In Search of A Donkey

 

Today I went in search of a donkey. I could have written “in search of an ass.” The common word in Italian for “donkey” is “asino” - literally “ass”. Asina if it is the female variety. There is also a word I remember from childhood - slang most likely - that sounded like “choo-chool”.  It was used as a derogatory term for someone who was a patsy, a chump, a fool easily taken advantage of or parted with their money. I decided “donkey” would be the best choice of words here. 

So - I went in search of a donkey today. Every morning sitting in back of the house sipping my own made cappuccino (with varying degrees of quality I add lest envy possesses you) I hear two regularly recurring sounds: an overly cocky rooster and a braying donkey. The donkey’s tone is either pleading, complaining, or demanding of unrequited affection. In any case, it doesn’t sound happy.

My house is in the center of town. There are no farms I see that are close enough to allow one to hear braying (or crowing) so loudly and clearly. I decided it was high time to discover the whereabouts of donkey as well as rooster.

It was a quiet day- “tranquillo” as my neighbor declared with a sigh this morning. It is the Festa della Repubblica - the celebration of the day in 1948 when Italy declared itself a republic after its fascist reign and created its new and present constitution. 

I set off for a part of town to which I rarely go. It is outside the “commercial area” I usually traverse this part by automobile to head out of town to Bisenti, the next town over. I’ve never traversed it on foot. 

Italian hill towns are like nothing I’ve seen elsewhere. There are houses tucked down into steep drops and shoe-horned into tiny crevices. I was barely past the last residential buildings before empty country spread out ahead of me when I spied a sizable garden thriving on a dramatically inclined slope. 

Strolling around the perimeter was a rooster. We locked eyes. He puffed up to 1 1/2 times his size at initially sighting me and let go with a loud, strident crow. Almost mocking me. Yep. That was my guy. However- no donkey was to be seen or heard. There had to be a donkey somewhere, though. The two animals sounded like they came from the same space. I’d heard them together often enough, didn’t I? Now needing not just to locate the donkey but assure myself I hadn’t been mistaken in identifying the sound I heard day after day or even worse - imagine I’d heard - I plodded on further out of town. 

Past the nuovo faux castle built by an inhabitant far more full of himself than Mr. Rooster. 

Up a dusty hill. Back down. Up barely there ruts of a wagon path. In my search for the asino I began to feel like one myself. Or at least like the proverbial “Choo-chool”. Or “chooch” for short. I got tired and hot and hungry and mad at the world for tempting me to go on such a wild goose chase. That’s when I stopped searching and started seeing. I looked out from inside my head and viewed my town from a completely new perspective. High on a hill just below a ruin I’d never noticed before I saw a wider expanse of the surrounding valley than I’d ever seen before. I was struck anew by the sheer singular beauty of the place I’d been coming for 11 summers. By now believing I’d seen it all. 

I returned to the house and had lunch. Then set out to walk slowly around the town for probably the ump-  thousandth time and look - REALLY look at what is here. I peeped into narrow vicoli that hid abandoned or unobtrusively occupied houses. One dark warren of rooms still held a set of delicately painted flowered plates in a dish drain beside a rusted sink. There were pots of fresh flowers flanking brightly colored doors behind which I imagined people lived mysterious, romantic lives. There were narrow stone stairs that led to hidden gardens. All had been there for every one of the 11 summers that I’d been coming. They have been part of the magic of this town all along. Waiting for me to discover - if only I took the time to look. 

I never did find the donkey. Maybe I never will. But I found more of my town. I received a renewal of the inexplicable pull that led me here in the first place. It was like experiencing a first kiss again. 

So please - go ahead and follow the pull. Let curiosity lead. It may feel like an asinine pursuit. But you never know where it could lead.