La Mia Prima Notte a Pari

lunedì, 13 gennaio 2025

I had made my way up from Viterbo by taking the train to Siena, and then grabbed the Autolinee Toscana 51G bus to Pari di Casale Svincolo, about 6km from the medieval village of Pari. Although it was my first time visiting Pari, I had become familiar with it through the online offerings of the Pari Center. I had even helped organize the first formal Gentle Action Gathering for June of that year (2023). Through an unexpected series of events (my passport took longer than expected), I had missed the very conference that I had put my heart and soul into planning. I was completely heartbroken at the time, and wondered whether I would ever get to Pari, to see the magical medieval village that I had hitherto only seen in photos.

Yet there I was, or almost was, as I made ready to descend from the bus’s stairs. I breathed a sigh of relief as I stepped further into the Unknown, happy to see my friend Elle waiting to pick me up at the bus stop. Of course, at this point in time, I had only known Elle, the president of the Pari Center, through the Zoom meetings, texts, and emails that we had used to communicate while setting up the Gentle Action Gathering. There she was, and there she was, in a place that I had originally planned on being 3 1/2 months earlier. After successfully reaching my destination from my second train trip, and first bus trip in Italia I felt a wave of relief wash over me as soon as I stepped off the bus and saw her.

As we zoomed through the roads leading towards Pari, she took the time to point out different places along the way, while briefing me on where I would be staying and how to get into my apartment. Once we made our way into the village, I was completely speechless and in shock, partially because I was actually in Pari, but also due to the scale of the village itself. Viterbo had been a city, and Bagnaia a walled-in borgo, yet Pari was even smaller than Bagnaia. As we made our way into the village, Elle said, “first I am going to show you where you will be staying, then I will give you a tour of the village”. So we drove into the upper giro of the village a little ways and she pointed out the entrance to my apartment before giving me the tour.

“Ok, that’s where you will be staying, now I’ll show you where the restaurant is.”

“Alright”, I said.

She kept driving straight ahead on the curved street of the giro, pausing at an archway to make sure that she didn’t accidentally knock the mirrors off of her car. I sat speechless as we continued down the road and she pointed out the restaurant and continued driving.

“Ok, it’s one big circle, so if you get lost, just keep walking”, Elle said.

I just sat and stared, taking everything in as we passed by the church, back down into the giro, and passed the little brick bridge that greets one as they enter the giro. And then we were back at the entrance to my apartment. The whole circuit had taken maybe a minute and a half, two minutes at the most. She helped me get my things inside and then left me off back at the restaurant, where she had thoughtfully made a reservation for me.

That was how I was introduced to Pari. I got a seat at the table near the door, before anyone else made their way to dinner, and Elle went off to the community dinner for everyone who had helped out with the annual Sagra a few weeks earlier. I simply sat and took things in, amazed to be in a place that I had longed to be. Gradually people filtered in, and the outdoor patio filled in with patrons. Children came out and played “hide and go seek” in the street, yelling “la machina” whenever a car was coming up the giro.

And here, in this place that I had never physically been, while eating pasta at Le Due Cecche, I found myself experiencing a feeling that I had thought long gone — the sense of finally having found a place that felt like “home”. The plentiful food, lively conversation, and children playing around me, felt similar to my experience of my maternal grandmother’s house before she had passed on. So, quite unexpectedly, in this little village that even most Italians don’t know exists, I had finally found a place that felt like “home”. This feeling only increased over the next several months, and every month since that I have spent in Pari.

This is not to say that village life is without its challenges. But challenges abound whenever humans gather together. Here in this little village, I have found a home, in no small part due to the deep sense of community that permeates Italian culture.

Yours in inspiration,
Michael Weaver