Buongiorno en Fontanafredda

The ringing of the church bells at 7:00, the rushing gush of the early morning train and the mirth of the birds announcing heaven's joy may seem such a trivial and inconsequential thing for the ordinary Italian of Fontanafredda but definitely not for me. My mornings have never been the same. The tranquility of this little town in Italy holds is highly distinctive. It might seem the equivalent of the laid-back, island-style life but not quite. There is this natural ease, a mellifluous kind of life that could have only  been found in the small alleys of heightened brick cold walls centuries back. Perhaps, its the elderly architecture found in every bulding, every house even in ours. There's our antique chandelier overflowing with detailed artwork hanging in the center of the dining. The bronze door knobs with its palm-length keys held throughout time. The textured doors that illuminates a yellow light within the entry way. Everything seems so old, yet it is all new to me. So I marvel at every tree changing its colors from its verdant green to its autumn brown, every tiled-paved road worn from various travelers, every marble and brick walls that has been witnesses of people since 400 years ago. I hung at every Italian word realizing how its English counterparts came about and I smile everytime I'm in the passenger seat looking at the beauty of the snow-capped Alps ranging through the horizon. Yes, it is the case of the overwhelmed newbie. My senses unite with Gawain's narrator as he puts it,

"So many were the wonders he wandered among. That to tell but the tenth part would simply tax my wits."

So, here's snippets of Fontanafredda (Cold Fountain) but somehow no camera or angle can encompass its real beauty...