It was foggy all over Krakow and a sprinkle of snow created a very wintery scene. I had seen no sun during the whole day and sunset had surprisingly started at the early hour of 3.30 pm. The Christmas atmosphere was really strong: horse-drawn carriages waiting near the tall tree, the church steeples losing themselves in the mist, the Christmas market and plenty of decorations everywhere.
When I went to Marmomacc in September my mind was perturbed by the fear I was probably attending for the last time, and I felt vaguely uncomfortable, but as a matter of fact this melancholy was triggered by a general insecurity concerning my position at the Chamber of commerce. Time before my boss had told me that the two promotional departments would be merged into one, and one of their head officers would be destined to some other assignment. There and then, I brushed the subject off with nonchalance, put on an unaffected air and kept the strategy of not coming out into the open. I was directly concerned, but I didn't let such a vague announcement worry me much, although I could take it as a preparation for a decision already made about who would be moved.
I was in Verona for Marmomacc on Friday and, as usual, I had planned to prolong my stay in the area, only this time my excitement was spoilt by two negative thoughts. This first had to do with a relative's state of health, which kept my mind uneasy as long as I was away from home. The second was the sinking feeling that this edition of Marmomacc would be the last I was attending because of a change of policy at work. I could always console myself thinking I could take a trip to where and when I decided, but somehow this was the end of an era. This tradition of mine dated back to quite a long time ago and it was doomed to end miserably.
The elderly couple were fit enough to have climbed up to the mountain hut, but who knows at what speed. They were sprawling in the sun after eating a sandwich and a banana, and it was a bad omen that I should sit on its skin. They seemed to be familiar with the area when I enquired about the path I meant to take but the startled expression they put on was not reassuring. They wondered between themselves if I'd make it by nightfall.
In the last couple of months I have made two experiments of urban exploration. The first time the idea was triggered by the description I read of a theatre show centred on the abandoned lunatic asylum of Mombello. The short introductory text was enough to make one's hair stand on end, and to whet my appetite. That's why I proposed the plan to a friend who's a keen photographer, and on a Sunday morning we were out on the errand. The place was easy to find and I was surprised that we had not a fence to climb over, but an open gate because on the same grounds there are units such as a high school, an orthodox church and a residential community, all alive and well.