The blind Marshall and other people stories.....

 

It seems incredible and yet this crazy pile of rocks is in its sixth year of restored life and has now played host to holiday makers for three years. 

Renting it out to strangers has been an interesting and at times, deeply challenging process: we've put heart and soul into bringing it back in a way that honours its humble, rustic origins as a shelter for humans working the land as well as their animals over the centuries. A Cotswold cottage  it ain't and that aesthetic - while wonderful in its own context - isn't what I wanted here.

It was the Brits, bless 'em, who first understood the value of this agricultural/architectural (without architects) vernacular and many trulli and masserie in Puglia have been saved by English Italophiles. Internally though, too many have been made to look like something you'd find in Bibury or Bourton on the Water. (Meanwhile the Italians veer toward an Indonesian/Balinese or Moroccan look: once again, jarring culturally although I know, I know, each to their own!)

In this blog over the years I've written often about the intriguing objects we've put in the trulli - all with stories of the wonderful people we have met along the way who knew the building in the past and brought us bowls, water jars, fire pit tools, old hay forks - oh so many wonderful things. (Caterina Argento and Giuseppe Sasso, Giuseppe and Giovanna Bruno I am looking at you here!!)

And, of course, there has been Lorenzo - the magician stonemason who stepped in at crisis point and over the years and simply appears on the property and points out what still needs doing - and does it always alone and with great skill and character. 

This year, he re-capped the little wonky steps on the trullo face which are ancient and angled in a way that collected rain water, pooling it against the trullo walls and contributing to humidity. His splendid stone embroidery will now ensure it flows out and away from the building. He calculates the 'pendenze' (angle of the slope needed in his head and always works alone: a man whose passion/artisanship/skill is the gift that I suspect comes with his neurodiversity.

Speaking of Lorenzo, here's today's story. I told him we needed some garden pots for summer colour but budget's tight. "Ah he said, you need to see the Maresciallo (Marshall)." 

"The who?!!" I said.

"You know the road to Alberobello? There's an AGIP service station along the way. Stop there and ask for the Maresciallo, they'll give you directions. Go to his yard - he's got everything you will ever need."

I pondered this for less than a second thinking 'adventure' when Lorenzo added quickly: "He's blind by the way so don't be surprised because he has to touch stuff to tell you the price - oh and be aware too: if you hand him a 20 euro note instead of a 50 one, he will know by touch." (Lorenzo, why would we do that??!!)

And so, I headed off with Robert the other morning and sure enough, the fellow at the petrol station knew exactly who I meant and with much gesticulating about roundabouts and turns left we found the Marshall's kingdom.

Spread over half an acre, it's an Ali Baba's cave of everything - from building materials to old stone horse drinking troughs; dusty terracotta pots and demolition materials (I found the most gorgeous wooden shutters with brass fittings from last century) to huge crates of jar lids (!!); hundreds of green demijohns of every size to fencing bamboo.

And sure enough, the Marshall sent his worker with us to find what we needed and promptly felt carefully with his hands to give us a total price. He was chatty, friendly, interested in our story - 'siete forestieri eh?' (the local word for foreigners) but genuinely warm in his statement. 

And if Lorenzo hadn't told me, I'd never have guessed the man was blind.

The Marshall, centre, at work pricing and selling

 I remain convinced that this trullo is a magnet for interesting characters!