I leave behind the sweltering summer of the plains Cuneo going by car to the highway 22 of the Valley Maira. E 'afternoon, and I have only one goal. I proceed to fifty an hour, looking for a starting point for a visit.
Lottulo to stop the car and go down to read the inscription entrance of the village, "heroic defense of the valley suffered extermination and destruction and looting in May 1551 fire in January 1553 passed a feud the Joy of Asti 1601. Until that date, the confederation of the upper valley, which was the first town Lottulo had managed to defend its independence from the expansion of the Duchy of Savoy.
Allocation and immediately slow down to watch on my left, two villages. Take a dirt road to reach them.
Pass the first, the architecture is not interesting. The second one I saw attracts a fresco on the facade of a house.
got out, I realize with surprise that the village is deserted: an old is sitting on our doorstep. I walk towards him, greeted him and I told him that I am interested in popular painting in the mountains.
- You see this area - I responds with a long strip of land - once the hay and wanted to cut it all by himself. Now do not take it anymore. Mica wants to buy it? I sell him, if she wants, so my daughter does the traffic warden in Saluzzo.
- No, thanks. But you live here alone?
- There is also my younger brother, he lives in another house, there behind.
I move away in that direction, with the excuse of the fresco. Wandering among the houses, I run into old brother. His hands are bloody.
- I just killed a rabbit.
- you live here?
- Yes, it's just more me and my brother. Once a country full of people. Do you think we had asked to have a pastor, has been one hundred and fifty years ago. The other village on the most wanted, and at the end they gave it to them.
seems that stories made personally experienced. Maybe it's a character like Gioan Pittadè: many called the cobbler of the four money from other, more cultured, identified with the wandering jew, the valley is said to be an old man of a thousand and eight hundred years, can not sit, or sleep, or stop for more than three days in the same place. Every morning he found four coins in his pocket, which must spend or give to the poor to reappear the next day.
- mica But we have not given up - takes the man - We went down to Dronfield pharmacy to buy some rat poison, we have invited the new pastor at dinner one evening and we have poisoned.
He pauses, and I do not say anything, his hands fixed.
- Then we have buried, and that was it. You know, here the law does not.
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