UCELLINO

By William M. Balsamo

I had been sitting in the Piazza of a small city in the Italian province not far from Milan. I had been eavesdropping on a conversation between a young gentleman and his partner. One never knows how to label relationships nowadays. Certainly she was not his sister and too young to be his mother and since they seemed about the same age, I considered that they were more than friends and less than married.

They were of the hippie-generation, suntanned and backpacked. The man wore an assorted array of tattoos which made his skin look like an Indian batik. The girl was bejangled with cheap accessories and arrayed with jewelry hanging from every appendage. They hung from her ears, embraced her wrists and ankles and gave her the appearance of a living Christmas tree.

I was at the opposite table pretending to read a book but thoroughly engrosses in their conversation. They were travelers but canvassed the planet each to discover what explorers had already mapped and to find something unique which had been overlooked by guides and guidebooks, terrorists and traders.

I felt I had to intrude.

“Ahem excuse me...”I said, “Have you ever been to Ucellino?”

“Where?"

“Ucellino. a small charming town fifty kilometers from here.”

The woman quickly reached for her guidebook and thumbed through the index. “How do you spell that?” she inquired.

“Oh, you won't find it in a guidebook. Perish the thought.” I asserted with contemptuous authority.

“The village is quite remote and does not even appear on ordinary maps.”

“How interesting.”

“Yes, indeed. Ucellino means "little bird" in Italian and the city is famous for its thousands of swallows which live in the trees in the piazza and along the main streets.”

“How very interesting! Something like Capistrano.”

“Well, sort of, but not at all. These birds never leave. The place is far too beautiful to invite departure.”

“But, I thought swallows always migrated.”

“Not these.” I spoke in defense.

“What else can one do in the town of Umbellino?,” The man inquired.

“You mean, Ucellino. Well, the city has a lovely cathedral, quite small but lovely nonetheless. The stained glass windows are among the best in the region and the tapestries which hang inn the nave were brought from France after the War.”

I noticed that their interest had been piqued and the young woman was scanning frantically through her guidebook looking for even a trace of any word resembling Ucelllino.

“How is the best way to get there?”

“Well,” I said seriously, “There is a bus that goes there every day. I say 'bus' but it is more like a mini-van. It' does not keep a very good schedule but it is not far from here. So you just have to be there and wait till it comes. If it doesn't show up by noon, then it has already left.”

The woman asked, “How long does it take to get there? Can we make it in a day trip?”

“Although it's only 50 kilometers from here, the road there is not very good. Once you get out of this town the road gradually deteriorates. It starts out paved and ends up pebbled. It narrows along the way and ascends into the mountains. It may take you as long as two hours to get there.”

After a pause.

“To answer your second question, yes. You can make it a day trip, but everyone who goers there tend to linger. It is a place to leave with reluctance. Most people spend at least a week. Some even longer.”

“so,” said the man putting his hand over that of the woman's, “Can you suggest any places to stay in Udeliino.”

“no,” I asserted with annoyance, “It's Ucellino, I corrected. "Ucellino.” I emphasized emphatically.

“Well, there aren’t many guesthouses and hotels in Ucellino but you can perhaps do a home stay but I don't recommend it if you snore. My favorite is the Ucellino Guesthouse...it's not far from where the bus will drop you off.”

The woman asked, “How much is it per nigh?.”

“Oh, about ten dollars with hot water and private bath and breakfast included.”

I noticed that the man had become suspicious though the woman was eager to go.

“You're really kidding, aren't you?” he said looking at me with dubious eyes and sensing I was not completely honest.

“Why would I lie to you?” I replied with angelic innocence and candor.

“I don't know why?” he admitted with confusion, “But, I do know that if this were such a wonderful place other people would be talking about it, and they ain't. There would also be posters and signs and mentions of it in travel books, and there ain't.”

I put an expression on my face that indicated I was shocked.

“In other words,” I said, “you only go to places where others have been or guide books direct you to go! My! My! What an adventurous soul you are!” I said this with such cynicism that I knew I was inviting trouble. I continued. “If Columbus thought as you do then he may never have discovered the New World. It's only giving in to the unknown that permits us to look deeper into ourselves.” I wasn't quite sure what this meant but it was ambiguous enough to fit the situation and created a firewall to which there was no adequate response.

The woman did not like the negative flow of energy. It was obvious that she was the peacemaker in their relationship and did relish confrontation.

“Oh, Brock, stop it! Stop annoying the man! I'm sure that what he says is true. So, what do you think? Let's go tomorrow.”

Her choice was always the final decision and Brock knew it all too well. Behind her peacemaking at most issues which involved decisions she always prevailed and go her way.

“ We'll go tomorrow first thing in the morning.”

Turing towards me she commanded, “Just show us where we get the bus. Just take us to the stop. You said it was not far from here.”

I began to feel a bit nervous. The joke I had intended to play had already gone too far and I wanted to take it no further. Ucellino did not exist. Of this I was certain and there was no place named the Ucellino Guesthouse. I had made it all up, but to reveal my mischief to these two strangers would have caused me to lose face and generate a lot of hurt. One lie no matter how insignificant and no matter how innocent or amusing is still a lie and once said is irretrievable.

“So, let's go and show us where the bus stop to Ucellino is” she insisted, “Tomorrow we can go there first thing in the morning.”

Not having the courage to expose myself as a liar, I decided to show them to a bus stop which would lead them to nowhere.

It was now getting a bit late and evening was approaching. We walked together down a narrow street and turned quickly onto the main boulevard. I tried to act calm as I scrutinized the area looking for a suitable corner where I could stake claim that a bus for Ucellino stopped.

Suddenly, the young woman screamed in excitement and delight. Across from where we were standing, less than three meters away was a sign. it read, “Buses to Ucellino stop here.”

“No.” I said to myself in disbelief. “ It can't be true. There is no Ucellino. I made it all up in my mind.”

“It's here,” she screamed like a child opening gifts for the first time at Christmas. She approached the sign and read it out loud, “Buses to Ucellino stop here.” Under the sign were the words. “A mysterious city, sleeping through the ages. Not yet discovered. Buses leave at 9:30 a.m. every morning.”

Turning to her boyfriend-partner-whoever he was, she scolded, “You see, it does exist after all. You’re so cynical.” turning towards me she thanked me copiously and said, “Thank you for the travel tip. I am glad we will enjoy ourselves.”

“Don't mention it.” I said doubly confused. When they were gone I sat in a nearby bench stunned. “It couldn't be. I mean, I really invented the place.”