My favorite part of the trip is seeing the nonne (grandmothers) gathered together, dressed in their shapeless dresses, orthopedic shoes, and socks pulled up to their mid-calves, seated on a bench all in a row. I couldn’t understand anything they were saying, but I guessed they were catching up on the village gossip.
I also loved how the motherly-aged women stroll the roads, running errands, and call out to their friends as they passed by, “Cecilia, CIAO!” They say ciao like it’s two syllables: CHA-OW! The second syllable lingers. It’s always called out loudly and joyfully. But then, I think the entire Italian language sounds like it’s spoken joyously. The language never sounds better than when little Italian boys are speaking. The way my heart melts at the sounds of their voices is indescribable.
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