Fittacamere Al Castello

You have heard me go on and on and on about the magical little Italian village that Jack and I live in.  Pontelandolfo is a great example of a Southern Italian mountain town.  H’mm your thinking – will Midge put us all up in her house?  What? Come visit and when you do, you can stay in one of the little hotels and the agriturismo that open their doors to guests.  I must admit, I didn’t realize they existed. Very few local businesses do any public relations or have web-sites.

In August, Pontelandolfo is a magnet attracting back Pontelandolfesse from around the world.  When we first noticed the influx of “tourists” I thought they were all staying with relatives.  Boy, was I wrong.  Over the last few years, I’ve discovered that our little village on the mountain has a number of afittacamere – rooms to let or B&B’s.   I’ve decided to introduce you to places that would be happy to have you.  Now, there is no excuse not to come to Pontelandolfo.   WAIT – that doesn’t mean we don’t like guests.  Well….

I visited Fittacamere Al Castello –  a mini hotel just a short cobblestone walk from Piazza Roma.  It is at the base of the medieval tower that is the icon of the village.  The totally restored building heralds back to the 1800s. The original structure was a granary – place that held grain – and the home of one large family. Over the years it was enlarged and more families shared the space.  Earthquakes wreaked havoc on the building.  The current owners, Donato Addona, and his wife fell in love with the building – sans roof, some walls etc.  He said when they bought it he could see the sky.  It was a total wreck.  They began restoration in 2002 and didn’t put the final touches on the property until 2008.  They did a great job.  You can still see and feel the history of the building. I loved the fact that the owner’s son created a piece of art for every room.

Al Castello

Each room has a fairly large bathroom with a shower, television and small refrigerator.  All I could think about was stocking the fridge with local wine and cheese. Then wandering out to the common area with a good book. Some rooms have incredible views of the valley. There are only about 7 rooms and each one has a different configuration of beds.  A couple have matrimonio – king size beds.  Others have twins or a combination of both.  The “breakfast” room is large, warm and welcoming.  A great place to read a book or write that novel.

The address is Corso Vittorio Emanuele III – oops last year they renamed the road in honor of the Rinaldi Brothers, victims of the 1861 Summer of Terror.  (See Pontelandolfo 1861 story.) The affitacamere is located on Via Fratelli Rinaldi #8.  They don’t have a sign, so you have to know where you are going. Just ask anyone.

To make a reservation or get more information call +39.340.58.24.263 or +39.347.04.36.837.   The owners don’t speak English and or have answering machines. So you can’t leave a message.  Grab one of your Italian speaking buddies to make the call for you or email the owner at Donato.addona59@gmail.com.

Need more photos – hit play!  I’ll be telling you about other places to rest your heads in future posts!  Ci vediamo a Pontelandolfo!

Per Ricordare E Non Dimenticare

Those of you that know me, know that my command of the Italian language is mediocre at best.  No, no, no, do not try to suck up to me by telling me I can do more than get a room in a hotel, food in a restaurant and make little kids laugh.

What I can do is weave a story. When Renato Rinaldi, the editor of Pontelandolfo News, asked me to translate the stories behind the historic sites in town I gasped. “Me?”  Was he kidding?  Everyone in town has to help me with my Italian.

He wasn’t kidding.  What he was looking for was an English speaker with a passion for the history of our village and the ability to tell the story of one of the most horrific incidents in the history of Italy’s reunification – the burning and pillage of Pontelandolfo in 1861.

pontelandolfo-1861

Renato has written articles about this period, spoken at events and edited incredible books that shed light on Pontelandolfo’s role during the reunification of Italy.  His most recent compilation is Pontelandolfo 14 agosto 1861 – PER RICORDARE E NON DIMENTICARE 

This past summer, I immersed myself in this story.  Renato, like a brilliant actor, told me bits and pieces that stoked my imagination.  I am thankful for the opportunity to help him share this story with English speakers.  Follow the link – touch the name of the historic site in town and when it opens touch English for the translation.

Itinerario Storico dell’ Eccidio del 1861

Ci vediamo!

Balance

Some things you don’t take photos of. They are too real and hit a visceral button that brings on roll after roll of images.

This Tiny old brown and black birdlike woman with legs as thin as twigs was prancing down the promenade. her arms swinging, the flower print scarf hiding her hair. Balancing on her head – no a part of her – was a white plastic bag of groceries.

I cry. It has been years since my grandmother walked into her house from the yard with a basket of clothes on her head. Thats whose face I saw – Grandma – my nonna – the rock of my childhood.

Why today? What makes today different? Is it because we are leaving Pontelandolfo tomorrow?

The women were total opposites. This woman was tiny, thin and probably only 15 years older than I. The only thing she had in common with my grandma was the ability to balance.

Balance – how does one balance living half a year in one world and half in another?  Tomorrow morning, October 28, we will be heading back to the USA. The six months in Italy flew by.  I am so grounded here that I hate to leave.  This morning I made the rounds saying “Ci vediamo aprile” to so many people.  They all ask the same question – why do you leave?  I don’t really have a good answer.

Balance – I must remain connected to both worlds – no matter where I sleep that night.

Ci vediamo.

Il Vento Ululante

I sat up in bed and couldn’t figure out who was calling.  A quick glance at my iPhone and I knew it was a dark and windy 5:47 AM.  The wailing continued.  Then it became a moan – a grievous moan – a heart wrenching wail – the sound ebbed and flowed. It wasn’t Jack, he was still sleeping beside me.  Was it Zia Vittoria?  Was someone outside.  Than the moan stopped and the lilting soprano began.  Did I drink last night?  No.  Pain meds? No.  Then it hit me – the wind.

Yesterday afternoon, the rain had finally stopped.  It was chased from our hills by a ferocious wind. The minute the sun popped it’s almost forgotten face over the close-line, I threw a load of laundry in the machine.  Hanging the clothes out side on the line became a war – Midge against the wind.  Clothes flew out of my  hands and whipped down the lane.  Clothes wrapped and wrapped themselves around the line wringing themselves free of water but not wind.

Wind pummeled the mountain – but it was better than rain.  People are still cleaning up from the flood.  Road crews are slowly working on crumbled streets.  All of that is hard to do in rain.

I understand where my grandmother, aunts, uncles and father got their internal strength.  To live here you have to be able to adapt, to conquer and to understand that it takes a village working together to move the biggest boulders.  I do mean that literally too.

Gruppo Comunale Protezione Civile di Pontelandolfo – an all volunteer group – has moved some boulders.  When the rain stopped for a nano-second after flooding the hills, they went out and and did damage assessment – found the roads that had caved in or impassable, homes that were hit hard by the storms etc. They also have been collecting donations of food, water, cleaning supplies,clothes etc.  Then distributing them to the people who need them.   They have not only assisted here in Pontelandolfo but other communities as well.  My thanks to them and to the people all over the world who leap into the fray to help.

The wind may moan and scream here and in other parts of the world.  But working together we can all bring out the sun. Maybe even kick some political butt and slow down global warming….

Ci Vediamo.

And Then It Rained

This past summer crops withered on the vines for lack of water. The olives were the size of olive pits. The only happy farmers
were vintners – I learned that grapes don’t need tons of water to grow and the wine they make tastes great. The ground around our house was literally splitting. Small chasms appeared in the ground. I was beginning to feel like we were living in the dessert not the verdant hills of Campania.

We headed to Sardegna for a two week crash immersion class in Italian at Centro Mediterraneo Pintadera and left the drought behind us. Taking classes and organizing activities for Nonna’s Mulberry Tree’s first group activity didn’t leave me a lot of time to play on Facebook or even read one of the newspapers from Benevento. It wasn’t until we were packing up to leave that I discovered it had finally rained in the province of Benevento.

And when it rained, it rained and rained for over 24 hours. It started Wednesday, 14th of October and didn’t end until almost Friday morning. This was not your happy “I’m singing in the rain” rain but a deluge that wiped out railroad lines, sent mud slides and rock avalanches down the hills into the center of towns, and caused floods that led to deaths. In our over televised and I think desensitized media watching world, it is one thing to see the video of cars floating in streets and another to actually see, smell and feel the devastation.
Having heard from our best friend, Nicola, how bad it was for others and how we were spared. I wasn’t afraid to head for home. Potelandolfo was only without electricity for two days. Other towns are still without. Today, 20 Ottobre, our water is brown. They are flushing the pipes. Other towns do not have any water. Our house and the village center are positioned on the hill in such a way that we didn’t get hit with any mudslides or rocks. 

The periphery of Pontelandolfo wasn’t so lucky. Roads in the outlying contrada washed out and mud found its way where no one wanted it. Neighboring Casalduni was underwater and mud. The roads are still impassable. Casalduni citizens are without electricity, water and the ability to leave. The dedicated mayor, Pasquale Iacovella, has been going in and out via tractor to get things organized and solicit help from the government. Ponte, further down the mountain, has piles of rocks in its streets. Benevento, our provincial capital, was underwater and people died. The state was rebuilding a bridge on the highway between Campobasso and Benevento. I don’t think they will finish anytime soon. The bridge and highway were destroyed. 

Solopaca is home to some of the areas best and largest wine cooperative cantinas. Before we left we saw the parade of farmers bringing grapes to be processed into Falanghina Del Sannio DOP and Algianico DOP. Now the cantinas are ruined. The equipment was under mud and water and the grapes that weren’t harvested are a soggy history. The loss of income for so many people is incredible. Rummo, a pasta manufacture in Benevento was obliterated – that means until they rebuild the jobs are gone too.  # Save Rummo is the social media campaign started by the company and its employees.
Our personal confrontation was nothing compared to the devastation around us. We figured getting home might be a challenge. Trenitalia sent us an e-mail saying our train from Roma to Benevento could only go as far as Caserta. Gulp. We weren’t sure how we would get back to Pontelandolfo but we were going to try. After the 45 minute flight from Alghero to Roma, we began our day long journey home. I went to the information kiosk at the train station ad asked if we should try to go to Boiano – not a good idea. OK, how do we get out of Caserta? “We will have buses to Benevento.” We took a train to Caserta and were herded with those going beyond Benevento to Lecce onto a convoy of 8 giant buses. There was not a place for carry on bags and the undercarriage luggage spot was jammed packed. The bus ride seemed endless. All interior roads were avoided. It seemed like we were going from highway to highway in an endless circle. Eventually, we made it to the Benevento train station where Nicola was waiting for us.
On the slow ride home we travelled roads narrowed to one lane by mud piles on either side. Olive groves were now rock gardens. 

  
Piles of furniture swayed near the street outside of homes. Water was still slowly receding anywhere there was a depression in the ground. Having lived at the Jersey shore and been horrified by the flooding in places close to the sea. We understood how devastating floods could be. What I didn’t understand was how it could flood in the mountains. Now I have seen it.

The elders tell me that they have never seen weather like this or a flood like this. Yup, the weather belts are changing. Global Warming can do that you know.
It started raining again on Monday. That means we have only been with out rain for 2 days since the flooding. I hope it stops soon. No one is singing.

Ci vediamo.

Sandy Beach Fun in an Italian Mountain Town

Brrr, baby it’s cold outside.  The wind is sweeping over the hills, storms are brewing on the coast and I just finished editing a summertime video

This summer a truckload of sand was dumped on an open space in Pontelandolfo. What for, I wondered. Then our house guest, Alana, announced that my cousin Giusy was organizing a team to compete in he Beach Volleyball tournament. Alana would be the only American on a team. What a hoot. Beach volleyball in an Italian mountain village.

I went to a couple of matches and found the enthusiasm contagious.  Check out the video you may  too.

All Roads From Waterbury Lead to Pontelandolfo 

The local news gossip line was bubbling over with tales of hundreds of Pontelandolfese returning to their roots. Word was that a bus would show up in the piazza on Sunday, September, 6.  In past years, we have bumped into returning Pontelandolfese from Montreal, Venezuala and of course Waterbury  Connecticut and its suburb Watertown.  It is always interesting to hear them speak Italian – it is the ancient dialect of the folks who left Pontelandolfo in the mid to late 1800’s.  Language over the years has evolved but the people who live in these Italian American communities retain this historic form of speech.  I enjoy listening.

The bus landed – I mean pulled up – and with pen in hand I waited to see the influx of visitors.  Did I count 12?  That is a really big bus.  A local pointed out that in years past the buses would be packed.  I also noticed that there weren’t any young people on the bus.  Hmmmm.  The bus let the group off at Bar Elimar where a welcome drink and snacks were available.  Il Sindico Rinaldi was there to greet them and everyone was mingling and whipping out cell phones for photos.  But, but, there had to be more people – where are they?  I took a deep breath and walked up to one of the women. She reminded me of my cousin Janet.

I introduced my blog and the charming Louise answered all my questions. She explained that the plane was full of people from Waterbury and Watertown Connecticut.  I asked if the trip was organized by the Pontelandolfo Community Club and she said it had been.  Not only was the plane full – we are talking a couple of hundred people on this trip – but she also said there were indeed some young people.  Since the majority of people on the trip still have extended family here they were picked up in cars.  Ahhhh – that solves the bus mystery.

The Pontelandolfo Community Club sits on 35 acres in Waterbury.  You have to be able to trace your bloodline to Pontelandolfo to join.  My dad joined but since it was a 3 hour drive from NJ he never went to a meeting.  We did go up to their Festa di San Donato twice.  The facility is amazing – they even built a replica of the Piazza Roma fountain.

Why are there so many Pontelandolfese in the Waterbury area?  Looking for work and opportunity men came to Waterbury and discovered the brass mills.  There was a need for laborers in those factories and others.  The word trickled back to Pontelandolfo and more men followed. These immigrants established the Pontelandolfo Society in 1930 and the Pontelandolfo Social Club in 1939. These two clubs merged in 1965 to form the Pontelandolfo Community Club. Twenty years later in 1985 the Ponte Women’s Club was formed.  Whoa – it wasn’t until 1985 that the women had an organization?  I bet they still cooked for all the parties before that.

This enthusiastic group is here for two weeks. I hope the travelers have a glorious two weeks visiting family and checking out our new Pontelandolfo 1861 project.

After talking to this nice woman from Watertown, I handed her my Nonna’s Mulberry Tree Card.  She read it and said, “Guerrera – that’s my name!  Of course, of all the women getting off the bus I would walk right up to the Guerrera.  As my Zia Giussipina always says – “blood calls the blood” – and all roads for Pontelandolfese lead back to Pontelandolfo.

Ci Vediamo.

 

Accendi La Luce – Turn On The Light 

My grandmother did it. I bet your grandmother did it. My mother sometimes did it – especially if she had a head ache. Zia Caterina did it religiously. This ancient summertime ritual is practiced in homes all over Pontelandolfo. The practice saves energy, keeps you cool and relaxes the hell out of you. It is so simple, so effective that I know you will want to experiment yourself – just don’t tell any of your energy hog neighbors – they wouldn’t understand. Actually, don’t tell any of your neighbors. Just let them wonder why all of the blinds are closed and what exotic fantasies are going on in that dark, dark house.

She must have sun stroke. What the heck is she talking about? Keeping the sun at bay and heat out of your house – that’s what!

  

Here is the secret summer time ritual as performed by mia nonna – 

At night open all the windows and let the cool night air in. As soon as the sun rises, slam the windows shut and close all the curtains or the shades. Now the house will be dark, the sun’s heated rays thwarted by the ancient ritual. You will save a bundle on air conditioning.

Our two story stone home in Pontelandolfo is the perfect style house for this type of cooling system. It has wooden indoor shutters on every window, so that the house can stay really, really dark. We open all the second floor windows at night and let the cool night mountain air waft over us. Then in the morning we slam all the windows closed and latch the shutters. I actually used this same technique when Jack was on the road and we lived in Asbury Park.  

Oh yeah, you noticed I said “When Jack was on the road”. Everyone in the house has to buy into the system and not go around opening all the curtains – or shutters. The other thing you have to train your family to do is NOT turn on the electric lights just because the room is dark.
So how do you read, see, cook? Think about it my friends. How can you accomplish what you want – a cool house and lower electric bills with out turning on the electric lights?

Duh. Open a curtain! As I calmly explained to Jack – think of the window shutter in the bedroom as the light switch. If you go into the bedroom and it is dark, open one shutter and let the sun light the room. 

 When you are done. Turn off the light – close the shutter. 
 Such a simple way to cool your home. Such an effective way to lower your energy bill. Such a great way to create angst and animosity in a family.
If you live alone or are the alpha dog, try the ritual, stay cool and piss off the electric company.

Ci vediamo!