No Smoke without a Fire

Disclaimer: no people or animals were injured for the sake of this story. However, it does involve destruction and mayhem.

Last night, as Michael, Jeremy, and I were walking back from our ballroom dancing class, we smelled a peculiar burning odor that resembled burning rubber but with a slight difference in my mind. We thought it somewhat odd, but continued our way home. After all, there was nothing to see.

Since it was Michael's parents' last night with us, Michael and I stayed up later with them just chatting. The odor made itself present in the house, gradually getting stronger (to the point of being annoying), but since the windows have VENTS in them to allow airflow for when you have a fire, again, we didn't think anything of it...we just figured the smell was coming in from outside.

Michael packed for his trip to the US today, we got ready for bed and then went to sleep.

The next thing I knew, Florence had opened the door saying, "Mummy, SO sorry to wake you, but I think there's a fire in the chimney." What a polite fire alarm, yes?

I went stumbling out (it was three!) blearily, and there was definitely a red glow coming from inside the chimney as well as a whooshing sound. Hmmm. Come to think of it in retrospect, we had seen some odd falling embers that night, and in fact I had determined to call the chimney sweep today. Go figure.

A few minutes of indecision: would it burn out on its own? What exactly IS the fire department's number? Does one call the fire department for this sort of thing? The buildings are masonry, after all.

There is not a unified emergency number here. For fire, there's one number; for police, another. There's even a three-digit "easy" number for the tax department! As it happens, fire is 115. I chatted with the fellow on the other end of the line and tried to explain. But I didn't really know the correct word for the tube of the chimney ("canna fumaria" as it turns out), or "falling embers" or several other helpful expressions that one does not learn in basic daily conversation.

At this point, we were also hearing some random thumps, as though individual rocks or chunks of wood were falling...maybe 10 minutes apart?

The helpful fellow on the other end of the line asked one of us to hang out outside to let the firemen in and to help them see where we were. Michael had already stuck his head up the chimney for a diagnosis, and he thought that the apartment above and next door was on fire...which of course means that it was in a completely different palazzo that you enter around the corner!!!

Michael waited for the three lovely firemen who came quite quickly, and brought them upstairs. We showed them the aerial view using Google Maps to explain where the apartment probably was. Did we know who owned that apartment? Of course not! "Are you renting here? Yes? Who owns the place? Oh, Martorelli? Yes, call him right away."

Tried the cell phone, no response. Looked up in the white pages, but the address didn't seem right to me. The #1 fireman looked and said, "Yes, that's where they live. Call that number." I tried to explain to the rather sleepy woman on the other end of the line who I was and that I needed our landlord, at which point, our fireman took the phone: "Oh, Zi..." which is dialectical "Hi, auntie!"

Yes, our landlord's nephew answered the call for the fire department. After some consultation as to who owned the neighboring apartment, "Oh, yes, I know them" from the fireman (and a good bit of eye rolling and gesticulating on the fireman's part in his efforts to get off the phone!), the trio moved around to the other palazzo. Nothing loath, Michael and Florence followed them to give me and Ashley updates.

Night security guard talking to Florence

At one point, Michael heard, "We found the door, and it's hot!" and lots of bustling started happening. During this part of the excitement, the night security guard drove up and had to know what was going on. He then proceeded with his job, which consists (I think) of making sure that no one's shop has been broken into and leaving little notes in the businesses saying that he's stopped by.

Michael and Florence reported that the smoke was billowing out of the chimney above, and across the steps of San Fortunato.

Florence, Oreste, and Fireman

Another fire truck arrived. Oreste arrived. Another car arrived, I think with the owners of the apartment. Lots of movement.

Lots of excitement for a small town

Eventually, things calmed down and it was time for the aftermath. Or the beginning of the aftermath.
It turns out that one of the supporting beams for the ceiling of the apartment next door and one floor up protruded into the chimney. Presumably it had been fireproofed, but the cement had fallen off over time or whatever fireproofing it was had degraded.

Anyway, it had been smoldering as a result of the heat of our fires, and perhaps it had been degrading over the course of several days. No one will ever know that part for sure.

Once the beam had deteriorated enough, it collapsed with part of the ceiling onto the bed below. The mattress and bedding caught fire and resulted in quite a bit of damage.

We were strictly enjoined NOT to burn a fire until all the repairs have been done. We all signed documents (done using blue carbon paper!) to say that we understood this. Oreste and I had to produce "documents" (meaning identity card), and he got a right telling off for not having his with him, but rather his driver's license. How dare he not think of his identity card when leaving the house at 3 in the morning?

So, this is what happens when you (or your neighbor) has a house fire in Todi.

Love,

Alexandra

p.s. It's now several days later (Friday as opposed to Wednesday in the small hours) and I happened to see the big fire truck driving down the main road (the corso). Out of curiosity, I looked to see if I recognized the firemen...as I looked up, I saw all three grinning and waving at me exuberantly.