Train to Venezia

by midgeguerrera, posted in Practical Matters - Living Abroad, Travel Comments

The adventure was just starting  out and I discovered a great spot.  Our train trip to Rome on Trenitalia’s Frecciargento 9350 began in Benevento. My first stop – the ladies room. It was wonderful and I encourage all who end or begin their journeys in Benevento not to worry about using the bathroom. There were only two stalls but they were as big as horse stalls. That means you can take your suitcases in with you and not be squished. At New York’s Penn Station I shudder at how terrible it feels to have those bags pressing my knees. The other station  amenity that appealed to Jack was the bar. Due cappuccini per favore – cost 1.50 each – double what they cost in Pontelandolfo – but hey this is the city.

We decided to splurge and booked first class train tickets all the way to Venezia. Two tickets round trip cost us a total of €300. The first leg was Benevento to Roma with a quick change. The train arrived a wee bit early and we plopped ourselves in the commodious seats. It was a 4 top table just right for a game of bridge – which of course I don’t play. Oops, I’m sorry, Jack hasn’t quite plopped yet. His suitcase was too big to fit overhead and they don’t have a luggage rack at the front. Hmmm – put it on an empty seat! Good plan. (We lucked out and no one ever took that seat). The host came through with newspapers, snacks, water, sodas. Ahhhh.

The guy next to us had set up an office. Each seat has electric outlets so phone, lap tops – even wee portable printers can be set up. Commuting with style. Or is that working under pressure?

Out the windows, the hills of Sannio passed us by complete with sheep and shepherds. Jack read. I wrote. It was lovely. Than the other shoe dropped – what is that announcement about Caserta? There was a problem on the track after Caserta and we could sit there for 40 minutes. Beh! That puts a big damper in our travel plans – we have a connecting train in Rome. Our seat mate said I should talk to the Capo di Treno – who or what the hell is that? Lets go find out.

I walked through the first class cars towards the bar – how civilized – searching for Il Capo near the bar. Even though it is only 9:30 AM I am tempted to have a caffè corretto – toss that shot of grappa in that coffee please. Yes, he must be  Il Capo – I’m guessing head conductor. There, in a uniform that looked an awful lot like Captain Kagaroo’s, was the charming and robust Il Capo. He glanced at my ticket and said it would be easy to change the connection at Rome Termini – just go to the info kiosk between tracks 3 and 4. There is a train to Venezia every hour. Whoops – the train moved, I guess the wait wasn’t the predicted 40 minutes. We didn’t sit for 40 minutes, they put us on a different track. The sloooooo mo track from Campobasso to Roma. The same track the 12€ ticket from Boiano takes. The seats may be first class but we are poking along.

Looking at the bright side – it is a clear and sunny day – the wifi works! I jumped to an empty seat, set up my iPad and keyboard, put on my classy shades, watched the world go by and sighed. Oops, I sat up straight, sucked in my gut and smiled. Here comes the cute host boy again with more drinks and snacks. I’m being good and just looking not touching. AT the snacks – the snacks.

We pass Cassino. It’s laundry is fluttering from terra cotta and sun kissed yellow high rises. Smaller towns are bleeps as the train chugs on. Then countryside with plowed fields and neat small homes surrounded by goats and sheep enclosed in make shift fences. I expect to see barefooted children with their dogs standing near the tracks waving. Factories – 1950s style boxes – break up the green. I turn my head – a field of solar panels out one window and untouched hills out the other.
Staring is great fun and really relaxing until my inner “equal justice girl” roars out and and dons her cape. I realized that all of the beautiful verdant hills are unencumbered with freakin’ ugly wind mills. I’ve written about the windmill blight on the Southern Italy landscape. I just need to say it again. How come they don’t put any on the hills outside of ROME! Take a cleansing breath and get over it. Questa è italia.

That reminds me – no one ever checked our tickets. Does that mean you can scope out first class and ride for free?????

Any minute the view I find unbelievable will appear. Waiting for it – yes, yes, – I poke Jack awake – there they are – the wonderful Roman ruins.

Roma Termini is always a ZOO! Lots of folks getting off trains, getting on trains – New Yorkers, you can understand this. Le Frecce, the fast cool train, department of Trenitalia has quick fix booths between tracks 3 & 4. This is important to know. We did have to wait about 10 minutes to get our tickets to Venezia changed. Instead of being on the 11:50 that we missed by 40 minutes, we were on the 1:50.

Since we had time to kill, we looked for a restaurant with seats. Close to the tracks is an American Style joint called “Roadhouse Grill.” We knew it was American style because there was a life size cow statue by each door – like the ones that artists paint in cute American towns. I rolled my eyes and looked at Jack. “It has seats,” he said. We went in and what a pleasant surprise. Clean, well managed and if you like beef a great place. The steaks coming past us were rare and gorgeous. Jack had a cheeseburger and said it was good. I opted for Caesar Salad with grilled chicken breast. The chicken was a real breast – not pressed goop. It was again, surprisingly, good. Lunch with one beer and one bottle of mineral water cost us €31.60. Not bad for lunch in a major city.

We are finally on the way to Venezia! Train 9430 was waiting for us on track 3. Only problem was our seats weren’t together. Beh! I fixed that in a smile and a wink. Ahhhhh my own wide reclining chair with foot rests. Nice leather seats, wifi, big windows and have I mentioned foot rests?

The scenery changes. The mountains are off in the distance. This valley of small rolling hills must have caused invading armies sporting armor and spears to grunt and groan. We race through tunnels and zip by fairly modern houses painted in those terra-cotta and sunny colors. I long for purple or red or green.

We had our snack and the requisite glass of wine and acqua minerale then stared some more.

Filling my huge window are fortresses, lakes, and beautiful villas set back and surrounded by tall, skinny evergreens. Toscana I shout. Next stop Firenze. Che Bella. An Italian portrait right out my window. Know what else was beautiful? This train had a wheel chair, easily accessible, huge circular bathroom. Complete with toilet paper! Traveling with a handicapped student, I remember an Amtrack trip to Washington and it was the train trip of hell. This ain’t Amtrack.

The view keeps changing as we go. I am mesmerized by the shifting landscapes – mountains to rolling valleys to the plains of the north to the long bridge over the water to the station “Venezia Santa Lucia.”

We got off the train, dragged our bags out the front door and gasped. This is what greets the weary traveler.


PS – toilest at this train station costs €1 and are just OK.

Train Facts:

Great App for your phone – Info Treno

You can purchase Trenitalia tickets on line at www.Trenitalia.com. They have deals all the time.

Overhead space doesn’t hold big suitcases – airline carry on size works.

You may be sharing a 4 person table with strangers. There is no extra space on the floor for that giant Murano lamp.

Use the Train Number not where you are going when you are trying to find the right track. You may not know the last stop on the train and that is the town that will be posted.

Ci Vediamo.

All Roads From Waterbury Lead to Pontelandolfo 

by midgeguerrera, posted in Any Day in Pontelandolfo

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ci Vediamo.

 

Accendi La Luce – Turn On The Light 

by midgeguerrera, posted in Any Day in Pontelandolfo

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

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

  

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ci vediamo!

Complementi Pontelandolfo 1861!

by midgeguerrera, posted in Any Day in Pontelandolfo

Ponte Old

 Sono orgolioso di “Pontelandolfo 1861”!  Bravo!

(I am proud of “Pontelandolfo 1861”! )

I know that is not an attention grabbing first line but, damn, I am so proud of the my little Italian home town’s latest initiative.

With funding  – finanziamente -from the Unione Europea – Fondo europeo agricolo per lo sviluppo rurale: l’Europe investe nelle zone rurali (European Union – investment program for rural areas), Italian Ministero Delle Politiche Agricole Alementari E Forestali (Italy’s Department of Agriculture, Food and Forests) , and the Regione Campania Assessorato Agricoltura (Region’s Department of Agriculture)  – Pontelandolfo is undergoing a renaissance.

Renato Rinaldi of the Pontelandolfo News (Pontelandolfonews.com) made sure I got an invitation to the August 26th –

Presentazione progetto “1861 i luoghi dell’eccidio”

Alla manifestazione di presentazione del progetto “1861 i luoghi dell’eccidio”, progetto integrato per la realizzazione di un itinerario storico-turistico alla scoperta della città martire di Pontelandolfo.  (A presentation of the “1861 places of the massacre”,an integrated project designed to attract historical tourism to the martyred city of Pontelandolfo.)

Renato Rinaldi, who has written a complete history of the period, gave an overview of the history.  He has a great voice and engaging presentation.  After the presentation I asked if he had been an actor.

Prof. Renato Rinaldi, Gabriele Palladino, Sindaco Dott. Gianfranco Rinaldi,  l’artista Riccardo Fortuna

This presentation gave the community an overview of the project that will hopefully give a financial boost to Pontelandolfo.  With funding from all levels of government the historic center of the town is undergoing a much needed facelift. Buildings that have crumbled over the last 1,000 years are being restored, a charming park with a great view was just finished and the town council is committed to bringing tourists back – or perhaps here for the first time.

I know, I know this sounds like the dream and plan of every small Italian town – here is why I am SO PROUD.  Pontelandolfo came up with a very specific and chilling historic hook.  On the 14th of August 1861 the town was destroyed – burned to a crisp.  After being forced from their homes, men, women and children were butchered.  Is that date percolating in your brain?  This was during the not so peaceful march to unify Italy – risorgimento.  What – women and children were murdered?  Yup!  Rebels from San Lupo – folks who were content with their Burbone King –   had hidden in Pontelandolfo and popped out to kill a couple of Garibaldi’s soldiers. General Cialdini was in charge with getting Southern Italy to toe the unification line.  He wasn’t pleased with loosing a few men and sent 500 soldiers to Pontelandolfo and Casalduni with the order not to let a rock remain.  Hey – we are talking farmers here – no hidden weapons of mass destruction.  It was one terrifying and troubling night.  The story plays well – believe me – the underdog – rebels for a just cause etc.  It is quite the hook!  Books have been written about it – the most recent a Fumetto sull’eccidio di Pontelandolfo e Casalduni – graphic novel with great art by Riccardo Fortuna. Riccardofortuna.it. In 2011, the President of Italy actually apologized for the massacre.

Statue

Realizzato dallo scultore Mario Ferrante

Wonderful sculpture representing the horror by Mario Ferrante.

Check out this incredible website – the google offer to translate pops up – Pontelandolfo1861.  I hope they continue to grow this site and add more information for tourists – in a variety of languages.

During the presentation we heard from il sindaco Gianfranco Rinaldi – the mayor.   He announced that this was a two pronged program.  First the centro storico would be rehabbed, the website completed and signage describing the medieval history of the town and the night of terror would be placed around the town.  They also printed two pamphlets to describe the towns  history.  They are slick and I hope they will let me help create a set in English.  The art work on the large signs is wonderful and I am sure the Italian descriptions are perfect.  The English translations need some revision.

 Signs at worksites are popping up all over. Thanks EU!

The second phase is to attract tourists to come.  I am not sure how they plan to do that but hope they include an italo-americano in the strategy session.

SO PROUD!!!

August and the Amalfi Coast Road – Hell 

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

NOOOOOO, I screamed as we rounded a tight curve and a gaggle of tourists on motor scooters aimed right at us.  Clutching the grab bar above the door, I pleaded with Jack to slow down.  “I’m in first gear,” he said through gritted teeth.


The road we were on is famous for its S curves, beautful view of the Mediterranean and instant death if  your car careens off the edge a million feet above the sea.  It is August – tourists from everywhere love the coast.

IMG_3433

Millions converge on those idyllic towns that make up what we all think of as the Amalfi Coast.  Love the crush of umbrellas and bronzed bodies.  Watch where you walk.  Eyes back on the road.  Too many cars on a long and windy road. LOOK OUT!  Notice the height of the guard rail. Notice the dents in the rocky mountain wall.

IMG_3401
I hated every bloody minute we wended our way from Salerno to Amalfi.  I hate heights – roads closer to the clouds then earth – roads made for donkeys not cars. It was only to help Alanna, the daughter of our dear friends Jeff and Sue Jamieson, find her Italian roots that I would drive on this *&^%&%&& highway.  Did I say “hate”?  That isn’t a strong enough word to describe how I feel about the Amalfi Highway. Sue owes me a bottle of single malt scotch. I almost lost an arm against the mountain wall snapping a picture of her cognome.

IMG_3415

When we landed in Amalfi – I do mean landed – I kissed the ground. Oh shit, there is no other way back to the highway but through Salerno.  After searching for Alanna’s Cavaliere ancestors we had to go back on the same narrow death defying road.  Have I mentioned the trucks and buses that get stuck and how a line of cars had to back up?


Have I mentioned the assholes on scooters who weave in and out. Have I mentioned how much I hate this road?

Travel recommendation – stay away in August !

Amalfi Coast – Bella vista!  Buy the postcard or go in January.

Ci vediamo!

Alanna’s Amalfi Roots

by midgeguerrera, posted in Finding My Family - Genealogy

Alanna Jamieson stayed with Jack and I for a week or so.  Her journey toward new beginnings for herself had her thinking about her heritage.  Being a heritage junkie, I was delighted to help out and we enlisted Jack as our noble driver during the worst time of the year to drive the Amalfi coast.  We headed from the hills of Pontelandolfo to the the Commune of Amalfi Coastiera. If you didn’t read this – READ IT NOW! Amalfi Coast – Road of HELL!

Here is Alanna’s story:

Searching for Cavaliere

By Alanna Jamieson

I am very close to both sides of my family. However, for me, that family had extended only to my cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents who all live in the U.S., within New Jersey and Connecticut. I had always proudly identified my heritage as “100% American”, involving a diverse mix of U.K., French, German, Slovakian, and Italian nationalities. On my mother’s side, I am the third generation born in the U.S., and on dad’s side, I am in fact eligible for the Daughters of the (American) Revolution historical society.

The past four months of my life have involved several major transitions, which have found me cutting ties, widening my eyes, and (as cliché as it may sound) exploring Europe with only a carry-on suitcase and a 24-hour plan at any given time. When Midge and Jack invited me to visit them in Pontelandolfo, the decision was a no-brainer. I immediately jumped at the opportunity to spend some time in a beautiful, small Italian town with warm people and wonderful food. I also knew that Midge had spent years and countless hours researching her Italian family’s history, learning their language, and absorbing their culture. Sure enough, when I arrived in Italy, Midge enthusiastically offered to help me see what roots of my own Italian ancestors we could uncover, in nearby Amalfi.

This foreword is what led us to that winding road on the Amalfi Coast – some call it terrifying, some call it exciting, and excited is exactly how I felt! When we arrived in Amalfi, we easily found the Municipio (town hall), and inside we were greeted by a cheerful and bright-eyed woman named Angela Petrillo.

IMG_3415

Cavalieri Found on a Road Sign

We stated our purpose: I was interested in learning more about my Italian family, the Cavalieres. Upon hearing this, Angela smiled; Cavaliere is evidently a very common name in Amalfi, so our task would be to determine which Cavalieres in the Municipio records were my direct relatives. Luckily for me, my Cavaliere grandparents from Connecticut had created a detailed family tree and had even visited the Amalfi Municipio themselves.

After Angela and Midge exchanged a few more words in Italian, I nervously presented Angela with my family tree information, not sure what to expect and feeling grateful that Midge was there to translate and guide me. Angela expertly scanned the details and then whisked away out of the room to retrieve the records we sought. As we waited for her to return, I also felt relieved that Midge had taught me the proper way to say ‘Cavaliere’. My family pronounces it ‘caah-vuh-leer’, whereas in Amalfi it would be pronounced ‘caah-vuh-lee-air-ayy’ (spoken quickly). I might not speak Italian, but at least I could say my own family’s name as it would have been pronounced before its anglification adjustment on Ellis Island!

IMG_3422

Angela Petrillo and Alanna Peered Through Ancient Records

A minute later Angela reappeared with several old records books that dated back to the early 1800s. As she flipped through the book, I noted how yellowed the pages were and how frayed the edges had become, and I realized where I was standing, in both time and place. My family members had stood in this very building, holding these same books, listening to the waves wash against the sand on the beach outside the window. Like me, these people had hopes and dreams and joys and sorrows. They had cherished their past and looked forward to new opportunities, just as I am doing now in my own life. As these thoughts swirled in my mind, Angela stopped turning the book’s pages and pointed to a point halfway down it, showing us the name “Francisco Cavaliere”, my great-grandfather. The record showed the full details of his birth. At the bottom of the page were signatures of names we didn’t recognize. Angela explained that this was because Francisco’s father couldn’t write, not even to sign his own name on his son’s birth record.


We spent the next 20 minutes looking through the records, uncovering additional names, dates, and details. One member of my family, we discovered, was a midwife. Many of them were farm laborers who worked on others’ properties in exchange for perhaps currency, housing, or goods. The whole process was fascinating, sometimes even more so when we hit a dead end with a particular individual; for example, we discovered that Francisco’s mother was not born in Amalfi. Angela told us that her maiden name suggested that she hailed from one of two neighboring towns, so we would have to visit those villages in order to continue researching her history.

As the conversation with Angela drew to a close, we thanked her profusely for her time, and I looked once more at Francisco’s birth record. Thirteen years after that document was signed, in 1911,”Frank” (as he came to be called) would travel to America with his family. As I realized this, I felt a sense of comfort and encouragement. If the Cavalieres and many others were brave enough to face 3,000 miles of ocean and a strange new country where they didn’t know the language, surely I can face the unknowns that lay before me.

As we left the Municipio to start our journey home, I looked up at the Amalfi cliffs that meet the Mediterranean Sea. Today, the hillside is filled with homes, and the coastal road was packed with vendors, cars and tourists. As I stood there, it was easy to imagine the view 100 years prior, with 75% of the clutter gone, as it looked when my farmer ancestors lived there. They had adapted to the terrain, and then to a new life in America. With a vow to myself to keep their sense of perseverance and adventure close at heart, we started the long drive home, tired but happy.

Thank you Alanna Jamieson for sharing your search.

Home Made Grape Juice – Better Than Welch’s!

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

We all know the adage – when the world hands you lemons, make lemonade.  How about when the world hands you crates of grapes? The grapes I’m talking about aren’t wine grapes. These are the yummy off the vine eating grapes. Zia Vittoria brought us some direct from the vine to taste. 

  
 They were super yummy and I thanked her profusely.  The next day a crate of them appeared.  I know, I know be careful what you wish for. Even though we had a house guest, I knew there was no way we could eat all those grapes. What’s a woman to do?  Where the world hands you …

First stop, the internet – grape juice recipes.  Nah, we don’t add sugar to anything. Next. Nah, I’m not going to upstate NY for Concord grapes. Next.  How about asking around town? First folks looked at me like I was crazy – they’re fresh, eat the grapes.  Then a wise woman said, smash, boil, strain.  Damn, I can do that and I did – delicious and tons better than Welch’s.

Here is the recipe – since the only ingredient is grapes it’s more like steps.

1. Pick grapes that no one has sprayed cocky poopy chemicals on or genetically modified.  You are wrong you naysayer you, produce like that is still out there.  Here in the no spray land of good eating we have lots of grapes “au naturel.” They can also be found in the backyards of any of your relatives who sit in the shade of the vines growing over the trellis.  Take scissors with you and pick bunches.

2. Fill the sink with water and toss them in and swirl them around.

  
3 Put them in a scuolapasta and drain them. Notice the little worms and buggy things running around.  They seem to come to life in the water. Ditch them and remember no spray means happy bugs.

4. Hold each bunch by the stem and pick off the grapes.  I then tossed them in a second colander. We don’t want the ones the birds pecked or the shriveled ones. Just toss in the firm ones. I even tossed on the tiny ones.

5. Rinse off the grapes and dump them in a big pot. Take your potato masher and mash the hell out of them.  I didn’t have a potato masher and had a Lucille Ball fun time.  Not my feet – my hands!  I pummeled and squished and pounded and squashed.  Juice squirted me the pot and the counter.  I finally broke down and bought a potato masher and tried to use it for the second batch of juice.  It was easier to use my hands and much more pleasurable.

  
6. DO NOT add anything!  Put the covered pot on the stove over a low flame until it starts to boil.  Then simmer it while you have a glass of wine and gossip with a pal. I of course forgot about it and think it simmered for 15 minutes plus a bit.

7. Take something heavy and squish some more – it is easier to squash hot grapes.  The second time I did this I used a newly purchased potato masher to do the second squash.

8. Simmer until you are bored – I think I did it for another 5-10 minutes.

9. Line a colander with cheese cloth and set it over a big bowl or pot.  I couldn’t find cheese cloth here and tried a bunch of places.  My ever creative and brilliant cousin Carmella suggested gauze from the pharmacy.  They had sterile gauze and it worked.

10. Pour the batch of grapes in the colander and cover the colander with a towel or something while it drips for a few hours.  No, you must really cover the colander – why?  Flies love piles of icky sweet stuff.  After a few hours – how many?  Well, we went to the piazza for drinks, chatted with friends, had dinner then I remembered the grapes.  Quite a few hours later, I picked up the edges of the gauze and squeezed the rest of the juice out of the cooked grapes.  Yes, I used my hands again to twist the fabric – like wringing out clothes – and squeezed out every drop.

11. Pour the yummy juice in bottles, refrigerate and drink.  We tried it the next morning and couldn’t believe how good it tasted.  Hmmm  Hmmm Good!

Happy Grape Juicing!

Bank of America Fees Take A Big Bite Out of Vacations.

by midgeguerrera, posted in Practical Matters - Living Abroad

My advice – if you are going to Europe anytime soon –  don’t leave home with a Bank of America card in your wallet.

FullSizeRender

In the spirit of openness and full disclosure I must say that I own stock in Bank of America – it is in the toilette but I still own it.  That said, I do not use any Bank of America products – and based on these two harrowing tales, I’m glad I don’t.  All the Bank of America fees that I talk about – and I will really bitch about them – can be checked at https://www.bankofamerica.com/deposits/resources/personal-schedule-fees.go

Tale 1:  Maryellen Mistakingly Trusts Local Bank of America Personnel.

Before she crossed the Atlantic and started her exploration of Rome and Pontelandolfo, my cousin did everything right.  She went to her local Bank of America branch and explained she was going to Italy for two weeks.  She asked what she needed to take with her to easily access her cash.  We had talked about this and I told her to make sure she asked about all the fees her bank might charge.  After her chat, she called me all excited – Bank of America has a list of banks in Europe and with her brand new ATM card she wouldn’t get hit with the $5 transaction fee!  Weeooo.

The non-Bank of America ATM fees do not apply at some ATMs located outside the United States. Call us before you travel internationally for current information about banks participating in the program. She did.

The BoA branch staff also convinced her to get a super duper new Travel Rewards credit card.  They swore she could use it everywhere.  It had no foreign transaction fee and she could use it at an ATM machine – however it cost an arm and two legs – ATM, Over-the-Counter, Same-Day Online and Cash Equivalent Cash Advances: Either $10 or 5% of the amount of each transaction, whichever is greater.  Oh yeah – pay it back right away because the interest on a cash advance is 24.99%.  Sheeeeet mon!

OK, OK – you want me to tell her story – here it is – Maryellen promptly discovered that she could not use her ATM card at the Bancomat machine in Pontelandolfo, or the one in Morcone or the one freaking anywhere!!!!  She did have that lovely list of participating banks and none of them were within days of where we live in Italy.  So now she has no Euro and no access to her account.  H’mm, there must be another way – she’ll use her Travel Rewards Card and pay the usurious 5% and get a bunch of Euro.  What?  That card doesn’t work here either??????  We called Bank of America – frankly, I grabbed the phone and put on my advocate voice.  The officious twit said – “oh you’re not in Rome or a major city”? – excuse me, since when did banks only consider the tourist meccas and not the towns of us common folk?  She also explained that many Bancomats only worked with debit cards – not ATM cards.  What?  The less than informed or inadequately trained – I want to say to stupid to live but Jack says this is rude – so I will not say it – person in the Hillsborough Branch of Bank of America specifically signed my cousin up for an ATM card.  ERRRRRGGGGGGG.  What is the poor woman to do?  She borrowed the money from her son – see his debit card worked.  Bottom line – I hope she ditches BoA.

I know what you are thinking – “why the hell didn’t she just use her credit card?”  This is a very small town in Southern Italy – hardly anyone takes a credit card!!!!  It isn’t Princeton where a kid can flip out a debit card for a $3 coffee.  A cappuccino here costs .90 and not one of the four bars take credit/debit cards.  The only place in town that takes credit cards is the fabulous Landulphi – a great pub-restaurant.  Actually, lots of people don’t have or ever use credit cards.  It is a cash economy.  Make sure you know where you are going and if credit cards are widely accepted.

Tale 2: Alanna Gets Hit with 3%

True, Alanna’s tale is not as horrific as Maryellen’s but damn – who needs to pay 3% plus the $5 foreign ATM fee just to get Euro?  Alanna showed up at my door and asked where the Bancomat was.  Just for the hell of it I asked her who her bank was – when she said the evil Bank of America I fainted.  She knew what it would cost her for money – that was a good thing. The bad thing was she didn’t switch banks before she left. I told her to call and see if she could get the fee waived – she just spent two weeks working on a house through Habitat for Humanity in Portugal and Bank of America ought to commend her for that. We’ll see if that pitch works – if not my Paypal account will be richer and I’ll gather Euro for her.

I just checked my TD Bank statement – $3 to use a foreign ATM machine.  There is no percentage on top and no Euro conversion fee.  Was it always smooth sailing?  No, I always call and say “this is where I’ll be for the next 6 months.”  Once, the computer ate the advisory or the person entering the information fell asleep at the keyboard.  I’ve just called from where-ever I was and got instant access.

The Debit card that I cannot get to work anywhere in Italy is the one I have attached to my brokerage account at RBCDainRoucher.  I tried at a variety of Bancomats last year, called RBC and just plain gave up.

The bottom line?  Check, double check and re-check the fees and usability of your debit card.  Also really take a peek at your credit cards – make sure they do not charge a foreign transaction fee.  I use Capital One because they do not and I get travel miles.  We never used our American Express Card because they did – as of this summer they are changing their policy.

Also understand the economic reality of where you are going.  We hate tourist crammed places and know that small villages have been bartering and using cash for ages – credit cards?  Leave home without them.

Be prepared and have a great trip.

Ci Vediamo!