.There are many places in the world I've been fortunate enough to explore. Some are loud, some are busy, some are quiet and rural. Greve doesn't seem to be any of those things. In my last day in the little town, I found myself walking around on the sun drenched sidewalks admiring the trees and little shops that line the streets and the charming dirt roads that mark the end of the town and the beginning of the
quaint vinyards that border it. That lovely last day marked my last few hours in Greve. Fortunately, we still had one more concert to go. This concert, however, didn't take us to a far-away church or a castle on top of a mountain, but rather, most fittingly, right the the Greve piazza itself. I wouldn't have had it any other way. The night was balmy and surprisingly cool (as far as Italian evenings are concerned.) The concert went as most concerts do, aria after aria in a continuous stream of swift cadenzas and impressive sustained high notes. This time was just a little different though. This time, we got to sing for all of the people we saw on a daily basis, but never really had the chance to make music for.
The evening started out as all concerts previously had: with the Soave trio. One tip we learned in our three weeks singing this trio together...it simply cannot be quiet enough. Fortunately, this was easy seeing as we were in the middle of an outdoor piazza and all of the sound got swallowed up by the buildings and concert go-ers of Greve. Congrats, we finally got it right! Naturally, my wonderful colleagues put on a beautiful show, but even more beautiful was the pre concert photo-shoot.
Nothing gets you into the opera spirit like a few well balanced glamour shots.The concert ended with a rousing rendition of "Va pensiero" the unofficial Italian national anthem. This status became fairly clear when most of the Italian speaking audience members sang along by heart while the rest of us onstage tried to hide our cheat sheets with lyrics on them discreetly in our dresses and lapels. We then learned the hard way that it's custom to sing "Va pensiero" twice, the second time parading through the aisles making it all too easy for the Italian onlookers to see that our words were clearly anything but memorized. Fortunately, despite a very enthusiastic conductor, we all made it through with no casualties and only a few minor bug bites to show for it. All these hardships were worth it though, because soon it was time for the reception!
If there is one thing Italians know well, its definitely how to throw a party. Nevermind the fact that it was 11:30 and Greve normally closes down at about eight. Clearly we were a special exception. We were all particularly excited when the lovely boys of Greve whom we'd met at the wine tasting paid us a visit. Leigh and I being the social beings we are, we decided to spend some time getting to know them a little better. The experience was really a fascinating one. We shared some chianti (classico...of course) and stories about life in Italy and the U.S.
They were particularly interested in teaching Leigh Italian, and were very amused by her confusion with the vocabulary and her twangy pronunciations. Its okay though, because teaching me how to play at least a partially successful game of fooseball was equally if not more impossible. They were warm, engaging and interested in everything from American history to the influences of twelve-tone methods on music (something I have very limited knowledge of, admittedly, but hey...I improvised!) Davide even let me teach him new words, though his vocabulary was already quite extensive so the only new word I really seemed to be able to muster up was juxtaposition. Looks like I have some studying up to do!
We greatly enjoyed getting to know these people we'd really only seen in passing, and even forcing Tommaso into an impromptu photo shoot. Leigh and I being the confused souls that we are, we couldn't quite coordinate our poses, so we just went with the flow and appreciated whatever showed up on the camera lense. As we chatted, the boys thought it would be funny for some strange reason to keep throwing the wine cork at me. Strange Tuscan custom? Um...I really don't think so. I got to keep the wine cork as a souvenier at least. Now every time I smell the Chianti soaked into it, I will immediately think "ahhh...Greve!"...and Mario...of course ;)
In all of my travels both domestic and abroad I've never come across a place quite as peculiar and special as Greve. It's not a place you can read about in stories, all romanticized and sweetly quaint. It's not a place you can imagine even if I could describe every pebble, branch and flower with the most eloquent of prose. It's a place where the trees seem to be there right when you need a little shade, and where the dirt roads aren't really all that dirty. It's a place where people aren't afraid to take their time. Where kids stay out until midnight doing cartwheels by the swingset, not worried about strangers or bug bites or bedtimes. Its a place where the weather is warm and the people can talk for hours about nothing in particular. Greve is a simpler place than I am used to. You may walk down the street in Greve one day and feel an eerie sense of calm in the air. You will then stop and think to yourself "something is off here." But when you look around you'll see that everything is exactly where it should be. There are ducks in the river and cats on the rooftops and bees in the flowers. Most importantly though, there are people in Greve who want nothing more than to stop and talk and laugh and listen. Greve, you've been so sweet and friendly
and warm
and cozy
and hot
and hazy
and wonderfully perfectly different.
Dear Greve,
I promise,
tomorrow I'll miss you.
Greve,
Mi Manchi
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