Deaf Boars and Handsome Fish in Southern Tuscany

OK, OK -– it was me who was deaf – not the boars. They were just all dead-ish and shit. I guess that'd make them deaf too, huh? Hey, waddya know!?

I’d recently completed a round of relatively experimental radiation treatments in an attempt to stall if not fully duck the Nf2 fuelled deafness (which was coming at me like a fleet footed, coked up mugger on a dark street). Radiation left me tremendously weak for months, unsteady and mostly but not yet completely deaf. The treatment, like all of life, was a gamble – you know, you can’t win if you don’t play.

During a fit of “a good trip will make me feel better” optimism, “no illness will get the best of me!” determination and “geez, this invalid crap is boring” impatience, I booked a flight to Italy for Jen and myself. We would visit with Cindy and Giovanni at their new home in Sarteano, within the province of Siena.

When I was choosing the flight I noticed the button for special needs – “Deaf” in the drop down menu. I clicked it,  curious as to what this would trigger, what kind of help might be provided. Would the airline personnel communicate with me via American Sign Language or write down any/all announcements?  Nope but when we got to Milan to change planes there was someone to meet and escort us to the gate for our connection to Rome. That was it.

I found this pretty amusing. Sure, I was weak but it was my hearing that was gone not my ability to read signs or find my way ‘round an airport. I was just moving at a slightly slower than my usual speed walk pace. I still check off “special assistance – deaf” when I fly. One of these days an ASL fluent stewardess will come by, signing "Do you need more wine." Of course!

One of the first places we went, upon arrival, was a festival/fair in nearby Cetona. At the word “festival” my mind conjured craft fairs full of handmade pottery, finely woven shawls and silvery beaded earrings. There would, of course, be a bunch of booths selling the local cheese, Pecorino, and baked goods too. Back in reality though, few if any crafts were there but LOADS of food sellers. No  complaints from me – there was cannoli. CANNOLI!

What struck me funny, queasy-making even, were all the decapitated boar’s heads mounted on and around so many booths. Cindy explained that it’s one of the big local dishes.

Boar hunting? I thought that was just something they did back in The Taming of the Shrew and Canterbury Tales days. I felt as though I’d time traveled -– here we were in this small medieval town, in the twenty first century, high in the Tuscan hills, looking at severed boar’s heads next to trays of astounding, delicate pastries, breads and cheese.

Later, that night, we had a cook out with our hosts and their good friends Guiliano and Fausta. They had been out fishing on a nearby lake earlier in the day and caught our dinner. Now, I’m used to buying fish at the local US mega giant supermarket where the salmon, haddock and trout are filleted and bear little resemblance to actual fish – here the heads were still attached and their dead eyes were all staring at me in a challenging, dark and, possibly, evil way.

Naturally, I began naming my new, dead chums. This one is Horace, this one Celeste and here is dear Aiden. Important dining tip (pay attention here!) -– do NOT name your dinner, especially not before it hits the grill. Thankfully, Giovanni, filleted Celeste for me, removing her head from my squicked out sight.

Cindy allowed that if I lived in Italy, I would surely be a complete vegan. TRUTH!.

Next, I wondered how I’d fare with dinner conversation. As a hearing person I’d always been right in there, in the thick of things. I don’t know much Italian and, of our hosts and their guests, only Cindy spoke both Italian and English. My lip-reading, while significantly better now after a few years of practice, is not and will never reach, that totally mythical level shown in Hollywood spy movies. You know, it’s midnight, the spy is on the roof of the building across from the apartment where the suspect is having the game changing, all important tête-à-tête with his posse. Through a pair of binoculars our hero is able to successfully read everyone’s lips which enables her to foil the plot to overthrow the government/major corporation/clueless principle/prom queen.

Right. Sorry. Plot device not reality.

Dinner conversation was a swift paced verbal soccer match as Guiliano, Giovanni and Fausta talked, argued and laughed while Cindy translated at a pace rivaling Tour de France riders in the final stretch. In turn, Jen translated to ASL. Finally we all ran out of energy and called “fermata,’ ‘fine.” The Italians were a bit surprised since we all seemed to be keeping up, keeping our respective oars in the fast moving conversational rapids. We allowed that we just needed to catch a breath and then off we went again.

Conversation as long distance, endurance sport. LOVE IT!

Yes, I finally had boar – in a ragu sauce. None too shockingly, it was a bit gamey for my tastes. Nonetheless, I’m glad to say that I tried it.