Living in Italy – the Dirty Truth

It may be
slightly easier when you exchange like for like. When you move from a rural
location in your own country to the Italian countryside. But it comes as quite
a shock if, as we did, you exchange suburban life in Britain for the Italian rural
idyll.

What no-one
prepares you for is how dirty it all is. Our Umbrian house was next to a strada
bianca (unmetalled road) so everything was covered in a  thin layer of white dust almost all the time,
except when it was raining.

My job from
hell was stripping the ancient ceiling beams in the farmhouse of their layers
of white emulsion. Despite wearing goggles and a mask the dirt and paint flakes
got in my eyes, up my nose and down my throat. It was absolutely horrible.
There is a specific smell peculiar to old Italian farmhouse dust that I will
never forget as long as I live.

Then of
course you have to add animals to the mix. Apart from dog and cat hair, easier to
cope with in a house with no carpets, there is the mud and the water. On wet
days and in winter I wear Wellingtons for my daily trek across the field and
into the woods. One Wellington has now got a cut in it so my feet were soaking
wet this morning, which sort of defeats the object really. Any rain and the
dogs (and cats) get soaking wet and it is a race who can get inside first – me
to grab the towel to dry them, or the herd of sodden animals intent on rolling
themselves dry on the settee.

At least this
farmhouse is surrounded by paving and so the mud which used to dog my every
step in Umbria has reduced. The ground there was thick clay which sucked you in
and covered everything in oozing glossy goo. When I had to clean the geese out
the straw in their house stuck to the mud too, and the odd feather.

I used to
dress quite smartly for work in the UK, hair, make up and nails always done,
nice clothes. Here, however I have found things get dirty so fast I can’t keep
up. One ex-pat I know always brings what she called her ‘Umbrian wardrobe’ to
her holiday house in Italy.

I must
admit I quite enjoy this dirty life though. I mean, it isn’t really dirty at
all when the sun shines, as it is doing on this lovely spring day. And having a limited wardrobe saves
the endless decisions about what to wear each morning. I have kept some
standards though. My nails are always varnished, even if it only lasts five
minutes as I plunge my hands into the vegetable patch, and I always put my make
up on. I reckon if I can make someone keep their eyes on my face they won’t
notice the paw prints all over my trousers.