Knocking About Italy

You need to know right up front that the title for this post was spun into every possible derivative involving the use of the word “knockers” and that – although we are in the middle of a holiday week surrounded by children and piles of food – common sense prevailed.

But we had fun with it. (While we’re at it, here is a link to some “knock knock” jokes to keep the kids happy while you cook, clean, and caper.)

What I love about Italy (there’s a list) is the way they put their cities together. The streets are narrow and they pack their homes into little apartment-type multi-story buildings.  Every square inch of space seems to be commandeered and cars are an afterthought. This design is possibly the result of centuries of building in the same footprint as ancient days, when everyone kept safe within a protective wall. In places like Cinque Terre and Venice, you only have so much land to work with as it is.

You party in the piazza.

Outer walls don’t feel exclusive, just focussed. We never got to go into an interior courtyard.

Regardless, we spent many hours cruising the streets of Italy and everywhere we went, Hubby had to drag me away from the doors. All you see from the street is a massive pair of doors (go big or go home) with an impressive set of knockers.

I did not just say that.

They are unique, fun, and probably never used for their intended job. Are they inherited from one’s ancestors or purchased by an individual? I know I wasn’t supposed to stare and it felt awkward taking pictures without their permission. But they were beautiful. And I’m only human. I do wish I’d gotten a photo of the mermaids. Just to prove they exist.

These knockers held mystique, they represented something going on in the heart of the home and as a result, I went about Italy guessing the story inside, judging each book by its cover.

Lions…maybe a little too obvious.

A pair of manly moustaches.

Yogis getting their Italian groove on.

When your house is a zoo inside and you’re done making excuses.

Only the delicate and pure may enter herein.

Yeah, Santa skips this house.

These knockers are boring.

But the little door cut into the big doors felt so right. Munchkins live here.

So tell me…if all that anyone was every going to know about you, if your life story was going to be represented by a pair of knockers…what would you put on your door?