Family legacy in Treviso

It’s been three years since my romp around Europe with my best friend Laura, but the memories of our day in the highlands of Italy are still as sharp and as warm as if they weren't even memories at all. My friend is of Italian descent, so we thought it would be adventurous to hunt down her relatives, and the house her nonna grew up in. Being pressed for time, Laura hadn't written, but we had obtained an address and phone number in Crespano del Grappa - halfway between Milan and Venice, in the mountains.
We somewhat sheepishly called the number from our hotel, neither of us knowing enough Italian to be able to order a coffee, let alone explain who we were or how exactly we were related. After some confusion, they picked us up and brought us to their home, excitedly exclaiming “Gli occhi Valentini!”
They showed us around the farm houses, the one they lived in, and the older barn, the reason Laura sharply clutched at her Olympus PEN – the house her grandmother grew up in. The dust had settled quick thickly on the cupboards, and one could feel the breeze coming through the holes in the walls, but my attention was centered on Laura. Haunted tears appeared in her eyes as she gently slid her fingers along counter-tops and bedposts; her family had suffered much due to the wars, a familial pain that I couldn't share in. I sidled back outside, and was immediately surrounded by smiling cousins with innumerable hands, who guided me through the long yellow grass back to the house, who proceeded to try to teach me to cook.
After some time Laura joined us, where we ate pasta, drank far too much wine and played countless games of Mr Squiggle with all the younger cousins – we didn't understand a word of what was said around us despite our dictionaries and best efforts, we missed four buses back to town before we could communicate how late it was, and one of Laura’s uncles was adamant we were Austrian rather than Australian. The day had been truly remarkable – it was much quieter and slower than our other days of travel; we didn't see great monuments or visit a historic landmark, but we did experience a wholly unexpected connection to strangers, we did face the chasm between the generations, and we did leave that day with a greater understanding of the history of the culture … plus also a mild hangover. But hey, it’s Italy. Salute!