Category: Any Day in Pontelandolfo

Walking and Talking – Communication Simplified

by midgeguerrera, posted in Any Day in Pontelandolfo

This morning I was reading a book of essays by Donna Leon, author of the addictive novels featuring crime solving Venetian Commissario Guido Brunetti. In My Venice and Other Essays she writes about all things Venetian – all right I will admit I was a little jealous – her little tales of daily life were wonderful and I’ve decided she is my idol.  The first essay, My Venice, reminded me about why I enjoy Pontelandolfo and scowl at the car I am forced to use to do anything in  suburban NJ.  Here read this: (p.3)

Much of the joy that I find in living in Venice results from this fact: there are no cars… Because we are forced to walk, we are forced to meet.  That is every morning the people of Venice are constrained to see, walk past, walk along with their neighbors.  This leads to casual conversation, to the exchange of information about the world or about their personal lives…

Thanks Donna, I totally get that.  Every morning when I walked down the hill from our house in Pontelandolfo to the piazza for that incredible cappuccino, I would pass the same older woman dragging out drying racks and hanging her laundry.  The first day, I smiled at her and she looked at me quizzically.  By the third month she was telling me quick stories about the son she lives with and her grandchildren.  When we go back next week for our six month visit, I hope she is still out there hanging the wash.

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If I walk at the same time, I’ll see the same women hanging laundry every day.

Pontelandolfo has one main piazza – Piazza Roma.  This is the central social and shopping hub of daily life.  People stroll, chat, have a caffè in one bar or another and actually smile at the strange American lady – me.  They communicate – it might be tossing their hands in the air and grunting “bo” but it is the sound of people talking to people. Wednesday when the market comes to town, people swap tales, comment on purchases and catch up on local lore.  They aren’t racing through the big glitzy glassed-in mall from one equally redundant store to the next.  They are walking and talking.

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That slight incline in the upper left corner is the beginning of the steep hill to the church. I’m huffin’ & puffin’ and everyone else is chatting.

They walk down to the bocci court or calcio field.  They walk up the hill to the church.  On Saint days, they walk in processions.  They walk and talk – OK sometimes they repeat the rosary too.  No necks straining under the weight of a bobbing head tilted down at hand held devices.  Walking and talking – direct communication – who knew it was still being done!

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Saint’s Day Procession – You are right – I need to walk more because I can’t remember which saint.

I’ll tell you who else still walks and talks – my Aunt Stella.  Stella, in her 90’s,  lives in Brooklyn and walks to the market, botanical garden, museum, well just about everywhere.  It keeps her mind agile and body strong.  She looks at the city as her home and relishes every moment she can be out and about and talk to folks.  She never had a car and loves the buses and subway system.  Sure, sometimes she calls a car service but not too often. Who can she meet from the backseat of a car?

Then there is my  90 something young Aunt Chris, living on the fahkackata mountain in Hillsborough, NJ. She used to drive everywhere – dancing, senior club, exercise classes, lunch.  She moved from her little house to what seems like miles from civilization and gave up her car.  No sidewalks, no easy way to get to all those senior activities she used to love, no way to just bullshit with people.  Granted, she is in a safe and loving environment with her son – but where is the action.  Where is the drama she used to love when she was able to drive her car all over the place?  She grew up in lower Manhattan and still remembers her sidewalk days.

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Wednesday Market Day Strolling.

I look at those two aunts that I absolutely adore and I look at the elderly women in Pontelandolfo who still walk everywhere. These women are older than I am and I’m getting medicare in May.  Women dressed in black carrying flowers to the cemetery walk along the highway.  Women walk down and up the mountain daily to get chow for lunch and dinner.  Women who are strolling with their friends during passeggiata and still have that evil gleam of girlhood in their eyes.

That’s who I want to be – a woman who walks, talks and listens.  Healthier for the physical activity and happier for the conversation.

Diglio Panificio – Keeps Me Sane

by midgeguerrera, posted in Any Day in Pontelandolfo, Food - Eating In and Out!

Have you ever been surrounded by people and yet still felt so lonely that your heart chakra ached?  That is how I felt this morning. I am in sunny Ecuador, met a super  italo-ecuadoriana, am staying with great friends but feel a gaping hole in my heart.  At first I thought I was home sick – I never get home sick.  Than I thought it was because my zia in Flagtown had a stroke yesterday and I am a continent away.  Shazaam – it hit me -I was feeling lonely because I didn’t have a sense of community here.  No “tribe” to connect with.  All that depressive thinking made me hunger for comfort – comfort food – bread like I can only find at Diglio Panificio in Pontelandolfo!  Diglio’s not only kept us in thick crusty bread but also was one of my connections to the community – it was a place I didn’t feel like a stranger or alone.

Some mornings I would walk down the hill just to buy a round of bread and if the Panificio wasn’t busy, I would talk to the owner, Nicola Diglio.  My Italian isn’t the best but we would talk about the village, economy, USA, whatever.  Nicola never made fun of my attempts to pronounce the pastries or how long it took me to decide which pizza slices to bring home in the morning for our night time snacks.  That bakery was one of the anchors of the community for me.

Some Wednesdays after strolling through the market, my cousin Carmella and I would take a shopping break by going to Diglio’s for a cappuccino, a little nosh and a lot of laughter.  Carmella is a bright star in my universe and of course she introduced me to this pasticceria.

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Cousins/Sisters having a laugh.

According to their brochure, Diglio opened its doors in 1983 with a commitment to use recipes handed down form generation to generation.   When you visit Italy, you can find the shop at 2, Via Eglido Gentile, 82027 Pontelandolfo (BN).  It truly is a pasticceria artigiana – when you watch the video you’ll agree with me.

While selecting pictures for the video I saw one of the Diglio’s little sandwiches on scrumptious rolls and got a little misty.  Zap – flash back to my dad’s first cousin, Giuseppina, insisting we stop at Diglio’s so she could buy the sandwiches before l’avventura.  Jack and I take Giussipina and her sister Paulina on road trip adventures.  They pick the place to go – it’s always a shrine – there are tons in our area. Since we never saw a shrine and loved listening to the two of them chatter and laugh at us, we would go to shrines – with bags of Diglio yummy mini sandwiches.

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Giuseppina, Paulina & Jack 2013 adventure

Then I flashed back to 1995. when I first knocked on Giussipina’s door, pointed at my family tree and said in pidgin Italian “tu sei il cugino di mio padre?”.  That timid knock resulted in finding my extended family and celebrating with what – pastries from Diglio.

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1995 Giuseppina & Paulina – note the pastries.

Whenever I bought pastries I would marvel at the way they are presented – perched on a golden cardboard tray and gingerly wrapped in pretty paper.  The presentation always made any day that you bought a pastry feel like a special day. Some days I just need a special day and a sfogliatella prettily wrapped can be just the medicine it takes to turn the grey sky into blue.

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One bite is better than a happy pill.

This past June was the first time I had Il Rusticacio – a small bread puff made with cheese, egg and salame.  When I bit into one I swear I felt my grandmother hugging me.  People have been eating – what we call artigianale – dough filled things for generations.  The connection I feel in Pontelandolfo to my family is intense and eating food made with ancient recipes makes the connection even tighter. Is that my grandmother pinching my cheeks?

One day I went into the shop and Nicola’s son, Antonio, who is a super creative part of the artistic bakery team was behind the counter. The door opened and his daughter  came in from school – she looked at me, I looked at her and recognition twinkled in both our eyes.  She said “Good Morning – How are You?”  The secret phrase I told the kids in the public school that I worked with to say to me whenever they saw me.  Boom – an even bigger connection to the bakery.

Community – that is what I need in order to feel secure, happy and healthy.  When I am in Pontelandolfo – we go back May 1st – walking into Diglio Panificio yields more than just a loaf of bread.   Enjoy the video!

Family Holiday Traditions – Does Screaming Count?

by midgeguerrera, posted in Any Day in Pontelandolfo, Finding My Family - Genealogy

The holidays are over and you may have been wondering where I’ve been.  No where exotic, just doing a little inward gawking.   It is the new year – 2014 – and standing under my nonna’s snow covered  mulberry tree as chunks of ice smack me in the head, I feel compelled to tell the truth.  To finally, admit that  – cripes this is hard – how do I explain – beh – just belt it out –

During the holiday seasons there are Italian traditions that I love to exploit – yeah exploit.    Preparing the seven fishes on Christmas Eve, hosting a Christmas Day feast, having lentils with cotechino on New Years, celebrating  Epiphany by hanging up my collection of La Befana dolls – all of these traditions that my Italian American pals tell me were incredibly important in their families I never heard of until I was in my 20s!  When I discovered these traditions existed in other families I STOLE them and made them mine.  I now embrace  these traditions to reinforce that I am Italian.  Some folks say I over embrace them – hug them until they pop. They were not a part of my childhood in poor rural agrarian New Jersey. Here, you hid the fact you were Italian – the elders remembered the WWII Italian interment or prisoner of war camps that popped up all over New Jersey.  We’ll save the stories of those camps, that were as close to us as 10 miles away, for another day.

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A typical meal at grandma’s – that is me grinning in the lower right hand corner.

My first huge confession is that I never have gone to confession.  That’s right, this kid with the Italian last name didn’t step foot in a Catholic Church until she was in college.  I was baptized Lutheran and grew up in the Dutch Reformed Church.  So I never heard of Epiphany or understood why eating fish on Friday was such a big deal.  It all goes back to a randy priest in Manville who used to flirt with and chase my nonna around.  Apparently, he was raising a lot more than the Holy Spirit with the Italian immigrant wives and my nonno, Francisco, wasn’t going to have someone else singing hallelujah with Mariarosaria.  So, no one was allowed to step foot in a Catholic church.  My dad said that Francisco held mass for the family every Sunday.  He read from the bible, shared a lesson and reinforced that they were to put others first.  What Francisco didn’t say was that he couldn’t read the bible – it was memorized or he gave a good facsimile of the word.

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Nonna & Nonno in front of the Flagtown House

Dad didn’t discover that his father couldn’t read until he was in high school and he needed Fancisco’s signature on a form for football.  I remember eating fish on Friday or pasta with vegetables or just vegetables. I also remember being poor which meant that lots of days we didn’t eat meat anyway.  It wasn’t until my first trip to Italy when I went to mass in the church that my grandmother was baptized and married in that I felt any connection to Catholicism.  When we are in Pontelandolfo I attend church often, listening to the mass in Italian, seeing parishioners of all ages – without books – repeating together the litany.  I feel my grandmother there and to me that is priceless.

When I was in college and met Italian Americans from places like Jersey City and Hoboken where Italian traditions lived on and on, I felt stupid.  “So how was your Christmas Eve – did you choke down all seven fish?”  Huh, I muttered?  The only fish I remember at Christmas time was baccalà fritto – nonna – damn we never used the word nonna she was plain old grandma. (We were not allowed to speak Italian – I’m first generation and no one spoke Italian to me. Remember, in Belle Mead – just down the road was that Italian prisoner of war camp.)  Anyway, grandma made a pancake batter and dipped that cod and fried it up.  We all loved it and that was a holiday treat.  But seven fishes – never.  After the scrumptious tradition was explained to me I tried to horn in on other people’s feasts.  “Hey – I’m fighting with my mom again – can I come to your house?”

Today, I hungrily pour through cookbooks and dream about my next Christmas Eve.  For the past two years, Jack and I have hosted a foodies night of seven fishes.  We invite folks who love to cook and love to eat over on Christmas Eve.  Everyone has to bring a fish dish and a healthy appetite.

This year we started with calamari fritti, baccalà fritta, clam dip and skewered shrimp with a pesto.  We moved on to Salad Niçoise –  two fishes here – tuna and anchiovies.  Next was an incredible New England fish chowder made with fresh cod. We were forced to take a Christmas Caroling break to help the food move south.

We came in out of the cold for Cioppino – an Italian fisherman’s stew that had mussels, clams, shrimp, scallops, squid and a white fish. Time to start the bonfire.  Pause and then finish our poached salmon, broiled flounder and green salad. So how many fishes was that?

We start the festivities at 1:00 in the afternoon and go on and on until the fish is gone and we are sitting with glazed eyes in front of our fire pit staring at the flames and raising a glass of grappa to the baby Jesus.

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See what I mean about stealing the Seven Fishes tradition and going a bit overboard?

Christmas Day in Flagtown now resonates with loud voices, laughter and more food trucked in by my sister, cousins and friends.  The table is beautifully set with the “good china” and silver.  We swap tales, scream at each other and generally have a good time.  The Christmas Day’s of my childhood meant a day with mom and a day with dad – this was the fifties and they were the ONLY couple divorced in my home town.  I remember my Christmas tradition being how to escape the angst.  Now being the “family elder”, I do go a bit nutsy on trying to see that the younguns don’t feel uber angst.

Can we talk about La Befana?  One January, years ago, Jack and I were in Pontelandolfo  visiting.  Little witch looking dolls on brooms were being sold everywhere.  Well, I just thought they were cute so I bought one and asked Carmela why they had all these flying streghe in January.

La Befana in Sardegna!
La Befana in Sardegna! They had a huge celebration with lots of women dressed like La Befana roaming the streets.

Here’s the story. One snowy night, this kind old woman, living alone in the forest, welcomed the Three Wise Men into her home.  She fed them, heard their tale and watched them go to find the new born king.  After cleaning up, she trailed them – never found them – but to this day brings gifts to children all over the world.  Wow – kids got gifts on January 6th – brought to them by this kind old woman!  What a deal – that never happened in Flagtown.

Celebrating in Venice!
Celebrating in Venice!

  Every holiday season all of my La Befana dolls come out.  Watch your head – there she is hanging from the light in the kitchen. I researched La Befana’s story, wrote a play about her set in today’s world, did a storytelling session about her – well just became a la Befana fanatic.  Do you see my pattern here?

I want to thank all of the Italian American women I went to Montclair State College with who first introduced me to all things Italian.  Next, I need to thank my ever patient family in Pontelandolfo who still giggle when I look so wide-eyed at a tradition that has been going on for years.  Lastly, I need to thank the Meet-Up: Central Jersey Lovers of All Things Italian who keep all of these fabulous traditions alive for me today.

Family Holiday Traditions – Embrace them and make them your own!

Midge & Jack this Christmas!
Midge & Jack this Christmas!

Oro Giovane – Local Holiday Shopping in Pontelandolfo

by midgeguerrera, posted in Any Day in Pontelandolfo, Stops Along the Journey - Sites Off the Tourist Track

Bah, humbug said the Scrooge Midge as she stared at the masses of cars outside the mall and struggled to drive past it on the super crowded highway.  Bah, Bah, BAH, HUMBUG said super angry Scrooge Midge when she saw all of the Black Friday news shots of herds of people trampling into the  evil BOX STORES that plague the American landscape.  How can Scrooge Midge get back in touch with the Christmas Spirit?  How can Scrooge Midge get in touch with her inner Santa and put down that bottle of  Scotch?  She can go into the gift closet and start reminiscing about where she bought the baubles for her family and be proud that she thought about gift buying for Christmas when she was still in Pontelandolfo.   Even prouder that she was shopping uber-local from people who live and work in a minuscule Italian village.  Whoa – look at this –

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I picked this up for my cousin – oops – if she reads this – Santa blew the surprise!
It was less than $20 and is adorable.

Seeing the necklace made me think of Ornella Romano, the charming and creative owner of Oro Giovane.  The first vision that popped into my head was Ornella sitting on the outdoor couch at Bar Elimar with her daughter Olga Addona under the blue morning sky, drinking cappuccinoS.  I didn’t really know them well but smiled and said “buon giorno.” As I did every – oops Jack caught my lie – most mornings, I went to the bar, ordered a cappuccino, sat outside with my lap top, sipped the best cappuccino in the world, stared and did my writing.  When I went to pay I discovered that my caffè had been paid for by Ornella!  Grazie tante! Welcome to village life.

My talented cousin Carmela Fusco creates dolls dressed in historic traditional garb.  Before I found Carmella and started a relationship that has spanned many years, I visited Pontelandolfo, wandered into a small shop and bought a doll for myself and one for my niece.  Years later, I realized my first connection to Carmela was the doll!

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Carmela’s doll proudly stands in my living room.

She sells them now at Ora Giovane and some years ago brought me there to meet the owners, Ornella and her husband Rossano Addona. During our visits, we often stop in and  have bought some pieces, but never really spent time getting to know Ornella’s family.  This trip was different.  We would run into the family in the piazza listening to music, sipping a prosecco or taking the sun.  Like many of the small business owners, they would sit outside their shop on nice days and talk to other shop owners, gossip with villagers and include outsiders like us in daily life.

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Jewelers Olga Addona and Ornella Romana.

Olga Addona attended the goldsmith  specialty high school available to students from the Province of Benevento.  Can you imagine – a public school where talented art students can  learn goldsmithing!  Unfortunately, because Pontelandolfo is not on a regular bus or train line it is difficult for students to attend the school and there has been a huge drop in enrollment.  Sadly, the school is closing this year.  Hey Arts Folks – WHAT A GREAT OPPORTUNITY!  Why not reopen it for artsy American adults!  Charge a tuition!  Bring some tourist dollars into town.

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Sister Susan and I bought some faux bling and kibbitzed with Ornella & Olga.

I am passionate about shopping local – and yes I do shop locally in New Jersey.  My meat comes from farms not factories, my meds are from a family owned pharmacy, etc. Shopping in Pontelandolfo is really like a walk back in time when Main Streets were thriving and everyone knew your name and if you acted like a wild child any adult would call your parents.

I truly enjoyed popping into Oro Giovane and foraging for fantastic gifts.  The family owns two shops on the piazza – one is just jewelry, art and tchatchkes.

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Cameos carved with the village’s crest.

The second shop has great purses and accessories.  Santa – Babbo Natale –  loves family owned shops, artisan studios and well – anything local in the USA and Italy.  So will you when you visit my other hometown – Pontelandolfo!

Huzzah – I just remembered – NOW SANTA GETS TO WRAP ALL THIS SWAG!  BUON NATALE!

Oro Giovane’s Facebook page is https://www.facebook.com/orogiovane.gioielleria?fref=ts

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La Macelleria – Carnivore Heaven

by midgeguerrera, posted in Any Day in Pontelandolfo, Food - Eating In and Out!

Take a moment and imagine small town America before ugly strip malls and giant box stores polluted the landscape.  See happy healthy people greeting their neighbors as they walk to those wonderful, small family owned shops.

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Turn of the 20th century shopping in Pontelandolfo!

Clutching your mom’s hand you visit the butcher, who knows your name and gives you a big smile.  You mom says she wants to have a pork roast for dinner – the butcher asks for how many people?  “Just six” she says.   The big walk-in fridge is opened and you see giant hanging slabs of meat – half a cow, a whole pig – is that goat? 

Meat hooks at a butcher.
Meat hooks at a butcher. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 He pulls down the pig carcass and brings it to the giant wooden shopping block.  Like a sculptor wielding sharpened knives and a dancer moving to the  crack of the cleaver, the butcher magically creates the perfect  pork roast just for you. Wrapped in white butcher paper and tied with twine, the gift of good eating is ready to carry home.   Hmmmm – no porcine growth hormones, no chemical enhancements just farm grown – the way nature intended it  – meat.  

Growing up in Flagtown, NJ – when the area was still rural/agrarian – I actually played in fields that held cows, pigs, chickens, goats, sheep and lots of piles of @#$%.  My grandmother taught us how to butcher and clean poultry and game.  Our little village even had a butcher shop.  Aniello De Scala moved from Brooklyn to Flagtown long before I was born to open a small shop and get away from the Brooklyn mob (so his daughter told me).  When I was a kid Aniello’s son George was the butcher.  (One of the De Scala butcher blocks is currently feeling lonely in my garage.)  Then the developments started eating up the farm land and “progress” brought us supermarkets.  Small stores faded away…..

Living in Pontelandolfo is a return to a kinder and gentler way of living and eating. We are in carnivore heaven in Pontelandolfo – there are not one, not two but three butcher shops in our little village – great food means a lot to  Pontelandolfesi.   The shop I visited the most was  Marcelleria, Cinque M.A.M. S.R.L., located at Via Falcone E Borsellino. (I have no clue what the initials mean – they’re all on the sign.) My cousin Carmella explained that this shop was a cooperative for the local farmers – a big plus for me.

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Santina Guerrera, ace butcher
and charming woman.

Santina Guerrera (h’mm is she related to me?) would greet me every time I went into her Macelleria with a big smile and once with a great question – “Hai intenzione di parlare un buon italiano oggi o cattivo italiano?” (Are you going to speak good Italian today or bad Italian?)  I paused, shrugged my shoulders, smiled and repied “Sempre cattivo!” (Always bad.)  Clean up your minds – this wasn’t about talking dirty but speaking Italian properly – something I still haven’t mastered. Santina would smile as I fuddled through my orders.  The first time I wanted chicken for my extended family of eleven, I learned what an Italian meat portion was.  I originally asked for 7 chicken breasts and four full thigh/legs.  Santina looked at me and asked “how many are you cooking for?”  When I said eleven she cut the order in half and got the cleaver out to separate thighs from legs and cut each breast in half.  I thought, this won’t feed eleven.  In the USA everybody gets 1/2 pound each!  She was right, my Italian cousins eat small healthy portions.

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Santina prepares beef and pork for grinding.

One day, I decided to make an “American” meal for my extended family.  Meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and some green thing or another.  I told Santina what I wanted to make – un grande polpettone – and couldn’t understand why she took huge hunks of meat out of the walk in fridge.  Midge, you silly girl, she is going to grind it fresh!

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She tossed  a hunk of beef and a hunk of pork in the giant grinder and out came ground integrated meat.  I started to drool on the counter.  Of course everything I bought was beautifully wrapped up for me.

The other butcher I visited was Macelleria Perugini Franco on Via Falcone Borsellino, 4.  Franco made incredible sausage.  At first I had to figure out what days he was grinding meat and adding his magical spices – because until I got the schedule down there wouldn’t be any left!  He made the sausage fresh.  I just found an old receipt and it only cost me  € 3,87 (about $5 for 4 servings of freshly made exceptional sausage.)

No matter where we are in the world, I try never to buy supermarket meat – schifoso – wrapped in plastic, pumped full of chemicals, grown in small crowded cages – gag me – chicken and beef that  – well I better stop so I don’t ruin your appetite. When Jack and I are in Flagtown we buy most of our meat directly from local farmers – Farview Farm (http://www.farviewfarm.com) in Readington and Lima Farms (http://limafamilyfarms.com) in Hillsborough.

Carnivores of the world unite behind your local butcher and family farm!  We are blessed to have ours in both of our home towns.

NY Times 10/13/13 – Talks about Drug Prices in USA vs EU

by midgeguerrera, posted in Any Day in Pontelandolfo, Practical Matters - Living Abroad

http://www.nytimes.com/2013/10/13/us/the-soaring-cost-of-a-simple-breath.html?ref=us

Yesterday, I posted an article about our experiences in Pontelandolfo buying medicines.  It  makes me want to scream at our legislators for allowing big pharma to decide how much to rape  and pillage for profits.  Thinking that maybe I was simply a wacko with a pharma conspiracy theory, I was soooo vindicated to read today’s New York Times.   Since I don’t want you to think I’m a wacko, I had to post this story from the New York Times.

Here are some excerpts from the article:

With its high prescription prices, the United States spends far more per capita on medicines than other developed countries. Drugs account for 10 percent of the country’s $2.7 trillion annual health bill, even though the average American takes fewer prescription medicines than people in France or Canada, said Gerard Anderson, who studies medical pricing at the Bloomberg School of Public Health at Johns Hopkins University.

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Thanks in part to the $250 million last year spent on lobbying for pharmaceutical and health products — more than even the defense industry — the government allows such practices. (pay generic drug makers to stall release and don’t make things over the counter because folks won’t pay more than $20 OTC.) Lawmakers in Washington have forbidden Medicare, the largest government purchaser of health care, to negotiate drug prices. Unlike its counterparts in other countries, the United States Patient-Centered Outcomes Research Institute, which evaluates treatments for coverage by federal programs, is not allowed to consider cost comparisons or cost-effectiveness in its recommendations. And importation of prescription medicines from abroad is illegal, even personal purchases from mail-order pharmacies.

“Our regulatory and approval system seems constructed to achieve high-priced outcomes,” said Dr. Peter Bach, the director of the Center for Health Policy and Outcomes at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center. “We don’t give any reason for drug makers to charge less.”

And taxpayers and patients bear the consequences.

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In all other developed countries, governments similarly use a variety of tools to make sure that drug manufacturers sell their products at affordable prices. In Germany, regulators set drug wholesale and retail prices. Across Europe, national health authorities refuse to pay more than their neighbors for any drug. In Japan, the price of a drug must go down every two years.

Drug prices in the United States are instead set in hundreds of negotiations by hospitals, insurers and pharmacies with drug manufacturers, with deals often brokered by powerful middlemen called group purchasing organizations and pharmacy benefit managers, who leverage their huge size to demand discounts. The process can get nasty; if mediators offer too little for a given product, manufacturers may decide not to produce it or permanently drop out of the market, reducing competition.

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Welcome to the USA – home to the big pharma lobby.  Read the article – it is part of a series on the cost of medicines in the USA.

http://www.nytimes.com/2013/10/13/us/the-soaring-cost-of-a-simple-breath.html?ref=us

I apologize for posting a non- Italy specific tale, but hey, its my blog……

La Farmacia – Pontelandolfo’s Family Pharmacy

by midgeguerrera, posted in Any Day in Pontelandolfo, Practical Matters - Living Abroad

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Whoa – all I can think about are drugs!  With the air waves bombarded with the shut down of the American Government and all that debate over the Affordable Health Care Act – who wouldn’t think of drugs.  Medicine to keep us healthy.  Medicine to keep us sane.  Time to look into the meds that keep us sane and send some to the USA Congress.  It makes me crazy to think that  a country still exists where some retired folks stop taking medicine when they find they are in the Medicare Part D donut hole of higher profit for big pharma.  I am hoping that the Affordable Care Act – if allowed to live on and grow – addresses that too.    OK, enough politics – let’s get down to what it is like for an expat to go to the pharmacy here in Pontelandolfo.

There is only one pharmacy in our village – the sign says Farmacia.  It is not Waldgreens or CVS or any big box monolith run by employees who will never remember your name. It is simply La Farmacia – a family owned and operated small space on the Piazza Roma.  No, they do not sell soda, bread, flip flops, books or toys – there is however a condom dispenser on the nearby exterior wall.  How clever – condoms in a machine available 24/7 right out there in public!

FARMACIA PERONE DOTT. NICOLA

Piazza Roma, 1682027 PONTELANDOLFO (BN)

ORARI DI APERTURA 

Martedì  08:30 – 13:30     16:30 – 20:00
Mercoledì   08:30 – 13:30
Giovedì   08:30 – 13:30    16:30 – 20:00
Venerdì   08:30 – 13:30    16:30 – 20:00
Sabato   08:30 – 13:30   16:30 – 20:00
Domenica   chiuso
Lunedì   08:30 – 13:30   16:30 – 20:00

Before we leave for extended Italian stays we always try to stockpile medicines for my husband.  I’m lucky – I just take a blood pressure med and I made sure to get a thousand samples.  Jack takes a suitcase full of heart, cholesterol and who knows what else stuff.  What I do know is that when Jack’s Medicare Part D falls into the donut hole of death for the poor, his monthly tab for meds can be  $2,000.  Damn, my first car cost less than that.   Rats, Jack just edited this and said I am lying about the $2,000.  Ptblahhhh ( that is me sticking my tongue out at him.)  I got the breakdown for what Jack’s co-pays were before we left for Italy in April – $1718.49.  So I exaggerated a little but hey – some people don’t have $1718.49 – and that is still more than my first car.

Jack knew, before we hit the Italian hills, we couldn’t afford to buy multi-month’s worth of pills in the USA .  So, we spoke to Michelle and  Michael our fabulous local  – non corporate  – pharmacists at Raritan Apothecary.  They said – buy them in Italy – they will be a hell of a lot cheaper.

Blatant Plug – Buy Local

Raritan Apothecary

25 West Somerset Street    Raritan, NJ 08869

I will admit, my drama queen worry mamma surfaced.  What if we couldn’t get Jack all the stuff he needed?  Would I have to send him home?  Get in touch with my wild women roots and make drugs from monkwart?  The first time Jack ran out of a medicine, I brought the empty bottle to la farmacia and introduced myself to the Perone family team of Nicola and Tina, the father/daughter pharmacists who keep Pontelandolfo on a healthy path. (Yes, I did remember the Italian courtesy of saying Buon Giorno as soon as I entered the store.)

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Tina Perone – who always said “Ciao Midge”. That doesn’t happen at CVS.

Dott. Tina Perone recognized me as Carmella’s cousin – the American who dances two nights a week with her mother.  Small villages create the art and activity they need.  Carmella had organized a bi-weekly line dancing excersize  and get together gab fest at the indoor bocce courts.   I love to dance, need excersize and wanted to meet the village women.  It was a win – win – win since it gave Tina and I an immediate connection.

Even without that connection, Jack and I would have been treated like people not numbers.  Dott. Nicola Perone took the empty bottle and then proceeded to research for an incredibly long time the formula and ingredients.  When he had the Italian perfect match he provided Jack with his meds.  We do not have health insurance for Italy.  We are not part of the Italian health care system.  We paid full retail.  Full retail that was freakin’ less than Jack’s bloody co-pay in the USA!  How the hell can that be?

Over the course of months we visited the pharmacy often.  Jack’s meds were always researched and supplied.  The one thing that cost more in Italy was Advil – ibuprofen  – one euro a pill!  Of course they only sell 400 mg of Ibuprofen – not our 200 mg bottles.   Jack needs to pack his Costco Ibuprofen or start using the Italian Spedifen!  Interesting  that vitamins weren’t pushed – apparently most people only take those vitamins that docs prescribe – like vitamin D.  That made me pause and think about how much I spend a month on supplements.

Poor Jack, he loves to walk in the noon day sun up and down the hills.  Too bad the soft corn between his toes hurt like a son of a bitch.  We went into the pharmacy to get the name of a podiatrist and the first thing Dott. Nicola said was take off your shoe.  Jack took off his shoe and Dott. Nicola looked at the giant thing between his toes.  Damn, I wouldn’t even do that and I love the guy.  He gave Jack some rubber things to put between his toes and some gunk to put on the ugly thing.  Did you catch that, the pharmacist got on his knees and checked out my husband’s toes.  You don’t see that at Walmart.

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Dott. Nicola Perone – our fabulous pharmacist!

I am uncomfortable sharing the meds my husband takes so I will only give you one example of price point differentials.  Before we left for Italy Jack got Nexium 40mg – 90 pills – for a $311.95 co-pay or  $3.47 co-pay per pill.  In Italy for the generic exomeprazolo it cost .73 per pill retail – not co-pay. I just checked on line and the exomeprazolo 40 mg for 90 days co-pay at CVS on line comes to .55 per pill.  Retail is less than or a wee bit more than the USA co-pay.  Huh?!!! What?!!!!

Interested in learning more about Italian pharmacies  and brushing up on your Italian –

http://farmacie.tuttosuitalia.com

Le farmacie sono luoghi organizzati dallo stato ma operati da professionisti medici che vendono medicinali solitamente dietro ricetta medica. Con l’istituzione delle parafarmacie è possibile acquistare medicinali equivalenti senza ricetta medica.

Pharmacies are places organized by the state but operated by medical professionals who sell medicines usually with a prescription. With the establishment of drugstores you can buy generic medicines without prescription.  Are big box drugstores coming to Italy?  I hope not.  We did see pharmacy concessions with a separate check out in big grocery stores – kind of a grocery/Walmart store set up.

Just like I won’t shop in a Walmart in the USA and we only get medicine at a local pharmacy – Raritan Apothecary.  When in Italy, I’ll stick with going to see Dott. Nicola and Dott. Tina in our little La Farmacia on the Piazza.  La Farmacia where every “Buon Giorno” is greeted with a smile and you are served by people you can trust.

Internet – Can’t Have A Home Without it!

by midgeguerrera, posted in Any Day in Pontelandolfo, Practical Matters - Living Abroad

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Full Disclosure: I HATE THAT WE ARE BEHOLDEN TO COMCAST CABLE TO PROVIDE INTERNET SERVICE IN FLAGTOWN, NJ.  Verizon never wired our street for FIOS – that makes Comcast/Xfinity the only show in town.  What happened to choice?  Oh yeah, we don’t have it.

Before we left for Italy I called Comcast to downgrade our account – we had the famous triple play package.  Our monthly bill was close to $200.  Since we wouldn’t be watching TV or using the phone I wanted to downgrade to simply internet.  Easy.  NOT.

Why is it that in this day of technology a kid at a computer can send a drone to pin point a target thousands of miles away, yet you still have to repeat all of your contact information a minimum of three times when you call the cable company?

Robot:     

 Please say or type into your keypad your cable account number or telephone number.

Me:

CCXXXXXXX – I had put on my good speech voice and said it slowly.

Robot:     

Please say or type into your keypad your cable account number or telephone number.

Me:   (Using the non-pretentious voice)

 CCXXXXXXX

Robot:

Please say or type into your keypad your cable account number or telephone number.

Me: (With my hand over the phone.)

 BITE ME!

I type the number into my keypad.

Robot:    

  Please say your address

Me:          

 Can’t you see that from my account number?

Robot:

 Can’t you see is an unknown address.  Please say your address.

I slowly said the my address.

Robot:

Please say the last four digits of your social security number.

Me:

  Uugggggxx*&^%!

I carefully say the last four digits of my social security number and think I should play the number in the next big lottery.

Robot:     

Please wait while we connect you to the next available operator

Operator:

Hello this is wp0e85rbv (name impossible to understand) may I have your Comcast account number or phone number please?

Me:        

Excuse Me?!

Finally, I make her understand that I do not want to talk to anyone about another type of plan or upgrading my service or adding the ESPN package.  All I want is internet – I can’t get it from anyone else.  Just internet now costs us $52.48  that equals 38.81€.  Remember that number!

After rehashing Comcast for you, I took some deep cleansing breaths and am now able to talk serenely about our Internet connectivity in Pontelandolfo.

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 We didn’t know how to begin.  My family members use wireless USB devices.  Jack and I thought that we needed something more permanent with unlimited access.  The wonderful Annarita Mancini and I went on a search for alternative services.  Annarita discovered LCR System and  Emilio (the contact for Pontelandolflo.)  She did the calling for me and asked all the right questions.  Putting her hand over her phone she asked, “Is 25€ a month too much?  I think it is too much – it is usually less but you are only here for 3 months and he doesn’t want to do it for 3 months.”

Do I think it is too much?  That is 13.81€ less than I pay Comcast normally.  Yes, yes, have them come, I shouted.  (I don’t know what their normal rate is but I think it is 20€ per month.)

The system is incredibly brilliant.  They have a  WiFi tower somewhere in Pontelandolfo and installed an antennae on top of our house.  The antennae was hard wired into a router that they placed in a room on the second floor.  That means – without cable or FIos – you can have internet access even on the top of a mountain!  They charged me 75€ for the installation. Comcast also charges for set-up and activation.   I haven’t been able to do a price comparison.  Some smart folks will note that we needed to amortize the fee over three months which shot our charges up.  We are going back for 6 months in May and I am hoping the antennae is still on the roof.

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Annarita blogging over our WiFi.

To get the techie – I didn’t understand anything but “flat fee” –  information about the service click on: http://www.lcrsystem.it/reti-wireless

Bottom line:

They don’t drop cables!

Speed was fast.   We never had a problem!  Jack seamlessly uploaded library books to his iPad.

 I could upload and download video and pix easily.  We also used it for our Magic Jack phone and iPhones.

In our thick stone wall house it worked best on the second floor and the dining room/living room which was directly below the router.  It also worked outside on both our upper terrace and patio.

 IT COST LESS AND WORKED ALL THE TIME!  I swear when all the kids are home from school the Comcast internet is a traffic jam of bits and bity bits.

Yes, you can leave home, move to Italy and still be wired!