wish there were more willing models.
Sandro knew all the local vegetation in the Bassa and I found ourselves making sudden "stops". He plucked some grapes from a vineyard and we laughed as we screwed our faces for the grapes were literally sour. We then tasted some blackberries. These were audaciously taken from someone's front yard even as the owner himself was watering his garden.

As we rode back, Sandro suddenly veered into another front yard. He found a rosemary bush, rubbed his hands on it and made me smell them. He then took it into his head to pluck roses from a stunted rosebush, the same time as an elderly Nonna walked into the yard. I looked sheepish and was trying to make excuses in Italian accented English, while Sandro boldly walked up and asked if he could have the two roses. Nonna smiled and asked us to wait while she fetched a pair of scissors and clipped the flowers for Sandro. He handed me two pink roses and said "you". When I suggested that we could take them for Nonna Maria, the owner of the B & B, he shook his head and repeated "you". I couldn't stop myself from smiling.

When we headed back, I told Iuri about the roses, feeling guilty. He smiled as he said, "Sandro is a true Gentleman".

Back at the bed and breakfast, I realised it was dinnertime and Nonna Maria said that if I wanted to get something, I would have to go to the Cucinella soon. I picked up the bicycle again to pedal into Fontanelle and Sandro came running out. He said he didnt have enough time, but would go with me to the store. He insisted and I allowed him to come with me. We bought some sorbetto, hoping to eat it on the bench outside the Nonna Maria. However, we couldn't have the icecream together, for Sandro's parents were waiting to pick him up. It was way past the nine year old's bed time.