The Adriatic

My first glimpse of the Adriatic was many years ago during one of our early trips to Italy.  We were heading to Urbino from Treviso and stopped off at Rimini to have a look at the sea.  Big mistake.  The industrial zone, the huge port and the ugly concrete apartment blocks didn't cast it in a golden light.  Granted, the overcast, damp and cold weather didn't help any either, but we weren't impressed.

Later, when we lived in Ascoli Piceno we frequented the nearby beaches of Porto d'Ascoli, San Benedetto del Tronto and Grottammare.  They were easy to reach with long stands of sand and some good restaurants, but with the railway line rumbling right along the shore and the overall modern feel of the area, we went to splash and get tanned but didn't really take to it as "our type" of beach atmosphere.

Then we discovered the Costa dei Trabocchi, down south of Pescara in Abruzzo.  This is the shoreline that has the charming fishing platforms, the locale of our now-storied seafood lottery feast.  The part of the Adriatic where you can find hidden coves with few people and pebbled beaches where the water is truly crystalline and where hills with stone villages rise above the waters.  It's where there is an appeal; where you can enjoy the water and the sun in tranquility.  And where my sister dipped her toes for the third sea of the Coast to Coast...to Coast tour.

It happened sort of by accident.  We were traveling from Basilicata to Ascoli Piceno to spend a few days with friends.  Hunger hit.  We got off the autostrada to meander along the coast road and find a place to eat that didn't involve Autogrill panini (not to diss the blessed Autogrills, mind you; you know how much I love them).  But we had time, and we wanted a real meal.  And Sis wanted to see the third sea.

And so, as often happens when you're hungry in a place that you don't while traveling, you happen into a joint hoping for the best and expecting the worst.  We happened to find a surprise - Ristorante Zi Nicola, outside Vasto.  Zio Nicola was in the kitchen and lovely aromas were wafting out of it.  We ran for a table that overlooked the water, with the ruins of a trabocco below.  The guys at the table next to us heard us speaking in English and piped in a few words, asking Cara where she's from.  When she said, "Ohio," all broke into excited exclamations; they work for a company that is based in Toledo!  Ma come mai!  Che coincidenza!  And we had companionable chatter through the rest of our lunch.

Our lovely, delectable lunch.  I swear that Abruzzese cooking is some of the best in the country, and it holds true in their seafood dishes, too.  Unbelievably delicious stuff came our way.  Plate after plate of antipasto.  Then heaping helpings of homemade chitarra pasta with fishy-things.  And.  Well, we had to stop, much to the dismay of our new lunch-mates who hoped we'd keep pace through the next pasta and main course with them.  Alas, the girls had to give in and go.

But during the meal we watched the boats passing in the distance, and eventually saw a man and his son arrive at the fishing craft below.  He was showing the boy how to repair nets.  They saw us eyeing them and shyly waved.  I snapped a photo discretely.  It was such a tender scene, watching the man pass his knowledge on to his figlio.

After we ate, the restaurant owner showed us the path that leads to the water.  We scrambled down, past the fishermen, who greeted us warmly, and Cara peeled off her sandals to dip her toes in the water.  Colder than she expected, following our swim in Maratea.  I can't find her foot photo, now; sorry.  We got back in the car to reach our destination.

In the following days we visited Grottammare with my friend, Cinzia, walking along the Lungomare and looking at the Liberty style villas, but Sis agreed that the Adriatic's Costa dei Trabocchi is a special place.  A coast of enduring traditions, warm people, and fantastic food.

Me with dear friend Cinzia in Grottammare

The Med

Second up on the Coast to Coast to Coast tour was the Mediterranean.  The fabled sea that laps the shores of southern Europe and northern Africa, and flows out the Straights of Gibralter.  It is on the opposite side of Basilicata from the Ionian, and is opposite in character, too. 

Where the Ionian is shallow and limpid, the Med is deep and moody.  Steep hills tumble down to it, like they want to jump into the sapphire depths themselves for a splash in the surf.  The waves roll in with more force - the Mediterranean is felt. 

We actually made two forays to its shore - once in Agropoli, south of Salerno, where long golden sand beaches curve out from the town.  Here we parked ourselves for an aperitivo of local white wine while watching the sunset and listening to the water rhythmically make landfall.  Cara of course submerged her feet for a photo.

Cara at the Mediterranean in Agropoli

Later, we went to Maratea, the gem of Basilicata's coast, with its pastel houses, dramatic cliffs, pretty port, and unique black beaches.  Teensy opal-like pebbles -that are actually smaller than pebbles but bigger than sand grains- carpet the coves and make the water appear even bluer than blue. 

Beaches are wedged in between rock formations, involving a descent to reach them.  As such, they're pretty uncrowded.  We sunned ourselves, took a swim, and enjoyed a warm morning of beach-time in mid-September, a nice treat for my northern Ohio sister who knows that her hometown has only two seasons - Winter and Non-Winter.  September turns the tide on the interval between them.


Sunset from the hotel terrace


We spent the night in a gorgeous hotel above the sea, where the meal was memorable and the gourmet bath goodies made us swoon like the girly-girls we are.  We roamed around the delightful historic center, popped around the port (where the best gelato in Maratea is found), and took in the breathtaking views from the hilltop above.

The Mediterranean is my favorite, and the Cilento area, from Agropoli to Sapri, is the my favored destination.  Maratea is, in my Lucana-biased opinion, the loveliest resort on the coastline, with all the dramatic scenery you'd see on the more famous Amalfi Coast, without the crowds and high prices.  The road isn't quite as scary to drive, either.  My sister agreed it was the highlight beach for her, as well.


Black sand beach in Maratea



From Coast to Coast...to Coast

Summer is over, regretably.  No, I didn't spend more than a month on vacation, as much as I'd have loved that.  I returned from the US to a full onslaught of work, bureaucracy, and travel planning for an upcoming family reunion as well as a visit from my sorella.

My sister is a fearful flyer.  Not just mildly bothered, but full-out aggitated, stresses herself, cringes at every bump of turbulence kind of fearful.  Despite that, her love of Italy, desire for some sister time and need of a vacation drove her to stuff a suitcase, zonk down Xanax, and board a plane across the ocean.

She didn't have many things on her sightseeing program but was decisive about a few things:  meals she wanted to eat and beaches she wanted to visit.  Having come mostly in spring or autumn, she hadn't really been able to see Italy's coast in sunny, warm weather before.

This turned out to the be Trip of the Three Seas.  She dipped her feet into all three of Italy's surrounding bodies of water in her two-week trip.

The first was the Ionian, which flows into the instep of Italy's boot.  Located an hour from my village, it's the closest sea to us but is -I hate to admit- a fairly unimpressive flat plain flanked by concrete block towns.  The redeeming value is that there are some natural beaches backed by pines and dunes where only a few of the beach establishments are allowed, where few tourists flock, and where you can relax to the sound of the surf. 

If you head to the Ionian Sea, bypass the squalor of Scanzano and the low-class mediocrity of Metaponto and park yourself at Marina di Pisticci.  Here you'll find better exposure to breezes, long stretches of sand, and stands of woods to break the beach monotony.  Our favorite parking place is the Riva dei Ginepri, a summer vendor with thatch umbrellas, lounge chairs and a snack bar that also serves up decent lunches.  I figure if it's good enough for the guests of Francis Ford Coppola's swanky hotel, then it's good enough for me.  Or, at least, they don't turn me away.  Granted I don't get to garner one of the luxurious curtained cabanas that are set aside for the Coppola crowd, but it's a nice place to spend a day at the beach.

Dazzling white legs of sister Cara in the Ionian Sea



Cara didn't want to swim, so we strolled the shoreline, evading several medusas (jellyfish) that were washed up on the sand, and she snapped a photo of her feet in the water to prove she was at the Ionian, the soemtimes forgotten of Italy's seas.

We headed uphill afterwards to Bernalda, home of the hotel that is gaining fame to have an aperitivo in Coppola's Cinecitta' Bar, where we were warmly welcomed and graciously served by a top-notch barkeep who chose a great local white for us to try.

A piece of local gossip that we heard is that the Palazzo Margherita will soon be the site of the big-splashy wedding between Justin Timberlake and Jessica Biel (next week, they say).  We'll see if the Bernalda rumor mill turns out to have credence.

Next time...the Mediterranean.

Like the rest of Italy, I'm heading off for August vacation.  Buone vacanze, tutti!

Summertime Fun

There are a few sure ways to know that summer in Italy has kicked into full gear.  One, of course, is the heat.  While that's kind of a no-brainer, it seems that we don't really have a spring to speak of.  It just goes from cool and maybe a little damp to hot and dry in the blink of an eye.  And the heat has been rather unrelenting throughout July.  Having spent 20 years in the desert, I'm certainly used to it, and since the winter was long and snowy, I'm not complaining a bit.  But my compaesani are lamenting endlessly and thus putting themselves into the second sure way of knowing it's summer - the beach.

Everyone seeks relief at the beach.  Which means they're swarming and sweltering, especially on the weekends.  If you want to snag a spot at one of the seaside lidos that lay out ordered rows of chairs and umbrellas on a Sunday, you have to call and reserve in advance.  Trying to swim is a fruitless endeavor as there are too many people sitting in and floating on the water.  The town sort of empties out on Saturday or Sunday morning, then the beleagered sea-goers come home hotter than when they started.  Unfortunately, the Ionian coast is the closest sea to us, but its shallow water and flat plains means its hotter than other beaches.  The water is like a hot spring instead of a cool plunge in the ocean.  For that, we'd head to Maratea, a gorgeous town on the Mediterranean side of Basilicata.  But it's just far enough away to make it logistically more difficult for a day trip.  But what a world away it is from the other side!

The third sure thing in summer is that wedding season kicks in.  We were invited to a wonderful wedding in July, a sort of replay of the one we attended last year, as the respective brides are sisters.  The Angeli, as the couple is known because their names are Angelo and Angela, tied the knot in a traditional way with a fun festa to follow up the ceremony that lasted until midnight.  We're always really touched to be included in these festivities, being the newcomers to this town.

And then there's the general busyness that happens, with people coming back for visits, hanging out in the piazza until the wee hours (le piccole ore, as they say here), and sagras and festivals and concerts and theatrical productions crowding the calendar.  While it's true that August brings a work shut-down in Italy, it also brings a jam-packed line-up of events to enjoy.

I'll be missing out on some of the more merry happenings here, as I'll be traveling to the US soon.  Like the predictable Italian schedule, I'm taking my vacation in August- something I never used to do.  But when in Rome...
Buone vacanze!

Staged...Or On Stage?

Sometimes you need a change of venue to recharge, so last weekend I took a quick trip to Ascoli Piceno.  A friend offered her guest room, other friends emailed about a festa, and the lure of a couple of days back in the city of travertino was more than enough to pull me away from the computer.

My old "hometown" glistened in the sunlight, all geared up for summer and decked out with the mercato antiquariato.  I perused the stands and even bought a little rustic side table at a decent price.  Not as decent as it probably should have been - I suck at bargaining - but still, it's cute.  I hung out with friends, sipped aperitivi on the piazza and enjoyed surprising people I know with my un-unannounced presence.  It was while I was at the Festa of the Holy Thorn laughing with friends and munching on arrosticini that it hit me - it was exactly one year since I was there last...when we went while filming our episode of House Hunters International.  Time is a funny thing, my friends.  A year already?

Anyway.  It was also pointed out during that same week that a participant in the show had gone public and let loose the secret - that house purchases are already a done deal when the show is filmed.  She lamented that the producers wouldn't accept them until they closed on the house, and that the other two homes were actually friends' houses and not really homes for sale.

First of all, I'm sure you're shocked (shocked!) to learn that "reality TV" isn't totally "real".  But you already knew that, since you'd read all about our house buying adventure and *then* about the filming. I didn't reveal secrets, but those who follow the blog knew the order of things.

However.  I gotta say, I don't get her motivation.  She knew the ins and outs ahead of time; they talk you through the process before you sign the contract, so why did she participate if it bothered her?  Why didn't her realtor want to line up other listings to show?  Most of them clamor to be on it, as it gives them publicity. 

After it went all over the web, the headlines went from "staged" to "fake" as the buzzword for the show.  I'd like to chime in, having participated.  It's not "fake".  We went through a house hunting experience in a foreign country.  They contacted us about it, asking detailed questions to get our story.  And then once they ascertained that we were decent, upstanding and literate people, they asked us to recreate our story for the show.  I don't know about that participant, but our episode was a snapshot of our experience.  We tramped around town with the (then) mayor because there are no realtors in the villages (as seen on TV).  We saw a few other homes besides the one we chose (as seen on TV).  We debated the pros and cons of each (as seen on TV).  We were "on stage," if you will.  See the difference between "staged" or "faked" and "recreated"?

I don't know about your adventures in house hunting, but ours took months and we saw dozens of homes in two different regions.  I'm sorry, but no TV crew is going to follow us around for that length of time; a little *too* reality (and boring) for that.  It only made sense to us that the field had to be narrowed and that it was done; it would be a waste of everyone's time if the deal fell through at the last minute or the buyers didn't choose any of the homes. 

As for lining up the other two homes, yes, we had to do that part as the production company comes in just for the filming.  They don't know which homes you've spent the last several months viewing; you do.  So yep, we lined up the homes.  Both of which we had really seen; one of which we considered fairly seriously (it's still on the market, by the way, just in case you're looking). 

We had a great time during the filming, and while they cut out lots of great scenes of our area and friends, we realized they had to cut 4 days of filming into 23 minutes.  Our one complaint:  somewhere in the editing they mixed up some scenes, so some locations were labled as "Trivigno" when they were shot in Ascoli Piceno; some said "Ascoli Piceno" when they were streets in my ancestral village of Anzi.  Not sure if that happened after the guys had knocked back a few beers, or someone in the editing room got the notes mixed up.  But overall, speaking from our filming, it was a positive experience, we had fun, and everyone who saw our episode said it was entertaining.  And in the end, isn't that TV is supposed to be?

Our Impact in the Digital Age

I've been thinking lately about the impact a person can make on others.  I've written before how my grandparents' quiet, every-day actions helped the people around them.  A word, a card, a pie, a hand - little things that touched their neighbors and their world.

But in the digital era, it can go even farther.  Something I say online can help (or hurt) a person I've never met.  I've been touched by others' blog posts or comments and have forged friendships with other bloggers, even if we don't know each other in person. You exchange comments, emails and laughs.  You get to know a person through their posts and pictures.

This struck me with force this past week when I heard about the death of an online acquaintance.  I knew Robert Rainey through the Slow Travel forums.  We bantered on the same topics often, and shared views or dissented travel options over the past several years.  We had friends in common, so while I hadn't met Robert, I knew him.  We'd interacted.  I knew his tastes and opinions on several subjects, as well as his sense of humor.

So it came as a shock to hear that Robert had been brutally murdered in his office in Los Angeles.  He was a chiropractor, a nice guy, full of energy and enthusiasm.  And yet he was senselessly beaten to death.  Perhaps for money; maybe a drug-crazed creep.  Who knows.  I hope they find out; I hope they find the person who did this to a 54-year old caring individual. 

I read the news on Facebook in the morning, and it stayed with me all day.  I had that gut-wrenching feeling in my stomach; I shook my head at the thought, the unbelievable thought that this happened to a person I knew.  Even if I didn't know him.  I felt sorrow for his family and for those at Slow Travel who will miss his presence and his input.  I felt despair; I felt sad.

And it struck me again how we touch people's lives without even realizing it.  So I want to tell you, my friends, how much I appreciate you.  Your words, your comments, your jokes, your emails, your phone calls.  Even if we haven't met in person, you've been here with me through the adventures and trials.  And I thank you.