Handbills appeared all around the village a few days ago announcing that the power would be off from 9 a.m. until 5 p.m. tomorrow in various locations. Our street -- Via della Fornace -- is listed with only the cryptic note "sn." We do not know what "sn" means.
Our first thought was that it stands for "senza numero," meaning "without number" -- some place along the street where there is no address (and this could be a lot of places on lovely Via della Fornace, which is largely what is called "unspoiled") would not have power, assuming that it ever did have power and that someone in the middle of what is basically nowhere would have a sudden desperate need for power. Given that even taxi drivers and Amazon trucks refuse to risk coming up to the wilderness that is Via della Fornace, this seemed nonsensical to us, but no more nonsensical than any other bureaucracy, in Italy or the US or anywhere else on earth.
Two elderly women who came across us as we were staring at the handbill on the street assured us that we would all have plenty of power -- giant heaps of it. They did not tell us what "sn" means, even though we asked, and gave the impression of being rather addled, although very kind.
Jonathan's friend in Milan, who has been a source of much demystification for us and to whom he texted a picture of the handbill, tells us that "sn" means "sinistra" -- the left side of the road. We absolutely trust her, but have no idea which side of the road is the "left."
We are going to park the car on the other side of our electrically controlled security gates tomorrow morning not later than 8:45, just in case we end up with no power (temperatures just above freezing predicted) and decide to flee somewhere warm and lighted.
Nothing says "you're really living the adventure now" like the prospect of having to flee for warmth.
