How To Help

*Updated April 16 with additional avenues for assistance*

The worst part of watching the horrible news with the astounding images and staggering numbers of dead, injured, and homeless in Abruzzo is the feeling of helplessness. We are not that far away and yet we can't go there and offer solace or comfort, or pitch in to dig through the rubble.

However, several organizations have mobilized to offer assistance. A small donation of cash or blood can be an invaluable comfort to the tens of thousands who are mourning loved ones and lost homes. Here is how you can help:

The National Italian American Foundation has set up a special relief fund, and donations from the US are tax deductable.

The Croce Rosse is the Italian Red Cross; donations can be made online.

Caritas is one of Italy's primary charitable organizations, operated by the Catholic Church. Donations can be made by bank transfer.

If you are in Italy and want to donate blood, the AVIS blood bank wants you al più presto!

*Updated April 12**
If you would like to make a donation by credit card, you can call +39-023-498-0235, a hotline sponsored jointly by Corriere della Sera and Gazzetta dello Sport, two national newspapers.

From within Italy you can send an instant 1 euro donation from you cell phone credit by sending a text message to number 48580.

*Updated April 16*

Save The Children has entered the tendopoli to assess the most pressing needs of the children, to make sure they are properly clothed and housed, and to try to get them back to school as quickly as possible.

Another way for travelers in Italy to donate is through the SuperEnalotto. Sisal, the company that administers the lottery, has introduced a special ticket game with proceeds to go to the quake victims. Tickets can be purchased in increments of 1, 3, or 5 euro from any outlet that sells lotto tickets, indicated with the SISAL logo on their signs.


Despite the destruction and broken lives, there are some heartwarming stories emerging, too. Hop over to Italian Notebook for a short sampling.

Thank you all for your emails of concern...they were most touching.

Rome Trembled

We have been receiving a lot of phone calls and emails from worried friends and family. Rest assured, we're fine. The earthquake that struck central Italy this morning woke us up, as the building moved and the wooden floor of our sleeping loft squeaked and swayed. In my barely-awake state I thought, gee, that feels like a tremor, but dismissed it. After all, we were in Rome where seismic activity is not very common. We had felt several tremors in Ascoli Piceno where the mountainous terrain is more conducive to shakings and rattlings. But Rome?

When we woke up again at 7:30 am we heard the horrible notizia of severe damage and tragic deaths in the region of Abruzzo. It has grown progressively worse throughout the day as more bodies are discovered, more destruction detected. Compounding the situation is the damage sustained at the L'Aquila hospital, requiring partial evacuation of current patients and leaving some victims outside to be treated in the courtyard. The images are heartbreaking, and our thoughts and prayers go out to those grieving, hurting families.

From the video and photos I have seen, the newer buildings were just as susceptible as the old stone structures. When the earth moves out from under you there is no differentiation.

Bryan talked to a friend in Ascoli who said the tremor was very strong but there were, thankfully, no problems there. Sant'Emidio is being hailed again for saving the city from destructive earthquakes.

Diane slept while Rome trembled. Too bad we all awoke to a nighmare-ish situation affecting so many. it is so strange to realize that thirty seconds can change the lives and landscape of an entire city.

Postcard From the Road

Hiya! No, I haven't flown the coop and abandoned the nest, despite the lack of blogish activity around here lately. I've been on the road, for the first time without my trusty laptop in tow. I gotta say, I feel its absence. I had hoped to post as we went along, but I was thwarted in my good intentions. The computer in the apartment we used in Cupra Marittima didn't accept my memory stick, where my documents were handily stored and subsequently trapped. Then we arrived in Roma, and the enormous internet cafe that was conveniently placed near the apartment in which we are lodging has suddenly taken flight and disappeared. Strange, as the place was always packed. I decided to let my bad technology karma rest and just give up trying for a while.

Bryan's sister and her husband have been loads of fun. This trip is their first to Italy and we have enjoyed seeing the bel paese anew through their first-timers' eyes. It brings back memories of our first couple of trips, mouths agape, eyes full of wonder and awe at every turn, and tastebuds oooh-ing and mmm-ing at every bite. Oh yeah, and feet aching after long days beating the cobblestones.

We spent a week in the Piceno where we showed them many of the places we love, took them to our favorite restaurants and a small winery and even got them invited to a friend's birthday party. They liked seeing the countryside and life in a smaller city before their introduction to Roma.


Roma, the Eternal City, is crammed with crowds, but the gorgeous weather and the fabulous front-row seat we're enjoying from our piazza-side apartment makes up for it. Watching the boisterous bustling in the Piazza Barberini is better than any TV show or action flick. We've witnessed it all - amorous couples, angry mammas, tired tourists, police processions, harried commuters, and sidewalk cafe activity, along with a fender-bender right beneath the window. We tear ourselves away to visit the monuments and churches, but when we are in the apartment two or all of us are voyersistically viewing the drama.

Diane and Brian depart tomorrow, and we'll miss them. Seeing them see Italy has reminded us yet again why we love it here.

Vagabondi

Read all the way through for an important announcement.

It seems so long ago that my former landlord declared us vagabonds because of our frequent travels with family and friends. Not long after we arrived in Ascoli we had a rush of visitors and found ourselves sempre in giro to show them around, a not unwelcome task, I might add. Dorina told us that we should just invest in a camper instead of paying rent to her. Now I sort of wish that we had taken her advice.

This past week we departed The Villa that we had been so hospitably offered and arrived in Rome a couple days ago. Unfortunately (for us, fortunate for our hosts) the villa had a last-minute booking for the week of Easter, and the owners needed to complete some work in a hurry to get it all prepared for the season. It will be fully occupied with weekly guests until the end of October. We had to vacate a couple of weeks earlier than originally planned, but we certainly can’t complain.

Besides, I was getting very homesick for Ascoli, and the timing works out well, with the arrival of Bryan’s sister and her husband for their first visit to Italy. We will be spending a week near Ascoli showing them our adopted hometown and are excited about introducing them to the beauties, flavors, and fun in our corner of the country.

But after that…boh! You see, we will be vagabonds for some time to come. When we lost our lease and left Ascoli for our house-sitting gig, we had fervently hoped for some change of fortune and brighter bank statements. Unfortunately, la crisi economica that has plagued our homeland has hit home here, too. While I continue to hold out hope for some sort of work opportunity (hey, I believe in miracles!), we are, in all practicality, having to plan for a return to the US, barring divine intervention.

I don’t want to go. Really. Don’t. It has been an extremely emotional decision. My heart went into denial mode for a while, until it could no longer ignore the reality of the little drips of water pinging in the nearly-empty well that is our savings account. The well needs replenishing and the current drought is filling it up none too fast. We considered becoming briganti, but sort of figured that highway robbery would void our visa.

Facing these facts also made us realize that we want to spend the next couple of months seeing a lot of the places we had been putting off, always assuming there would be time to get there, so we will truly be vagabondi as we cruise around the southern regions.

Our vagabond status will follow us “home,” if you can call it that, since we don’t *actually* have a home in the US, and don’t know where we will end up. But as Scarlet said, “Tomorrow is another day!” and we will cross that ponte when we reach it. This will be a temporary repatriation; as soon as we can kick-start the coffers, we will be high-tailing back to Italia; you can count on that!
For now, and the next couple months, we will wish for that camper Dorina recommended we buy as we roam around and explore points south.

Benvenuti Primavera

Yesterday ushered in Spring but apparently the calendar forgot to inform the clouds. While it turned windy and cooler with some rain here in Cilento, our drive into Basilicata transported us back to winter. In Brienza we were welcomed with about two inches of the white stuff. Follow lunch, we exited the agriturismo to find fluffy flakes falling steadily.

What a far cry from just a few days ago when we explored Amalfi and sat outside jacketless, enjoying lemonade and conversation with Laura (who is just as smart and sweet as you'd expect from reading her blog). After the rollicking ride along the infamous, twisty road, we found bright lemons the size of melons and the air profumed with an intoxicating blend of citrus, flowers, and sea air. While wandering the stepped streets we saw dozens of people enjoying gelato, taking in the sun, and even saw one woman swimming (obviously not Italian!), and thought surely Spring had settled in.

So while the calendar says Spring, the wind and cold tell of a different season and my winter coat is not being relinquished quite yet.

Who Are The Foreigners?

Bryan and I were able to sit on the other side of the table (metaphorically speaking) last week when we made a trip to the Motherland. We hadn't been to my ancestral village for a while, and my cousin was anxious for us to come for a Sunday pranzo.

We had a nice visit and a nice meal (always yummy down there). Following the feast, we sat at the restaurant urgently trying to fend off Michele's unyielding insistence of "grappa, more wine, just a little more dessert..." when a group of ten arrived. They exchanged customary buongiornos, milled about deciding which table in the nearly-empty restaurant to occupy, and started inquiring about local specialties. Obviously not locals. Even if their ignorance of the food hadn’t clued me in, the fact that they weren't acquainted with with my cousin sealed it. He is the only cop in a town of 2,000 souls and everyone knows him.

“Turisti, qui?” I asked Melina. They don’t get a lot of out-of-towners, especially in the winter. But apparently a small, nearby ski slope attracts day-trippers from surrounding regions. “Pugliese,” she said matter-of-factly. After listening to them talk a few more minutes, she stated, “Yep, from Bari.” She pegged their accents. I, sadly, still cannot distinguish regional accents. I can often make out that they *have* an accent, but don’t know one region’s speech patterns from another’s.

One of the guys approached the table to ask where, specifically, they were. The one he chose to address his question to, as apparently looking the most knowing, was Bryan. Much to the glee of everyone else, since Bryan quickly informed the guy to ask the others, as he, being American, couldn’t give him the best advice on directions and road conditions. Word quickly reached the bar area in the neighboring room, and cackles of laughter filtered our direction.

As we walked through to leave, the barista slapped Bryan on the back, still snickering, muttering something about Baresi not being able finding their way out of a paper sack and then asking the only americano within a 100-mile radius for directions. As we left we heard the barista passing the word on to a newcomer, with fragments of the "stranieri" being addressed...towards the Baresi.

I felt a little bad for them; they seemed nice enough folks. But I have to admit, it was also nice to be sitting on the other side of the table for a change, to be the ones *in* on the joke instead of the objects of the jokes and speculations for a change. For this day, at least, the foreigners weren't us.

Bella Napoli?

On Tuesday we took advantage of the gorgeous day, and our locale and train connections to make a jaunt to Napoli. It is one of those cities that polarizes; you either love it or loathe it. Staunch supporters will fight to the death to sing its praises, like my friend Luciano, who hails from the fair city. He will frequently effuse about the glories of his bella citta`, but when asked why he lives in Ascoli Piceno instead of his hometown, he quickly says, "Well, it's beautiful but I couldn't live there anymore."

I confess that I had been on the other side of the fence. I spent one wretched day in Naples on one of our earliest trips to Italy. Admittedly, the heavy rain did nothing to cast a beautiful aura upon the place and made it difficult to get around to see much of anything. The fact that my stepfather drove into town, got us very lost in less than stellar neighborhoods, where we were nearly killed three times over by red-light defiant motorists didn't put the town or inhabitants into a rosy light. And, while the Archeology Museum that we'd ventured into to town to see was impressive, the addicts shooting up outside of it tarnished it all for us. After that, whenever I saw the requisite pizzeria in every town named Bella Napoli, I would question, "oh really?"

But, living a relatively easy train ride away pushed us to give Naples another chance. We arrived right in the centro and hopped a bus to the seafront castle to follow a sort of self-guided tour that Bryan had staked out for us. We didn't have a list of truly "must sees," but instead had a route that would take us past some of the more important sights and monuments. For me, wandering the streets and getting a "feel" for the town is more important than rushing through museums or churches.

We had a gloriously sunny day. It was warm enough for just a light jacket and the Mediterranean shimmered and rippled. The clear outlines of Capri and the Amalfi Coast loomed. The enormous main piazza saw teens and dogs basking in the warmth while grandmothers pushed baby carriages. I was already starting to see the "bella" part of the often quoted statement.

We visited the imposing castello and the church of San Francesco, which borrowed heavily from Roman monuments like St. Peter's and the Pantheon. We meandered in the districts known as Quartieri Spagnuoli and Spaccanapoli, both of them tight grids of insanely narrow streets brimming with life. Countless rows of laundry criss-crossed the alleyways, fluttering like a boat's regata flags. Motorini rocketed around, even in the areas marked "pedestrian zone," not bothering to slow down for said pedestrians or oncoming scooters, but instead sounding their horns to tell us to jump out of their way. The constant cacophony cascaded through the canyon-like alleys, minging with the shouts of vendors and the din of a hundred TVs and conversations that tumbled out the windows.

We visited ancient ruins, a few pretty churches, and rode one of the famed funiculars (while humming that old song Funiculi Funicula). At one corner, while thrusting ourselves against the wall to avoid being plowed down by a motorino, the vegetable vendor started chatting with us. We asked him for a good place to have lunch, and he directed us to his sister's little restaurant. She happened upon us just then, so we followed her while she told us of their specialties that day. We enjoyed a nice plate of freshly prepared spaghetti alla vongole (delizioso). Before leaving town, we managed to fit in a vera pizza Napoletana and some of the local pastries, known as baba`.

We mostly marveled at the place. Naples really is unlike any other city in Italy. It is Europe's most densely populated, and it shows. It is full, and fully occupied. There is little green space, few parks, and unlike many Italian cities, boasts few piazzas. It is dirty - though not from the much- publicized trash crisis, but from millions of people, tourists, buses, cars, dogs, motorini and businesses all converging together in daily life in a compact space.

Napoli is full of contrasts. It is a place that both charms and intimidates. It attracts and repels in the same instant. It is full of beauty and full of chaos. There is daily drama, wafting music and filth occupying the same space. A vast sea and towering mountains define its boundaries yet it is squished in with streets so narrow the sun doesn't penetrate.

So did I like it? Yes. And no. At the same time.