Community

Many years ago when I was still an active language teacher, we had our first exchange between Bristol Central High School and the Lycee Jean Monnet in France.  The chaperoning teachers stayed with me while the students were housed with their American peers.  The whole point was not only to practice language skills, but also to experience what everyday life is like for families in another country, to become for a short time a member of the community. 

The Sunday after the French students arrived, my neighborhood volunteer fire department was holding their annual pancake breakfast fundraiser.  What better way for my French colleagues to see what small town Connecticut was like?  So we headed out around 9 am and walked to the firehouse where friends and neighbors, young and old, were involved in selling tickets, offering door prize  chances, cooking, serving, and cleaning up.  We were enjoying our blueberry pancakes and sausages when suddenly,  Josie, my dear friend and colleague, started to cry.  Not sobs, just quiet tears that gave me pause.  What was wrong?  In her most endearing way, she explained that she was just so moved seeing a community come together to work for the good of everyone.  She seemed to feel that her small town in France was not capable of showing such unity (an opinion with which I disagree, having spent many weeks in that same small French town), and that seeing the different generations and races working together was inspiring and she was moved to tears.  It was the sense of community that she was experiencing and that caused such emotions.

Last night, in the neighborhood of Pantanari, I had a similar experience.  In years past, Pantanari has been on my walking route.  About a kilometer down our steep hill brings us to the frazione of Pantanari, one that has had problems similar to those of us in Ioffredo and Castello.  There has been repeated flooding and many parts of the neighborhood are at risk when it rains heavily.  I had always noticed a ruin of a church, Santa Maria di Monte Vergine, but never really gave it much thought.  This year I hadn't walked that route; it has been so hot that the idea of a challenging, hilly walk was just too offputting, so I wasn't aware of the repair works that had been going on.  But work was indeed happening, volunteers putting in their time and money to restore the church, and last night was the celebration of its reconsecration.

There has been a church on this site since 1370, when it was first documented in church writings.  The original church and many subsequent iterations had been destroyed, by fire, flood, earthquake, and time.  The church that stands there now dates from the early 1700's.  It's a tiny church, able to hold maybe 100 people, with an impressive wood beamed ceiling, some remnants of early frescoes, and a beautiful altar painting that dates from the 1770s. 

The reconsecration of a church is a momentous occasion, and one that was looked forward to for months by the people of Pantanari.  At 7:00 pm, the ubiquitous marching band struck up its first notes.  They were followed by the procession of priests, deacons, altar servers, and finally, the archbishop of Benevento who paraded from the sacristy to the piazzetta in front of the church.  Don Antonio Raviele, a distant cousin, acted as MC for the evening.  I have very fond memories of Don Antonio.  In 1982, he baptised my daughter Marta, the first time he had performed that sacrament.  I remember a handsome, tall, slender young man with a thick head of jet black hair.  Now 37 years later, he is still a handsome man although quite a bit heavier in the middle and lighter on top.  His gray hair is very thin and he does fill out his priestly robes more than in 1982!  He has a soft, soothing voice and he explained all the different steps that the Archbishop had to perform to allow this church to reopen.

There were chairs set up in the piazzetta and by the time the process began they were all taken.  Tables were set up on the other side of the piazza, waiting for the refreshments to be served after.  Balloons and banners festooned the whole area and there was a spot on the front of the church where a simulcast was being shown for those who couldn't fit inside the church.  It was small town Italy at its best, everyone coming together to celebrate the years of work to repair the church and the realization of the dream of so many.

First the Archbishop blessed the water, then finally unlocked to doors to the church.  At the altar, he put on a special "apron" and then  proceeded to anoint the altar with holy oil., massaging the oil into the marble altar top, making sure every spot was covered.  Then there was the igniting of the incense so the interior of the church could be purified, the anointing of the various crosses with the oil, and many other steps.  Don Antonio explained the meaning behind each ritual and clarified what was happening.  Whether one is religious or not, it really doesn't matter.  The devotion of the people who were witnessing and participating in the ritual was moving.

I sat towards the rear of the piazzetta and had a very good view of the whole process.  As night fell, a cool breeze wafted through the crowd and made me glad that I had worn a long sleeved sweater.  Then the moon rose over the craggy heights of Mount Pizzone and shone down on us all.  It was a transcendental feeling with the breezes, the moon, the music, and the beautiful church coming back to life.

At that moment, I felt like my friend Josie.  I was moved to tears, not because of a religious devotion but because of the beauty of a community coming together to celebrate the completion of a common goal.  In Italy today, community seems to be in short supply.  It's a very divided country, not unlike my own.  But at moments like this, we can see the unity that can come about when everyone works for that common goal.  I feel blessed to have been able to experience these moments, if only as a spectator.  Community is what we must embrace. 

The Belvedere

A few years ago I wrote a blog post entitled "Why Italy Makes Me Cry".  It was about how, when blessed with such natural and man made beauty, the people of Italy all too often not only ignore it but deface it.  I found it sad that while the interior of every home I have ever entered has been spotlessly and meticulously clean, the outside areas and public buildings are littered with garbage and graffiti.  If only a small fraction of the attention that is paid to their private spaces were dedicated to the public spaces, Italy could truly be a remarkably beautiful country.  Sadly, I see very little progress in that regard.

As we exit the Nazionale (the main artery that takes all traffic into the Valle Caudine), the off ramp is strewn with plastic bags tossed recklessly from passing cars.  Discarded tires, mattresses, and all manner of litter adorn the route to Cervinara.  I don't know how much of it is from local traffic and how much is from those just passing through....it just indicates a lack of civic responsibility on a national level.  Not all areas of the country are as egregiously littered as the region of Campania, but graffiti abounds everywhere and it is clear that there is much progress to be made regarding respect for the environment.

So yesterday as we were planning a small excursion, I decided it was time to finally go up to the Belvedere of Nazareth.  I had seen signs for this spot for years but we never bothered to follow through and scope it out.  But we had an open day with nothing on the agenda, and it was beautifully clear and relatively cool, so we headed up into the hills.  Coppola is not the area we usually climb.  It's another mountain that leads out of Cervinara and we had never gone up in that direction.  We followed the signs until, as is typical, there were no more.  But knowing that we had to go up, we followed a relatively steep road that became full of the twists and turns that we have come to expect.  After five or six hairpin turns, there it was, and it indeed was a Belvedere (beautiful view).

There was a large statue of Christ set on a rock pedestal.  Arms upstretched, he looks down on the valley below as if giving a benediction.  Carved into the surrounding rocky outcroppings are sculptures and inscriptions, all reflecting the beauty of the area. 

Unfortunately, along with the beautiful view came the disappointing lack of care and respect that this spot should be provided.  The bench meant to allow a restful place for contemplation was in disrepair, but I could handle that.  It's a wooden bench exposed to the elements and, while in need of some sprucing up, it still was able to do its job.  But the litter and dirt surrounding the viewing area was sickening.  Empty cigarette packs, cigarette butts, paper and general detritus, and of course the ubiquitous used condom were all present.  Nothing huge, nothing that couldn't have been easily brought home in one's car (well except maybe the condom!), but garbage that was just carelessly tossed away without a thought for those who would follow, to say nothing of a general respect for the purpose of the area. 

Coincidentally, my friend Francesco, who happens to be one of the biggest supporters of Cervinara and its beauty, also happened to go to the Belvedere yesterday.  He posted pictures of the area showing the sad state it is in and expressed his rage at how thoughtless his fellow residents were.  He routinely comes up here to clean the area but it continues to be abused and disrespected.  I didn't take pictures of the trash, preferring to remember it as the lovely area it was intended to be.  But the images remain in my head, the anger remains in my heart, and a lack of hope for what this country will become remains embedded in my soul.  Italy can do better.  We can all do better.  It's not that hard.  So just do it!

A Little Night Music

Cervinara is a small town and oftentimes it seems that there's not a lot to do here.  Sometimes that's true!  But in August, there is l'imbarazzo della scelta for fans of festivals and music.  And we are especially lucky when those events are held in our lovely Piazza Elena, where the fountain and plane trees and the Palazzo Marchesale provide a lovely and quaint backdrop for these public events.

During one of our first stops upon arriving in town at the end of July we picked up a little pamphlet with a listing of all the events scheduled for the month of August.  Cervinara Sotto le Stelle (Cervinara Under the Stars) is the slate of performances and processions that await the vacationer to our little town during August.  There is something for everyone....classical music, popular cover bands, religious processions, theatrical performances, and even operas and marching bands!

My first show this year was a band from Taranto, a port city in Puglia.  Every town of any size has a number of brass bands that are hired for everything from functions of public entertainment to funeral marches to wedding celebrations and more.  This band was quite good and the audience enjoyed a selection of works from Rigoletto by Giuseppe Verdi.  Everyone knows La Donna E Mobile and the Rigoletto sextet, but one of my favorites is Questa o Quella, where the Duke who sang about how women are fickle goes on to sing This One or That One, it really doesn't matter, because all women are essentially the same.  Shame on him!

Something that takes some getting used to is the ambient noise that accompanies any outdoor performance.  We've gone many times to Tanglewood where even in that casual atmosphere there is a general quiet in the audience and a respect for the performers.  But here, children run free through the piazza, waving their laser swords and blowing bubbles from their electronic bubblers, complete with music and flashing lights!  The occasional dog wanders through the seats.  People get up to smoke and chat with friends, and conversations continue throughout.  While some in the audience try to give the evil eye to the worst noise-makers, it's generally considered the norm to have these distractions.  I've gotten used to it, as have the musicians apparently, because they continued through their repertoire without batting an eye.  And, even though they are not actively listening to the music, I have to believe that it is sinking in to the little folks who are running around and that little by little they are developing an appreciation for the music of their heritage.  This was evident by the reaction of one little fellow who, at no more than 18 months or so, kept rushing the stage to get closer to the musicians and who did his darling little dances in time to the music that charmed us all.  


There have been other performances and we look forward to participating in others, along with the religious processions that accompany the national holiday of Ferragosto.  August 15 is a national day of rest, fun, picnics, and music.  While this is the Feast of the Ascension and an important day in the Catholic church it is more often now an opportunity for families to get together for a "grigliata", for a game of soccer in piazza, or for an evening of music.  Cervinara Sotto Le Stelle is a festival for the whole month and we are lucky to be able to participate!

Wednesday

Happy Wednesday from Cervinara!

Anyone who has been here for a visit or who knows us even slightly, knows that Wednesday is market day.  We love our little market and have made a weekly pilgrimage to pick up our necessities and to "window shop" at all the stands.  A couple of years ago I wrote a post about an indiscretion we committed, when we opted to make a purchase from a different vendor than our usual one.  We were duly chastised and given a slightly chilly reception for a couple of weeks until all was forgiven.

Today was our first day back and we were so happy to see our regular clam guy, our regular olive guy, and our regular "any gadget you may need" guy.  I particularly like the olive fellow.  He greets us with fist bumps, he gives us tastes of all his olives (he knows our tastes and is usually spot on with his recommendations), and he's always ready to throw in a few more items just because he's that kind of guy.  It was no different today, even though we've been away for almost a year.  It's always a happy reunion when we get our first taste of those fat, green olives!

The fish vendor has a new young man handling his customers.  He wasn't aware that we are weekly regulars and he actually had to ask us what we wanted.  Our usual fellow would start bagging our clams as soon as he saw us, and he too would throw in a few extras because of our loyalty.  We'll break this young giovanotto in! 

We have found a new fruit/vegetable vendor, and I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.  This woman is funny and pushy, she laughs at how I speak Italian with an accent, and has the best produce around.  Tiny eggplants, salad tomatoes with just the right amount of green on them, grapes, peaches, melon....you name it, she has it.  It's like shopping with the Italian version of Bette Midler with the added bonus of some really good products.  Plus she's right across from olive man so it's like one stop shopping!

If Wednesday is market day, it's also spaghetti with vongole day.  I think this is why we come back here every year and stay for as long as we do.  Nothing beats the tiny clams that cook up quickly in some garlic scented olive oil, some white wine, and a hearty sprinkle of peperoncino.  The clams are small and sweet and taste of nothing but sun and sea.  I've tried more times than I can count to reproduce this perfectly simple dish at home, and it's pointless.  It's not that we don't have good clams in Connecticut.  After all we're not an hour from the shore.  But the big Quahogs that we have are tougher, and just don't have the special flavor of our little verace clams here.  I officially invite anyone who knocks on our door on a Wednesday to join us for lunch.  You won't regret it!

Shopping at the market is a remnant of the past here in Italy.  There's really no need for it to exist anymore, as shopping malls and big super markets have popped up everywhere.  But we cling to this bit of tradition, just as we do with our itinerant vendors who drive their trucks laden with merchandise up into the hills here to serve anyone who isn't able to get down to the stores.  The relationships we have here will never be replaced by someone who mindlessly scans our items at the Lidl.  We become part of the community when we support our local vendors and then we become friends rather than just customers.  I don't know how long these traditions will continue, but I hope it's as long as we continue to come to our beloved Cervinara. 

Buon appetito!

Hiccups

Well we are back in the hills of Cervinara, sweating through a big heatwave.  They say it should break soon, and personally I can't wait.  I'm sitting in our local bar where air conditioning is non-existent, and I feel like I need to put an umbrella over my computer to protect it from the sweat that is raining off my face!  Fortunately, the house is always pretty comfortable, and a fan keeps the air moving.  By evening, we are always able to relax and enjoy a bit of company in the shade of the house.

Our trip was basically uneventful, and that is all we can hope for now.  When we boarded our plane in Bradley Airport we were dismayed to find that we were directly across from the loo, against a wall so there was not even a millimeter of space to recline.  Yikes!  Fortunately I have a resourceful husband who went in search of empty seats and found a whole row available.  We scooted our butts up there real quick before anyone else scoped it out.  Made for a very comfortable flight.

But what about hiccups?  This first came to mind as we were waiting to board our Aer Lingus flight in Bradley.  I was working a crossword puzzle when I heard what sounded like the worst hiccups ever, the kind of body wracking spasms that are painful.  I looked up and saw a big man with shaved head, gauges in his ears, and sleeves of tattoos sobbing in the arms of a young woman.  These were the sobs of such sorrow that my heart immediately broke for this young fellow.  He was someone whom I might have wanted to avoid if I met him walking down the street, and yet here I just wanted to reach out to him to offer him whatever solace I could.  I can only imagine the loss he was feeling and what was awaiting him at his destination.  I was brought up short at the prejudice that I might have felt and was reminded that even under the most hardened of appearances we are all just one step away from painful losses. 

As we were walking through Dublin airport to get to our connecting flight, we passed a woman sitting on the floor in front of an emergency call box. The contents of her purse were strewn around her and I could see some diabetes tools among them.  She was with her husband so I knew she would be taken care of, but as someone who recently had a health "hiccup" in an airport, one that caused us to miss our flight and to spend a day in the ER, I felt for her.  As we age I find myself thinking more of how we are all susceptible to unexpected health issues and I am grateful for every trip that we are able to get through without complications!

We arrived in Naples at Capodichino airport and then....we sat.  It took a good 20 minutes for the stairs to arrive so we could disembark.  We finally got on the bus transport to the terminal, went through passport control and headed to the baggage pick up area where.....we waited, and waited, and waited some more.  It was very crowded in the room and yet strangely silent.  None of the carrousels were working.  Finally our "nastro" started rolling and about 30-40 suitcases came through, including one of ours.  And then it stopped, and we waited, and waited, and waited some more.  Again, everything was idle.  After half an hour things got rolling again and we were able to gather our last bag and head out. 

Italy has a charming tradition called "lo sciopero a singhiozzo" or a hiccup strike.  They work, but only part of the time.  Of every hour, maybe 30 minutes is spent on strike.  It's not really enough to bring things to a screeching halt, just enough to drive you crazy!  Fortunately for us, that was the last hiccup of the day and everything else went smoothly.  But thinking about the "hiccups" that I witnessed during this latest trip, I had to admit that ours was pretty minor.  We weren't suffering the loss of a loved one, nor were we having a medical emergency.  We were inconvenienced, and that is the kind of hiccup I can handle. 

Health and happiness to all, my friends.