The people bring their evening meal with them
up to the cantina and then sit on the wall outside, or go to a
rough table and eat it. Instead, in fact, of bringing their wine
to their dinner, they take their dinner to their wine. There was
one very fat old gentleman who had got the corner of the wall to
sit on, and was smoking a cigar with his coat off. He comes, I am
told, every day at about three during the summer months, and sits
on the wall till seven, when he goes home to bed, rising at about
four o'clock next morning. He seemed exceedingly good-tempered and
happy. Another family who owned a cantina adjoining Professor
Vela's, had brought their evening meal with them, and insisted on
giving us a quantity of excellent river cray-fish which looked like
little lobsters. I may be wrong, but I thought this family looked
at us once or twice as though they thought we were seeing a little
more of the Italians absolutely chez eux than strangers ought to be
allowed to see. We can only say we liked all we saw so much that
we would fain see it again, and were left with the impression that
we were among the nicest and most loveable people in the world.
I have said that the cantine are the cellars where the people keep
their wine. They are caves hollowed out into the side of the
mountain, and it is only certain localities that are suitable for
the purpose. The cantine, therefore, of any village will be all
together.
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