A Day at the Sea

Do you remember the three months we spent in the Cilento?  Before we returned to the US?  The sunsets, the seafood, the stunning villa?  We enjoyed exploring that part of Campania, but it was in the winter, when the sea was spunky and Cilentani were sleepy.

I returned yesterday for a day.  I went for work-related research.  Sometimes great sacrifices must be made in the name of duty and so I suffered the hardship and went to the sea.  It was still summery with a hazy diffused light from the humidity and a glittery gloss to the water from the sun and heat.

Santa Maria is a different town than the one we saw two years ago, partly owing to the warm weather, with tourists still laying on the beach and filling the waterfront restaurants.  But it is also more discovered than before, thanks to the movie Benvenuti al Sud that was filmed there and shed Santa Maria, along her uphill sister, Castellabate, in a very positive light.  We loved watching the DVD and recognizing all the film locations. 

Even though the high season of August is gone there was still an atmsophere of festa in the air and lots of northern European (read, very white) tourists sunning themselves and wandering the Corso.  I asked the beachside barista about the increase in tourism and she said they've seen a lot more stranieri this summer. When I asked where they came from she responded that the "foreigners" had come from mainly Milan and Torino. 

I did my research then had a nice seafood lunch, a real treat because up here in the mountains we don't get a lot of fish, apart from the dreaded baccala.  After, I whipped into my swimsuit and spent about an hour on the golden sand beach that fronts the castello, dipping regularly into the placid water to cool off.  The sea here gets deep quickly, which I like, unlike the Ionian, where you have to walk about a kilometer to reach water above your kneecaps.  I bronzed up nicely in short-order under the Cilento sun.

I drove the road towards Battipaglia that used to terrorize me because of the crazy drivers who make a two-lane road into a three-lane highway as they brazenly streak down the middle while cars on either side have to careen over to avoid them - and it seemed *almost* normal, so familiar was it.

My looks, I vainly admit, were pretty bad, being sticky from the salt water and my hair having gone all frizz-and-boing from the humidity, but I stopped off at Vannulo for *the* best gelato.  I know, it's a bold statement to make, but if you haven't tried gelato di bufala you don't know what you're missing. It was bold-flavored and so-amazingly-creamy, just like I remembered, a nice way to top off the day.  Because work deserves its rewards afterwards, right?

Five Regional Words

Remember a while back when I posted my five favorite Italian words?  And then I discussed my five least favorite Italian words?  Bryan and I were recently pondering some of the regional peculiarities of the language.  There are some expressions we hear down in these parts that we hadn't encountered in Ascoli Piceno or Roma, so today I'm giving you a lesson in southern speak - Five Southern Words:

Mo'.  This one sounds just like it looks, with a nice round O pronunciation.  Mo' means "now," as in: 
"When is the meeting?"
"Mo', mo'!"
To ask E' mo'? is a nice way of questioning, now what the hell do we do?  Then there's my favorite: fino a mo' - up til now.  I was too busy to call fino a mo'.  My friend Maria has an old Abruzzese saying, 'A mo' stavi buon'" (fino a mo' stavi bene), meaning you were doing fine up until now.

Fare acqua.  Literally "to make water," this expression is used by many of the older folks to talk about rain.  Mamma mia, quant'acqua ha fatto!  Good grief, it rained so hard!  Or for the forecast they say, sto pomeriggio fa acqua.  It's going to rain this afternoon.  Fare acqua always make me smile a little, it just sounds so old-style and quaint to my ears.

Voi.  I'd learned in language school that voi - the plural form of 'you' - is used for extreme courtesy when meeting someone important, but they never clued me in that it's used down here as a normal address when talking to someone you don't know, replacing the "Lei" form (formal 'you').  The first time I heard voi when I wasn't with Bryan (and it was clear they weren't addressing both of us) it took me a few seconds to figure out they were talking to me.  Here in the village we all pass quickly to the "tu" - informal 'you' - but out and about the voi usage pops up often.  It always makes me feel a little awkward, but I've gotten used to it.

Servizi.  While in other places servizio means service, be it customer or military, here it means "errands".  Faccio dei servizi, I'm running some errands.  It can also means "appointment" (ho un servizio alle 10:00).  When I ask my friend Antonietta what she did yesterday she'll say, "ho fatto i servizi," meaning she cleaned her house.

Passeggiata.  OK, I know, this is a common Italian word.  People everywhere take a passeggiata in the evening, strolling around the piazzas to meet up with friends and have a little exercise.  But around here to go for a walk is a camminata, while friends in the countryside will ask if we want to fare una passeggiata, meaning take a little excursion to go out and visit them.  It was a bit confusing at first because I really didn't want to walk the six kilometers to their farm.  If we say we went to Matera for the day, friends will ask, "Ah, did you have a bella passeggiata?"  Did you have a nice outing?

Then there's the local dialect, but that's a whole other language and another discussion for another time. 

So there you have 'em, a few words of Lucano-style Italian.  What are your region?  Do you have regional pecularities?


Watch a southern language lesson from the film, Benvenuti al Sud.

Other Five Lists:

My Five Favorite Towns in Italy

My Five List for Foodies

Basilicata Coast to Coast

Ours is a mountainous region.  The majority of the landscape is dominated by peaks and crags, which makes for great hiking, dramatic views, and beautiful sunsets.  The hill towns were, historically,  kept fairly isolated and so they still maintain their centuries- (or millenia-) old traditions, thanks to the rugged topography. 

What is less known about Basilicata is that it jealously cradles two little slices of coastline to give the mountain folk a break from the altitude every now and then.  Yesterday we dipped our toes in two seas on different sides of the shoe.

Maratea is Basilicata's more popular seaside resort, but it's hardly what you'd call famous.  But it should be.  Really.  It is very reminiscent of the Amalfi Coast, further north:  mountains tumbling to the crystalline Mediterranean with pastel houses clutching the cliffs; breathtaking views from insanely narrow and windy roads; fishing boats and slices of beaches.  Bougainvillea and hibiscus explode in bloom.  In a word: stunning.  But in mid-August when every strip of sand to the north of Basilicata is occupied and every hotel and restaurant is jammed, Maratea had some room to move.  It was crowded - enough to be lively and festive - but not over-run.  We found parking without circling and idling.  We found a table at a port-side restaurant without a reservation.  We even found some space on the beach to spread out our towels.

The beaches are mostly of honey-colored sand, but we went to the more exotic black beach to the south of the port.  Rather than sand, it's sprinkled with teensy black pebbles, bold against the blue water but scorching to the feet.  The reflected heat was incredible and we didn't last nearly as long as we would have if we'd chosen the more traditional beach.  However, the hillside along the water was pocked with grottoes, and you could swim in one and out another, which was fun.  Too bad we didn't have snorkel gear.

We explored the lovely centro storico, plonked down on the hill above, which is a pretty maze of pedestrian alleys and churches with vibrantly-tiled floors.  It has an air of sophistication but without feeling fussy or pretentious.  We kept ooh-ing and aah-ing as we walked about, impressed by it all.

Then Bryan wanted to take a cue from the film that was released last year and cross over to the other seaside of Lucania.  The movie, Basilicata Coast to Coast, followed a group of musicians who walked across the region to a music festival.  It was cute but thin on plot.  We drove the Val Sinni, skirting the peaks of the Pollino National Park and zipping past the rounded erosion formations around Aliano, and arrived in Scanzano just in time for sunset.

The Ionian Sea is stark contrast to Maratea.  It is a coastal plain, flat and unremarkable.  Scanzano is perhaps the ugliest of the less-than-attractive towns along the beachfront with concrete apartment blocks and nothing to distinguish itself.  Most of the towns on this stretch are unfortunately rather unsightly.  But the beaches are long and wide with softer sand, and some are flanked by nature preserves with welcome woods for shade.

We got our feet wet and took photos of the red-orbed sun as it slowly set to the west...towards Maratea.  On the other side of the country.  One day.  Two seas.  With mountains in between.  A beautiful day in Basilicata, from coast to coast.

The 7 Links Project in a Pinon Tree

Y'all know that I like me a good meme now and then, but this one is a little special - first, because I was tagged by lovely Laura, a friend on the Amalfi Coast, who had very sweet words when she named me; and second because it is sponsored by Tripbase, which had previously given me an honored spot on their List of European bloggers.  How could I resist this one?

My 7 Links Project aims to "unite bloggers in a joint endeavor to share lessons learned and create a bank of long but not forgotten blog posts that deserve to see the light of day again."  Fabulous!  It was fun to go though the ol' archives of posts past and peruse them again.  There were a lot of things I'd forgotten about, so a little trip down memory lane is always nice.

So here we go...My 7 Links in the categories selected by Tripbase:

1.  My Most Beautiful Post

The first one to jump forward in my memory bank was the tribute I wrote for my maternal grandfather when he passed away.  I don't mind telling you that re-reading Farewell Old Fart brought tears to my eyes all over again.

2.  Most Popular Post

Far and away the most popular is the Nutella Day contribution I made back in 2007.  I still get lots of hits on that Nutella Birthday Cake.  Note to self:  get your rear in gear to participate in World Nutella Day next time around!

3.  Most Controversial Post

Hmm, I've never really taken on anything controversial, though I did get a couple of kinda gentle 'dissenters' with my post, To Be a Paesana.  That's about as controversial as it's gotten around the Pinon Tree.  Maybe I need the rattle the nest a bit more?

4.  Most Helpful Post

I can't decide if my most helpful post was Pricey Post:  How To Mail Stuff to Italy, which is important for those of you who love us and want to give us gifts.  Or, Are You Dreaming of Italy, which is helpful for those who...well, dream of living here.  So I'm naming both because, 1) they are both helpful, and 2) I've been writing this blog for a long time and think I should be able to name two if I want to.  (Am I stirring up controversy yet?)

5.  A Post Whose Success Surprised Me

I'd have to say that the number of hits and comments on Wanted: New Residents did take me by surprise.  For those of you still dreaming, read the article mentioned above...then come visit.  They're still asking for some new blood around here!

6.  A Post Which Didn't Get the Attention it Deserved

One that I would have considered "important" and that didn't seem to generate much interest was A Day of Remembrance.  I thought the link to Dear Davide would have illicited more emotion (it sure left me bawling).  I think with the frantic pace of newsbytes and the insanity of celebrity "news," the real tragedies and lives that need attention get pushed aside.  It's just sad.

7.  The Post I'm Most Proud Of

 Hard choice.  I'm going with The Last Mule of Anzi, partly because it shows the continuity of tradition that is still alive here in the south, and partly because famiglia and friends in Anzi enjoyed it and were proud of it, too. 

I'm not tagging anyone specific because, looking at the impressive list, I think everyone I know has already been included!  If not, I don't want you to feel left out!  Play along - and let me know that you've posted!

I'm in Demand!

First there was the filming with the crew from House Hunters International.  Then came an email from a Milan-based photographer who wanted to meet us and see our village.  Now I've been interviewed by two really cool sites.  I feel so *wanted*!

If you aren't already a regular listener to the Eye on Italy podcast, you should be!  It's a great show with insights into the politics and culture of Italy, always with interesting guests.  It was fun talking about Basilicata with Michelle, Sara and Jessica.  Thanks for having me on the show, girls!  Hop over and have a listen to me in all my Ohio-accentedness (I *really* hate listening to my own voice!)
Eye on Italy podcast

Italian Reflections is kind of like a general store - there's a little bit of everything.  Travel links, news and tidbits about all things Italy, interesting guest posts, and of course, food and wine.  It's a cool place to peruse.  But one section that sets it apart is dedicated to expats and expat-wannabes.  There you'll find links to blogs and websites and info on where to procure products from home.  There are also interviews with expats, which is great; when we were planning our move it was very helpful to hear from others about the joys and pitfalls of such a transition.  They emailed the questions and compiled my responses.
Italian Reflections Interview

Go.  Listen.  Read.  Report back.
:)

It's a Boy!

My family has a long history of naming cars.  I don't know how it got started, really.  It's just something we've always done.  As a kid I remember Blanca, the white Chrysler that happily toted us and the hibachi to the beach.  My mom kept that hibachi in the trunk all summer long, to be ready whenever the opportunity struck for an improntu picnic.  There was a Buick, whose name I can't recall.  Then there was the lemon of a Dodge Caravelle, whose name quickly became P.O.S.  It was a real rattle-trap, but did manage to transport my sister safely to New Mexico before dying an inglorious death.

I've told you about my cars before.  My first car was the Chrysler Cordoba, a gas-draining behometh that could easily take ten of my friends cruising.  He was named Juan, because of course a Cordoba deserved a Spanish name.  We had a Suzuki Samurai (Suzy- very original, no?)  that was a lot of fun in the mountains and for tootling around town in summer with the bikini top (on the car, not me).  And of course, you know all about Arnold and his unfortunate mishaps. 

Here in Italia we become the parents of Guido, a dependable little Fiesta who was miraculously resurrected from the dead to serve us well for another year.  But he is now good and truly infirm and we can't expect him to live much longer.  His doctor even said costs will outweigh the effort. 

And so we went in search of another car- something reliable, economical, with good gas mileage.  Bryan will fill you in on the search and procure mission.  I didn't have much of an opinion on make and model.  My only stipulation was that it not be gray.  The vast majority of cars in Italy are gray, for some strange reason.  It makes it difficult to find the sucker in a parking lot.  And it's just so...boring.

We went to Rome to pick it up, catch up with our dear friends, Giorgio and Francesca and see their son (my fratello Romano) Valerio perform in an open-air venue.  All the way back to Basilicata I tried to identify the personality of the car and give it a name. 

Like my parents when they named me, it took three days to decide.  It just didn't look like a girl to me, so we at least decided on gender.  But then the names...well, Italian names often have a way of sounding kind of elegant, noble even.  This car is a working-stiff kind of car; an average Joe.  I also couldn't give it any of the widely diffused names of the region.  There are just too many Antonios and Micheles already, and besides, someone might take offense.  They already think I'm a little weird for naming the car in the first place.  There was a bit of debate, most of it in my own head because Bryan tends to not give a dang.  His family has no such tradition.

In the end, we decided on Enrico.  Here he is - the new kid on the block.  He's kinda cute, don'tcha think? 

Weddings, Southern Italian Style

So if you have visions of My Big Fat Greek Wedding when you think of southern Italy and matrimonial festivities, you'd be pretty much right on.  Which sort of makes sense since this part of Italy was, once upon a time, part of Magna Grecia.  There are bound to be genetic traces and traditions still floating about these villages. 

It all started back in November at our festa di ringraziamento when Elisa and Giuseppe told us to mark July 2 on our calendars as we'd be invited to their wedding.  Elisa was the first to befriend me and introduce me into her circle of amiche.  Giuseppe did the same for Bryan, so his little gang of guys that meets at the bar for a beer is now Bryan's posse.

The festivities started just over a week prior to the matrimonio with the pre-wedding parties, one for the guys (a meat fest) and one for the girls (a little raunchier, with an {ahem} anatomical theme running through the evening).  No dancers, just good (mostly) clean fun to embarrass the bride and groom respectively and give everyone an excuse to get together and eat (like they need an excuse for that, this being Italy).

A wonderful tradition here is the serenata.  On the eve of the wedding, the groom and his guys gather in the piazza and, accompanied by musical friends, stroll through the village to the bride's house while playing folk music and gathering friends along the way.  The groom calls for the bride to come down and accept his hand, but she plays coy, while the band plays and sings to coax her.  Our lovely bride gave in easily and came down quickly; others aren't so merciful, we're told.  We heard of one sposa whose mother threw water on the groom, not a very noble beginning, I'd say.  Music, dancing in the street and - a nice touch by Giuseppe, fireworks - rounded out the serenata.

Bright and early, when I went for my cappuccino, the guys were dressed in their suits and on the street taking pictures.  Okay, maybe not that early, since I'm not a real prima mattina kind of girl, but you know what I mean.  About a half-hour before the ceremony, Bryan hung with the boys while I went to the bride's house where a crowd was gathering to accompany her to the church.  We all followed the beautiful Elisa in her bridely glory, walking through the village to the church.  Just like in a movie.  No one enters the church until the bride arrives, then the big doors are opened and everyone streams inside. 

The ceremony was like most wedding Masses.  Vows were exchanged, joyful tears were shed, rice was thrown.  The guests flowed down to the piazza to wait while pictures were being taken.  Nobody goes to the reception until the bride and groom are ready, then they follow along, forming a snake-like parade down the hill.  The couple stopped at the cemetery to lay flowers on their fathers' graves, as both padri had passed away, a lovely gesture, but the parade didn't want to pass them and so the windy road that leads to our town was completely blocked, a line-up of cars backed up about a mile of the hairpin curves. 

The reception hall in the next town over is rather fancy-like.  They  have ceremonies down to a science, and served up gorgeous plates in synchronated rhythm.  It was as well orchestrated as a Broadway production, but tastier.  Truly impressive.  We sat down to eat at 2:00 p.m.  We got from the table to dance at about 8:00 p.m.  But the food wasn't finished; because why stop at 3 plates of antipasti, 3 primi, 2 secondi and cake when you can also roll out eleborate tables of sweets and fruit and gelato?  After a couple of hours of dancing, they brought out pizza and porchetta. 

Everyone asked if "this is how you do weddings in America?"  Yeah, right.  None that we've attended, though some of the music and the old ladies dancing together did remind me of some of my cousins' receptions that I remember attending when I was a kid.

We departed at about midnight, but not before the happy couple presented us with a gift.  That's right; in Italy, the bride and groom give gifts to the guests.  We're not talking about kitchy party favors, folks.  We're talking a really nice pair of china espresso cups and saucers.    

It was a fabulous party, one that we're told is pretty typical for this part of the country.  The bride and groom will be departing for their honeymoon tomorrow...in America.  Nice; a couple of Americans celebrated their vows, and now they're off to America to celebrate their bliss.