Varese and its bells
Over the years and through almost infinite relocations, changing houses ceased to be a dramatic act. I've come to understand that my destiny doesn't have a defined city, and that's why I chose this new dwelling quickly. "I'll probably leave in a few months, so the more comfortable and central, the better," were my vague thoughts hours before signing the lease contract.
The first day of moving went quite smoothly, as the place was furnished; I only brought some clothes, books, and notebooks. The surprise wouldn't take long to arrive because, while preparing a cup of coffee, the symphony of bell tolls began. It must have been about ten minutes of extremely loud intensity (perhaps a medieval tradition to attract even the most heretical farmers in the province to Mass).
Through one of the windows, I realized that my new home was a couple of blocks from a church. A bit concerned about the situation, I started unpacking some boxes until it happened again. I counted a dozen deafening tolls and thought they marked the hour, but it was 10:37. I began to feel nostalgic for my previous home, where the only things making noise were the birds and the gentle afternoon breeze.
In the afternoon, the symphony continued, three tolls at 3:10 PM, five at 5:24 PM, and twelve at 6:07 PM. That night, I went to dinner with Greca, who helped me find the place. "Hey! Why didn't you mention the crazy bell-ringer?" I said, and she replied that she didn't know what I was talking about. I imagine that after living here for so long, she has become accustomed to the noise, and her brain dismisses it.
The next day, I was awakened at 6:23 AM, 7:14 AM, and 8:42 AM (days later, Rocamadour's uncle would say that these are kabbalistic numbers proving the existence of God). For me, it was clear that I had to tackle the issue head-on, so I went to talk to the bell-ringer. I didn't succeed because the tower was separate from the church, and there was no door or way to go up.
"How naive of you to think someone works there," Greca told me at breakfast. Then, I think she mentioned something about being sad about the loss of her pet, but I didn't understand anything. In fact, I no longer understand anyone. In my head, everything has been reduced to a "talán" and two "tolón."
