Giussago
I have been in Giussago, a small commune in the Province of Pavia, for a week now. According to data from 2016, Giussago is home to approximately 5,188 residents and more abandoned farm buildings than I have been able to count. There’s something about all the old, abandoned buildings that pull at me. Maybe they grab my attention because they remind me of the image I saw during the meditation that prompted this trip. Or perhaps it’s because people seem to have settled in and around these buildings in a way I’ve never seen before. In every city I have lived in, abandoned buildings are regulated to parts of town you avoid or torn down. But not here. —Have you ever come across a fallen log in the woods that has become a home to an assortment of forest creatures? Those logs might be decaying, but they’re not dead. That’s exactly how I imagine these buildings sometimes, giant, decaying, living things, with people having claimed some piece of it as their own.
The tiny house I am staying in is quaint and rustic and makes it almost easy to forget this house is a restored part of one of the abandoned buildings, as does the lovely 2-story home in front of me. But during each shower, the view from the bathroom window shows me the building next door, and all I can see is broken windows and neglect. I find this mix of buildings so close to one other strange. This intimate juxtaposition between new and old is slightly unsettling but not entirely unpleasant.
I didn’t know it was possible, but my days here are even simpler than before, and they go by quickly. Most days, I go for a long walk on the dirt paths through the fields. I enjoy these walks the most because I know this is the one thing I cannot recreate in Vegas. I’m not even exactly sure what it is about Giussago that I find so fascinating. Yes, it’s pretty with its endless green fields, but lots of places are pretty, and I have never had a desire to farm. There is a successful attorney back in Vegas that I used to work for, he happens to be one of my favorite people, and he once told me he would maybe farm if he ever quit law. During my walks, I sometimes wonder, is this what he meant? Would he have one of these big, beautiful country homes with his own plot of land and machinery? Could he live someplace this small and quiet after Vegas? Could I?
I don’t know about my attorney friend, but I realized my answer is I could, but I wouldn’t. I have yet to tire of my walks and seeing the old buildings and beautiful monastery (the Certosa di Pavia), but I know I’m not meant to live here or in any other small Italian town. Giussago is lovely though, and I try to relish each day because I know this time won’t last long. Things are waiting for me when I get home, there are forms to be filled, appointments to be made, policies to renew, employment to be found, and the list goes on. But not now. Not today. Today, the only thing waiting for me is another sunlit path.
