Yesterday we had a bit of respite, the ventaccio gelido (horrible freezing wind) finally dropped and the snow and ice began to thaw. Che bella sopresa (what a lovely surprise) then, to wake up this morning and find more snow. Cavolo!

Yes, it looks lovely in photos, but in reality the novelty of snow quickly wears off, especially when you live in a little village in the mountains at 500 meters. But compared to some people we’ve escaped fairly lightly. Browsing through Corriere della Sera I found an interesting story, written in the form of a diary, which describes the six days during which a family of five were trapped in their house in Abruzzo by the snow.

Here is my translation of part of the article. If you can’t manage the rest on your own I’m afraid you’ll have to resort to Google Translate, but be warned, some of the translations are a bit ‘hilarious’, e.g.: “Latte e biscotti sono finiti, i bambini fanno la colazione con merendine e succhi di frutta, manca anche il pane e mia moglie Gina si mette allora di buzzo buono e lo fa con le sue mani, lo cuoce al forno a legna” is translated as: "Milk and cookies are gone, the kids take lunch with snacks and juices, also lacks the bread and then my wife Gina gets a good belly and he does with his hands, it bakes in the oven firewood”. The correct translation should be: “The milk and biscuits are finished, the children have breakfast with snacks and fruit juice. We’ve also run out of bread, and my wife Gina eagerly starts making bread by hand and bakes it in the wood burning oven.” So, beware of internet translations!

“Mi chiamo Valerio Ippoliti, ho 35 anni, faccio l’operatore socio-sanitario all’ospedale di Avezzano, abito in via Strada 38, quattro case isolate in mezzo alla grande piana del Fucino, a 4 chilometri da Trasacco, il paese del povero Pietro Taricone, e a 10 da Luco dei Marsi, in pieno pre-parco d’Abruzzo: davanti casa ci sono le impronte dei lupi di cui parlano i giornali e infatti mia moglie e i tre bambini sono barricati dentro, non li faccio uscire. I nostri guai sono cominciati giovedì…”.

My name is Valerio Ippoliti, I’m 35, and I’m a socio-medical worker at Avezzano hospital. I live in Via Strada 38, four isolated houses in the middle of the big Fucino plain, four kilometres from Trasacco, the village of poor Pietro Taricone, and 10 kilometres from Luco dei Marsi, right on the border of the Abruzzo national park: in front of my house are the footprints of the wolves which the newspapers are talking about, and in fact my wife and three children are barricaded inside and I won’t let them go out. Our problems began on Thursday…”.

GIOVEDÌ 2 FEBBRAIO – “Inizia a nevicare, ma io non mi preoccupo, ho una Nissan Terrano, una grande jeep munita di catene. Mi sveglio come sempre alle 6, faccio colazione e vado al lavoro come in un giorno qualunque. Ma quando torno dall’ospedale, a metà pomeriggio, la neve è già salita parecchio e trovo mio figlio Luca, ha 2 anni e mezzo, con 40 di febbre”.

Thursday the 2nd of February – “It begins snowing, but I’m not worried, I’ve got a Nissan Terrano, a big jeep fitted with snow chains. I wake up as usual at 6, have breakfast and go to work just like any other day. But when I get back from the hospital in the middle of the afternoon the snow has already risen a lot and I find my son Luca, who is 2 and a half, with a 40 degree fever”.

VENERDÌ 3 FEBBRAIO – “Alle 5 del mattino arriva a casa un trattore mandato dal sindaco Gino Fosca e dal comandante dei vigili urbani di Trasacco, Titti Colangelo, due persone splendide, a cui avevo chiesto aiuto per telefono la sera prima. L’uomo sul trattore mi porta il cortisone e la tachipirina per mio figlio, perché la situazione è precipitata, la jeep è sepolta dalla neve ed è saltato tutto, non c’è più luce né telefono né riscaldamento. Un dramma. È il primo giorno di prigionia”.

Friday the 3rd of February – “At 5 in the morning a tractor arrives at my house. It has been sent by the mayor, Gino Fosca,  and the commander of the local Trasacco police, Titti Colangelo, two great people who I’d phoned the previous evening to ask for help. The tractor driver brought me cortisone and paracetamol for my son, the situation has worsened, my jeep is buried in the snow, and there’s no power, there’s no light or phone, or heating. A drama. It’s the first day of our imprisonment”.

To find out what became of Valerio and his family read the full article here: La neve sciolta nel caminetto e il pane in casa (Snow melted in the fireplace, and home made bread). If you have problems with parts of the translation you can always ask me for help via the comments section.