What? Has she gone mad? Disco Fries in Italy? Where? When?
A MYSTERIOUS BOX ARRIVED IN EWING, NJ
What: A book – a box of books with my name in the table of contents. Where: Disco Fries can be found in Italy or England or Flagtown, NJ or Wherever Books are Sold. When: the anthology of New Jersey based stories, essays, comics, poetry and photographs was launched on October 21st.
I know, I know this blog is all about my escapades in Italy. What do “escapades in Italy” have to do with a book all about New Jersey, USA called Disco Fries & Scenic Drives: Life in the Garden State?
A lot! Those of you who followed our crossing the Atlantic to get to Italy this year know I used the Queen Mary 2 as my personal writer’s retreat. Since I had been comparing our transatlantic adventure with my families journey to America in steerage, the muses compelled me to write about my Aunt Catherine’s journey from Italy to becoming a female postmaster. You know where this is going don’t you? When I got to Italy, I tweaked my tale and sent Postmarked Flagtown NJ 08821 off to independent publisher, Read Furiously.
On August 1, 2025 I got an email from Sam and Adam, the brilliant creative team behind Read Furiously. As I read the email, shrieks bellowed across the Sannio Hills and my neighbors ran over to see what happened.
What happened, I gulped between shouts, What happened? My story about my Aunt Cat was accepted by Read Furiously and would be included in the last book ” of the Life inthe Garden State trilogy” about ” the wonderful and interesting moments that make up the New Jersey mythos.”
Then, I told Jack to put his shoes on and off we raced to celebrate in a very unique Italian way – sipping a basil martini at Morcone’s Riohana. A really cool bar with views of the mountain.
Do we look drunk? I think I got drunk – drunk with joy!
As an author, I join twenty-one other contributors to the anthology. Many of the other authors I recognized as folks whose books I’ve read and who also have had works previously published by Read Furiously. We all created tales about different aspects, places and people that make the Garden State a rollicking place to visit and live in.
It is the perfect gift for anyone who lives in New Jersey, is from New Jersey or is an armchair traveler who enjoys experiencing other places while sipping an adult beverage. Each work is a gem unto itself. Being a Jersey Girl, I appreciated each creator’s take on a specific location and point in time. Since the book is a series of shorter works, it is a great book to pop in a purse or briefcase – does any one still have a briefcase – to pick up while waiting for that car, doctor, or meeting.
Jersey maps are embedded in the book as a reference point and the title page for each story. Flagtown was my home town. Seeing that point on the map made my participation in this collection even more special. (Gulp, when I saw the map, I actually got a bit teary eyed and felt my heart chakra blossom.)
Sam and Adam, I hope it was OK for me to snap a photo of this page.Sorry.
Pick up a copy of Disco Fries & Scenic Drives: Life in the Garden State. It is available wherever books are sold – Barnes and Noble, Amazon and of course directly from the publisher Read Furiously! If you purchase a copy from the link to Read Furiously, I got super brownie points from the company. One never knows when they could come in handy.
Speaking of blatant promotion, while you are on the Read Furiously website or visiting your favorite book vender, why not pick up a copy or three of Cars, Castles, Cows and Chaos. My fun filled travel memoir of life in Southern Italy. A cool stocking stuffer for any arm chair traveller.
Have a great week, wherever you are! Happy reading.
Those of you who had been following my tales comparing my Nonna’s 1920 transatlantic crossing and mine, know that on May 30, 2025 we disembarked in Southhampton, England UK. Nobody laugh but until we took the QM2 across the Atlantic I didn’t know the word disembarkation existed. Then a bus, a plane and a car service later we were home in Pontelandolfo, Italy.
Some of you have messaged me and asked – What did you really think about the crossing? Was it organized to a type A Jersey Girl’s level of expectation? What did you learn? Would you do it again?
I thought the crossing was fabulous. Jack and I don’t put on worry hats. We absolutely ignored all those woosies telling us to wear magic anti nausea bracelets and take dramamine . Yes, one felt the roll of the ocean. That roll would rock me to sleep at night. It is chilly on the Atlantic but, frankly, we rarely went outside. We found two bars we loved – great martinis, fabulous views of the sea, comfortable seats and interesting other travelers. With my laptop in toe, I would write in the bars or simply stare at the sea. Being friendly folks, we often shared a seating area with other people and had funfilled and engaging conversations. Most of the passengers we met were from Great Britain, Ireland and Italy. (All asked us the same question – who voted for that man to be president? I shrugged and said “boh.”)
We had a room – or do I call it a cabin – that was quite large, had a sitting area, ensuite bathroom with a large shower and an obstructed view terrace. We could sit outside and see the sea through the glass sides of a lifeboat. Not being athletic, I didn’t think that if the need arose I could sprint and leap into the lifeboat. The obstructed view cost less and since we were rarely there was inconsequential.
Room Service Breakfast was off the menu and delish.
Every day a new slick printed trifold was placed on our newly made bed. It contained the schedule for the next day. the “Daily Programme” had nautical information, What to Wear advice for the day – Smart Attire please – and a complete list of activities. Frankly, we never went to see a show – back to the bar after our late night dinner. Never went to the interesting lectures. Never went to the dance and exercise classes. Never went to the painting and arts based classes. Never went into the empty casino. Never went into the all night long disco. Never went – well you get my drift. Passengers who were looking to use the voyage as a “cruise vacation” were not disappointed. I used the seven days as a writer’s retreat and finished a short story and three blogs. Jack and I also enjoyed exploring the nooks and crannies of the ship.
During the day there were lots of seats in the casino.
Based on how much one pays for a cabin, a restaurant is assigned. We were assigned to the Britannia Club and were never disappointed. The menu changed daily, was interesting, delicious and beautifully presented. Famished when we embarked (look I used the fancy word again) we foolishly went to the Kings Court Buffet. Crowds, grabbing a table, I thought I was in a college cafeteria. It was lovely to look at but we are foodie snobs so the buffet never saw us again. For up charges there were alternative dining options. We toyed with trying them but the food in the Britannia Club was so good, I didn’t see the need to.
Room Service was included in the base price. Every morning we got up when we felt like it, didn’t rush to a restaurant and had a scrumptious breakfast delivered. Portions were small – think tapas – and interesting takes on eggs.
We did go to the famous daily Afternoon Tea. Obviously it was a tasty treat for all. Sadly, waiters came around with carafes of tea, trays of different sandwiches, savories and pastries. I thought we were in a dim sum restaurant. I miss the tower and my own pot of tea.
Knowing we were not the soft drink kind of folks, we opted to pay $1008 for unlimited spirits, specialty beverages and more. I know, $72 a day each sounds like a ridiculous price until I started asking obnoxious questions. How much is a martini made with Hendricks? What do you charge for a cappuccino, sparkling mineral water, etc. Bar prices are the same as a New York City or London Hotel Bar. Yes, they charged for mineral water. If a glass of wine is $14 and Jack has two at lunch and three at dinner, we would spend $70. Now, add on the four bottles of mineral water, three cappuccini and toss in an espresso or two and he made the daily price point. Without worry and the tips are included. Frankly, we did spend a lot of time in the various bars and the coffee house. When we flashed our card with the pre-pay stamp we were treated incredibly well. Another incentive to hang out in the bars was the music. Jazz, harpist, light rock, Irish Shanties – music matched the tone of the bar. Sigh, I do miss that.
Bar Table With a View Worth Drinking For.
Was the adventure organized to my obnoxious management standards? Hmm. Yes and no. I would have appreciated some of the information we received on the ship in advance. When we arrived at our cabin we found information about where to eat, how to turn on internet, where do I get my key etc. I would have appreciated the first day schedule in advance. At the Brooklyn Pier, our luggage was whisked out of the car and directly to our cabin. I thought how spot on! What wasn’t spot on was the long cue to show one’s passport and tickets. No one explained in advance that there would be an incredible amount of walking to board the vessel. Jack has a squirrely back and we order an airport wheelchair for him. If I had been forewarned, I would have ordered a wheelchair at the pier . Disembarking was the same forced long march out.
The WIFI was another annoying issue. One must pay the evil StarLink for the service. I paid, and couldn’t get it to work. Obviously, hordes of other folks couldn’t get it to work and on day one we all cued up at the ConneXions Desk. There should have been more people working. After two days of writing, I realized I couldn’t upload anything. Now even more annoyed, I went to the purser’s station and stood in another long line to discover that for a few pounds a day more the wifi would work perfectly. I can’t remember what the uncharge was but hey…
The disembarking including our luggage being whisked out to the transportation center. We found our bags and then lugged them to a bus. Cunard for $90 a person will transport folks to Heathrow. I will never take the bus again. My short legs and big butt make climbing into a high bus and up stairs to the seats a nightmare. Lugging my computer bag down the narrow aisle wasn’t pleasant either. Next time, I would price out a car service to the airport. We spied small groups getting into bigger taxi style vehicles. The driver was helpful at the airport and made sure our luggage made it to the curb.
What did I learn? I learned that the Queen Mary 2, for some passengers, is a commuter ferry. Seriously, a lot of the people I met used the QM2 to get from one content to the other for work. The library on the ship has work stations with ocean views and unless I got there early enough, they were all taken with folks typing away. Someone said to me, they get a lot of work done on the crossing and arrive refreshed and ready to go.
I learned, not quite as bad as an airport, but you still have to wait in uncomfortable lines to get on and get off – excuse me embark and disembark. At least all of the staff was “Disney” smiling and happy.
People are wonderful and interesting. Traveling slowly across the sea provides an opportunity to really chat and get to know people’s stories. The Irish American sisters who visit Ireland annually and regaled us with village tales. They were from a county that butts the county that Jack’s clan is from. The Italian American couple who spend six months a year in Puglia were charming and fun to sit and laugh with in two languages. The Irish woman and her young son were a joy to play with. The world travelers who gave us hints for getting the most out of the QM2. And so many more.
I also learned that being in a cocoon of comfort was a catalyst for my creativity. Since I had been blogging about my Nonna’s journey, I wrote a non-fiction short story about my Aunt Cat. Hmm, a writer’s retreat on a cruise ship? What an idea waiting for someone to organize.
Would I do it again? If the total price point was right, I would do it again. When flights out of Newark, NJ were being cancelled, I started trying to get a flight out of Philadelphia or JFK. The price for premium economy or business class on short notice was the cost of my first car. Then, I get this promotional email from Cunard – last minute deals on cruises. The base fare for a great room with an obstructed view was $859 a person. If we didn’t like bar life or needed wifi, we could have gotten away with that low price. I added on Cunard Care – health insurance and evacuation for 74.27 each. The bus to Heathrow was $90. Then there were taxes. The cost for two people was $2,046.54.
Being math deficient, I had a team of people help me reach the conclusion that adding the spirits package, $17 a day tips, wifi and cheap flight to Naples to the base price the total cost of our voyage for two from Ewing to Pontelandolfo cost us less than one first class last minute ticket on an airplane.
Soooooo, would we do it again? Does Cunard offer discounts to commuters? We are investigating what the seas are like in November and you might find me staring out that QM2 bar window again.
This journey has really been revealing. Actually, no mysteries about the Atlantic Crossing were unveiled- except I did see a whale and it seems that only American Men deem to wear baseball caps to the dining room. The reveal, was personal, very personal. It helped me appreciate my grandmother even more. The revelations started when I discovered SS Madonna, the ship Maria Rosaria Solla, Caterina Guerrera, Nicola Santo Pietro and Salvatore Guerrera took across the sea.
Even though both were built in Europe, SS Madonna by Swan, Hunter and Wigham Richardson Ltd on The Tyne in Northern England and the Queen Mary 2 by STX Europe in Saint Nazaire, Brittany, they had nothing in common. SS Madonna was built specifically to carry cargo and 1,650 emigrants in steerage between Liverpool and New York. (I’m thinking the emigrants were considered cargo too.) There were accommodations for 54 first class passengers. The QM2 carries 2,695 passengers in luxury.
SS Madonna left Napoli on December 3, 1920. A scant 17 days later it arrived at Ellis Island. The Queen Mary 2 powered out of Brooklyn, New York on the evening of May 23, 2025 and will dock in South Hampton seven days later. What a difference one-hundred years of design innovation can do.
Queen Mary 2 – Stunning ship.
The class system on the Madonna was very clear. Fifty four people crossed the Atlantic in cabins, with access to the outside deck and real meals. The hordes of emigrants down below were given bread. Aunt Cat said, they had carried cheese with them and would have starved without it. As I researched this, I couldn’t help but think of the slave ships also built in Europe to carry human cargo. Cripes, the things humans do for profit.
We will never starve on the QM2. Actually, every meal except the over crowed first night buffet has been exceptional. We were assigned – based on our ticket class – the Britannia Dining Room. Others, with more expensive tickets go to the Queens Grill or Princess Grill. That said, we all meet and mingle in lounges, bars and entertainment venues. Frankly, we haven’t had one bad day of eating. Please do not tell anyone, but we never get up in time for breakfast and are addicted to room service. Sigh, does that make me a princepessa? I hope so. My room service eggs scrambled with salmon are light fluffy and downright heavenly. I order them daily.
Find Solla and Guerrera. For a challenge find others from Pontelandolfo.
Studying the SS Madonna’s manifest, I was smacked again with the constant disparaging of Southern Italians. Southern Italians are farmers, stupid, lack initiative – all stereotypic BS. The Northern Italy versus Southern Italy conflicts were intensified during the unification of Italy. Pontelandolfese remember the summer of terror. On August 14, 1861 rape, pillage, murders and fires consumed Pontelandolfo – all in the name of unification. Nothing like genocide to get one to agree to a concept. It all still angers me.
Therefore, I was horrified to see the classifications on the List or Manifest of Alien Passengersfor the United States. There was a category for nationality and one for race. My family was listed as Italy for nationality and – gag me now before I scream – SoItalian for race. What race is SoItalian? The green people? My grandmother had blue eyes – the blue eyed people?? As opposed to NoItalian for race – the fancy people? Guess what, on this manifest I didn’t find anyone whose race was NoItalian. Maybe if you were from the north you could afford one of the 54 first class tickets.
Rosaria Solla’s occupation is listed as peasant. Peasant is better than bonbon eater. Other trades I found were tailor, laborer, housewife.
Accompanied by a 9, 7 and 16 year old, my nonna was rejoining her husband, my grandfather Francesco Guerrera. It was a treacherous experience. The December sea pounds all ships. I can imagine the wild ride my family had on the SS Madonna. The contemporary design of the QM2 keeps it stable.
We easily adjust the thermostat in our cabin. My grandmother, freezing was saved by the generosity of strangers sharing their coats.
The more I researched the ship, the prouder I was of my grandparents. Both went on harrowing adventures, holding their love strong until they could be reconnected.
Jack and I are rejoining our Italian family of Pontelandolfese. I’m proud of us for discovering this transportation solution to the current chaos of air travel. Will we cross the Atlantic this way again? We shall see. I know my nonna felt that once was enough.
Maria Rosaria Solla do not pack that heavy dark wool skirt. Do you want people to think you are a contadina?
I am a contadina and the skirt is warm.
Thank you for the skirt. I am taking it right now and you are packing the colorful dress. Now, on the ship you will look like a proper lady.
BAD ADVICE!
Nonna brought this photo with her. I wonder if that is the “friend” who took her warm and functional clothes?
As we read Cunard’s Queen Mary 2 dress code, I panicked. “What to Wear: Smart Attire.” I’ve got two advanced degrees but my clothes ain’t necessarily smart. Reading more, I knew I wasn’t going to look like a proper lady going to the ball. They have black tie fancy dress dinners and parties on board! All my fancy duds and summer clothes are in Pontelandolfo. In New Jersey, Bluefish style winter artsy fartsy is my fashion statement. I ran out and bought a $26 black dress at Marshalls, packed my silky scarves, bijoux and bling jewelry and hoped for the best.
Maria Rosaria hoped for the best too. Sadly, as I was told by her and Aunt Cat, hope was not enough. Crossing the Atlantic Ocean in steerage was freaking cold. According to Aunt Cat:
On the ship it was so cold mamma couldn’t stop shaking. She didn’t have anything heavy to wear. I hate that lady who took her warm clothes.
Mamma was shivering and had a fever. She just stayed in the bed – we were all way down in the bottom of the ship – hundreds of us. My brother Nick, Sal and me – mamma was so sick – we were kids. We didn’t know what to do. An old man felt sorry for mamma and took care of her. He got coats from the other men and piled them on her. Somehow she lived.
Warm cape was the first thing she made in New Jersey.
My lack of stylish summer clothing was not a problem. The Atlantic Ocean breezes are cold. My linen long sleeved ensembles and scarves were just right. And, frankly, we only went outside on deck for brief walks. The interior of the Queen Mary 2 is not only well appointed but temperature controlled.
The fancy dress parties were not even on the radar for my grandmother. Steerage tickets didn’t entitle voyagers to much.
Saturday night was Cunard’s Red and Gold black tie event. I felt perfectly fine in black palazzos, black silk top and huge hand painted silk wrap. Bejeweled handmade creations from Lambertville put the icing on my dress cake. As we sat in one of the upscale bars listening to a harpist, Jack said, “ Why didn’t you tell me it would be black tie. I didn’t even pack a tie.” Sigh…
Jack and I are blessed to be able to buzz back and forth between our homes in New Jersey and Pontelandolfo. Travel is never easy. Does anyone love the lines and commedia of any airport? The waiting for late flights. The agony of cancelled flights. It all is horrific. We were packed and ready to head back home to Italy when Newark Airport became a shitshow. Outages in the tower causing traffic controllers to practically faint at the controls. Runway mishaps and construction problems. What?
Then the text from United Airlines came. If we chose to cancel our flight, even though we had nonrefundable tickets, they would be happy to give us our money back. Hmmm. What are they telling us? Next, I heard the CEO say that to keep their passengers safe they were canceling flights. Cripes. I cancelled. (Still waiting for the refund.)
Searching for last minute direct flights through Philadelphia or New York JFK was impossible. Then the gift from the goddesses appeared in my inbox. Cunard’s Queen Mary 2 was having a last minute sale on empty cabins. I looked at Jack and bought two tickets. (What, you thought I’d leave home home alone?) The base price was considerably less than premium economy on any airline.
The fare was $859 each. Add on transportation to Heathrow Airport from South Hampton, Cunard Care Health Insurance, taxes and port fees and the total for two people was $2046.54. That includes food but not adult beverages, Wi-Fi, or the tips. I am not sure what the final bill will be but when I do, you will be the second to know.
One of my creative friends suggested that I was echoing my families immigration experience – in reverse. Is that why I saw the Cunard ad? A message from someone who came before me? Write about the parallels she said. Gulp. Let that challenge begin.
Like my grandma, passport in hand, heading to Napoli to grab a ship, we headed to the Brooklyn Piers.
Our great driver, Al, from Spectrum Limo got us to Brooklyn in record time. It was much easier than the ride to JFK Airport. With three kids in tow, luggage, food and a husband who was already in New Jersey, my grandmother struggled to get to the dock in Naples. Someone from Pontelandolfo got them there. Then she was on her own.
At the Brooklyn Pier, porters grabbed our luggage from the car and free of encumbrances we walked to the terminal. WHAM, then I got the chills. Long lines snaked trough the terminal. As bad as or worse than any airport at Thanksgiving. As we crammed into the que, Aunt Cat’s story of Ellis Island took over my consciousness.
Struggling with bundles, Rosaria and her three children joined the Ellis Island mayhem. Crammed to appear upright between her mom and older brother, polio crippled Catherine was marched through the madness. Children were crying, different accents were heard and the closer they got to the people in charge the more fear built up in Catherine.
Engulfed by a cacophony of accents – mostly British Empire – I could see and feel Aunt Cat. We were squished and prodded through to passport and ticket control. They took our pictures. I asked why. Who is monitoring the pictures? If we don’t look “right” will they refuse to let us disembark or back into the USA? Was Aunt Cat forcing the words out of my mouth. Or was I just a tired Jersey girl?
Little Catherine was right to be afraid. She was pulled from the line, taken from her now crying mother, and placed in quarantine. Her experience disembarking the ship had a lifelong impact.
Daily, my grandmother and grandfather came to check on her. Their lack of the English language and peasant status made the ordeal sad, frustrating and scaring. Obviously, Catherine was ultimately released and they began a life in New Jersey.
Domani o dopo domani I will continue the reverse journey story. The Star Link WiFi sucks. You may or may not get this blog post. Let me know. Please add it to social media for me. The WiFi on the ship – that I spent $240 on – doesn’t let me access social media. Hugs to all of you and all of your journeys.
In the spring, summer and fall of 2024 our house in the hills was rocking with out of towners. For ten years, we asked, cajoled, begged and pleaded family and friends to please come and visit us in Pontelandolfo. Hardly anyone did. As years passed, no one did. This past year everyone did. We were so booked that we had a paper calendar on the kitchen wall with days blocked off and names scribbled in, scribbled out and new ones scribbled in. I felt like our door was not just revolving but always open.
Shut the door you’re letting the flies in. Shut the door you’re letting the cold in.
That said, we were happy to have a full house. We saw people we hadn’t seen in years. Catching up is always fun. I hope this summer we get just as many guests.
What an enormous bugia! Most days I was happy to have a full house. Other days, I took my computer and hid in a bar.
Come on Midge, every experience no matter how frustrating is an opportunity to learn. I learned that there is a lot to learn. Having all these folks passing through and me shaking my head like an insane Auntie M, I realized that there were things that guests, retreat participants, culinary tourists and everyone who visits us needed to know.
One of Jack’s cousins suggested I was doing my readers a disservice by not sharing my incredible knowledge of random and useless facts about traveling. She encouraged me to come up with a list of Ten Things Tourists and Guests coming to Pontelandolfo need to know. This suggestion was given after I looked at her with a raised eyebrow and said, you don’t have a debit card? How could you come to Europe and not have a debit card? Gulp, I need to work on may people skills.
Deciding to take the task seriously, and with her input, I riffed on things I noticed people having a problem with. Ta, da – Here is my arbitrary and lightly sarcastic list of Ten Things Tourists Need to Know:
No one here wants your American dollars. Even the local banks don’t want to exchange your dollars for euros. Unless you are washing your cash, why would you bring a sack of dollars? Bring a sack of euros. Stuff them in your bra. That’s what I do. When in Italy use euros. The 1950s ugly American idea that the entire world craves “American Money” is over. About 25 years ago, my father joined us on an excursion to Pontelandolfo. He knew that the kids in our extended family were in college so he brought a stack of $50 bills to give as gifts. Every single kid said thank you, looked at the bill, looked at me and raised an eyebrow. Unless you were in a big city there was no way to change the dollars.
2. Make sure you have a working debit card. With a debit card you can go to any automatic teller machine and get the best exchange rates on the currency of the country you are visiting. I take that back. Only go to bank automatic teller machines not the ones named after someone’s pet cat. When you get a debit card or if you have one but haven’t used it out of the country, call your bank and make sure it works abroad. I had a panicked cousin who had just gotten a debit card and discovered it would’t work anywhere but at her bank. An irate call to the bank unearthed that the card didn’t work because it wasn’t a debit/credit card. She ended up borrowing euros.
3. Beware of the seemingly friendly offer to charge you for your purchase on line, in a store and/or at an automatic teller machine in US dollars. You will be screwed on the exchange rate. Make sure you click euros. Your bank will do the exchange at a better rate.
4. Use your credit card not your debit card to buy stuff. Credit cards in a store or restaurant provide a more secure way to shop. Credit card companies will usually refund, cancel and harness the creeps who steal your info. This advice does not come from me. I can barely add. It comes from my banker and numerous articles I’ve read from credible sources. And, some cretin did steal my credit card number and used the card/number to buy breakfast everyday at the same bar in Campobasso. Yes, they were caught and yes, my bank handled everything.
5. Please don’t be a creepy traveler (especially in Pontelandolfo where I know everyone) and use a credit card in a small local caffe or shop for a cup of coffee and a biscotti. My personal guideline is if it is less than €25 I pay in cash.
6. Double check all the adapters for your electronic devices. Not every country abroad has the same plug configuration. “What, I used this in Germany, why the @$#% doesn’t it work in Italy.” Because you are in Italy not Germany. Depending on where you are, it might be difficult to get the correct adapter.
7. Make sure your bags make it directly to your final destination. Airline and airport blues make the beginning of your trip a nightmare. Guests have told me that they missed flights to Naples because they had to get their checked bags in another European country and go through control again before boarding their flight to Naples. I then ask the same question. Were you flying on two different airlines? Don’t. For example, we would fly Lufthansa from Newark, New Jersey to Naples, Italy. We changed planes in Frankfurt. Our bags came all the way through to Naples. If we had flown airline A from the USA to the EU and then a different airline to our final destination, the odds are we would have had to get our bags and schlepp them to the second airline. Double check when booking your flight. I always ask, ”the bags go all the way through, correct.” Yes, I book flights on line but being anal, I also call the airlines.
8. Pack less not more. Jack just asked, how do you know what you need until you get there. Jack also said, if you forget something you can buy it. Sigh. I tend to overpack or rather over pile stuff on the bed and then toss out half. Packing cubes are incredible. I’ve got both compression and regular cubes. Sorting your clothes can be particularly useful if you are moving from city to city. I sort, because my type A personality likes clothes organized by type. Ladies, gulp, maybe it is because I am in my third act, but I discovered that sanitary napkins are a life saver on many counts. I am able to wear a pair of trousers more days using sanitary napkins. (Shhhh, that is a secret.)
9. Make sure you have a working phone. Don’t cheap out and think you can just keep your phone in airplane mode and/or just use wi-fi. We have had folks stranded at the train station with no way to contact us. When you are in a Wi-Fi zone it is easy to use free services – like Apple to Apple texting and FaceTime. Many Italians, us included, use WhatsApp. WhatsApp is even used by doctors and businesses here. For clarity of sound, I’ve discovered that Facebook messenger is incredible for calling pals in the USA. Again, don’t only rely on Wi-Fi as your only means of communication. Pay the fee to have international access or buy a SIM card wherever you are. A digital warrior who lives here has another hack. She bought a rechargeable portable hotspot. Hence, WiFi everywhere she goes.
10. This is a biggy. Make sure your passport is up to date and doesn’t expire within a three month window of your trip. I have no idea why that rule exists. Could someone explain it to all of us? It seems to me, something expires when it expires but who am I to have an opinion. A young relative of mine slated to visit us last year, discovered his passport would be in the unusable two month window. He had to fly to another state to go to an in-person passport center and get his new passport in one day. Yikes! Though, thinking about it, not being able to get home might start a new adventure.
NOW LET’S TALK ABOUT COMING TO PONTELANDOLFO THIS YEAR!
Cooking in the Kitchens of Pontelandolfo is a magical experience that started in 2016. Last year we even won an award. We have a session in May and another in September.
2025 Writers’ Refuge in the Sannio Hillsis our second writer’s retreat. Last year Pontelandolfo hosted playwrights who raved about the experience. This June, creative writers are encouraged to spend time with us.
The summer season is almost over and the shore towns on the Adriatic Sea are slowing down. Jack and I thought that this would be a great time to explore, Termoli, a small city that we have flashed through once or twice before. I booked a hotel that was right on the sea and adjacent to the sea wall of Termoli’s historic center. In the province of Molise, this shore point is less than an hour and a half from our home in Pontelandolfo.
After checking in, sipping aperitivi by the sea, we climbed what felt like a million steps up to centro storico. The ancient city reminded us architecturally of one of our favorite places in Italy, Alghero Sardegna. (Shout out to the best language school ever – Alghero’s Pintadera.) We wandered the cobblestone streets, stared at the sea, and then I froze – there was a wee alley festooned with white lights, tables classically set and with an artsy vibe that took us back to Venice. (Read the blog Searching for Goldoni and you’ll understand.)
I decided that we absolutely had to eat there. Since it was only 7:30 PM, and way too early to eat, I needed to make a reservation for the yet unnamed space. Around the corner from the alley, we saw a handsome, curly haired man sitting by the restaurant’s front door. He smiled. I smiled and asked if there was a table for two available tonight in the alley.
“Si, signora – quale il sua nome?”
“Midge.”
“Midge?” He looked at me quizzically and probably thought, “Her mother named her after a small annoying fly?”
I shrugged and speaking the barely uttered truth said, “Margherita.”
He scrawlled “Margherita” on a scrap of paper, handed it to me and told me to choose a table, put my name under the water glass and come back whenever we wanted dinner. Then –
“Tu sei inglese?”
“No, sono americana.”
“Da dove?”
“New Jersey – ma vicino Philadelphia.”
“La mia moglie parle “Americano. Lei da Rochester – vicino New Jersey?”
Then and there it was decided that I should meet his wife! I mean, maybe somewhere between Rochester and New York/Jersey we might have run into each other during our decadent youths in some bar or another.
Jack and I continued our pre-dinner passeggiata and tried to keep our tourist faces at bay. The stillness of the old town, the colors of the buildings, the scent of the sea and the warm breeze made it a beautiful evening. Eventually, we made our way back to –
“Jack, what was the name of the restaurant?”
“I don’t know. You were talking to the owner. Don’t you remember how to get back there?”
“Of course I do.”
(I mean we only meandered up and down a few narrow vicoli, posed for a selfie near the sea wall and entered three different piazza since we made the reservation. )
“I will swiftly guide us back,” I lied.
Yes, I lied. But since the centro storico is enclosed by a wall, I managed to guide us back to Sognadoro, Via Rocco Mugnano,3 in Termoli! (For purposes of the blog, Midge, the smart-ass, looked up the address.)
We got back, found our reserved table waiting, looked at each other and smiled. What a cool environment. A young gregarious waiter appeared, brought our local white wine and asked if we knew what we wanted. What happened next couldn’t have been played out better by Netflix. Just as Jack started to say “tonno,” the owner, Francesco Sciscillo, came over, took away the menus and told us to wait.
We waited, he returned with a fish that was so fresh it was still jumping. You are all wondering what kind of fish it was. I am too. We are calling it the former alive fish called X. X had been very recently caught, right here in the Adriatic Sea.
Rats – I took the video in the wrong direction but you’ll get the point.
The thinly sliced fresh X was drizzled in olive oil from Francesco’s trees and spritzed with a dash of fresh lemon. Who knew that something so simple and swiftly prepared would be absolutely incredible.
Next appeared calamari fritti. Jack tries calamari everywhere we go. When I saw it, my fork of its own volition dashed into the plate. Tender, tender, tender. I immediately noticed that the calamari had not been cut into rings but had been sliced into rectangles. In the future, I too will prepare them this way. Each bite was full of flavor. They had been be very lightly coated in flower and flash fried. Yummmm.
Enjoyed more than you can imagine.
I don’t remember what else we ate, I do remember an enjoyable night spent in conversation and laughter. A young woman approached the table, introduced herself as Anna and said that her mother would be getting out of work soon and was anxious to meet us. The effervescent mom, Patrizia, regaled us with tales of making the transition between life in Rochester, New York and Termoli. The building that housed the restaurant had been in her husband’s family for generations. There was such pride in her voice as she spoke of his family and her family. A photo of Francesco’s mother is prominently placed inside the restaurant. Obviously, the sea and what it provides plays a preeminent role in their lives. She is climbing onto the fishing pier.
We were so enamored with the food, setting and family that the next day we returned for lunch. The entire family was seated at the “family table” and greeted us warmly. As the only customers, I suggested we simply eat what Francesco was serving the others. What a smart move! Polpette, ground fish and spices formed into but not to be confused with packaged fish sticks, were served in a rich red sauce. Next was a simple but tasty dish of chicory, red pepper and sepia. Great conversation, perfect lunch and then I saw something I didn’t like. Obvious tourists stopped outside the restaurant, pulled out their phones and stood there reading. Then they smirked a little and left. Smack me in the head – they were looking at reviews. Why would they leave? I quickly scanned the obvious sites. WHAT??? The place only had a few reviews on each site but there was a theme – rude owner, bad food, lousy atmosphere. TOTAL BULLSHIT! All we could think of was that the scant reviews were posted by someone who was jealous or opening their own place. Lesson learned – DON’T TRUST REVIEWS. I never look at reviews. That is a lie – wow two lies in one blog. That same night I asked at the hotel what place they would recommend for dinner. Then I looked the restaurant up – 5 stars everywhere. We ate there. 0 stars from us – boring tourist fare. The learned lesson was reinforced. In our quest for meals, we will continue to wander back lanes of towns until we find a place that just calls to us.
As we walked out the door that day, we looked at each other and both knew that Sognadoro would be on the top of our “lets go for a ride and eat something wonderful” short list.
Pontelandolfese and lovers of Italy wherever you are – check out my tourist guide to Pontelandolfo’s historic center – written in English and Italian.Or simply enjoy the life we lead in Italy by reading my humorous travel memoir.
Somedays start off being just another day in Southern Italy and then – BOOM – you discover that a scant hour and half from Pontelandolfo there is an archeological site that is so spectacular it warrants visiting multiple times. Parco Archeologico di Paestum and Velia is located in the province of Salerno. Tickets to enter this massive park are only €12 each. In the winter you can explore the dramatic site for only €6 – which is what it also costs to park for one day. There are reduced rates for families too. If I lived a bit closer I’d buy a season pass for €20 and, just to imagine the stories of those that lived there, go often.
To put the site in perspective, I must use a quote I found in the book, “Guide to the Archaeological Site Paestum From Building Site to Temple.”
It is as if a god had built his house here with huge blocks of stone.
Friedrich Nietzsche
Towards the end of the 7th century BC a group of Greeks (colonists from Sybaris) hopped on a ship, guided of course by the god Poseidon, and decided that the fertile valley of Sele was an incredible place to settle. Settle they did. Guess what they called the new city? During the VII century, Poseidonia was amazing. Majestic temples to ones favorite gods and goddesses were built. Remarkably, they still stand! No one paved this over and put up a parking lot. The temple of Neptune is allegedly one of the best-preserved Greek temples from the 5th-4th century BC. (Am I the only one who gets confused by the BC years running backwards?). There are a good number of incredibly well preserved divine, everyday, and community dwellings at Paestum.
Ladies, imagine, there was a huge bath house and pool for women only. Rumor had it, swimming there increased fertility. I wondered if women started the rumor so they could escape for a day of poolside lounging.
No, I did not stand in the center of the amphitheater and recite lines from Medea. But I did walk around it and marveled once more at the construction of these fabulous structures without the use of modern building equipment.
Besides the acres and acres of “ruins” that don’t look like they are ready to tumble down anytime soon, there is a museum that contains the artifacts found on the site. We spent the day wandering through the forum, temples, and other structures and forgot about visiting the museum. Great excuse to go back.
It is an easy drive from Naples or one can take the train. I think that would be fun to try. There is a stop near the archeological site.
Poseidonia, was conquered by the Lucanians who changed the name to Paiston. Bang, the Romans took control in BC 273 and changed the name to Paestum. The place is magical – no matter what it it is called. Think about adding Paestum to your Italian adventures.
Looking for a summer read? If you already read “Cars, Castles, Cows and Chaos” think about reading one of my plays! Visit my website and see the list. Thanks.
Nonna's Mulberry Tree 