We went to a family hotel on Lake Como. The hotel was in a multi-century old family home. Our friends had stayed there the year before and were welcomed with open arms.
We were tired having driven from Stuttgart in two cars, a Triumph Spitfire and a TR4.
Having been raised in New England, I'd never seen mountains like the Alps. In fact, I'd never really seen mountains. The twists and turns and the drops to the valleys below were a bit frightening.
The smell of home cooking greeted us. The owners had several children. We ate as a big family. My ex and I didn't speak Italian, they didn't speak German or English, but it didn't matter. It was the only time they fed us. The rest of the stay we ate at different restaurants or made sandwiches.
They showed us to where we would spend the next two weeks. I didn't know what a funny toilet was doing in the bathroom and why the toilet was in a separate room. Rosi, who was German, explained. It was a bidet for washing your privates. It seemed like a good idea.
Over the years, I've lived many years in places where bidets are normal and I loved them.
At the moment neither of our flats in France or Switzerland have a bidet and although it would be nice, I think of all be people in Gaza who have no water, no food, no roofs over their heads and have lost so many people they love as well as almost everything they own.
A wave of guilt that all I do have sweeps over me. Equally I feel anger that alleged leaders who could stop it by saying no to Israel's government, no more weapons. If Netanyahu even puts a little finger outside the border of Israel I'd like him captured, sent to the Hague and imprisoned in solitary confinement for the rest of his life and fed on the same rations or lack there of that he subjected the people of Gaza to.
Vindictiveness is not my usual mode. But the cruelty is something a bidet cannot wash away.
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