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Valdottavo, Part I


You know those places where middle aged, recently divorced women go to rediscover life in romantic comedies, in Tuscany or south France, those little villages where everyone seems to know everyone and they welcome the new visitor with open arms, those places where they have the doors unlocked and anyone can go in or out as they please, those places that the cosmopolitan woman finds no one outside after 9pm and hates it, untill she falls in love with the mayor or something? Everyone I know thinks “yeah, like this place exists for real!”. Well, this is it. I was born in one of those places and I was lucky enough to spend most of my childhood summers here. i was blessed by my parents’ love for each other to have two homes in two different countries. I can’t say one is my first home and the other is my second. Both are parts of me and both have helped me grow up and both have given me amazing memories and wonderfull people.
Somewhere between the hills and mountains of Tuscany, in the province of Lucca, you can find this tiny village where life is different. Everyone does know everyone, everyone does leave their doors unlocked and everyone does welcome strangers with a smile.
My grandfather used to have the town’s pharmacy, just under their house. He was called by everyone “il farmacista”, “the pharmacist”. He died almost five years ago and it’s been more than ten years that he gave up the pharmacy to a new pharmacist. Yet, on my way to the cemetery today, after having some small talk with Jessica, a little girl of 5, her grandmother told me “you’re the pharmacist’s grandaughter, aren’t you?”. I said “yes” and left with a smile and warmth in my heart. Yes, I’m home…




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