An Italian In Panaca Part 1

As we drove along on our winding, less traveled route through Nevada, it was interesting how quickly the landscape could change. In one area, you'd have prime agricultural land. Then, a little while later, you'd be passing through a wild area full of Joshua Trees. One moment the sky would be bright and clear, with a few innocuous puffs of white cloud passing overhead. The next moment, we found ourselves traveling under a dense dark cloud layer, with heavy rain evident in the distance.

Our first stop that evening was a little town called Panaca. If it was in England, I would call it a village. But I'm not really sure we have villages in America, so I'm calling it a town. 

Most people would drive past Panaca with little thought of stopping. It's just a spot on the map with a name, a few stores, a church, some historic buildings, and no restaurants. Houses lined wide, quiet streets, had nice size yards and pretty gardens. For families with children, there was a centrally located campus for their elementary, middle, and high schools. 

We stayed in a Bed and Breakfast, and after walking around town that evening, we sat in our rooms and made up a light dinner for ourselves. We watched a movie on our computer. We read, and went to sleep. It was a pleasant enough evening, aside from the noise coming from the living and dining room.

You see, while we were ensconced in our room, people came into the house, talked and laughed, and ate dinner. It was a little noisy, but we had headphones to use with the laptop, and those overrode the noise. At the time, I wondered if the female proprietor were having some friends over. But given the lack of local restaurants, I wondered afterward if groups of people contracted with her when they wanted to go out somewhere for dinner. 

The following morning, we left our room, and gathered for breakfast around the big table in the dining room with everyone else. People chatted, and the host eventually brought us some hot tea. We were never asked what we wanted to eat. While we waited, my wife and I started talking with the couple seated across from us. We shortly discovered that they were from Italy, and on vacation in America. 

At first the woman talked most. But once the man got started, he led the discussion. I couldn't make out all his words, but his gestures and energy were a joy to behold. He said he rarely used his car in Italy, and relied on public transportation to get around. He kept his car in a box, he said, and got it when he needed it. (My wife later suggested that box meant garage).

He loved coming to America, and exploring the backroads of our nation. Driving here was so much easier and pleasurable than in Italy. He loved seeing the national and state parks, and taking long drives like following historic Route 66. He was sad that this year was a short trip: only two weeks! While he never looked forward to driving in Italy, he found our road system restful and scenic.

My wife and I enjoyed chatting with him, and we were sorry we would never see him and his wife again. They were so friendly and charismatic! We would have liked to have learned more about their daily lives in Italy, and what we could expect a trip there to be like, should we plan one.

Dragon Dave