
Terra di Briganti
Società Agricola s.a.s.
Contrada Tacceto. 6 Casalduni (BN)


Terra di Briganti
Società Agricola s.a.s.
Contrada Tacceto. 6 Casalduni (BN)

San Antonio is the Patron Saint of Pontelandolfo.
Now, I’m not sure what a Patron Saint does. I asked Jack who went through 16 years of Catholic Education and he said, ” Nothing now, they’re dead”. After I tossed an apple at him he continued. They used to do miracles, now they are a conduit to God. Folks ask them for help. Ah, I said. Believing there are no coincidences, I began to wonder why in the play I just finished, Mamma Mia – La Befana?! one of the characters asked San Antonio for his help. I thought I had used the name San Antonio because I was finishing the play, here in Ponteladolfo and the festa for him was plastered on posters everywhere. When I looked him up on Wikipedia it said:
St Anthony is venerated all over the world as the Patron Saint for lost articles, and is credited with many miracles involving lost people, lost things and even lost spiritual goods.
Woo woo time. In Mamma Mia – La Befana everyone is looking for the little lost girl, Mary. (This is a secret commercial for my new play, Mamma Mia – La Befana?!, which is perfect for Italian American Clubs, schools, children’s theaters. It is a modern spin on the traditional Italian tale.)
Friday night, June 13 a large percentage of our local community went to the piazza to honor San Antonio. The night started with a mass –

moved on to procession –

and culminated with fireworks.

In the middle, was a performance by the youth dance company, I Bebiani di Circello and our favorite – Ri Ualanegli Juonior, the junior company of Pontelandolfo’s folklorico troupe. The company tours internationally!
Before I share a video of the local favorite, I need to tell you that the woo woo gets better. I asked a few people why the children’s company seems to always dance for San Antonio. The answer – he is also the dude who watches over children. Boy did I score a home run picking him to be part of my play about a lost child!
Enjoy the video clip of our young dancers on June 13!
(Think about asking me about Mamma Mia – La Befana?!)
Last night I wended my way over the curvy hill road – checking for the sheep that graze and amble across the road from one field to another. I decided to go visit Rosella and her great kids – they live in a medieval grotto next to a waterfall and antique water fountain. The road scares the pajeeeezuz out of me – holes, animals and curves on cliffs. But visiting the Iacovella house is worth the risks. I’m thinking a quick game of scopa and a cup of caffè. That was not in the cards – it was time for city lights.

I jumped into the car with Rosella and the kids for a “solo cinque minute” visit to Casalduni. Rosella’s husband, Pasquale, is running for Sindaco (mayor) and silly me thought we were bopping into the village to pick up campaign stuff. My first clue was all of the cars parked along the road into Casalduni. My second clue was the kids opening the windows and sticking their heads out to see something. Whoa! That something was this brilliantly lit street leading to the small villages central square. Tonight was the first night of the festa for Santa Rita!
Of course, when I got back I had to google Saint Rita to find out who she was and what her deal was. She is the patron saint of Casalduni and the patron saint of impossible causes.

Every Italian village has a patron saint and it looks like that saint’s day – for Rita it’s May 22 – is a good excuse to bring some music, art and history to the village. Last night the entertainment was Gruppo Folklorico Sannio Antico – (https://www.facebook.com/pages/GRUPPO-FOLKLORICO-SANNIO-ANTICO/220253154670895) . These all volunteer dancers told the story of Casalduni through music and movement. Supplying the music was Il Gruppo Fontanavecchia. In the hills, old fountains – a source of water and life – seem to be a recurring theme. One movement piece showed women washing their clothes, gossiping and filling jugs at the fountain – while the men flirted. Ah a typical Italian scene.

Casalduni is an interesting village. It only has about 1500 residents but covers a great swath of land. The village historic center has tons of empty properties. I’m guessing families immigrated and just deserted their medieval row houses. The place is charming and would make an easily accessible artists colony or pied a terrè in Italy. It saddens me to see these historic villages just slowly empty.
Last night, the enthusiasm and energy of the “cittadini”made it a terrific night on the town. My theory is that people need the arts to survive and if the arts are not close by they will create their own artistic feast. I grew up in New Jersey, NY’s step-sister. Our town, Hillsborough Township, was and still is an artistic waste land. There is the occasional art show and band in the park but mostly if you want action you can visit one of the hundreds of jock filled fields – soccer, baseball, and well I don’t know what the other jock fields are for but they are there. Since Hillsborough is so close to New York, Philadelphia and Princeton, we leave town for our art fix. Here in the hills of Italy, people don’t have a lot of cash, there is limited public transportation and everyone has the soul of a Da Vinci. They make art! Dance companies are formed. Theatrical “spectacollos” are staged. Live music is found in piazzas and every child doodles on a sketch pad. Folks here create the art they crave and a saint’s day is a great opportunity to share it. Since Saint Rita’s day is May 22, we will go back tonight to see what artistic feast we can munch on.

Gruppo Folklorico Sannio Antico wishes –
Con le nostre danze e canti, auguriamo a tutti una serata piacevole e che sia portatrice di pace e serenita.” Noi devoti di Santa Rita chiediamo la sua protezione.
With our dances and songs, we wish that every person enjoys the evening. Also, may this event bring serenity and peace and may Santa Rita protect everyone with many blessings.
Me, I’m just happy to see the city lights.

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 –

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!

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.

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.

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.

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
Traveling through Italy, Midge had an epiphany! Laundry wasn’t some mundane yet necessary act. Yards of laundry strung around Venice was art.
It was 10:00 PM and we had just finished dinner at Landulphi, a great space that resonates with its medieval heritage. Outside Piazza Roma was a buzz of activity. Picnic tables were crammed in front of Bar Elimar. A lit bandstand filled one section of the sidewalk. Tots in strollers, pre-school hellions chasing each other throughout the crowds, moms, grandmas, twenty and thirty-somethings and tweens edge closer to the action.

Tonight, that action was a sweet group of young performers – I’m guessing music conservatory instead of university students – wailing out traditional Italian music on the accordion, all sorts of percussive instruments and electric guitars.

There is a college age dancer – barefoot on the cobblestones – dancing her heart out in the style of my ancestors. Twirling, toes pointed and then flexed as she stamps, kicks and brings us back to a time in this village – even before the unification of Italy. The sounds of Sud Terranea – “music popolare mediterranea” – brought young people to their feet dancing not the bop of hip hop but the traditional footwork of their great grandparents. ( http://sudterranea.jimdo.com/)

Boy was I happy I had on a white shawl. It gave me something to hold up as I too did my whirling dervish routine. Weeee – I almost but not quite worked off the calories I gobbled down at Landulphi.
It was interesting that this bit of performance art popped out of nowhere on this particular day. Earlier – on a Skype call with my friend George Hansel about producing his new cabaret act, Burly Man Sings Girly Songs: My Life as a Show Tune Queen and Sexual Outlaw, (yes that was a plug) George raised a devastating question.

Could I really live in a small village with no easy access to the cultural richness of New York and Philadelphia? Hey, I bellowed back, I grew up in Flagtown, NJ – a small village with easy access to culture and an uncle who worked for the then New York Mirror and got free tix to stuff. Ask me how often we actually got to go????
George also, reminded me that I have the attention span of a gnat and boredom can easily weasel its evil sighs into my soul. I explained that during my last bout of boredom I realized that if I was bored it was my fault. All it took was a walk down to the village with my laptop in tow to chase the boredom away. Just sitting at a bar (cafe) surrounded by village life and listening, watching and being perpetually surprised at the instant art that pops up can get my creative juices flowing and the deeps sighs disappearing.
Living in New Jersey with easy access to my state’s professional theaters and being able to zip into both nearby cities, is indeed terrific. But how often do we really do it? Finances come into play. Tickets are expensive, add travel, or driving costs and suddenly an opportunity to experience art is fiscally out of the question. Here in Pontelandolfo, the fiscal crisis has folks pinching euros. Yet, art is accessible to them. They often create it themselves.

Sponsored by bars, community groups and Pontelandolphesi living in the USA and Canada, there seems to be music, dance, theatre and visual art happening weekly. Look for upcoming blogs on many of those events including a two part blog on Associazione Culturale Ri Ualanegli – our dance company – and the week long national folk dance festival.

A quick peek at http://www.eptbenevento.it/archivio_eventi_mostre_benevento.html – the EPT Benevento (ente provinciale per il turismo) events website – lets me know that other villages in the province also are bringing in art. Campania, the region we are in, even has an “art card” – http://www.campaniartecard.it/ – reduced rate admissions and listings.
A short drive over the mountain takes us to Cerreto Sannita where di antica tradizione ceramica lives on. Artisans freely open their studios to folks like me to watch and learn the process – note FREELY.


San Lupo – just a scant 10 minutes over curvey mountain roads – sponsors a annual classical music festival.

How much are the tickets? Nada!, Niente!, Bupkus!
Damn, we missed the theater festival in Amorosi – a 20 minute or so trek down the mountain. They do charge for tickets and bring in professional companies from as far away as the USA. (http://www.amotefestival.it/) Next year we absolutely will get tix to something and report back.
The bottom line is that art and culture is just a matter of everyday life in Italy – even in the smallest villages. There is public art everywhere – our village has three large installations. Of course, the remnants of Ancient Rome are everywhere too.

Revisit some of my earlier stories – Circo acquatico, San Antonio Festival, Calcio – stuff just happens here and I don’t have to pay the tunnel tolls, gauging parking fees and high ticket prices to drink in all this culture! Like my New Jersey ArtPride pals say – Be a Culture Vulture – I am and I am loving every second.
So, dear George, I think I can really live in a small village with no easy access to the cultural richness of the tri-state area. Of course, we do have to figure out a way to get your one man cabaret act across the pond.
Whirling dervishes dance madly in the noon day sun as the wind whips
over the mountains of Campania.
One morning, on our way to the Naples airport , I screeched at Jack to pull over. He raised an eyebrow and kept on driving. Rats, how would I really get a glimpse of the thousands of windmills that peppered the mountain ridge if he didn’t pull over? That was the first time I spied the windmills that are part of the onshore wind farms that earned Italy its 2012 standing as the world’s sixth largest producer of wind power. I have no idea how wind power works but the science guys at http://science.howstuffworks.com/environmental/green-science/wind-power.htm will absolutely explain it all.
Sentries posted on the tops of mountains
Sannino soldiers gaze down on the approaching Romans.
Tall, helmets pointed to the heavens – bodies still against the azure sky.
When I first saw them, I wasn’t thinking – “Gee, how green and save – the – planet this is.” I was thinking, “Hear the sounds of the marching feet as the Roman army emerges over the crest of the hill.” Seriously, from a distance they look like advancing ramrod straight soldiers with pointed hats. Up close they are more like super giant stick figures. Up close? H’mm did she really drive up the mountain to get closer? Yes, by gum we did! Why? Because we could! So why not. OK, if the truth be told, it was a chilly, dreary day and I was going to poke out my eyes with a pen if we didn’t get in the car and do something. Anything – as long as it didn’t cost a bundle of bucks and we didn’t have to change out of comfy clothes. Anything – never give me that option. My brain tumbles and rumbles and soon bizarre suggestions spew forth like Vesuvius. Anything meant – chasing windmills. Jack, knowing divorce was eminent if he didn’t get behind the wheel of the car, started the engine and let me navigate. Navigation was something like – “NO, NO – TURN RIGHT” – when ever I saw the top of a windmill. We were so intent on getting close to the windmills that I didn’t even shriek at the switchbacks along the way. What we didn’t do was record exactly how to get to the ridge. All I remember was from Colle Sannita take SS 212 and make a right on SP 55. I was too entranced to take notes but said into my video at least 10 times – we were on SP55!
http://www.thewindpower.net/zones_en_7_campania.php keeps a database of wind farms and their operators. You tech folks might find this interesting. I don’t know how often they update it. I swear I counted more windmills than are noted. Some may have been the third or fourth phases of a farm and not yet included.
According to http://www.ieawind.org/countries/italy.html, Installation of new wind farms in Italy continued its pace in 2011. Total online grid-connected wind capacity reached 6,878 MW at the end of the year, with an increase of 1,080 MW from 2010. As usual, the largest development took place in the southern regions, particularly in Apulia, Calabria, Campania, Sardinia, and Sicily. In 2011, 590 new wind turbines were deployed in Italy and their average capacity was 1,831 kW. The total number of online wind turbines thus became 5,446, with an overall average capacity of 1,263 kW. All plants are based on land, mostly on hill or mountain sites. The 2011 production from wind farms could provisionally be put at about 10.1 TWh, which would be about 3% of total electricity demand of the Italian system.
Electricity is expensive here so I was hoping the wind farms were producing a lot more than 3%. Well, this data is from 2011 and we know that Italy in 2012 was the 6th largest producer of wind power.

What is interesting is that the farmers are still working the land around the windmills. As we wended our way around we passed beautiful new combines, tractors and balers . I am guessing that the income from the utility companies helps keep this area green and farmed. Windmills plus farm land sure beats the housing developments plus loss of farm land that are a blight on New Jersey.

I learned something this grey day – chasing windmills is a guaranteed cure for boredom. Listen to the sound of the wind whistling on the ridge!
Watch out! Sheeeeeeeet, the motorini is aiming for us. I clutch the armrest. My heart races. Jack scowls and bellows, “stop screeching.”

Ahhhhh, thank you for listening. I have discharged my angst. I inhale deeply, and count to ten. H,mmmmmmm. I visualize white light surrounding the car. WATCH OUT!!!!!! I immediately stop all this relaxation, funky granola, bull poop and bellow, “DON’T EVER TAKE A FREAKIN’ CAR INTO THE CENTER OF NAPLES!”
Here’s the story. It was a beautiful day and we thought we could explore Naples. Our fabulous landlord had taken us a few weeks earlier. He drove us directly into the glorious historic center. He was incredibly familiar with the city and assured us the historic center was clean, safe and wonderful. It was! The architecture and history are worth a visit. With Nichola we strolled down to the waterfront, had a caffè in a small bar and people watched.

We thought we could do it on our own. (Notice the “we thought”.) We were accompanied by Giusy who attends Università DI Napoli “Federico II”. The plan was to take the train from Benevento. The down side of idyllic, very small village life is that there is really no public transportation. At 7:00 or 7:40 AM students and those lucky enough to have jobs can take the bus to Benevento. At 8:30 AM there is a bus to Campobasso. We didn’t know until a few days later you can take it all the way to Naples but it is a really long – stop everywhere – ride. Where was I? Oh yeah, the plan was to take the train from Benevento. Great plan – 20 minute ride to the station – 30 minutes trying to figure out where to park – and then finding a parking lot only to discover that the prepay machine only took coins! Sounds like New Jersey transit – we’ve got the trains just nowhere to leave your car. Shouting and cursing ensued – that was me. Jack did the scowl sigh thing. Giusy said, “maybe we should just drive.” Well she lives there how bad could it be?
I need to point out that the last time Jack drove to Naples – about 5 years ago – we were going to the Capodimonte Museum and National Galleries and got stuck in a horn blowing, knives flashing, traffic jam at a 1/2 mile wide round-about (circle). We were forced to crawl around the circle for about 45 minutes. We had only gone about half-way around the huge thing when Jack was able to ease off into a wide avenue. In less than one block, the wide two way street had bottlenecked into a goat path. People had double parked or abandoned their cars on both sides of the street. It was an impassable, drivers screaming and horns blaring NIGHTMARE. Jack Mr. Calm in a crisis pulled the car onto the sidewalk and told us to get out. When in Rome or Naples do as …. We abandoned the car, took a cab to the museum and worried abut driving later. So, here we are driving in Naples again. Are we insane? Don’t answer that.
This time we had our handy iPhones and could use the GPS. We knew we wanted to explore a neighborhood and picked the bayside “Posillipo”. Getting in was a dream. We took the autostrada to the city and then followed the water all the way to Posillipo. Parking in a lot was easy – though again you could only use change. Since we figured we only needed three hours to stroll, eat lunch and stare at the sea, we scrounged enough coins. The view from Posillipo is amazing. We all agreed this was the neighborhood to live in.

Gated private streets led to magnificent houses and apartment buildings. Sigh, anybody want to give me a scant million?



Strolling through the neighborhood we discovered a restaurant with an incredible view. Reginella Restaurant was the type that brochures touting the charms of a seaside community are sure to mention. It was perched on the side of the cliff leading down to the Bay of Naples.

We sat on a terrace overlooking the sea. Initially, the charming host sat us right next to the railing – ah a glorious view! Giusy and I looked at each other – we were both turning green. All I saw was my life passing before my eyes as I fell off the side of the cliff and lay broken on the rocks below. With chattering teeth we asked for another table.


Once we were happily seated a bit further back, we concentrated on the incredible seafood. I’ll let you see the food and judge for your selves. (Pssst – My “risotto alla pescatore” was chock full of clams, mussels, scallops and pieces of calamari.)



Delicious! Seafood by the sea . Those of you waiting for the other DON’T DRIVE shoe to drop. Hang on – here it comes.
After lunch we strolled a bit and took in the sites of the neighborhood. Most shops were closed. Even stores in the cities close for lunch and a break, opening again at about 4:30. Sated from lunch and the fabulous view we decided to head for the historic center and check out where Giusy attended university and lived.
Whaaaaaaa. Whaaaaaa. Nervous breakdown alert. If you do not have a strong stomach for street chaos stop reading.
We set the GPS for the address of the apartment, followed the bay and suddenly were told to turn left into Dante’s third level of HELL. Thousands of Evil Kenivals zoomed in and out of stop and go traffic on motorcycles, motorini and broom sticks. Cars double and tripped parked making streets impassable. The GPS didn’t quite get street closings due to well who knows – it was Tuesday. Where the hell was my Xanax? Clutching the purse on my lap like a life jacket, I tried not to cry out every time a freakin’ car or motorini cut us or or came careening toward us. My nails bit into my palms. Jack squared his waspy jaw and forged ahead. Forging ahead isn’t the right phrase. Begging for life – that’s a good phrase. Or crying for my mother – that’s a good phrase. It is like driving a car in a full washing machine set to the spin cycle. Bump, rrrrrrrrrrrrt, squeak, ugggggggg — HELL.
Giusy reminded us she always took the bus and walked and didn’t really know the direct route to her apartment. Gee, thanks for the relevant information! We saw the sign for a parking lot and whipped the car in. Relief. On foot, we enjoyed exploring the university.

Next, it was on to discover how college kids live. We checked out Giusy’s apartment – palace sized rooms stuffed with kids. Sound familiar? Well, in the U.S. we really don’t usually find apartments with 14 foot ceilings, beautiful ironwork elevators and five bedrooms, two baths for 350 euros per each of the five roommates. Granted, clothes were still tossed around and the furniture was all cast off – but still it felt like a palace.
Time to go – so we trudged to the parking lot – where being 8 minutes late – they charged us for an extra hour. Giusy argued like a trooper and oh yeah – she won! They didn’t charge us. We gritted our teeth for the drive home. I couldn’t watch as Jack tried to squeeze out of the garage to the street. We hadn’t a clue how to get out of town and the GPS in our iPhone was obviously under a lot of stress. We ended up by the docks – well that was fun. Not TOO many cars jockeying for position there. We sat inhaling exhaust for what felt like hours – Jack says it was only 30 minutes. The conversation in the car came to a dead halt. Since I was’t allowed to make caustic comments or scream, it was very quiet. Somehow Jack got us out of the city and on to the highway. We all exhaled and enjoyed the mountains, farms and lush green that is the Italian country side.
Naples is a glorious city. TAKE THE BUS!
PS: Jack says it wasn’t so bad. We got home didn’t we!!!