If it rains, look into the distance

 In the introduction to I Promessi Sposi (The Betrothed), Alessandro
Manzoni makes use of a literary device by stating that the story he
is preparing to tell is a transcription of a 17th century manuscript.
He resorts to this ruse in order to deny any responsibility with regard
to the critical treatment of certain historical facts that appear in the
novel, facts that were presented in a similar way two centuries later,
at the time in which his masterpiece was written. The expedient
of the manuscript also meant that Manzoni could give greater
verisimilitude to the story, thereby allowing the public to immerse
themselves in it without hesitation.

To immerse oneself, an all-encompassing verb that
implies not just getting wet but completely soaked:
a total experience with no half measures. Water,
in the form of drops falling from the sky, is the
leitmotif in some of the real-life stories that follow.
They are genuine facts to be experienced and (re)
lived in person by following the indications and
clues laid down in the narratives, visiting the same
places and imagining them being brought to life
by the different characters.

What you are going to read are a number of
authentic testimonials to facts and dialogues that
actually took place: some more recently than
others, during rainy days between the cold and hot
seasons, and in some cases perhaps even between
cold and hot days. Normal events, glimpses of
extraordinary everyday life, such as those that can
be experienced either during a holiday or by living
in Merano and its surroundings, and deciding to
dedicate some time to it.
Perhaps you might want to tear out some of these
pages and their words and illustrations, fold them
neatly and put them in your raincoat pocket. You
could also put them in a transparent plastic bag,
as cycle tourists and river canoeists do. The paper
is resilient and the ink does not bleed or stain;
perhaps it might be amusing to race against time
and read these lines before the paper, now soaked
in rain, struggles to remain intact in your hands.
Mediaeval Gunpowder Tower
1522 A.D.
It was raining. Time passed slowly for Gerold and
Theodor, who had been leaning against the east
wall of the Torre delle Polvere for two hours now.
They were guarding the gunpowder store and the
fact that it was pouring with rain gave them a sense
of security. The first of the two was thirty years old,
big and solid, shoulders as wide as his hips that
went straight down, he was a big lad. The felt hat
on his head was so large it looked like an umbrella.
He had a long beard, which he hid under his jacket,
so that his fellow soldiers told him «you might
as well cut it off, seeing as how you can't see it».
He didn’t care and thought that it was useful for
protecting his throat from the wind. In doing so he
was indulging in a little obsession that his mother
had planted in his mind when he was a child,
during those few years when he was still small,
since shortly after he had grown so much that he
already looked like a man when he was still a boy.
Theodor, on the other hand, was about fifty years
old. He looked like a wrinkled old beardless child,
except for a few stray hairs under his chin. He
said little and despite his small size, he was a real
troublemaker, as well as being handy with a knife.
There was little to say about him, because he didn’t
talk much and because it was not a good idea to
stare at him for long.
They scanned the horizon looking towards
Bolzano, gazing at the clouds and recognizing
extraordinary images such as dragons, knights,
whales and even smoking joints of pork, each
according to his own imagination. Suddenly
Theodor leapt up and away from the wall. He
jerked around like a maniac, shouting «My back!
My back!». Gerold looked at him and understood
that something must have slipped down into his
clothes, perhaps the lizard that was still amidst the
boulders of the tower above their heads. Theodor
motioned for him to help and Gerold went behind
him to see if he could do something. Theodor
could feel that the lizard had come down his back
and was sliding down his leg. The lizard peeked
out from the man's dry trousers and, just at that
moment, Gerold bent his head to look down
his companion's neck. Suddenly, a good pint or
so of rainwater cascaded from his hat and went
straight down between the back of his companion’s
neck and his jacket. Theodor turned round and
was furious. Gerold could see what was going
to happen and before the troublesome old child
pulled out his knife, he punched him in the face
and knocked him out. «You in there, help me! The
old fellow’s fainted!» the big man shouted, hoping
that his mate won’t remember what happened.

 The Lagundo Waalweg walking trail
The other day
A fine drizzle and the odd flash of sunshine, a
mild temperature and an anorak just in case the
rain gets heavier. I took Kira and we started out
on the 213 which leaves from the Merano train
station and goes as far as Tel, where the Lagundo
canal path begins. The first stretch of the road,
let's say up to the small tunnel, we did in a hurry:
she was pulling on the leash like a mad thing and
didn't care that I was more interested in looking
at the view of the Adige Valley, and the columns
of rain down in the valleys in the distance playing
with the light that passed obliquely through the
clouds. Our walk, well, mine actually, came to an
abrupt end when I stumbled near some houses:
distracted by the plants put out by some children
for sale on an improvised stand, I didn't see a
root sticking out and I ended up flat on my face.
Nothing serious at all, but during the fall I lost
both the leash and Kira, who of course didn't stop
to show me solidarity. The thought that she might
get lost or cause some trouble immediately got
me back on my feet and running hard to get her.
I found her a few hundred metres further on, in a
really curious situation: she had climbed up into
a gnarled and twisted hollow tree trunk, and her
collar buckle had somehow got stuck in the folds
of the wood. The trunk was extraordinary and who
knows how old, with branches sticking out at all
angles that were also gnarled and twisted. By some
magic of nature, the tree appeared to be twisted in
on itself in a sort of dance. Strange how a tree can
take on the shapes of fire, its deadly enemy. Lost
among the shapes of the trunk, lulled into a sense
of security by the gentle hissing of raindrops and
threads of water, I came to in time to see the leash
rapidly disappearing between my feet. Having
freed herself, Kira had shot off and escaped again.
With no desire to chase her, I continued slowly
along the path, unconcerned about the now heavy
rumbling clouds that were closing in above my
head. I knew that Kira knew that I had some dog
biscuits in my pocket for her and when I was
close to the end of the Waalweg, she ran up to
me with her tongue hanging out.
I don't feel smarter than my dog, but I consider that
I have a more developed «resource management»
ability. This gave me a little satisfaction which
lasted until my face, streaked by the rain, made me
realise that the child who had been threatening me
with the umbrella from the bus window after we
got off at Tel, had just wanted to show me what
I had forgotten on the seat.

Avelengo, path 2A The fine season After leaving the Avelengo car park, we take the 2A path. We didn't have breakfast, because we specifically wanted to arrive at the Wurzeralm hut as hungry as possible. As soon as the road becomes a path and goes into the woods, past the pond, we seem to hear a buzz in the distance. As we proceed, the buzz becomes a voice, first indistinct and then increasingly clear: it comes from a telephone put behind a stone: «...the supply was incorrect, by us and not by you, I understand and I apologize again. I know very well that you have always been available in every situation...» says a voice on the other side of the microphone. The voice seems to have endless breath «... we realised that the same quantity ordered last year isn’t enough and the packages should have 12 and not 10 pieces...». If you listen carefully, the voice is irritating, it has an unclear accent which pronounces both the R and L as if they were double and which, as we can see on the display, has been talking for more than an hour. Entranced by this cacophony we wake up only when a guy arrives and picks up the phone. «I’d have left it there» he says looking at us «but it's raining at the mountain hut and it's better to go back to the valley». We don't know whether to believe this joker and we decide to continue. The delight of the mountain hut in the rain makes it worth every effort. Sant'Ippolito church in Narano near Tesimo This afternoon They look at each other. They smile at each other. They open their arms and hug each other. They don't kiss, but they seem to smell each other between neck and ear. Now from close range, forehead to forehead, they look at each other again. Finally perhaps they kiss, but Anna looks away and beyond them partly out of discretion and partly because she has a precise objective: to arrive before the couple, who are hugging in the middle of the path, at a precise spot on the lawn surrounding the church of Sant ‘Ippolito. It is a panoramic position, which overlooks the valley and gives you a view out towards Avelengo. From this perspective, on afternoons when the sun returns to its place after the rain, you can often admire the rainbow. Maybe today is the right day and, even if your feet are cold and damp because it might have been better to wait a little longer to put on your sandals, you want to admire this spectacle. The rainbow, to be honest, is a pretext. A ritual was established every spring, she says, to create a bridge in order to connect to the past. The hill of St. Hippolyt was already well known six thousand years ago where there was a place of worship. In the Roman era a small church was put up that was rebuilt in the Gothic era. In the Middle Ages, it seems that witches gathered here for their sabbats. They say it is an «energic site»; certainly it is a place that has a lot to tell. From that overhanging ledge, Anna looks into the distance and searches for the rainbow. She then sits on a still slightly damp stone, closes her eyes and breathes deeply. She listens to herself and for a few moments there are no thoughts in her head. Joyful laughter brings her back to the present, it is the two people who were hugging each other earlier along the path. She enjoys their happiness as if it were hers and she feels connected to a «now» that is wonderful.