Che Gioia                                                                                                                                       19Jan14

i am reading Francis Mayes' Every Day in Tuscany.  I love her books and plan to collect everything she puts out.  Are you thinking, "why do i know that name?"  Probably not.  you probably know it's from Under The Tuscan Sun which is based on a scattering of her stories (made for movie audiences instead of book readers).
as i read i sometimes find notes to take, phrases and words to remember, write down, and research.  The words "che gioia", what joy, popped up and immediately reminds me of a lady i saw at the kids' morning bus stop almost every morning in Milano.  It was common knowledge that this place on Cimarossa was the place the Americans lived because as the school bus arrived the children formed a line.  No self-respecting Italian kid I ever saw formed a line for anything unless they were being herded by an American~
    Each day as we waited for the bus people passed by-on foot, on bikes-refusing to use the bike path provided across the road, instead choosing to use their God-given right to run over children on the sidewalk-but people don't smile or say hello.  They didn't on the morning sidewalk  outside our gates, in the city, in the suburbs.. unless for some crazy reason no one knew of, the planets all aligned and the air blew just right.  But not just Milano.  I can't tell you the countless times people scowled at us in Dublin or DC.  Of course, this is big city procedure-probably in the small print of their birth certificates-  if they are smiling, they are probably a tourist.
    Anyway-there was a lady i'd met from New York who often passed by with her kids and we'd chat but you know- she is American. (Incidentally, very cool.  she taught voice to professional singers including opera singers).
    Then came Gioia.  Joy.  The only person who, every time we saw each other, smiled and said hello.  And all too late, as it so often happens, we talked.  With her lack of Inglese and my non-Italiano, we became friends. And we were leaving.  And in those last few days i think i may have offered her a gift~i think i gave her prosecco-just because she smiled and said hello every morning.
 
 And i'd forgotten til Francis Mayes.  I knew i needed her books.  All things happen for a reason.
 

                            Che Gioia.    I found her.
                Smiling as she walked passed Cimarossa