I came home from the far end of my street, Via delle Pertiche Prima. I’d just had an enjoyable “tea” with my friend Veronica, stopped by the ferramenta to see if Rafaelle might have time to fix a few things in my kitchenette (and to buy a new shower head while there) pet a cat, and enjoyed watching a dozen toddlers revel in their discovery of life. I already felt great.
I turned the corner from Via delle Donne to be greeted by the sight of three guys, three ladders, and twinkle lights. “Let the festivities begin,” I said as I approached. Renzo grinned, Gianni giggled, Giancarlo waved. The grand seasonal illumination, nationwide, is Thursday night. The good people of Via delle Pertiche Prima will be doing our part.
When I noticed last December that this little street made an extraordinary effort at beauty, all I could wonder while gazing at its hundred meters of lights, swags, and poles was how they figured out the electric bill. Some of us have feet of clay, I know, but really… what a community organization must be behind this, I thought!
Three weeks ago I came home to a similar sight; Renzo with a ladder replanting the sconces that are hung every three or four meters for the length of the street. The colors of Corsica, the quartiere we live in, are yellow and red. For spring and summer, the pots were planted with cascading petunia in the official colors, but they contracted a fungus, so in August, Renzo repotted them with red and white vinca. I could tell then he was a little distraught that the proper colors could only be approximated. The pansy that replaced the vinca are yellow and violet; a tad closer, but true art embraces limitations, and seriously, Renzo is a true artist.
By the time I’d reached my gate, Renzo had disappeared into his caverna and reemerged with several medium pots of pansies. I asked if he needed help. He grinned and shrugged and remained, best I could tell, non-committal. So, I went into my house and came out again carrying a ladder. We potted pansies past sunset and into an approaching storm. I’ve not felt so grateful and graced in years.
I offered to help tonight, too, but Renzo and Gianni both made it clear that as the job was already half done, and done by veterans, that all they needed was my moral support and appreciation. They turned on a few lights. The effect was magical. I gasped. They beamed and returned to work. I told them if they needed anything, to ring. Well, they did need to plug the lights they’d just hung into an electrical outlet. My curiosity of a year ago was about to be satisfied.
Gianni asked where my closest outlet was, for they were, after all, hanging lights on the wall to my garden. In the house. “Oh!” said Giancarlo, who was now leaning out of his second story window, “then hand me the wire, I’ll plug it in, your house is too far away.”
All along the street are metal mounts used to hang the banner poles in spring. For le feste the banners are removed and the poles, the pertiche, are wound with lights. Pertiche, as in the name of the street, refers to a Roman unit of measure of similar length to the English rod. I mentioned that tonight. “This was all orchards in the old days,” it was explained, “and they used pertiche to measure land, crop rows, the height of trees. The pertica became associated with this neighborhood. Hence, Via delle Pertiche Prima, Seconda, Vicolo delle Pertiche A, B, C, et cetera.” I pictured my little yard as part of a larger plantation, my house a storage shed, the soil well-tended, the apricot properly pruned.
At the neighborhood feast of a couple of weeks ago, a big topic of discussion was this year’s decorations. Last year, all the lights were colored. I found the street quite beautiful that way. But the dinner conversation seemed to revolve around getting new lights, LED’s, more efficient, more durable. And the subject of color was broached. I’m only speculating, but I think Renzo may have promoted white, a simpler look against the potted flowers on the walls (last spring’s innovation.) He turned to me and asked if I wanted to participate. Absolutely, I said! Can’t imagine anything more wonderful right now. “Good, then we’ll need several meters more of the new lights. That property was always a great darkness, now it will be a part of the street.” Others nodded in approval.
So, now I know who the movers and shapers are on Via delle Pertiche Prima, and how they’ve organized the electric bill; it goes something like “hand me the wire, I’ll plug it in.” Not quite the intricate systematization my American mind imagined, but it works – community planning, Italian style.