I remember it like yesterday: that chilly in the back after it had rained the night when you went out in the pale morning sun and I hope with all my heart that the day you pay off of having the expected with the patience that can have a teenager, the depletion of rain the day before.
I went toward the mountains still dark gray stone cold and wet of the night and the water fall, where the sunlight began to caress the walls and vertiginous angles that at that age I put a little ' anxiety. I started and as I walked, pants shorts and wool socks under the boots of vibram of which I was so proud, and a backpack full of my things, I felt the wetness of the grass that is sent to the socks, the mandate of the cold, even down to the feet, and felt the drops from the branches of many trees fell short hair remaining on my boy.
Yet I was happy, excited even to endure the cold (it made me feel like a little hero that no one knew was that!), Enthusiastic about the long trips I was doing, exploring and discovering strange and magical places, where the gold of the sun painted the walls pink and shades of charm, where smells of pine mingled with those of the flowers of the meadows full of summer heat and the noise of the river which crosses or the stones rolled from the steep and stony, more or less isolated.
I was happy that just arrived from the city, in the afternoon (the train from Rome traveled all night and the "bus" we filed back in the mountains before lunch, after a year of dreaming ), I went along the stream that ran not far from where we were to look for a branch long enough and flexible but not too much for us a bow whose string was the string from parcels that had already bagged from Rome. Then I tried branches, more difficult to find, straight and fine, that they should give me the arrows, and I came home, and I sat on the bench outside, with boxcutter that never leaves, and that made me feel young Robinson, although the mountains, and clean all the branches in the cortex and the knots in the wood, which hindered me in the drawing that I had, and slowly made a beautiful arch ready to shoot arrows at imaginary enemies. Arco I would take around 20 days, the time to spend the holidays in that corner of the Dolomites that guy saw me and then slowly become man and that I did not see much, if not to return to climb, but never with my heart I had then.
would come not always, the newspaper that Corriere della Sera newspaper that, in addition to local Ladin, the only certainty was the cultural period and place. Just a little 'heavy rain and hard and a bit' swollen rivers and streams of water that the bus was late delivery and possibly the newspaper arrived the next day. There was no TV, no Internet or cam that today lead me to my house by the sea, the images of those which remained in the mountains to live a little piece of my heart, even during the winter. There was not even an ATM. I remember when they did the first club was called "The Witches" and then we still girls dream of going big and perhaps even dance with the blonde that she was Bolzano on holiday and I occupied the thoughts, at least for the time I was there.
remember that the road was not even asphalt, the final three kilometers from the center that were important, Canazei, was simply a "white road" but went to two countries where he lived so many people and many holidaymakers, and no problems if they did, there passed peacefully even the bus three times a day.
They were happy days, in which I filled with anything so long and I did fill the soul.
with simple things and dreamed of having fun and also lived part of my dreams.
build a hut with a few tables, and every summer before returning to the city, took it down and replace everything, yet during that time the cabin was a refuge more than safety and lonely, even when it rained or was really bad weather, or at least, this seemed to us .. There were days when I was just in the river shore, then quell'Avisio that did not have a concrete embankment even dream about it, and pick up stones, hoping to split them out of quartz or amethyst geodes as those I saw on display in stores in the valley, and I honestly thought I was dreaming and to be able to find my geode, not to sell it, but I also feel good to find the hidden corners of nature. Geode ever found any, or anything that thin veins of quartz pebbles in the cold current of the stream that came from ice that was up on the Queen, the Marmolada, never hit a few buffalo or foe, those arrows with half-bent and hold as My age at the time.
But in my heart, today, I go out on the street to buy a newspaper and a croissant in the morning after the night's rain on the asphalt, which today still live in the city, very safe by any flood, in my heart of man to remember those days have to look a bit ' away, put on glasses, everything is alive, the cold in the back, the joy of classes with clear boxcutter of guy, simple living every year for 20 days and slowly disappearing to make way for "progress" there, too, among the Dolomites, everything remains safe and secure and well guarded, because I can not say that "time was different and better " (as they always have done and the old!), but it has been fortunate to enjoy such simple and beautiful precious gifts, and that these gifts will I still be here, shining, I can say this, it makes me smile lights and warms my heart even today.
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