|The white building is the church attached to the monastery in Gagliano|
|This was one of the larger streets in Gagliano. Although the town had only 300 people in it, it once had 3000 so there were plenty of buildings. Somehow I got lost a few times in these mazes.|
|The cloister of the monastery. My Italian teacher stands in the doorway. JP, recognize anyone here?|
Italians put definite articles in front of most possessive pronouns, a strange concept for this English speaker plus it seems unique to Italian. The my friend sounds so weird.
Yesterday, I visited one of my roommates that I had living in the monastery back in Gagliano more than 2 years ago. Many sad things happened to both of us since our return though much more so for her. It was a mini Italian reunion. We went to a nice Italian restaurant where I had covatelli bolognese with chianti, amaretto at her home and we looked over her photos of the trip. Whereas I had concentrated more on the scenery, she concentrated on the people. It was fun remembering the people we encountered. In my files I hardly have any of these pictures.
My car thermometer said it was 43 when I was in her northern suburb. Certainly I could get a short run when I returned. But black ice! I couldn't even see it. I am waiting impatiently for it to melt as I type.