Archive for the ‘life in calabria’ Category
Postcards from Lamezia Terme
One of my work-related adventures was a trip to Lamezia Terme, about an hour and fifteen minutes from me. It’s the home of the main Calabria airport, but other than quick stops on my way in and out, I hadn’t seen much of Lamezia, as we affectionately call it, until last week.
Lamezia has a peculiar history in that it’s formed by a group of separate villages: Nicastro, Sambiase, and Sant’Eufemia. Each has retained its own heritage, of course, and I found myself in Nicastro last week.
Lucky for me I was joined by a fellow American who lives in Lamezia (Nicastro) as well as in the nearby mountain town Serrastretta, where her father grew up. Rabbi Barbara Aiello, Italy’s first woman rabbi, is the founder and director of Italian Jewish Cultural Center of Calabria (IjCCC). She made for an excellent tour guide and filled me in on a lot of local history.
The study of Jewish culture in southern Italy may seem strange to some, but as the Center’s website states: “[i]t has been estimated that prior to the Inquisition, at least forty per cent of the combined population of Calabria and Sicily was Jewish.” The presence of Judaism was evident throughout the Jewish quarter where we walked, as you’ll soon see.
If you’re interested in learning more about connecting with your own Jewish roots in Calabria, contact Rabbi Barbara as she runs tours, helps with genealogy searches, and more!
Care to join me on a little virtual tour?
Come on in!
In addition to Judaism, Roman Catholicism was also in the air as I happened to arrive in Lamezia on the day before a big celebration for Sant’Antonio, whose feast day is June 13th–also my brother’s birthday (Happy Belated!).
This is one of the many tributes to Sant’Antonio that I saw.
When I mentioned that I had never seen such a display for any saint like this back in my village, Rabbi Barbara wondered out loud whether there wasn’t some connection to Jewish tradition, the lights corresponding to the lighting of the menorah.
Now we’ll move from the small to the grand. Below is the the Duomo of Saints Peter and Paul. This diocese produced two Popes, Papa Innocenzo IX and Papa Marcello II, who are on either side of the facade; Saints Peter and Paul are below. Excuse, please, that the Duomo is partially obscured by the festive lights strung across the road.
This is a small shrine we stumbled upon. Out of curiosity, does anyone know the symbolism of the the objects on either side of the cross on top? They remind me of artichokes, and I’ve seen them elsewhere (Cherrye, you remember the big ones in Catanzaro Lido?). Just wondering what they mean.
And now for other shots of Nicastro and the festivities.
Here are some boys kicking around a soccer ball (and looking at me suspiciously) in “Il Timpone,” the Jewish quarter of Nicastro, described on the sign as being an industrious Jewish community from the 13th to the 16th century.
An interesting facade, perhaps in the Trompe-l’œil style?
Sorry, don’t know much about this sort of thing but it sure is pretty, no?
A sign advertising a vintage clothing shop!
Who knew there was one in Calabria? Unfortunately it was closed, so I can neither confirm nor deny its existence (but again, pretty, no?).
I just love that they sell coconuts this way at these festivals. So tasty and refreshing as you meander along. P loves coconuts too, and since he wasn’t with me, I persuaded one of the vendors to sell me whole coconuts to take home. I won *big points* with P here.
Of course I can’t leave out the kitties.
Or the funnies.
Your jealousy. My wealth.
Is that kind of like “My other car is a Mercedes?”
Girls in t-shirts are only 15 euros around here, folks.
That *is* a summer deal.
Yeah, I’m kinda tired after all that too.
Sending you limoncello wishes and peperoncini dreams from Calabria,
Sognatrice, a.k.a.
seashells *and* ponies!
Good news and bad news.
Bad news first, OK?
I won’t be around for a few days because of various work commitments, so you probably won’t hear from me again until Friday or so (most likely no What’s Cooking Wednesday, sniff sniff).
Just didn’t want anyone to worry about me or my Internet connection, so there you have it.
Now the good news:
As I type this, the cuffs of my capri-length jeans are still damp from the waters of the Ionian Sea (although I have changed out of them) and bits of sand are sprinkled throughout my house.
Let’s start in the early morning.
This morning I was walking Luna when I stopped to take this photo of a pretty tree in the piazza:
Check out the (untouched) color of the sky. I just knew it would be a good day.
Also, you can’t see them very well, but there are some fallen petals on the sidewalk; obviously I got there before the rubbish collector did, otherwise they’d have been swept up.
While I was snapping, P’s sister-in-law came over to me. We chatted for a few minutes–P is currently painting her house–and when I mentioned I had to go down to the Marina (part of the village on the coast, 5 km away), she offered me a ride as she was headed there.
This was an hour before I was planning to leave on the bus, so I took Luna home and packed up everything I’d need for my errands, which included the bank (ATM), bakery, grocery store, market, and beach if there was time (not an errand, but a thought).
But soon the whole plan changed.
As I was finishing up at the ATM machine, I got a call from one of my employers telling me that I could go pick up my paycheck (my first from them–only two months late!) at a bank in another town. So I hurried up with my errands in the Marina and caught the bus to the other town.
When I arrived at the bank, I couldn’t believe it–only five people in line! Oh. Just one teller.
And there’s the rub.
So I waited an hour and a half for a transaction that took literally two minutes. By then, I had missed the next bus back to my village, although I was blessed with the amusing sight of a woman being refused entry into the bank.
[For those who don’t know, in order to enter a bank here, you have to press a button for a little Star Trek-like glass pod to open. You step in and the Controller of the Pod (we’ll call this person “COP”) says yea or nay via a button that opens the other side of the pod leading into the bank.]
This poor woman, probably in her 30s, long black hair pulled back in a pony, stepped in and out of the pod at least five times with no luck. I think she finally went and put her purse in her car because she eventually convinced the COP (with no havoc ensuing, thank goodness).
Anyway, by the time I finally got another bus to the Marina (I’d then need a separate bus, passing through the Marina an hour later, to get up to my village), it was noon and I was starving. So I did what any self-respecting non-Italian would do at mezzogiorno–I got a panino and a peach iced tea and headed for the beach.
Of course at that hour, the seaside was all mine as all the real Italians were home for lunch most likely featuring pasta and not simply prosciutto and provola like I was about to have.
But before I got to the sand and surf, I was greeted by ponies (and a horse and a donkey)!
Circus is in town, you see. Not as funny (and useful!) as these ponies, but that first one really has something to brag about if you ask me.
Soon I got comfy with my lunch.
As this was yet another unplanned beach excursion, I didn’t have any of the usual supplies. I had to make do with a scarf, which I always have in my bag, and rolled up capri pants. In the past couple months, I’ve come to realize that I actually don’t dislike going to the beach as I always thought I had–what I hate is the preparation, the making sure I have absolutely everything I might need.
A trip to the sea is quite enjoyable, I’ve found, when you simply show up.
When my belly was full, I walked along the beach snapping some more photos.
Did I mention that our water is clean, clean, clean?
And then it was time to go.
But not before I grabbed some free souvenirs so that I can always remember those gorgeous few hours.
Ah, and then it got even better!
When I arrived home, a copy of Eat, Pray, Love was waiting for me–my prize for winning Shelley’s (At Home in Rome) La Mia Italia post contest with Conquering Evil (One Plastic Red Horn at a Time)!
Hope everyone’s week is as lovely as my Monday has been!
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[tags]sea, ionian sea, calabria, badolato, ponies, horses, donkeys, circus, seashells, shells, beach, sand, southern italy, italy[/tags]
Sunday Scribbligs: Ode to the Peperoncino
Prompt #63: Spicy
Spicy means one thing here in the toe of Italy’s boot, and that’s the beloved peperoncino, literally “little pepper” in Italian. Yes, Calabrian peppers aka Calabrian chiles.
What is a Calabrian pepper?
It’s the chile pepper, the heat, the heart of Calabrian cuisine, and a group of them are thrown on the table with just about every meal.
To say that dedication to the peperoncino borders on obsession is not an exaggeration; I know men who carry peperoncini in their pockets to restaurants in case the provided Calabria peppers aren’t appropriately piccanti.
No joke amici. Don’t mess with the pep’.
Here in my house, we have a steady supply of fresh peperoncini through the summer from our own plants, but for when they’re out of season, it’s also popular to keep them under oil:
Yum!
Although we all love hot peppers down here, there’s one particular village in Calabria closely associated with the pods that pack a punch: Diamante, in the province of Cosenza, home of the annual Festival del Peperoncino held by the Accademia Italiana del Peperoncino.
I’ve never been (fellow blogger Judy has and there’s another great report here), but apparently everyone in Diamante gets involved with peperoncino-inspired jewelry being a big seller (good to keep away the malocchio you know).
Admission is free, and you can visit over 100 stands set up along the gorgeous lungomare along the Tyrrhennian Sea. Foods range from a cornetto al peperoncino (pastry filled with a peppery cream) to tartufo piccante (ice cream with bits of peperoncini), and there’s even a pepper eating contest, “Campionato italiano mangiatori di peperoncini,” for the competitive types.
Back here at the home office, you’ll see peperoncino in many of my What’s Cooking Wednesday recipes, but even if you don’t like spicy food, here’s a tip: just a little bit of the stuff brings out the flavor of just about anything without adding heat.
Don’t be afraid!
Also, if your mouth is burning from too much hotness, eat a piece of bread or something dairy-like instead of reaching for water. The heat in hot peppers is really an oil; water moves around the burning sensation but it doesn’t counteract it.
If you’ll be dealing with a large number of peppers, use disposable gloves. The oils of the peppers are very good at working their way into your pores and can be quite difficult to just wash away–bleach and water, salted water, or toothpaste, believe it or not, are your best bets.
Please be especially careful if you wear contact lenses.
Trust me. I’ve learned this the hard way.
Any more questions? Fire away! Ha!
Where to Eat Out in Calabria
A little while ago (what are a few weeks among friends?) I was tagged by Karla and Irene, and it goes a little something like this:
1. Link to the name of the person who tagged you.
2. Include the state and country you’re in.
3. List your top 5 favorite places to eat at your location (locally).
4. Tag 5 other people (preferably from other countries/states) and let them know they’ve been tagged.
We don’t eat out very often, but I have managed to come up with five places that have all the courses covered here in my corner of Calabria, Italy (that’s sort of like a state, right?).
Provinces are in parentheses after town names.
Oh, and I’ll end the suspense here and say I won’t be tagging anyone–however feel free to store this idea away for days when you have nothing else to say. Is that why I’m choosing this lazy Friday to finally post this?
I’ll never tell.
So here are five of the best places to mangia mangia! in bella Calabria (other than my house, of course):
1. Diavolo Rosso, Badolato Superiore (CZ)
Run by one of P’s very bestest friends, Mimmo, Diavolo Rosso is our pizzeria, our Saturday night place, our home away from home if you will. My favorite pizzas are the tonno e cipolle (tuna and onions) and the prosciutto crudo, grana padano, and rucola. Yum!
In the summer, you need to reserve a table ahead of time if you want to eat outside on the terrace, and believe me you do.
And if you’re really lucky, Mimmo will break out his guitar and sing traditional Calabrese folk music from his band Marasa‘s CD.
2. Excalibur, Santa Caterina Marina (CZ)
Excellent seafood year round, but especially in the summer when if you don’t get there early enough in the evening, you may be stuck ordering the (also delicious) veal. Poor thing. Great outdoor seating as well.
3. Soverato Dolci, Soverato (CZ)
Makes the best pastries I’ve had since I’ve been here–and yes, I have been to Sicily. They also do a really nice aperitivo so long as you order at least one alcoholic drink among your group. Not usually a problem in my groups.
4. Golosia, Gioiosa Ionica Marina (RC)
Homemade gelato in an impressive, creative collection of flavors. Hands down the best gelato I’ve had here, although the tartufo from Pizzo (VV) ain’t half bad either. Someday, Sara, I’ll get there with a camera in hand to join the Tour del Gelato, I swear!
5. Le Terrazze, Copanello-Stalettì (CZ)
The first and only time I’ve eaten here was last week as part of the 2-day conference I had to attend. We had a six or seven or was it eight course meal (can’t remember I was so stuffed), and every single thing was fabulous. It was fish-themed (seafood salad, risotto with shrimp, swordfish, grilled prawns, and much more); perhaps some photos of the place will give a clue why:
So, yeah, even if the food sucked, this place probably still would’ve made my list. The views are just unreal. We happened to be there on the night of the full moon, and that was amazing to see over the sea–didn’t get a great photo though because of the glare, so you’ll have to take my word for it.
Buon appetito!
just another kitten saved
Yesterday afternoon as I was checking my favorite blogs working hard, I heard a kitten crying, over and over. So I did what any reasonable person would do.
I opened the door and responded, “Meoooooow.”
And the kitten answered.
And I meowed.
And the kitten answered.
We played this game for about thirty seconds as I intermittently asked “dove sei?” (where are you?) but always received the same response. Clearly this little one was stuck somewhere.
So I followed the noise, and I tracked down the kitty to an attic-like space above my neighbor‘s house, only accessible from the outside by a rather unique staircase.
Anna Maria had been up there earlier, so the little one must’ve gotten closed in sometime in the morning. I told Anna Maria what I thought had happened, and she gave me the OK to rescue the kitty.
I started to ask her for a key, but then I realized I was in Calabria, and the likelihood of the door being closed with more than a clever contraption was low. Sure enough, a knotted rope greeted me, and as I started to untie it, I was assured that the kitty was inside because through the crack in the door, its little blue eyes glared at me before it hissed, swatted, and ran into the corner.
Once I opened the door, I saw a space full of firewood, old chairs, stacked terra cotta roof tiles, various sacks, and assorted empty crates, jars, and bottles.
But no kitty.
I searched all over, meowed, and even poked around with a stick to ruffle some things about, but there was no sign of life.
I wanted to leave the door open for a bit to allow the kitten to let itself out, but it was extremely windy and Anna Maria would never go for it. So after a few minutes, I retied the rope behind me and formulated my plan to wait until Anna Maria went to church and then try again.
I was going to have to resume Operation Rescue Kitty da sola (alone).
And so when I heard the bells calling the faithful to Mass, I peeked my head out the door and meowed.
And the little one answered.
I climbed back up the stairs and performed the same routine as before, just in case it was now ready to come out.
Nothing.
So I tied the door partially shut, leaving room enough for escape, descended the stairs, and then started meowing loudly. At this point, I was pretty sure that its mother was around–there is one particular chubby stray that always used to hang around, but I hadn’t seen her in a while. I now assumed she had been on maternity leave.
And I was right.
Within seconds, (skinny) Mamma came rushing around the corner. She looked at me as if to ask, “Where’s my baby?” and so I pointed up the steps. She trotted up there to the crack in the door; immediately the kitten emerged, and they were reunited.
Baby rubbed all around Mamma as Mamma tried to clean the grime off Baby. And boy was the little one hungry.
Eventually Mamma decided on a more comfortable place for feeding where she could finally relax. You could see that she had just been worried sick about her little one from the way she collapsed once they were together again.
And another kitty family slept off into the sunset.
Just so you know, I was never even remotely tempted to spruce up these photos a la the LOLcat movement. I find it a little creepy to be honest with you.
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[tags]cats, kittens, rescuing kittens[/tags]
Michelle Kaminsky is an American attorney-turned-freelance writer who lived in her family's ancestral village in Calabria, Italy for 15 years. This blog is now archived.
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