Man in the Iron Mask

We are on a farm in Piscina di Pinerolo, a small smudge on the map about 20 miles southwest of Torino. The farm clings to the side of a mountain, which is the first foothill that meets the relatively flat plain below. This means we have an excellent view off the back porch. At night, it looks like a blanket of stars laid out below us, with all the lights from the towns and cities flickering in the haze. The work here is harder than on our previous farms, but they have horses and that makes everything ok for me. Not that I've personally done much work, since I spent most of the last week in bed. I'm finally feeling better, but getting over the flu has been an uphill battle.

Today we drove to Pinerolo with our host's son. He said there was a festival going on, and it turned out to be a yearly event celebrating the Iron Mask and the mysterious man inside of it. Pinerolo is one of those political footballs, a piece of territory that gets passed back and forth between two countries every hundred or so years. During the 17th century, it belonged to France, and it's prison hosted the mysterious man for several years.

The festival consisted of booths selling knicknacks and a lot of performers dressed in period costume. We wandered around the narrow streets for several hours, coming across demonstrations of period weapons, instruments and peasant life. As we walked up the steep hill to the main church, we came across a particularly thick crowd of people, all standing around the former prison. There was a man inside wearing an iron mask and of course we couldn't resist shoving our way throw the throng to get a photo. Allegedly, the actor each year is a different famous Italian. We didn't wait around to find out who, because the march down to the main square and the unveiling were not until much later in the evening.

On a side note, muskets are wicked loud. We had just picked up cups of Vin Brulee (wine with spices) and were walking down the hill when we happened upon an "execution." I wasn't expecting the gun shot when it happened (also we were only 15 feet away) and I *almost* spilled the cup of hot wine on myself. Sheesh.