Tag: Pontelandolfo

Walking and Talking – Communication Simplified

by midgeguerrera, posted in Any Day in Pontelandolfo

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Wednesday Market Day Strolling.

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

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

Diglio Panificio – Keeps Me Sane

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

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

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

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

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Cousins/Sisters having a laugh.

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

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

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Giuseppina, Paulina & Jack 2013 adventure

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

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1995 Giuseppina & Paulina – note the pastries.

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

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One bite is better than a happy pill.

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

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

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

Un Miracolo Di Natale – a Reader’s Story

by midgeguerrera, posted in Finding My Family - Genealogy

Auguri di Boun Natale!

December 15th the best Christmas present this blogger could ever want came from Kristen Ross.  Kristen posted a comment asking for help finding out more about her friend Nancy’s family.  I e-mailed her, then she e-mailed me and soon we were chatting on the phone like old chums.  The surnames in her pal’s family can also be found in my family! Rinaldi, Fusco, Mancini – wow – my bis-nonna was Mariantonia Rinaldi who had a brother Francesco.  Nancy’s grandmom, Maria Rinaldi, was the daughter of Francesco Rinaldi !  Could this Californian’s family tree intersect with mine?

Those of you who grew up in or live in Pontelandolfo may know the family – if you do please leave a comment on the blog.  Nancy’s dad – Domenic Mancini was born in the Minicariello section of Pontelandolfo.  His dad was Antonio Mancini and mom was Maria Rinaldi.  Antonio’s father is Angelo Mancini and his mother is Catterina Fusco. Maria Rindaldi’s father was Francesco Rinaldi and her mother was Antonia Rinaldi.

This is Kristen’s Story –

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Kristen, Domenic & Nancy Mancini

Un Miracolo Di Natale

By Kristen Ross

Domenic Mancini was born on a small farm in Pontelandolfo, Italy. During World War II, nine year old Domenic was the first one in his family to discover that his father, Antonio, was killed in Bardia, East Africa.  His mother’s inability to read meant that this little boy had to personally deliver the devastating news to the family.  As I began to hear more about Domenic’s early childhood, I was deeply affected by the tragedy of it all…images of Domenic being held back by his Mother as the only father he knew left for lands and battles unknown, the longing of a little boy for an absentee father, and the courage he had to support his grief-stricken mother.

To compound the sadness of war, he never knew where his father was buried.  He was told that Antonio was buried somewhere in Africa, but no one had been able to locate any information, and Domenic (now 82) had begun to come to terms with the idea that he might never be able to pay his respects to the father he lost and have closure.

After hearing him tearfully tell this story, I could not imagine what is was like to not know where his dad was after all these years.  I was determined to do some research of my own.  I felt the sense that nothing is impossible and nothing is ever lost, it just hasn’t been discovered.

Having taken only one Italian class, after traveling to Italy several times, I used my broken Italian to make numerous phone calls, emails, and research Italian websites. Having looked at almost two thousand names, a thousand war memorial sites, and spent countless hours of translating Italian handwriting from the 1940’s I was coming up with nothing.  It was like searching for a needle in a haystack, an Italian haystack for that matter.

I needed un miracolo; a miracle.  Every time I find myself helpless, I turn to something higher. I simply prayed for this right intention to manifest itself.  For a father to be reunited with his son, even 72 years later, is still possible.  Having lost my father too, I knew how much this would mean to Domenic to have some sense of unity, closure, full circle ect… I kept ricerca; searching.

Before I went to sleep that miraculous night, I checked one last Italian website.  I typed in the letters of his last name and there he was.  Antonio Mancini had been found.  I started scrolling down to make sure I was actually seeing straight.

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 Luogo Sepoltura means Place of Burial. He was back home in Italy. From previous research that I had done, I knew the bodies of the Italian Soldiers who died overseas, were sent back to Italy in December of 1967 and placed in a beautiful memorial museum in Bari, off the coast of the Adriadic Sea. Dominick’s father has been honored there.

I called Nancy, and she quickly made the phone call to Domenic! He was in total shock and was filled with so much joy. He told us that this was the best gift he’d received in his entire life. As his voice teared up on the phone, he told us he would travel back to Italy to see his father. This summer, we will be traveling with him on this beautiful journey to witness this father and son reunion.    

 Unconditional Love is the best gift in the world.  

This is the true meaning of Christmas to me.

 **********

  Sample Photo from Location

 

The Sacrario Militare dei Caduti d’Oltremare (Military Memorial to the Fallen Overseas) was opened on 10 December 1967 on the outskirts of Bari, on the way to Brindisi. The structure houses the remains of more than 70,000 Italians who died in foreign lands. These lands include Greece, Albania, Algeria, Morocco, Tunisia, Libya, Somalia, Ethiopia, Eritrea, Germany and the Mediterranean Sea, in the First and Second World Wars.

Oro Giovane – Local Holiday Shopping in Pontelandolfo

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

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

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

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

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

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Carmela’s doll proudly stands in my living room.

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

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Jewelers Olga Addona and Ornella Romana.

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

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

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

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

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Cameos carved with the village’s crest.

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

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

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

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La Macelleria – Carnivore Heaven

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

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

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Turn of the 20th century shopping in Pontelandolfo!

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

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

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

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

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

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Santina Guerrera, ace butcher
and charming woman.

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

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Santina prepares beef and pork for grinding.

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

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

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

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

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

La Farmacia – Pontelandolfo’s Family Pharmacy

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

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

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

FARMACIA PERONE DOTT. NICOLA

Piazza Roma, 1682027 PONTELANDOLFO (BN)

ORARI DI APERTURA 

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

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

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

Blatant Plug – Buy Local

Raritan Apothecary

25 West Somerset Street    Raritan, NJ 08869

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Dott. Nicola Perone – our fabulous pharmacist!

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

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

http://farmacie.tuttosuitalia.com

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

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

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

Internet – Can’t Have A Home Without it!

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

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

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

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

Robot:     

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

Me:

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

Robot:     

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

Me:   (Using the non-pretentious voice)

 CCXXXXXXX

Robot:

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

Me: (With my hand over the phone.)

 BITE ME!

I type the number into my keypad.

Robot:    

  Please say your address

Me:          

 Can’t you see that from my account number?

Robot:

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

I slowly said the my address.

Robot:

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

Me:

  Uugggggxx*&^%!

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

Robot:     

Please wait while we connect you to the next available operator

Operator:

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

Me:        

Excuse Me?!

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

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

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

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

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

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Annarita blogging over our WiFi.

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

Bottom line:

They don’t drop cables!

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

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

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

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

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

Who Needs City Lights – Culture Rocks Pontelandolfo

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

It was 10:00 PM and we had just finished dinner at Landulphi, a great  space that resonates with its medieval  heritage.  Outside Piazza Roma was a buzz of activity.  Picnic tables were crammed in front of Bar Elimar.  A lit bandstand filled one section of the sidewalk. Tots in strollers, pre-school hellions chasing each other throughout the crowds, moms, grandmas, twenty and thirty-somethings and tweens edge closer to the action.

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Crowds creep in closer to hear not Rock ‘n Roll but rocking traditional music.

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

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Curtesy Sud Terranea

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

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Curtesy Sud Terranea

Boy was I happy I had on a white shawl.  It gave me something to hold up as I too did my whirling dervish routine.  Weeee – I almost but not quite worked off the calories I gobbled down at Landulphi.

It was interesting that this bit of performance art popped out of nowhere on this particular day.  Earlier – on a Skype call with my friend George Hansel about producing his new cabaret act, Burly Man Sings Girly Songs: My Life as a Show Tune Queen and Sexual Outlaw, (yes that was a plug)  George raised a devastating question.

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George has the greatest laugh in the world. See his show and laugh with him.

Could I really live in a small village with no easy access to the cultural richness of New York and Philadelphia?   Hey, I bellowed back,  I grew up in Flagtown, NJ – a small village with easy access to culture and an uncle who worked for the then New York Mirror and got free tix to stuff.   Ask me how often we actually got to go????

George also, reminded me that I have the attention span of a gnat and boredom can easily weasel its evil sighs into my soul.  I explained that during my last bout of boredom I realized that if I was bored it was my fault.  All it took was a walk down to the village with my laptop in tow to chase the boredom away.  Just sitting at a  bar (cafe) surrounded by village life and listening, watching and being perpetually surprised at the instant art that pops up can get my creative juices flowing and the deeps sighs disappearing.

Living in New Jersey with easy access to my state’s professional theaters and being able to zip into both nearby cities, is indeed terrific.  But how often do we really do it?  Finances come into play.  Tickets are expensive, add travel, or driving costs and suddenly an opportunity to experience art is fiscally out of the question.  Here in Pontelandolfo, the fiscal crisis has folks pinching euros.  Yet, art is accessible to them.  They often create it themselves.

Forum Giovani
Site specific theatre produced by the town’s twenty-somethings took place in a variety of outdoor locations. The audience moved from scene to scene.

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

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Folkloric dance companies from throughout Italy performed in the Piazza nightly for almost a week. Here they are on the church steps after mass.

A quick peek at  http://www.eptbenevento.it/archivio_eventi_mostre_benevento.html – the EPT Benevento (ente provinciale per il turismo) events website – lets me know that other villages in the province also are bringing in art.  Campania, the region we are in, even has an “art card” –  http://www.campaniartecard.it/ – reduced rate admissions and listings.

A short drive over the mountain takes us to Cerreto Sannita where di antica tradizione ceramica lives on.  Artisans freely open their studios to folks like me to watch and learn the process – note FREELY.

Franco just knoced on the door and Pietro welcomed us in.
We boldly knocked on a studio door and the artisan, Pietro, welcomed us into his space.
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Pietro is proud of the ceramic history of Cerreto Sannita. After touring his studio he literally opened the doors to the closed ceramics museum and shared that with us too.

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

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Music fills the hill top streets.

How much are the tickets?  Nada!, Niente!, Bupkus!

Damn, we missed the theater festival in Amorosi  – a 20 minute or so trek down the mountain.  They do charge for tickets and bring in professional companies from as far away as the USA. (http://www.amotefestival.it/)  Next year we absolutely will get tix to something and report back.

The bottom line is that art and culture is just a matter of everyday life in Italy – even in the smallest villages.  There is public art everywhere – our village has three large installations.  Of course, the remnants of Ancient Rome are everywhere too.

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Band stand is getting set up. I wonder what will be happening.

Revisit some of my earlier stories – Circo acquatico, San Antonio Festival, Calcio – stuff just happens here and I don’t have to pay the tunnel tolls, gauging parking fees and high ticket prices to drink in all this culture!  Like my New Jersey ArtPride pals say – Be a Culture Vulture – I am and I am loving every second.

So, dear George, I think I can really live in a small village with no easy access to the cultural richness of the tri-state area.  Of course,  we do have to figure out a way to get your one man cabaret act across the pond.