Our New Life, A Shared Destiny (La Nostra Nuova Vita, Un Destino Condivso)

A chance meeting at a place where neither of us really planned to be. . . I wasn’t yet a real estate agent, but was attending some training in advance with the brokerage I planned to join. Mark was already an agent, but was with another brokerage. Somehow, on a Friday, we both ended up at a location we had never been before. The second he walked into the room, I thought I already knew him, he looked so familiar. As it turned out, I had seen him on TV… Mark was in a commercial I had watched many times. We hit it off immediately. The rest is history.

After a wonderful year together, we are so excited to share with all of you that we “tied the knot” yesterday!! We look forward to sharing our adventures with you!

 

Jo

 

Il Divorzio and Villa Velina

I know, it’s like I fell off the face of the earth . . . Some of my loyal followers have written asking me about my current status, having noticed my absence from this blog or picked up on changes on Facebook, so . . . here’s my long overdue update. I have actually had a very busy year. Regular blogs about life in The Mezzogiorno will resume once again after a few transitional updates.

The Divorce. Yes, it happened. No, I never thought this would be something I would experience. But unfortunately, last year at this time I realized it needed to happen. A decision like this is not one you make lightly (troppo leggera), although to outsiders it may appear that this was the case or that it was all too “sudden” (improvviso). Well, let’s just say that not everyone drags all of their friends and relatives through drama, trauma and pain for many months or years before making this decision . . . some of us just deal with it swiftly once we admit to ourselves there is something amiss. The upside of talking about your impending divorce with everyone before doing it is that everyone else is prepared (rather than shocked). The fallacy here is that they are not the ones who need to be prepared. In fact, most of your friends become so sick and tired of hearing about your impending divorce that they actually beg you to get the dirty deed over with. The downside of having the knowledge of an impending divorce hanging over you for months or years before taking action, is the severe emotional toll it takes during that time and the fact that you are delaying moving on with your life and after all of that negativity, you still have to go through the actual divorce. And people say the court system is slow!

Look, in this marriage, fun was had and companionship and adventures were shared. If you’ve been following this blog, you’ve read about some of that. We enjoyed and appreciated many of the same things. But honestly, there were just some recurrent, underlying problems I would classify as communication differences and unconditional acceptance issues, which to me are two areas that carry a lot of weight as far as harmony and happiness go . . . I was actually attending therapy sessions alone specifically to address what, if anything, I could do to resolve these issues, but it really does take two . . . I respected that everyone doesn’t believe in or feel comfortable using therapy as an aid for relationship issues, but I was just tired of having the same disagreements over and over and never being able to work together to resolve them.

Since NO ONE (nessuno) was “in the know” in advance of my decision, that made me an easy target for all kinds of speculation the day I didn’t return home – had I gone “off my rocker”, was I having a “mid-life crisis”, or even speculation that perhaps there was some sort of mental diagnosis involved. I assure you, the only thing happening here was that I was securing my future happiness and perhaps my soon to be Ex’s future happiness (I sincerely hope that’s the case). I had, by then, already taken all possible steps needed to be sure this was the right decision for me (relationship therapy alone for almost a year, etc). The exercise of vacating my marriage without prior notice to any/everyone who may have wanted to know, provided me with a very clear picture of who “gets me” and appreciates me for who I truly am and also showed me very clearly who chose to judge me. Those who fall in the “gets me” category saw this coming before I did. These people all contacted me immediately upon becoming aware of the pending divorce to show their concern and make sure I was okay, but none of them were shocked. They knew me to the very core and innately understood why this wasn’t working for me. In fact, each of these dear friends provided encouragement, upon learning the news, commenting that I hadn’t been my normal happy self for a long time. Thankfully, I can count the dear friends category as the majority. On the other hand, it was eye-opening to me how a few people (who appeared close to me) to this day have not even concerned themselves enough to ask me “what happened, what went wrong?”, or offer any kind of support. Perhaps this is a tell-tale sign of a “judger”? Maybe they didn’t need to ask, as they had already decided how things were in my marriage. Or, in all fairness to them, maybe the appearance of suddenness shook them to the core, leaving them with a lingering concern about the destiny of their own marriage or relationship. After all, we looked like such a happy couple . . .

You see, I don’t just believe that marriage is something to endure. I believe it is something to treasure and enjoy. It is about a total give and take, ying and yang. It is about each person totally accepting and loving the other for who they really are and what they are really like, not who each wants the other to be. It is not about obeying . . . it is about sharing and cooperating. I knew what this felt like . . . I had that before and I wanted it again. Stay tuned for a love life update!

Villa Velina. Okay, now for the important part of this blog. I’m sure you’re all wondering what the fate of Villa Velina is as a result of the divorce. After doing much soul searching, I realized that I did not wish to give up Villa Velina. I am just not finished with my adventures as an albeit part-time resident of Castelnuovo Cilento. I love the people and the geography of that particular area along the Cilento Coast and I have much more living to do there! I have so many really good friends there now and I really feel grounded and at home there. And so I retained sole ownership of Villa Velina in the divorce settlement. New adventures coming!

Ciao,

Jo (Oxley)

 

Manca l’Italia (Missing Italy)

Today, I’m going to stray from my chronological story about finding, purchasing, furnishing and vacationing in my Italian villa.

It has been six months since our return from my most recent trip to my beloved Italy and I am manifesting all of the symptoms of Italia-itis:

  • Thinking constantly of Italy
  • Talking constantly about Italy
  • Suddenly speaking in Italian to innocent bystanders
  • Waking up with the Italians  . . . this has been interesting
  • Cooking authentic Italian dishes in authentic style (no Americanized food here)

Beware, should you visit me during dire “manca l’Italia” times, you may be subjected to lengthy sessions of viewing my many photos or subject to listening to our ramblings of all things Italia. My apologies to anyone I may have bored. . . but I ask for leniency, as this is a documented illness. You can leave Italy, but Italy never, ever leaves you!

Most recently, I have really, really been missing the real Italian cooking. I don’t care how many “Italian” restaurants you may dine at here in the states, you will be hard pressed to find a truly authentic one. There are a few, and you will find in almost every case, they are currently owned by someone who recently immigrated directly from Italy. However, the short list is further limited by removal of the above restaurants who have modified their recipes to please Americans, rendering their offerings less than authentic.

My response to this has been to cook the real Italian meals I crave. Recently, I enjoyed a meal of Spaghetti con Vongole and Tiramisu, both authentic and totally homemade – right down to the spaghetti – ask my friends John Iannotti, whose job was to separate the individual spaghetti strands and place them on the drying racks and Jean Iannotti, whose job was to chop and prepare the very many ingredients for the vongole sauce. These poor innocent victims who were my guests at Villa del Mare in Florida had absolutely no idea they were stepping into a Culinary Studio Experience that required their participation!

Here is the process and results of the Villa del Mare Culinary Studio Experience:

Fun was had by all! And let me just say YUM!!

I will be happy to share my recipes for the pasta, vongole, tiramisu and limoncello martini with you for your enjoyment (for free). Just comment below with your email address and which recipes you would like! I still have a “day job” . . .who could afford to buy the pasta making apparatus without one? . . . so please allow about a week to receive the recipes.

Ciao!

Gio

(Jo Oxley)

Felice Anno Nuovo!

I want to take this opportunity to thank all of you for joining me on my Italian adventures during this past year. I officially launched Mezzogiorno Living at the end of November 2015. Since that time, ML has received almost 4,000 views from Italian lovers spanning over 60 countries! Thank you for your loyalty as we explore The Cilento and Beyond and stay tuned in 2017 for new adventures.

I can feel good things coming in 2017 and I wish you all the best year ever! Keep positive and follow your dreams! Create the life you want to live. Refuse to get caught up (mentally bogged down) in anything that does not lead you toward your dream life. Keep an open mind. Don’t eliminate anything from the realm of your possibilities. Never say “I can’t do that”.  Dare to dream without boundaries and if a crazy idea, thought or opportunity presents itself – dare to seriously consider it!  And trust God. Life doesn’t always work out the way you planned, but there is always something good to be taken away from every situation.

Eight short years ago, I was faced with a life altering event – the death of my beloved first husband from ALS. As many of you know, events like this can have a devastating effect on a life. Or you can take the experiences and lessons learned and live your best life going forward. 

The choice belongs to all of us – Lemons or Limoncello??

I’ll take the limoncello!!

Love, Giò

Until Next Time, Villa D’Amore (Fino alla prossima volta)

I awoke gently to the special sound of one of our local bird species “who who who who-who . . . who who who who-who” and the church bells down in the valley. The realization that today was the day I depart Villa D’Amore to return to the states poured over me like a bucket of ice water, propelling me to jump out of bed and savor my last views of Monte Stella, my beloved valley and sea.

This would be the first time I would be traveling the SP430 detour return trip on a Saturday the first weekend in September and I was concerned about the traffic we may encounter as the remaining Italians returned home from an extended vacation.

I got showered and dressed and enjoyed my last fresh white figs and biscotti as I savored my final moments in my beloved Villa D’Amore.

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Next, came the part most difficult for me . . . the covering of Villa D’Amore. I drape all furniture to protect it from the dust while I am gone. This action meant the next step was walking out the door fino alla prossima volta!!!!! And fino alla prossima volta could never be abbastanza presto (soon enough) in my book.

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In spite of my ruminations that I may stay, soon enough I were in the car and in the thick of the beach traffic as I passed all the bufala mozzarella azienda casearias (dairy companies) along the way. The Mozzarella di Bufala Campania has been granted the status of Denominazione di origine controllata (DOC). The provinces of both Salerno and Caserta in Campania are the traditional areas that produce bufala mozzarella. As I passed store after store, I want to buy it all and take it home!

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For a quick lunch, I settle on an Auto Grill near the Ikea in Baronissi, a bit north of Salerno. I had been to many Auto Grills before and love them, but nothing could have prepared me for what I encountered this time – a Wild West themed fast food burger joint.  I am not the type to go to Italy to eat American food, so this was not good news, but I found it amusing and enjoyed the Italians enjoying it. I chose a wonderful caprese panino from the regular counter. Although, of course not as good as a regular restaurant, you can never go wrong at an Auto Grill. I am always amazed that you can buy full bottles of wine there (for your drive?).

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As I continue my drive towards Fiumicino, I pass Vesuvius and my very favorite cypress umbrella trees. . . I take picture # 1,004 of these trees, saving more memories for my departure.

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Soon enough, I am nicely settled into my airport hotel, where all I can do is wait to be processed out of Italy. Why? My mind keeps asking me. I don’t have a good answer.

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Before I know it I am preparing to land in Philadelphia with another chapter of Italian memories recorded forever in my heart.

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Bella Italia!!

Gio (Jo Oxley)

Giorno di Mercato (Market Day)

I awoke this Friday morning, my last full day at Villa D’Amore this visit, with a plan for the morning’s activity in place. As I surveyed “my territory”, I could see that it would be a perfect day.

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I head to town early to catch breakfast at Isola Verde and enjoy the energy of the Marina due to the additional surge of activity. Isola is much busier than usual with everyone from the usual beachgoers to a group of ladies all dressed up for market day.

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Each Friday morning, Marina di Casalvelino is abuzz with activity as the market moves into town. The food vendors line up along Canale Tufolo from Via Velia to Via Lungo Mare and the household goods, clothes and shoe vendors set up across Via Lungo Mare in the parcheggio (parking lot) by the beach.

Everything you need for survival in The Cilento exists at the Friday Market, and then some . . . fresh fruit and vegetables, wonderful local bufala mozzarella, a wheel of parmesean, baccalà, and olives along the Canale. Across the street, you can find everything from Italian playing cards to bras to trash cans and tablecloths. In other words, tutti e niente (anything and everything)!

After a leisurely colazione (breakfast), I stroll the market, deciding what to buy and enjoying every second of my interactions with the locals. The produce was very reasonably priced and there were definitely deals to be had. I want to buy all of it, but I’m are leaving the next day, so sadly there is no way I can consume it all. I purchase a shirt for 10 euros and a deck of Italian playing cards, totally different from American cards. I will have to learn the games.

Keeping with my normale style, I take a break at our local hangout.

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As I relax and recount the fun morning at the market, I consider options for my last afternoon in Casalvelino. I decide to visit my favorite beach club in Ascea, Poseidonia, to have lunch, relax and enjoy my “last supper” in the Mezzogiorno.

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It’s tough eating incredible food and drinking fine wine right on the beach, but I’m up for it . . . later, it’s time to nap on the beach.

Ciao!

Gio

Castle Hopping in Agropoli, the Gateway to The Cilento

On this particular morning as I awoke, I thought “I want to visit Agropoli, I haven’t been back there since I opened my bank account”.  Now, that brought back memories of a very interesting day in the middle of my vacation to Capri, Sorrento and Positano . . .to keep a long story very short, I saw the inside of bank the first time I went to Agropoli. (See Planes, Cars, Ferries and Buying Villa Velina for the details of how that first visit went and my interesting Italian bank dealings.)

Agropoli is the largest town nearby, about 18 miles nord di Velina, with a population of about 20,000, so it was like going to the big city for the day. I headed out of town and hopped on the SP430 northbound to Agropoli for the 40 minute drive. Before the rainy season of the winter of 2013-14, this would have been a fairly quick trip on a very limited access road. However, just after I visited Villa D’Amore for the very first time over Thanksgiving after purchasing it, the skies broke open that winter. It just poured and poured and the beautiful limited access highway that I drove once to view my home for the first time and again over Thanksgiving week, simply caved in and washed away at a spot between Agropoli and Velina.

I was horrified as I learned of this unraveling weather event. It just would not stop raining! I found myself nervously pacing back in forth in my home in Pennsylvania; I felt so helpless. My friend Maria kept me informed and I was also connected to some local Italian sites on Facebook that would post articles and pictures. I kept trying to figure out exactly where in the road this break occurred. To put it mildly, I was devastated! I had just barely learned how to get to my new home, which was rather isolated, however connected to civilization by a highway. Now the highway was broken (strada rotto)!! From a distance of 5,365 miles away, I could not begin to imagine the twisted route I would be forced to take as a detour. Believe me, I tried figuring it out via Apple Maps, but it sure wasn’t obvious. I were hopeful that they would just get it fixed. . . then I heard those words – Not. Possible. It seemed these two words were used to describe whatever someone in Italy did not want to do or could not do for you, from exchanging dollars to euros at a bank to opening up a bank account to fixing roads . . .just fill in the blank.

It appeared that the section of the road that gave way was elevated (as most of this highway was). It was on pilings and the ground under these pilings was, well, saturated to say the least. I spent hours translating news articles from Cilento Notizie, a great news site with a FaceBook page. To my horror, my detective work revealed that liquefaction was involved. This is a process by which water-saturated sediment loses its strength and acts as a fluid, like when you wiggle your toes in the sand at the edge of the water by the beach. This is also terminology found in earthquake glossaries, although it was not an earthquake that caused this damage.

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On the way down from Roma, the detour began just after Agropoli at the Agropoli Sud Uscita (exit) and continued until just before the tunnel at Prignano Cilento. It seemed very long, the first time I took it. The detour on SP45, travels along the edge of the mountain that the SP430 was built to avoid. If you are afraid of heights, let’s just say you won’t enjoy a ride in the passenger seat for the southbound journey. The guardrails, when present, are interesting. If that is your seat, and you’re scared of heights AND you have trouble KEEPING.YOUR.MOUTH.SHUT. as cars pass on narrow winding roads with plenty of blind hairpin curves that don’t always have guardrails – I suggest using a blindfold. It’s not a great idea to scream and scare the driver on roads like this.

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At any rate, traveling a new road always seems longer the first time. Have you ever noticed this? By the second time, you know what to expect and how long it will take and that knowledge seems to make it feel shorter.

In spite of the detour, before I knew it we were approaching Agropoli and following the signs to Centro Storico, normale for me. There were many one way streets that were getting narrower and narrower. This is a sign that you are very close or maybe already in the Centro Storico. At this point, the fear that you may get stuck or lost in the labyrinth of roads kicks in, as backing out a twisty road barely narrow enough for your Fiat, isn’t fun. I came to a “T” in the road and the signs told me the Centro was to the right, so I turned left to search for parking, not wanting a “narrow road encounter”. Luckily, as the road I was on descended down a hill, there was a nice, large parcheggio by the beach and marina! I parked the car and noticed everyone had parking receipts on their dashboards, but there was no sign of where to get them. After walking around and asking the workers at a restaurant, I finally located the central parking meter about a quarter mile away.

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As I was figuring out how exactly to get into Centro, I spotted a Farmacia. I had been trying to find one that was actually open (when I was nearby) for a couple of days now. I had been trying to shake off a sinus infection, and felt I was losing the battle. So, I went inside and waited in a short line to talk to the pharmacist. Although I did not speak very much Italian at all at that time, and he did not speak very much English at all, we managed to communicate and he “prescribed” a medicine for me and then had it all wrapped up like a gift.

I continued walking up the hill and to the left and found a beautiful street lined with shops that swept up upwards and morphed into a very wide, gradual staircase.

Signs guided me along the way . . . although the historical center was my goal, this one sign presented a particular challenge (I love gelato)!

In spite of the temptation, I did not follow the sign to the gelateria, but continued my upward climb. As I reached the Portico to the Borgo Antico, I looked to our left and saw my car parked far below.

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As I climbed higher, my journey was rewarded by more breathtaking views. I will never tire of viewing slices of scenic beauty cropped by edifice antichi (ancient buildings).

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One of my first stops was the Church of Santa Maria di Costantinopoli.

Continuing on my upward climb, the Angevin-Aragonese castle, Castello Aragonese, was my ultimate goal. The castle standing today was built on 6th century Byzantine foundations. I couldn’t wait to see what was in store for us along the way, as the the promontory on which the Centro Storico stands has been inhabited since Neolithic times! There were so many wonderful buildings, views and doors along the way, it was such an interesting walk  . . .

As I reached the castle, I was rewarded with gorgeous views along the sea, looking to the north of Agropoli.

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I walked the castle, imaging how life was back in the day.

The view to the south from the top of the castle was amazing.

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And upon leaving the castle, another surprise “historically cropped” view awaited us. I imagined an intruder who, after miraculously scaling the foreboding walls of this castle, was forced to “walk the plank” to his death . . . if you had to go, I thought, this was the way to do it. At least your last memory would be fabulous. Many have gone before us with lesser visions just prior to their final journey to their ascent or descent, whichever they had earned.

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Not yet wishing to leave my newly discovered Borgo Antico, I decended from the castle and found the perfect bar to sit and relax while recapping yet another perfect day in my beloved Cilento.

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Ciao!

Giovanna (Gio)

I Tre Gufi . . . The Three Owls

Having just completed my drive through La Strada Rotto, I decided it was time for some liquid refreshment. Arriving in Pisciotta was interesting; I barely blinked and I was already out of town and doing a three or so point turn on the narrow road to retrace my recent path and locate parking. I found a piccolo parcheggio (small parking lot) immediately on my right and pull in. While it had three levels, there were only about six or so spaces per level and maneuvering around the turns proved to be “not very possible”.  But I managed to make it work and the car was now parked.

Resolving one problem immediately revealed the next as I could not determine how to pay for the parking, as there were no machines or attendants. Fortunately, a gentleman returning to his car came along that very moment. Once again in part Italian, part English and part charades, I managed to communicate with him and learned that I would need to walk into the main piazza and pay for the parking at the bar and get a biglietto (ticket) to place in my car. Until I returned, how would they know that I was planning to pay, I wondered? So, not wanting to get a ticket along with another opportunity to visit Posteitaliane to pay it,  I hightailed it over there to buy the ticket, returning with the strangest looking parking receipt I had ever seen. It was issued on the honor system. I paid for the amount to time I thought I would need, but I would need to indicate the time my parking began by filling in little circles with a pen on each of the one hour tickets, just like taking the SAT exam.

Pleased with that I had navigated yet another interesting Italian experience, I headed off to do my thing . . . explore the town and discover the best it had to offer. As I exited the piccolo parcheggio and strolled to the main piazza, I could see why we almost missed it completely. The town was on two hills with the main road (and only road that could be traveled by car) cutting through the middle. To the left was the main piazza and to the right was a staircase – yes, only a staircase that led to the other side of town, with tables from a restaurant lining the beautiful stairs. It was so inviting, but I held out, opting for the Centro Storico instead.

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I spotted the sign for Centro Storico (the historic section) when I went to the bar to pay for the parking, so I knew it was to the left beyond the piazza.

The main piazza was mostly in the shade at this time of the day and all of the locals were gathered in various groups talking, sharing stories and smiling. I never fail to enjoy these Norman Rockwell-esque scenes I frequently encounter in the small towns of the Mezzogiorno.

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As I neared the back of the piazza, the gradual upward slop abruptly ended upon entering the Centro Storico. Just before the climb up, I came upon this beautiful Osteria, but sadly it was not yet time for lunch.

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The views off to the left of it were stunning, and I had not even climbed a staircase yet (note, I did not say hill)! I could see the peninsula of Palinuro jutting out into the sea.

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Then, I began my initial ascent into the beautiful historic area. I walked all around and did my usual “official town photographer” stint, enjoying every second.

The initial climb up was a bit steep and I encountered small, tank-like vehicles with actual tank treads that were used to make deliveries to restaurants and shops up the staircases. Very. Interesting.

At the one edge of the Centro Storico, I were rewarded with a gorgeous view for my efforts. Little did I realize, the best was yet to come.

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As I climbed the last remaining stairs, I discovered the pinnacle and crown jewel of the entire Centro Storico – I Tre Gufi!! Our jaws dropped as we took in the amazing view and I felt so lucky that I had explored before choosing my lunch destination. Before my eyes lay a stunning “bird’s eye” view of the beach town portion of Pisciotta. As many ancient towns often do, Pisciotta had both a coastal town and a hill town to escape to whenever the Saracens, or any other unwelcome breed decided to ravage their seaside towns and women.

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Once again, I found my magic place in yet another beautiful town as I ascended onto the outdoor terrace of I Tre Gufi feeling privileged as though I were entering the Gates of Heaven.

I lingered over a very long lunch of fish, roasted potatoes and a wonderful arugula salad with parmesan and walnuts and finished pranzo with an incredible light and moist lemon cake, wishing I would never, ever have to leave! By now, I realized that I was taking longer than I probably covered for parking. “Non ti preoccupare, nessun problema” (don’t worry, no problem), the owner told me. “La polizia sta anche mangiando il pranzo ora, in modo da non disturbare la vostra macchina.” (The police are also eating lunch now, so they won’t bother your car)

Oh, and did I forget to mention there was plenty of wine flowing? I would need that for facing the broken road on the way home! Va bene . . . I could certainly say d’accordo to that!!

Ciao!

Giovanna (Gio)

La Strada per Pisciotta (The Road to Pisciotta)

In my quest to visit all of the towns along the Cilento Coast, on this particular day I chose Pisciotta, a hill town a bit south of me. By the map, Pisciotta appears to be just down the coast from Ascea, a beach town near us. Conveniently, I identified a fairly direct route, which is rare considering all of the mountains. I had discussed the possibility of driving to Pisciotta via this route with my Italian friends, and a concerned look crossed their faces as they cautioned me that “la strada è pauroso” (the road is scary).

As I sat at Isola Verde having breakfast, I pondered my options. Shall I take a chance on the more direct, but scary route, or drive inland and pick up the SP 430 to drive way out of my way around huge mountains and then out to the coast south of my destination, only to drive north quite a distance. I bravely opted for the “scary route” because it would take me on “new turf” which I always prefer.

The beginning of my route was familiar as I drove to Ascea, but as I got to the edge of town, I took a turn away from the sea. In Ascea, the road directly along the sea, ends at Baia Tirrena, a cliff that juts out to the edge of water. The road was small (narrow) as I climbed up above the town, but it remained on a relatively straight path with some wiggles along the coast.

Suddenly, the road took a sharp turn to the left as I headed away from the coast to follow the side of a hill inward as a valley jutted in from the sea. As I turned, I first looked across to the other side and instantly decided not to believe what I thought I saw, because as I quickly glanced into the upcoming hairpin curve, I could see this already “small” road narrowed significantly AND a couple of vehicles were on their way toward me from the other side. Based on the size of one vehicle and the road below, I was not sure we could safely pass each other. With a steep hill on the left and an equally steep drop-off on my right, there was nowhere to go. This could involve backing up for quite a distance until a place in the road is reached that is passable. And I am basically NO GOOD backing up hills with a stick shift. So, this is what our friends meant . . .

I allowed myself to absorb what I saw for a split second. There was a visible gash in the road for quite a distance. It appeared that half the road was gone! Most likely, some of this already extremely narrow roadway had fallen down into the valley below and the road was in the process of being repaired. All of this right before the point where the large hairpin jut into the valley is over and we would be back out to the edge of the cliff approaching the sea again. I just couldn’t even begin to imagine how two vehicles would pass . . .

My mind came back to the present as I was bottoming out in the inside of the valley in the middle of the hairpin curve and I could now see the rather large (by Italian standards) black SUV barreling towards me towing a small boat!! We each slowed down and pulled to our respective edges of the road a bit. By this time, I was on a straight section of the road and we both made it without further maneuvering. I breathed a sigh of relief. Now, all I had to worry about was “la strada rotto” (the broken road). A good Italian driver does not allow his or her mind to be bombarded with multiple stresses at once.

Immediately, I find myself facing two cement pillars in the center of the road. Now, had I a moment to think logically, I would have realized that the black SUV that just passed by me fit through this, but the pillars were just close enough together to cause concern and bring me to a near-halt. Slowly, I entered the construction zone, without a clue about what I was about to encounter. This mini-adventure lasted about one kilometer, although it felt much longer at the time as I was well aware how much more “interesting” it would become should another vehicle come along while I was in the zone. Also, it’s important to note that as I entered this area, I had no idea how long this would continue, which just added to the “excitement”.

Along my construction adventure, I encountered a few workers who had to move some equipment so I could continue, and a long area of the road that was passable by only one car as they worked to carve the road further into the hillside to compensate for the no longer existent original right lane that had fallen down the mountain. I, fortunately did not encounter another car. I was quite relieved to make it out of “the zona” and by the time I arrived at Pisciotta, I had already decided to return home the same way!

Stay tuned for my beautiful day in Pisciotta!

Ciao,

Giovanna

Una Giornata a Maratea (A Day in Maratea)

This day begins like many other days, at Isola Verde, grabbing some wifi, having breakfast and deciding how to spend the day. Since I had a local day the day before, I decide to explore some new territory today. I refer to this as “new turf”. Two towns came to mind and as I compare maps, my decision was made.

Camerota or Maratea. Hmmm, let’s just say on this particular day, the maps decided for me! I chose Maratea for two reasons; I just wasn’t into extreme hairpin curves today and going to Maratea would take me to the Province of Potenza – totally new turf!

I would take my familiar Strada Provinciale, SP430, a highway I could access within a few miles of my home. This limited access road cuts through some major mountain passes, utilizing tunnels and sometimes very, very long suspended stretches of road on pillars high above the valley below. In at least one case, you exit a tunnel to find yourself almost immediately on a suspended stretch of road – not for the faint of heart, but beautiful. Although this highway cuts away from the sea, at times you find yourself at such a high altitude at a place with a pass between two huge mountains, and there you can “see” all the way to the sea. That, and the dramatic mountain views make this a very scenic drive.  All along the way, I see small borgos and villaggios dotting the tops and sides of mountains and make mental notes to go back and visit.

Just before Sapri, the SP430 dumps me onto the SS18 for a beautiful drive along the coast, past Policastro Bussentino, Capitello and Sapri.

As I near Maratea, I drive through the small, beautiful borgo of Acquafredda, where the street is so narrow, it only allows one lane of traffic at a time, so there are traffic signals at both ends of town.

Continuing on, I can see the sign that I am approaching Maratea. The mountaintop overlooking Maratea is home to the fifth largest statue of Christ in the world! It is so majestic perched high above the town.

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Idrive into the lower part of town and park and begin the short walk up into the Centro Storico. One of the first things I notice is a very old church with “Jesus” (yes, in English), written on the bell tower.

Along the way, the skies begin to brighten and I enjoy the beautiful views on the walk up.

I stroll through the Centro Storico a bit to get my bearings. Maratea is so beautiful with interesting streets and piazzas everywhere.

True to form, I decide it’s time for pranzo (lunch) and settle on a restaurant that shares a piazza with the municipio building. I have a delicious lunch of Fiori di Zucca and Risotto ai Funghi (zucchini blossoms and mushroom risotto).

As luck would have it, just as I finish lunch, siesta has begun, so my plans for shopping are not going so well.  Note to self: get moving earlier in the morning!! Often, by the time I arrive at my destination, siesta is beginning, which means all the stores will be closed until about 4:30 pm!! This sort of cramps the shopping. . .

I notice a beautiful hand-made ceramics shop, but it is closed. I hesitate to peer into the windows of the dark shop. As I walk back out the very narrow little pathway it is on, I think how sad I am that I cannot buy anything there. Suddenly, a gentleman tells me (in Italian) to wait – “Aspetto!”, he can find the owner for us! I wait and he does – she comes to find me and opens her shop!  The owner makes everything on the premises by hand. I choose a beautiful holy water dish and a town crest of Maratea. The store owner doesn’t take credit cards, “solamente soldi” (only cash), so I have an adventure locating the nearest Bancomat and return with the cash.

Well, I think as I leave Maratea, “un altar giorno in paradiso”! As I arrive home to Villa D’Amore, the skies agree with me.

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Ciao!

Giovanna