Nonna's Mulberry Tree

Getting to Naples Airport

October 11, 2014April 27, 2016 by midgeguerrera, posted in Practical Matters - Living Abroad, Travel Comments

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Road Rage Doesn’t Become Me.

It is so exciting for us when our friends and family come to visit. It is not so exciting to drive to the Naples airport. We love our family and friends but aren’t kind and gentle enough to drive to the Rome airport to pick them up. We (OK me – Jack is kind) tell them to fly to Naples. Now, after schlepping to Naples numerous times to procure our loved ones, cursing and shrieking during the drive and watching Jack clutch the wheel while I turned green – I started thinking there must be a better way. Couldn’t the adventuresome guests take the train? Yeah, yeah, yeah I know, I’m a bitch but have you driven in Naples or Rome?

Janet Cantore Watson came and found her Cantore cousins in Pontelandolfo!

It is a small world. I have always considered Janet my daughter and discovering she had family where I had family was an uber woo woo moment. Being a brazen lady of the world, Janet was the first guest to take a bus from a stop seconds from our house to Naples. We were told that an early morning direct bus to Naples stopped in the piazza in Compolattaro. That piazza is literally 5 minutes from our house. We were there in the wee hours of the morning. A tiny little bus stopped. I asked if it went to Naples. “Si” said the lying S.O.B. bus driver. Janet kissed us goodbye and got on. As we were leaving a big bus pulled around the corner – h’mmm I wondered? The first bus only went as far as Benevento – the second bus was the right one. Merde. Janet had to figure out which bus from Benevento went to Napoli. Jack just pointed out that the first driver was not an S.O.B since he stayed with Janet and escorted her to the right bus – which cost her €10. Double Merde. After tooling around Naples Janet hopped a €16 cab to the airport. Her experience taught us that we have to over research everything and ask ALL the right questions.

My brilliant niece, Alexandra Rose, was the first to explore the train to the plane connections from Pontelandolfo to the Naples airport.

When she came to visit this fall, Alex wanted to hang in Naples with her cousin Giusy. ( I didn’t ask what they got up to and they didn’t tell.) After landing at the Naples Cappodichino airport she hopped the Naples Alibus Airport Shuttle. It took her to Naple’s Central Train Station. After frolicking with Giusy, she took a Metrocampania train from Naples to Benevento. There we scooped her up in big hugs and drove the scant twenty minutes home.

It is wonderful to have an adventuresome kid in my life. Living in London she has traveled all over Europe alone. Alex has scored thousands of points with this Auntie Mame. Returning to London, Alex was going to do the trip directly to the airport. We hopped in the car and took a short slide down the mountain to Stazione di Benevento.

There Alex was able to get a ticket on a Metrocampania NordEst train to Napoli Termini. She tells me the ride was quick, easy and uneventful.

Next, the ever resourceful traveler jotted down specific directions to the AliBus shuttle from Napoli Termini to Naples Cappodichino airport for whoever was going to try it next. Alex’s directions were simple enough. Tickets were cheap too. It’s €4 if you buy the ticket on the bus or €3 if you buy it at a shop – but we don’t know which ones. She was easily at the airport and on the way to England.

Marta Figueroa – our next adventurer.

Marta, the traveling buddy of my youth, spent a fun filled week with us. Being another world wide explorer she said it was stupid for us to repeat the drive to the Naples airport. We had picked her up there and she got the full driving in Naples and on the highways experience. “How could they be passing on a solid line?” “Is going that fast legal?”

We got Marta to the Benevento Train Station in plenty of time. There isn’t great parking near the station so Jack stayed with the car. I went in to discover that Alex was right – buying tickets was a breeze. The station was organized – just lacked parking which reminded me of NJ Transit. The ticket to Naples was only €5. She got on the train and all was well until she got to Naples. Even though we had Alex’s directions and knew that the Alibus stop is located in Piazza Garibaldi midway between the Central Station and Corso Garibaldi. No one could help her figure out which door out of the train station headed in the right direction. When she finally dragged her suitcase to the right place a kindly gent suggested that since the bus wouldn’t be there for ten minutes she cross the street and buy a ticket in advance. Marta bought the ticket and watched an Alibus come in, unload and leave. What??? Maybe the driver had to pee. A second bus came in, unloaded and left! Now she is panicking about making her flight. Finally, a full 45 minutes later, an empty Alibus appeared and let the throng of people on. Imagine how many people were now cued up, worried about catching trains and dragging luggage. Marta pushed her way onto the bus and then watched the drama unfold. The driver wouldn’t leave until a very proper British type lady got a new ticket. She spoke Italian with great force and pretension. “I have a bloody ticket and will not buy another.” Now, you must validate the ticket in the electronic ticket machine on the bus and it is good for 90 minutes from validation. What Marta couldn’t figure out is if the women had validated it too long ago or it was three years old. She said the shouts and screams were incredible. People on the bus were offering to pay her way. The driver threatened to call the police. She threatened to – well I don’t remember what. But there was much shrieking until – —

The bus took off and Marta made it to the airport with only twenty minutes before the boarding of her flight. Her recommendation – take the taxi!

Some cynic said to me – “Mussolini is dead you can’t expect public transportation to run on time.”

Taking Nonna’s Mulberry Tree on the Road

October 4, 2014April 27, 2016 by midgeguerrera, posted in Any Day in Pontelandolfo, Travel Comments

Headshot Waiting to be Hung in Your Lobby!

You knew it had to happen! How could the actress in me just sit at a computer and write the tales of an Italian village? When would I explode and start shouting the tales from the hilltops – or better yet as a one women show wherever anyone will have me. (And pay me of course! This living on a fixed income stuff ain’t what it’s cracked up to be.) The kick in my lazy butt to work on a show came from the Westlake Italian American Club. Marie M, one of the faithful Nonna’s Mulberry Tree subscribers reached out to me and asked if I would do a presentation at Westlake. She knew of my theater background and thought that I would be a funny, entertaining and informative presenter. I mean, of course she is right. Gulp – I have a gig this January – now I need a show!

I quickly e-mailed back and said the title of my show was:

Il Dolce Fa Niente – The Sweetness of Doing Nothing

The BS – oops – PR blurb I wrote was:

How does a type A personality manage to assimilate into the life of a small Italian mountain village? By taking a gulp and repeating daily, “it is OK to do nothing”. It is expected that one naps every afternoon. The evening meandering passeggiata through the piazza is for meeting and greeting not power-walking. I’ll share the stories of how a “Jersey Girl” manages to live in Pontelandolfo, explore her roots and ultimately learn, “Il Dolce Fa Niente”.

Pretty general blurb – I can pretty well talk about anything. Now, here is where I need your help. What would an audience really like to hear about? Take the short poll to help me pick out topics. Or better yet – leave a comment about what posts resonated with you, made you laugh, cry or curse. Tell me what you’d like to know!

Grazie Tante!

Festa at Terra di Briganti!

September 30, 2014 by midgeguerrera, posted in Any Day in Pontelandolfo, Food - Eating In and Out!

Tante Auguri a Jack!

Jack was turning 70 – that meant I had to throw a humongous bash. The problem is I had thrown Jackstock when he turned 60 and folks are still gazing numbly out from tents in our back yard. How could I top three nights of music and mayhem? Hmm, what’s a girl to do when she is in Italy and without the resources of her home team? 1. Make sure her BFF, Janet, is in Italy in time for the party. 2. Sit in the piazza, stare up the the hills and come up with a gimmick. While staring at the grape vines that range up and down the mountain it hit me – take over a winery – it would be a blast from the past.

My first call was to Tony at our favorite winery, Terra Di Briganti. (Remember the story I did a few months back – http://wp.me/p3rc2m-ji) Tony was a tiger and roared out ideas – starting with come on over and let’s pick out the wine.

Tony De Cicco is passionate about eating and drinking local!

Tony, his dad and his brother were pouring us a glass of Pidirosso. Then a glass of Aglianico. How about a Falanghina. Wait did you taste? We tasted and knew that we would have a cocktail hour with a lovely sparkling – well it doesn’t matter just know it is all good.

Then came the menu. Tony works with a chef – Gennaro – who by day is a policman! But Gennaro is a foodie who relishes the dishes of historic Casalduni. This is what we ate: Quenelle di baccalà, Risotto al’aglianico e salsiccia profumato al rosmarino, controfiletto di pelatella casertana al Martummè con papacelle al’agro, Zuccotto con ricotta di pecora e ciccolato! Notice that the Italian sings with the dialect of Casalduni.

Let’s just go to the video and you can see Jack’s 70th birthday at Terra di Briganti! Click on the link and be sure to sing “tante auguri a jack!”

https://vimeo.com/107592027

To find out more about Terra di Briganti visit their website at www.terradibriganti.it

Ostuni – Dazzling – From AFAR!

September 21, 2014 by midgeguerrera, posted in Stops Along the Journey - Sites Off the Tourist Track

Driving through Puglia with the atlas on my lap, I saw that Ostuni was just a short hop off the highway. It was time for pranza so I convinced Jack to leave the highway and head for the town billed as “The White City”. I had read that contrasted with the blue of the sea Ostuni’s whiteness dazzles the senses. At this point we are starving and looking forward to a sea view restaurant perched on the hill.

“PULL OVER” I Shouted. “It’s Magical!”

From the bottom of the hill Ostuni is indeed glittering white and wonderful to see – postcard perfect. “Here it comes,” you’re thinking, “she is going to hit us with something not so nice.” You my faithful subscribers are brilliant and creative. Of course one cannot judge a book by it’s cover or a town by a view from afar. As Jack cursed Ostuni’s narrower than narrow streets and I stuck my head out the window looking for a restaurant, I heard a small child whisper in my ear. “Momma, can’t we paint our house red?” No kid you can’t. Cause this is the White City and the tourists would be pissed. All that white on white on white was BORING.

Off-white Works Too.

The only splashes of color in the town came from bright laundry fluttering in the breeze. I wonder if all that white makes people sterile? Suddenly, Jack – still searching the city for a restaurant – slammed on the brakes. I looked up and saw that the the teeny tiny street was blocked by a car driven by a young woman. She was obviously waiting for someone – I’m thinking her nonna or an invalid.

I say that dripping with sarcasm because we waited a good 5 minutes – never honking the horn – cause we’re nice.

Suddenly, a door popped open and a sweet young bimbo dashed out – her skirt so short I couldn’t figure out how she could sit without – well never mind. She waved a thanks to us and hopped in the car. UGGGGGG now I’m really not liking this town.

We couldn’t find a place to eat. We couldn’t find a place to park. We were becoming color-blind. The whiteness of it all was – well – just too white. We left and decided to take our chances with a tourist eatery on the gray highway.

Not In My Backyard!

September 11, 2014September 11, 2014 by midgeguerrera, posted in Any Day in Pontelandolfo, Politics - Quirky Aside

Windmill Pollution – UGGGGGGG – They are Everywhere!

Cripes Midge, you are a liberal Democrat and always err on the side of the greater good what the hell do you mean NIMBY? Why are all the f’n windmills going up in Southern Italy!!! Energia eolica – power generated by the wind – is a grand and noble idea. I just don’t want to look at another bloody giant windmill. They are cropping up like weeds on every hill in Campania. Last year, I saw the wind farms from afar and thought them noble and wonderful. Italy was going green – great! I made a cute video and gushed about the inroads Italy was making on renewable energy. Here’s the link: http://wp.me/p3rc2m-8h

The Associazione Nazionale Energia del Vento – ANEV has a great map on their website! Pull it down and look where the windmills are! Yup, not near the ski resorts in the rich north but in the south. Come on – go look – http://www.anev.org/

The European Commission – way back in 2001 – set a goal for Italy to obtain at least 25% of its electricity form renewable sources by 2010. The Italian government targeted 12,000 MW by 2020. Does it all have to be windmills? How about a nice solar field on the mountains they don’t obstruct the views?

We SEE Them Rising to the Sky Near Our House and Shudder.

Now, even when we sit on our balcony in Pontelandolfo I see windmills. More and more every month! The hills are alive with the sound of bzzzzzzzzz. According to a recent article in Il Sannio – our local paper will soon be enjoying even more. http://www.ilsannioquotidiano.it/attualita/item/19265-eolico-multinazionali-scatenate-altre-richieste-di-autorizzazioni.html

La società di Bolzano ha depositato un progetto per realizzare un parco da 56 Mw tra Pontelandolfo e Morcone.

Now, leaving Pontelandolfo and driving south through Puglia, I’m staring out the windows looking for trulli (round huts with a conical roof) and all I see are fields of windmills. There are so many on SS55 that I thought I was on the New Jersey Turnpike in the middle of an industrial zone. I know, I know it is good for the farmer – he gets paid rent for the land. It is good for the planet. But the more I read it seems like it’s really good for the banks who have the notes, the businessmen who get the cash from the EU and of course the mob.

Right Near the Highway – Behind a Rest Stop

Take a gander at this article: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2356879/Italian-mafia-turns-wind-farm-investment-launder-money-benefit-EU-subsidies.html Here is the opening paragraph:

The mafia is ramping up investment in wind farms to launder criminal earnings and benefit from generous EU subsidies, a report by Europe’s policing agency has warned.

Attracted by generous EU and state handouts, and coupled with lax controls, the Europol analysis found that Italian gangsters are increasingly seeing renewable energy as easy pickings.

So all I”m saying is Not In My Backyard!

Learning Italian in Sardegna – Centro Mediterraneo Pintadera

September 5, 2014 by midgeguerrera, posted in Any Day in Pontelandolfo, Practical Matters - Living Abroad, Stops Along the Journey - Sites Off the Tourist Track

Learning a language can be an onerous activity – especially if you are in your garret reading your verb lists by candle light. I studied French for 4 years in high school and can barely buy bread in Paris. Italian wasn’t spoken to me at all – well pass the mapeen and sta zitta – but that was it.

My first real brush with the language was after my first trip to Pontelandolfo – in a year when the dinosaurs roared in tongues over the earth. I was twenty-something and had come to visit the village of my heritage with my Aunt Catherine and two cousins. We assumed that since Aunt Cat was born here and left when she knew the language well that she would be our translator – NOT. She spoke the arcane dialect of Pontelandolfo. I knew we were in trouble when we landed in Milano and she asked a question to be told “we don’t speak Spanish here.” Thank the Universe I had a trusty Berlitz phrase book with me.

I played with learning Italian but didn’t get committed until 1999 – the year I returned to Pontelandolfo with my family tree in hand and found my dad’s first cousins. When I got home, I went to Brookdale College, Somerset County College and finally Dorothea’s House in Princeton. All experiences had their pluses and minuses. Next, to nudge Jack into learning the language I researched immersion schools in Italy. I would go to websites, send an e-mail and hear nothing. Or worse, I would call – all saying they were multi-lingual – and no one spoke English and could tell me about the place. Than I found Centro Mediterraneo Pintadera! The school is located in Alghero on the magical island of Sardegna.

Love the school. Could I win the lottery and stay here? I spoke with one of the directors, Nicola, and was assured that the classes were small – which they were capping out at about six people. She speaks multiple languages flawlessly. She told me about the teaching staff – think Ph’ds who aren’t yawners. The facility was up a flight of stairs in the heart of the old part of the city. That location puts the school in the middle of the art and culture that makes Alghero fabulous. It also means you are within walking minutes of the sea. When she told me the price – I was sold!

On a sunny May day, Jack and I packed a notebook and pens and headed for Sardenga. The sea surrounds the city, May means fewer tourists and cheaper airfare. We were not disappointed in our choice of schools or the location.

Why didn’t someone tell me when I was younger that studying language in the place the language was spoken not only makes great academic sense BUT – you meet really cool people. People who like to travel like we do – sans reservations, sans itinerary. Just go, explore and do! The people we met in our classes – Jack and I weren’t together – I was a bluebird and he was – well – on the little bus – anyway the people were GREAT.

Jack is studying – but who – I mean what?

We met two smart pithy women from Germany, a tall handsome Dutchman, and a really interesting guy who lived in Dubai but was from Tasmania! Instantly, we all bonded over caffè, were forced to speak Italian or – gulp- English. Since of course, everyone else spoke their language plus English.

Caffè and Conversation Between Classes

Since I can’t keep two languages going in my brain at the same time, the small full immersion classes worked for me. The faculty not only had advanced degrees in languages but I swear were all actors. You have to be a an actor to communicate with six wildly wicked adult students who want to learn your language but really don’t understand a spoken word.

Jack gets personal attention from a great and talented teacher.

The classes focused on both grammar and conversation. The homework did not make me pull out my teeth. Every moment was very interactive. No one wanted to put their head down on the desk and snore.

Check Out Who Sings With the Professional Classical Group? – Yup, our teacher!

Not only does the school have a great graded curriculum, but they made all of the living arrangements for us too. We rented a charming house for the two week course that was right in the heart of the historic center of Alghero. That meant close to world class bars, restaurants and shops.

Our New Dutch Pal Cooking Dinner at Our House.

In a great local joint with our new found school pals.

Every morning, following the narrow cobblestone streets, we would walk to the school. Classes ran for about four hours every morning – with a break to speak to the locals and have caffè. Then we would find a charming place for lunch, Jack would go for a walk and I would sit, stare at the sea, pretend to write and drink Prosecco. The school also ran cultural immersion classes I took a cooking class that was scads of fun. The hunky chef owns one of the local restaurants. We started out shopping and then back to his kitchen to prepare a meal that we then ate paired with fabulous local wine.

The Tuna Was Really Fresh!

We Were Shucking and Yucking in the Kitchen.

Jack and I were so in love with the place that I convinced pals from Dorothea’s House to come too. We went back one January – which means during Epiphany – the city was alive with holiday spirit and the staff of Pintadera made sure we knew what was going on and participated.

La Befana Was Everywhere! Even Lots of Women Dressed as La Befana!

I would love to be in Alghero every January – anybody want to send me? Huge gangs of men dressed in black and sporting berets moved as one up and down the narrow streets singing in tight harmony. Children raced from one La Befana to another asking for treats. The spectacular theatre featured free live entertainment. The Living Manger Scene really touched me, the actors were all persons with disabilities who took their roles seriously and were applauded by all.

Living Manger

There was so much to do and experience that sometimes “my dog ate my homework” for the next class at Pintadera. The extras that the school provided included a wonderful walking tour of the historic center filled with tales of the season. Another fun filled extra was a class on the use of your hands when speaking Italian. No – we did not learn how to flip the bird – that is not – OK maybe they do it – but it is not Italian.

How About A Class in Italian Hand Speak!

Great Bar Beneath January Apartment – All LOCAL Wines and Foods

In May the city is filled with sun and walking on the sea wall is magical. In January it gets dark a lot sooner but walking on the sea wall is still magical. I felt like a princess wrapped in a cloak an walking the castle walls looking out to sea, waiting for my prince to return. There was so much life in the city during the holiday season that it was impossible to feel cold. Also, it wasn’t as cold in Alghero in January as it was in New Jersey.

Sea Wall At Night! During the day I stared and stared.

Go to Centro Mediterraneo Pintadera and create your own story. http://www.pintadera.info/

Associazione Culturale
Centro Mediterraneo Pintadera
Vicolo Adami 41
07041 Alghero (SS)
Tel: +39 079 917064 / +39 079 983311
Mobile: +39 328 885 7367
Skype: pintaderalgheroP

How I Spent My Summer Vacation by Ragazzi Iacovella

September 1, 2014 by midgeguerrera, posted in Any Day in Pontelandolfo, Stops Along the Journey - Sites Off the Tourist Track

The days are getting shorter, the wind is whistling in the mountains – summer is over. Annalaura, Gabriele and Alessio Iacovella looked at each other and said – what did we do this summer?

A Rainy September Day – Let’s Talk About the Summer!

After a warm your chilly bones lunch of tortellini soup, roasted chicken, home made french fries, local mushrooms and more at Carmela’s kitchen, her grandchildren eleven year old Gabriele, 12 year old Annalaura and 8 year old Alessio sat me down and told me their summer story –

During the day we stayed with Nonna Carmela – she is a great cook! At night we went to Casalduni. Casalduni has – Parco Giochi. (Their dad, Pasquale, is Casalduni’s Sindaco – mayor. The kids burst with pride about that.)

Parco Giochi has a garden, lake with fish, scivolo – slide, gonfiabili – inflatable houses to jump in, and campo per pallavolo – volleyball, bocce, small paddle boats – we know lots of kids in Casalduni. We had fun every night.

Allessio – a real charmer chimed in – Mi piace mar in Puglia! I took a long trip to Puglia with my family. In the car we looked at the paesaggio – panorama – and we saw the flowers, albero d’olvio – olive trees e gira sole – sun flowers .

Gabriele – I was a little bored in the car – the trip was long.

AnnaLaura – No it was short to Puglia – per andare in Calabria il viaggio è lungo.

Gabriele – Per me è lungo

Annalaura – We stayed at the Orchidea Blu Hotel. (http://www.orchideavillage.it/ – San Menaio, Vico del Gargano (Foggia) Puglia)

We went to the pool every afternoon!

It had a pool, un animazione – clown – a person to play with us kids. On a typical day – we went to the beach in the morning and in the afternoon to the pool. That way my mother didn’t have to worry about us so much.

What did you like the best?

Gabriele – Dolce- dolce ogni giorno. We ate in the same restaurant in the hotel every day and I ate tanti dolci.

Besides eating dessert what did you do –

Gabriele – I went to the pool to swim. With the animazione – played darts, calcio in the streets, pallanuoto – water polo and ping pong. OK, OK giocare con l’animazione è più divertente di mangiare dolci.

Alessio – Ho giocato con i miei nuovi amici nel mare.

Those are old people in that picture. I played with my new friends Samuele, Fabrizio, Giusseppe, Niccolo e Raffele. We built castles in the sand, swam, giocare a pallone – calcio and ….

Gabriele – Rodi Garganico – one night we went there too. It was like Pontelandolfo with an ocean.

View from a piazza in Rodi Garganico

Annalaura – Tanti negozi e bancharelle – shops and stands. The ancient buildings – beautiful. We were sad to leave Puglia.

Alessio – But wait till we tell you about our other trip to Calabria –

It is September – how did you spend your summer vacation?

I hope you got to play calcio too.

I See My Father

August 29, 2014October 17, 2018 by midgeguerrera, posted in Any Day in Pontelandolfo, Finding My Family - Genealogy, Practical Matters - Living Abroad

The other morning I was startled when my father’s eyes peered into mine. He hadn’t made an appearance since my sighting of him in Belize. That day he arrived in a big old Chrysler – driving right up the beach – got out of the car and looked up at me sitting on the balcony staring at the sea.

He did that John Wayne gun shot with your pointer finger thing and told me to stop being a wimp and to get on the f’n plane.

Did I mention that he had been dead for three years?

Cripes, I thought, what had I done to have him stare me down in a public place – Bar Elimar in Pontelandolfo? I gulped and pulled my eyes away to see if the image stayed. It stayed. The face was smiling – it wasn’t my father’s face. But the eyes – they were his eyes. My woo woo moment had kinda’ sorta’ passed. My cousin Dominico peered down at me. Rats, those are my father’s eyes. I just met Dominico Manna a week or so ago, but when my dad’s eyes looked back at me I felt like I’ve known this newly found cousin my whole life. Dominico is my father’s second cousin just like my Guerrera cousins back in the USA – that makes him my third cousin or second cousin twice removes or…. Well it doesn’t really matter. He has my father’s eyes.

Part of my fantasy living in Pontelandolfo for 6 months – besides writing a best selling memoir – HA – was uncovering more cousins. Our family tree is full of all of the names that mark homes all over Pontelandolfo – Guerrera, Rinaldi, Fusco, Perugini, Mancini etc. etc. etc. When I look at the family tree, I start thinking that I have at least one blood cell of every single person that I pass on the streets.

Every time I actually find someone with a clear direct link to my nonna and nonno, I get smacked in the face again with how much we are all alike. What was that Haley Mills TV show about the cousins who looked so much alike they could pass for one another? My USA family – starting with my incredibly talented sister and niece and branching out to second and third cousins – is full or actors, dancers, writers, photographers, artists and those who love the arts.

Hand Crafted by my cousin Carmella in Pontelandolfo!

Imagine my joy to discover that generations of our blood line here have danced in the towns international touring folklorico dance company, are incredible photographers, writers, visual artists etc. Others, like me, are arts administrator types and help organize the towns events. Damn that artistic DNA!

I always remember my grandmother, Uncle Sal and Aunt Cat working their Flagtown land. Grandma taught me how to kill and pluck a chicken for dinner. Many here farm their land to produce incredibly tasting meats and vegetables. Gifts of home made cheeses and meats have graced my door.

We have family all over the world – the ones I know about are in
Argentina, Montreal, England, Spain and I can’t remember. Jack and I will have to definitely take a trip to Argentina.

Our family members, when the village could no longer support them, took the risk and re-established themselves beyond the borders of Italy. Even though we had never met, live miles apart and in some cases don’t even know that parts of our blood line intersect we are the same. Hell I know this sounds like woo woo but maybe there is something about this DNA stuff.

Every market day, if I stay in one place I am sure to see more of my family. Sometimes I haven’t a clue what they are saying to me but it doesn’t matter. Other times they clearly share what is bothering them, who is driving them crazy or why today is an absolutely fabulous day. The connection that comes from sharing secrets makes me feel like I have been here my whole life. In reality I discovered this family of Pontelondolfesi a scant 18 years ago. 18 years of returning to the village of my grandparents has forged incredible bonds.

I have finally decided that this is where I want to live – it may be 6 months a year or full time. It was seeing my father’s eyes that put me over the decision making edge. Daddy visiting me through Dominico and telling me once again not to be chicken shit – life is too short.

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