Moving to Italy: Stranded--Part 2

Stuck in our house on the hill staring at the swirling water below with very little food and no more medicine for my ill father-in-law, we were indeed stranded. 

Once more, Zio Silvio came to our rescue. He dropped by to see Marino, and when he heard that we needed medicine and food, he volunteered to tackle the treacherous back road in his trusty, tiny Fiat. After talking it over, we decided that George would go with him. If anything happened, they had a better chance if there were two of them. I tried not to dwell on the risks as I hugged George goodbye. We had come here to live like the locals, and this was part of the package, but I was very worried. Later, George’s description of the drive confirmed that my fears were well-founded. 

Along the narrow mountain track, they drove in and out of heavy fog banks as the car slipped and slid in the mud. Zio Silvio drew on his long experience in all kinds of conditions around Gabi, and he managed to keep the car moving forward up the steep slope to Bertola. As they turned onto the narrow road to Montaldo, they soon realized that the greatest danger in their journey came not so much from below their tires but from above their heads. The still-pouring rain had loosened a huge chunk of hillside halfway along the track. As they neared it they saw through the mist that it had started a slow slide downwards. If it fell, the track would be completely blocked with mud and debris. They had to hurry. 

After George and his uncle left, I tried to continue with my regular routine so that the children wouldn’t worry. I wasn’t very successful. Every few minutes I looked out of the window, and Paul and James soon noticed my preoccupation. They asked me when their Papa would be back, and I told them the truth—it could be an hour or it could be several hours. I kept watching for the bridge, hoping it would rise up magically from the water. But eventually even that fantasy was denied me as a fog bank rolled over the road and the vineyard. It obscured the world below us, and I felt marooned.

As I paced up and down in front of the window I realized that perhaps there was a good reason there were no families living at Gabi. In the olden days illness and accident often claimed the lives of the people on the farm. Women had died in childbirth, children of various fevers, and farm accidents claimed many young men. With modern medicine providing swift and effective remedies for many ills, I wondered why any sane person would isolate herself and her family so far away from it. On the other hand, Marino’s experience in the hospital proved that institutionalized medicine, divorced from a caring and careful staff, could also prove dangerous.  The trick was to find a balance that made sense.