Valerie Barona - Mamma Mia... Thats Life!

Mamma Mia... Thats Life!

Valerie Barona

Copyright 2016 Valerie Barona

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Four years had passed since I boarded the plane at Gatwick Airport in July, 1977 with my fianc to start a new life in his mountain village in northern Italy. After the initial shock of finding myself in a time warp where the middle-aged women scrubbed their clothes clean in a stone washing trough in the village square, and the old men still used a horse and cart to transport hay and logs from one place to another, I had to decide as to whether I could adapt to the ways of Piussogno.

Micheles decision to build a disco with his brother had prompted varying reactions from the locals but as they watched it materialise and some even ventured inside, they had to admit that it could do no harm. The Rendez Vous was a family concern with relatives giving a hand. In fact, its popularity grew fast and furiously, especially as it was assigned a prize for being the very first disco in the Valtellina. Michele and Pietro had to go to Milan to collect it fame, indeed.

Our wedding sealed the approval of the villagers and if they didnt agree with us moving out of the paternal home in preference for renting our own flat, the birth of our son, Alex restored our status.

Although our contract to stay in the Gusmerolis flat was for two years, we were still living there three years later. I enjoyed Nandas company and I knew Id miss her two children popping up for merenda in the afternoon but now I longed for a place of our own. I was pregnant again and although sometimes tempted to return to Poole with Michele and Alex, after much deliberation and soul searching, I decided to make my home in Italy.

Ive just eard the piece of land by the side of the disco is up for sale, Michele told me. Its a bit expensive but the Rendez Vous is doing well at the moment and we could afford it.

Then buy it! Impulsive as ever, I would have written a cheque for the land there and then.

Michele asked his friend who designed the disco to design our house and he referred us to his architect colleagues who, in turn, drew up the plans. Sitting in front of a desk in their office, they asked me how many square metres I wanted the rooms to be. How did I know?

I want a reasonably small house: lounge, kitchen, bathroom, three bedrooms, with an en suite bathroom in the master bedroom and everything on one floor, I specified in my best Italian. I assumed that was explicit enough it wasnt.

On our second visit, they showed me plans which looked so complicated that I understood less than before.

Look, its pointless talking to me about square metres because I dont know how big a room of 80 square metres is I just want a house thats built on one floor. Michele detected the rising frustration in my voice and came to the rescue by asking them to build a model for me. That way I could see for myself the numerous sloping roofs and balconies which they claimed would make it unique. Obviously, they had not done business with an English female before who put practicality before design and who was also pregnant. In their opinion, my querulous behaviour was obviously attributed to my hormones running wild. However, when they presented me with the model, which Michele naturally had to pay for, I must confess that the modern design of the miniature house looked good and I gave the go-ahead.

Michele called the same builders who had built the disco and building began in April 1981. They finished it in July, just before the birth of Elisa and once again, we gave the villagers something to talk about. Every day Id walk down with Alex to see the progress of the building work, stopping to speak to the locals on the way . Each one tried to glean a bit more information as to how the house would look when it was finished.

How many rooms will there be?

Are you building it the English way?

Will you have tiles or carpet? they asked in dialect.

I tried to answer as best I could even though at times I was more concerned about the impending birth than the completion of our house which, in actual fact, resembled a villa more than an ordinary house. As the building progressed I began to panic. It didnt appear to be that small to me. Thank goodness Id stressed the fact that I wanted a small house and not a big one. Id have ended up with a hotel.

Built on slightly raised land, it stood out as a lone piece of futuristic architecture compared to the more usual square two-storey houses in the area. The high sloping roofs, giving intriguing angles, sheltered a number of balconies to the side and front of the house which offered breath-taking views of the majestic mountains encircling the valley with small villages snuggling between them. A shallow stream trickled lazily along the side of the house and lush woods stretched up as far as the eye could see behind it. Unfortunately, due to my pregnancy, I somehow didnt appreciate the idyllic setting of our first house together. I had other more urgent maternal priorities to think about. Michele, however, became more and more excited as he watched the progress and spent most of his time on the building site, helping out when he could. My father-in-law, Alberto sauntered down daily, puffing away on his non-filter cigarettes and nodded appraisingly at the latest developments.

I had specified, repeatedly, that I wanted everything on one floor but what I hadnt bargained for was a basement and a mansarda or attic, as well. To the builders and architects it was a bonus, to me it meant more cleaning. Three months later, Mums arrival coincided with the builders putting the traditional branch in the chimney to show that they had finished their job and expected us to invite them for a celebratory meal. Michele and his brother, Pietro chose a restaurant by the lake. My mother-in-law, Carla, father-in-law, Alberto and sister-in-law, Mara joined us, too. Mum hardly had time to unpack before we were out again. Alex came with us, because in Italy, children are always included in such festivities. Everyone loved hearing him speak two languages and tongues would stop when Alex wanted to say something in English to his grandmother or me.

Nanna, did you know that Ive got a new toy car? and as Mum answered someone asked what he had said.

Ho chiesto alla Nonna se sa che ho una macchina nuova per giocare , said Alex, totally unfazed by his ability to speak English and Italian.