It's all so very quaint.

My definition of shabby changed upon my arrival in Italy. Italian-style shabbiness is quaint. So pleasantly foreign. Dwellings pockmarked and heavy with peeling paint. Laundry hanging on clotheslines extending from window sills in high-rise apartment buildings. Rust on the shutters and roll down doors. Plenty of graffiti on the walls. But still, I feel an inner warmth as I stroll through the neighborhoods. A soothing kind of clutter, if there’s such a thing. Even in the Catholic cemetery. I see a mish-mash, a hodge-podge of graves and burial vaults. An abundance of flowers. In vases on the graves. And oh, the Italians respect their dead. So very much. They even build private personal chapel/mausoleums in the cemetery in Carbonia on the island of Sardinia. An opportunity for families to commune with the spirits of the dead. Entombed only a foot or two away. Yes, in the chapels. And so many pictures/photos. When they were still very much alive. Memories. The day I was there, last Sunday, the cemetery was one of the busiest places in town. No funerals. Just visitors. Gathered around. One can trek to the cemetery on winding streets and walkways made of broken cobblestone. Along the way, vendors. On sidewalks. And in parking lots. Newsstands and kiosks. Farmers markets. Merchandise displayed the old-fashioned way. I was expecting to find dirty cities. That's what I heard. Lots of trash. But I haven’t found that. Instead, it’s all so very quaint. –Jim Broede