Posts Tagged ‘Vicolo Wars’

Sometimes it’s better to admit defeat—especially when it appears your opponents have the upper hand (and the youth and energy to outlast you.)

I could “go full postal” on these boys, but what would that accomplish, really? If my goal is to live harmoniously with others who share this little alley with me, then it’s time I wave the white flag of surrender and call a truce.

As I sit here on my stoop waiting for the owner of this lovely dirt bike to arrive, I wonder if he’ll be open to easing our hostility and strained relations too. I’m calling for an armistice: The end of our Vicolo Wars.

This is the final chapter in the continuing saga taking place in my little alley. (Read Vicolo Wars, Vicolo Wars: The Sequel and Vicolo World War III.)


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There’s never a dull moment on my little vicolo…. (Read Vicolo Wars and Vicolo Wars: The Sequel).


I tacked the following note to the front door on the way out of town this weekend. I thought perhaps I could appeal to my drunken, vicolo-loitering, barfing teens’ sense of irony (combined with a little bit of pleading). I was wrong.

The note read, “I want to die drunk to throw up at the gates of hell.” – Jim Morrison*  This is not hell but the front of my house. Go vomit elsewhere. Thanks!

As I lugged out my trusty red bucket filled with scalding hot water to clean the remains of someone’s regurgitated stomach contents from the cobblestones in front of my stoop, it hit me! This wasn’t vomit at all, but rather a carefully placed pile of Pappardelle con ragù.

Touché, Ragazzi, touché. 

Game On!

*This quote was attributed to the late Jim Morrison, however I was unable to find confirmation that he had ever said it. It appears to be an urban myth circulating around the Italian Internet.

Vicolo Wars Update:

December 2, 2014 – Last night a young friend of mine saw the Facebook Post and photo below.  Translation: “One person in Orvieto assessed the situation with a little sense of humor.”  

It’s nice to know this young man appreciated the sarcasm.  Bravo Nicola!

Vicolo WWIII Screen shot 

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Vicolo scooter

THE SAGA CONTINUES… (Read Vicolo Wars here).

Since declaring war in my little alley things have gone from bad to worse. 

Remember the plants that I couldn’t water when motorcycles were parked underneath the windowsill? Not a problem any longer – my flowers pots disappeared one by one by one…

Flowers and sign

Rough Translation: “For the person who stole my vase of flowers. Shame!”

When the cold winter weather arrived the scooters moved out and the dog walkers moved in… 


Rough Translation: “Someone lives on this vicolo. It’s not a bathroom for your dogs.”

**(Note: Sign disappeared 5 minutes after I posted it).

Oh, how I miss the days when young girls only sat on the stoop and smoked. Now drunk teenagers scream and barf on my doorstep at 2:30 a.m. leaving broken beer bottles to step on in the morning. I admit it was sort of amusing listening through the door as a group of confused offenders discussed the sign. I think the sarcasm might have gone over their inebriated little heads…


Rough Translation: “To be young is a beautiful thing. Please be young somewhere else.” 

Vicolo War is hell.


by Toni DeBella





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