This was another quiet week for us. 

Our Canadian friends went out of town for a few days, so Chad satisfied his gardening side by watering their flowers and vegetable garden during their absence.

The weather continues to be unpredictable.  The weather app says it will rain, and then it doesn’t.  But if it rains as predicted, it’s a drizzle until it isn’t.  Then there’s the wind that blows through.  We’ve decided to stop planning around the weather.  For example, it’s supposed to rain tomorrow, but we’ve planned various tourist trips – some with inside destinations and some with outside destinations – and we’ll just see where the day takes us. 

Yesterday, during our passeggiata (our evening stroll), an acquaintance was sitting on a bench with some people and shouted to us, “Come over!”  So we went over and sat for a while to chat.  During the conversation, Chad asked where to buy good, local olive oil, and everyone said, “I make my own.”  “I make my own.”  “We make homemade olive oil with no additives or impurities.”  The lady sitting next to me on the bench said, “When you are making your passeggiata tomorrow, stop by my house and I will give you some of my olive oil.”

Well, we made our passeggiata this afternoon, and this lady was standing in her window looking out on the street.  She waved at us to wait for her, and then she came down with a bottle of olive oil for us.  So thoughtful!  She advised us to eat it with bread and tomatoes.  She also told us her name is MariaConcetta.  We took the bottle of oil home and then went back for our passeggiata.  When we passed by her house, she was in the window again, so we all waved at each other.

homemade olive oil

It’s not always easy for me here with the language.  Sometimes I think I understand 80% of what I’m hearing and then I think I only understand 25%.  It’s frustrating.  But at least I can accomplish the basic things like buying some bread or paying for our beers at the bar or understanding when someone makes a scherzo (a joke). 

And as time goes on, things progress.  We continue to see familiar faces, even more so as the weather gets nicer and more people are out in the streets.  And the more we see familiar faces, the friendlier they are.  There is the guy who looks like Chad’s great-uncle Adolfo.  There is the guy who owns the turkey that we can hear from our apartment.  There is the guy from the town council.  The grocer and his wife always say hi and smile at us.  And the butcher’s wife always gives us a warm welcome when we pass her on the sidewalk.  We feel very welcomed here.