Month: July 2021

My First – La Promessa di Matrimonio

by midgeguerrera, posted in Any Day in Pontelandolfo

We were so excited to be invited to cousin Giusy’s La Promessa di Matrimonio.  I didn’t have a clue what that meant – besides an event that warranted a glamorous after party.  All we could figure out was the couple had to go to city hall and do something and then, a couple of months later, they could get married in the church.  Was it just getting a marriage license?  Was it an actual civil wedding first?  This inquiring mind wanted to know!

Antonio and Giusy July 29, 2021 La Promessa di Matrimonio.

My cousin and her fiancée, Antonio, have reserved Pontelandolofo’s Chiesa San Salvatore for a September wedding.  Before that can happen – or even if they were going to have a civil ceremony – they had to head down to town hall and in the presence of an official, like the registrar, go through the process of La Promessa di Matrimonio.

On April 4, 1942, Article 79 of the Italian Civil code was finalized. La Promessa, was established.  From what I read, it looks like it stopped forced marriages.  Hmm did that mean the sale of brides and grooms for ten sheep and a goat?  It protects marital freedom and insures that the couple both consent to marry each other.  It also nullifies previous obligations – like the secret ex-husband you forgot to mention.

La Promessa is not a super binding legal contract.  You can always jump ship and change your mind – as long as you are willing to restore any economic loss your former fiancée suffered.

It kind of reminded me of the day Jack and I went to the Asbury Park City with a video cameraman and a witness to get our marriage license.  The couple here had to present the usual bureaucratic documents plus a couple extra – proof of identity, birth certificates, tax stamp that you paid the fee, request form for the marriage bans by the parish priest, request form for the publication of the bans and probably something else that I forgot. Oh yeah, Antonio belongs to the church in Casalduni. He had to get a letter from his priest there and supply his birth, baptismal and communion certificates.

The marriage bans, public announcement of the upcoming nuptials, take place in the church and the town.  This gives advance notice to folks who may know of some dastardly impediment to the wedding and race out to stop it.

Someone told me, or I read that this civil action takes the couple from being engaged to absolutely betrothed.   Sort of a throwback to the ancient request for the hand in marriage by the groom.  It is also kind of the official meeting of the two families.  Or simply a great excuse to have an intimate party – think engagement party!

The date was bright, sunny and hot! Jack and I parked as close as we could to Palazzo Rinaldi. It is an historic building that has been totally renovated. It even had magic doors that opened when you got close. I looked around the foyer and figured the Council chambers should be here somewhere. Seeing a directory, we realized that it was on the second floor. The second floor of an ancient building and its huge marble staircase. The staircase had a landing or two so I could attempt to breathe. Clutching my lungs we made it to the second floor and couldn’t find the room. I peaked in an office and asked. It was up yet another flight. I gasped and the wonderful woman showed us the modern elevator! Duh – the second floor in an Italian building is really the third level. I should know by now the ground floor isn’t in the count. The elevator whisked us up to the next floor. We arrived at 4 minutes to 5. The event was to start at 5:00 PM. The room was empty! Jack looked at me and asked if we were there on the right date. I checked my calendar and my WhatsApp messages. Then I assured him that it was the right time and the right date. He looked at me and we both said “questa è Italia.”

The handsome groom to be, Antonio, arrived with his family. They were decked out in cocktail dresses, jewels, suits and ties. I looked down at my casual summer dress. Gulp. Another thing I should remember is that any event is an opportunity to dress up and look fetching. Oh well, next time.

Where was Giusy? The registrar appeared with the necessary items for the signing. Where was Giusy’s family – which is my family? Suddenly, I heard heavy breathing and panting. They all staggered in having climbed three ridiculous flights of stairs. Like us, no one knew there was an elevator. It was worth the wait – Giusy looked like a movie star. Her backless white jumpsuit festooned with lace at the shoulders was a whimsical reminder that she was the bride to be. Everyone took a seat. I happily noticed a bottle of Prosecco made it’s way to the front of the room.

The registrar opened the proceedings by reading both Anonio’s and Giusy’s recorded history. Dates of birth, parents names, place of birth and residency. I knew that stuff so I didn’t pay close attention. Then she got to to the important Article 79 of the Civil Code and read part of that. The cute couple signed something and bang – it was all over. The bang was the popping of the Prosecco cork. The whole thing took less than ten minutes.

La Promessa è per Sempre – The promise is forever!

Time for the second half of the event – the party! After asking other guests, I discovered this was a Southern Italian tradition. Though others said, not everyone did it. The site, La Rossella, is a restaurant about fifteen minutes out of town. If I tell you everything we ate you will drool on your electronic device. I’ll give you the quick version. We started out side in a lovely garden. Thank the goddesses I brought my anti mosquito juice and shared it with the other barelegged women. I hate mosquitos but they adore me. The Prosecco glasses were held high to once again toast the couple and then we each grabbed a paper cone filled with crispy tempura fried pieces of fish. Yummy. The fish kept us occupied while each family group lined up for the de rigueur photos. Photos done? Check! Time to move inside and leave the marauding mosquitos for the next group.

We had an absolutely huge table set up for the scant party of 20 – absolute Covid social distancing. Then the feast began! The appetizer of steamed octopus coupled with thin slices of swordfish and salmon was exceptional. As was the wine that freely flowed. The tone of the party was light, filled with laughter and applause. Literally applause. For example, I shouted out auguri ai genitori and everyone cheered “I genitori” (parents) and clapped wildly. This happened sporadically throughout the evening until everyone was toasted.

The appetizer was followed by not one but two primo piatti! The first pasta dish was homemade linguine and clams but with a creamy sauce. The second was pasta with swordfish. I will try to replicate that one. Then came more and more and suddenly it was after midnight and out came the delicious cake with it’s whipped cream frosting and pistachio cream filling. Sigh….

Jack and I wished the couple a happy engagement and rolled out to our car. What a night! What a perfect first time experience of La Promessa di Matrimonio.

Ci Vediamo

Midge (Check out my website.)

I am currently organizing both cooking, farm to table and writing adventures in Pontelandolfo for 2022! Message me for information!

Calcio and Me

by midgeguerrera, posted in Any Day in Pontelandolfo

Last week Italy played England in the UEFA EURO 2020 match. Until last week, I didn’t know there was a UEFA or that it stood for the Union of European Football Associations. I also didn’t understand why this was the 2020 match – duhhhhh – the pandemic squashed last year’s. As our entire village started preparing for this event, I realized I better do some research or would be a really stupid Italian – American.

Italian Flags Fluttered in Advance of the Match

AHEM, said the professoressa with rich but boring academic tones, Italy has been in 10 major tournament finals – 6 world cup, 4 EURO.  Among the European nations, only Germany has played in more.  The not so staid English have never been in the finals of a European Championship.  This was their first try at a major tournament since winning the 1966 World cup.  Sadly, for them, but not for us THEY LOST!

The night of Italy’s win, I finally began to understand calico. Don’t be silly, I still don’t understand the rules or why a sport that is supposed to take 90 minutes takes a lot more than 90 minutes. What I finally began to understand was that the game wasn’t as important as the opportunity for neighbors, friends, soon to be friends and outright enemies to have a communal focus. Joining the majority of the village in the Piazza that night, I saw everyone from infants to people older than Jack staring at movie screens and holding their collective breaths at the same time. Cries of alarm went up when goals were missed. Chairs were knocked over as the crowd leapt to its feet when a goal was made. In-between these specific moments people were talking to not only those at their table but those around them.

All the bars in town, who had starved during lockdown, had prepared for the onslaught of customers – who were more than customers. Surrounding each bar, staring at television and movie style screens, were people who had been trapped in their homes for over a year and were now not only supporting their country’s team but supporting each other. Babies were passed from person to person, drinks and food were bought and sent to different tables, bar owners were assisted by family and friends who are like family, strangers and “the local Americans” were embraced. (There was no embracing but lots of elbow touching.)

For one night, no one was worrying about the latest designer version of Covid or what would happen when the region moved from Covid White status to yellow or worse. The angst of the past year was lost as a team of Italian men chased a ball across the pitch. (That is what they call the playing field – don’t ask me why I haven’t a clue.)

At the beginning of the match, as fireworks filed the air, all stood and sang the Italian national anthem. Italians were coming together with one focus – winning. We won the match and we in Italy will beat this pandemic.

Here is a quick peak at what I enjoyed:

Ci vediamo-

Midge

Join us in Pontelandolfo in 2022! Check out Cooking in the Kitchens of Pontelandolfo.

The Traffic Stop

by midgeguerrera, posted in Any Day in Pontelandolfo

We were driving through a neighboring town on our way to buy a new refrigerator, .  It was a glorious day.  Blue sky, the sun was shining down on us.

“Jack that light is red.”

“I can’t see the light. The sun…”

“You just went through that red light.”

“Maybe it doesn’t work – those cars stopped too.”

“They stopped so they wouldn’t broadside us.  Shit.”

We headed down the street when at the next intersection who should appear but un carabiniere – policeman – holding up a paletta, the very small yet very scary circle on a stick that means pull over or we shoot.  They do carry guns.  Sometimes they carry very big automatic guns.

Damn, we went through a stop light and got caught.  My stomach dropped to my toes.  Jack sat up straighter and assumed his remembered State Police posture.  I rolled down my window and smiled – cripes I am seventy-two years old, flirting ain’t gonna work – maybe dimwitted old lady?  

“Buon Giorno,” I say with a smile.

Jack followed my lead, “Buon Giorno.”

The police officer does not crack a smile, “Patente e libretto.”

I open the glove box and tons of scontrini – reciepts – fall out.  I find not one but two plastic folders holding documents.  I drop the blue one.  I feel the police officer staring at me.  I open the black folder but haven’t a clue what I am looking for.  What is il libretto – is that the registration?  He touches my hand – I freeze.  He points.  I give him the grey thing he points at.  It must be il libretto.

The carabinieri always seem to work in twos.  The rear of the police car was open and a computer appeared.  The second officer grabbed il libretto, which when I read it later was the registration,  and started typing away.  Rats, I think there goes another ticket to the car.  The car that is in my name driven by Jack who couldn’t see the freakin’ red light.

By now I have the insurance and our international drivers licenses ready for him.

“I documenti per favore.”

I try to give him the international drivers licenses – he pushes them aside.  He doesn’t care about the insurance either.

“I vostri passaporti!”  He says a bit severely.

We are so screwed.  Here we go on a slow boat back to the United States.  Or worse, the computer-generated phone hell of the American Consulate.  I realize he needs to know we are Italian citizens and live in Pontelandolfo half the year.  The problem is I need to get out of the car.  All those car stops we have seen on the USA news demonstrate how dangerous it is to get out of the car.  But my purse is on the back seat.  What to do? My grandmother leaps into my body and suddenly my Italian improved two hundred percent.  

“Siamo cittadini italiani.  Residenza a Pontelandolfo.  Potrei uscire dalla macchina.  La mia borsa è sul sedile dietro.”  I get out of the car, look directly into his handsome brown eyes and wish I was twenty-five.  Then I go to the back seat and get my purse.  Opening my wallet to get my residence card demonstrates that I happen to have a wee bit of cash too.  I quickly take out my carta d’identità and gesture to Jack to take out his.  While Jack arches up in the seat to get his wallet, I say.  “Viviamo a Pontelandolfo sei mesi all’ anno e in New Jersey altri sei mesi.”

“I speak a little inglese.  Where in New Jersey.”

“Tu parli bene l’inglese,” I say.  “Siamo a Ewing vicino Philadelphia.”  

He nods.  I smile.  He speaks English about as well as I speak Italian but hey compliments go a long way.  He takes our identification cards back to the computer.  Somehow, I don’t feel as frightened.  Jack is still staring straight ahead.

He comes back and doesn’t look happy.  “To drive in Italy avete bisogno della patente internazionale.”  

He throws Jack’s New Jersey license back at him.  What the #@%&!, I think.  Why did Jack give him his license – all he wanted was his residence card.  I leap into my “Ms Fixit” role.

“Mi scusi signore, abbiamo le patenti internazionali.  Sono queste.”  I hand him the same two grey international drivers licenses that I tried to give him earlier. We get them every year from Tripple A and have never shown them to anyone in ten years.  Are these acceptable or do we end up in the cop car?  He doesn’t even open them – just hands them back and goes back to the computer.  I get back in the car.  I am planning to go into my 1960’s dead weight protest mode.  If they want to arrest us it will take a crane to pull me out of the car. 

He slowly walks back.  I slowly slump lower into the car.  Jack sits up even taller.  The policeman looks at me and pauses.  I cringe.  

“Buon fine settimana segnori,” he says with a smile.

I smile.  He turns and walks away.  Jack starts the car.  I wave at the policemen.  Thank you we will have a good weekend. But first, lets go buy that refrigerator.

Ci vediamo!

Midge

Visit my web site.

It is not too early to start planning your 2022 trip to Pontelandolfo! We are organizing, cooking, writer’s retreats and farm to table weeklong adventures. Check out Cooking in the Kitchens of Pontelandolfo!