No one knows for certain how long the valley from Umbertide to Perugia has been protected by the watchtower called Gudiolo. Some of the stones indicate that it has been standing since at least the 13th Century, a hundred years before Lucrezia Borgia is said to have ordered the construction of another tower across the valley. Throughout the turbulent centuries that followed, Gudiolo must have given shelter to all manner of refugees, exiles, and wanderers; and although it was already in ruins by the time World War II arrived in the valley, the people from the hamlet of San Giovanni del Pantano used the woods behind it to hide when German soldiers occupied their homes.
It was during the eighties that Gudiolo found us. The ‘us’, a family of eccentric nomads trying to plant some roots, convinced that with our sheer determination we could learn how to take care of a garden when even a plastic flower would have died in our care. At the time, many friends asked us how we found the courage to start restoration work when each member of the family was living in a different continent. I do not remember exactly what we used to answer, but I know now that the most important ingredient needed to embark on such a project is TRUST. And we did plenty of trusting: we trusted a complete stranger who, with a power of attorney, represented us in the buying transaction. We trusted the architect whom we had never met, we trusted every local villager with their invaluable advice and, on several occasions, we trusted different water diviners who promised us the next well would be full. It should be said that our trust was always well placed, although in the case of water it would have been cheaper and more efficient to buy a large stake in San Pellegrino.
Eventually, the tower grew, electricity reached us, and fireplaces were restored while Nicola was born in Mexico City, Thomas in Lisbon, and Lucas in Zurich. Every year, despite only visiting for a few weeks during the summer holidays, we would indulge ourselves in the deceptive feeling of permanence. But it was only when I decided to move to Gudiolo and live here all year around that I finally came to understand the real meaning of permanence.
Permanence is to wake up each morning knowing that whatever we need to do can wait, because tomorrow we will still be here. It is to carefully unpack many boxes which have circumnavigated the planet several times, including old issues of National Geographic. It is finding the right spot for the 18th century Burmese Buddha and realising that he will never move again. It is like… coming home… an experience that neither my children nor I had ever had before.
Many years ago, we asked the locals the meaning of ‘Gudiolo’. Some suggested that it might be derived from ‘godere’, to enjoy. We never asked again, applying the Italian maxim of ‘Se non è vero è ben trovato’. We hope that after your stay here you will agree!
-Madeleine Stein
