Archive for the ‘life in calabria’ Category
Sunrise Over the Ionian Sea: Buon Giorno!
*Unfortunately, this was not taken this morning, as it’s cloudy, damp, and quite nasty here today (again). I found this picture while going through some old photos last night and wanted to remember warmer, sunnier times.
FYI, what you are seeing is a scan of an untouched photo taken with a throwaway camera.
Buon giorno a tutti!
My Move to Italy and the House of Violets
The back of my house rests on Vico Fiore, loosely Flower Street, and so all the houses have (informally) been given flowery names. Mine is “Casa delle Violette,” or the House of Violets.
I’ve always loved violets and my favorite color is purple, but that’s certainly not what sold me on the house and living in Italy. Didn’t hurt though either.
I’m a believer in fate and destiny and all that stuff, and although I’m not one to wait for Signs From Above before I make a big decision, I do keep my eyes open for little clues that tell me I’m on the right (or wrong) track.
Looking back, it seems my path to Italy was, and is, paved in violets.
I came to Italy for the first time in the summer of 2002, eight months after the death of my Italian- American grandmother. Born in America to Italian immigrants, she had never even visited, and at that time, I was reaching deeper into our family’s history than anyone ever had.
And so, when I stumbled upon a falling down mess optimistically called the House of Violets in my family’s ancestral village, I was obliged to take a second look.
Anyone who knew her knew that my grandmother’s favorite color had been purple, which dotted her house even though the rest of the color scheme was firmly 1970s browns and rusts. I even wore a deep purple suit to her funeral because it had been her favorite of all my dreary lawyer-wear.
I had developed quite a fondness for the color over the years myself, going from my favorite pink as a little girl to blue as a young adult and now settling on a color that combined them–purple is as calming, solid, and safe as blue but mixes in pink’s playfulness and innocence.
After seeing the house the first time, I went back to where I was staying to record the day’s events in the journal my friend had given me before the trip. I laughed to myself as I saw what graced the textured lavender cover: a lone violet protected by a clear plastic, raised box.
So as the trip went on, I started to imagine what life might be like in a southern Italian village. I didn’t have very much time there on that trip, so I knew I’d have to return. And I did a few times before making the big move, which, to be clear, was not so big in my mind at the time–I was planning on a couple years tops.
But through all the thinking and evaluating, another incident stuck in mind. Upon returning from that first trip, I lugged my bags upstairs to my bedroom in my Philadelphia apartment. While I was gone, a friend took care of my cat and plants–yes, I’m anal enough that I drew a map of all the plants and a chart of watering frequency (thanks Sue!). All still alive downstairs (including Kudzu kitty), the last plant left for me to check up on was the one on my nightstand–my prized collection of African violets.
Well, to be honest, it was a collection of African violet leaves. Three Easters before, my Mom had gotten me three of them planted together in a flat, white basket. There were lots of pink and purple flowers when I got them, and although I had kept the leaves green and furry for years, I hadn’t seen a flower again after I snapped off the last dying one from its original bloom.
But there, upon returning from my first trip to Italy, with thoughts of transferring my life overseas floating around my mind, wouldn’t you know it? Three deep purple violets had bloomed in my absence.
The House of Violets.
Three rooms. Three flowers. Alrighty then. So here I am, probably pushed by violets (better than pushing *up* violets, eh?). And after living here for about a year and a half, I met P.
And just in case I was beginning to wonder whether life in Calabria is for me, whether I should be trying to talk P into moving to the States, a few months ago, P’s mom gave me…yeah, this is getting weird isn’t it? I saw the furry leaves one day at her house, and she told me that although the plant had flowers originally, it hadn’t bloomed since. So she passed it to me. I think the violets are happy here.
And for those who can’t get enough of this: the African violet is of the genus Saintpaulia. My grandmother’s name was Paulina. And a clever reader might take a stab on what follows the P in P’s name.
Il Braciere: Warm and Toasty, Calabrian Style
The braciere is an old contraption used to help keep these old stone houses warm in the winter in Calabria – and which holds special memories for me.
Read on...Love Thursday: How a Jean Jacket and Some Wind Can Change Your Life
Let me confess that I have a bit of a jacket/coat fetish. I love them. All. If I could afford to have a different jacket/coat for every day of the year, for every kind of weather, I would. Hooded, traditional collar, zipper, button, cropped, ankle-length, sporty, any color, any time.
So imagine my excitement when, the last time I was in America, I found a spectacular jean jacket at the Gap–on sale! Jean jackets are particularly difficult for me–must be the exact right length, right color, right level of fittedness. You see the issues. Well this one was it. So it came back to Italy with me, and I treasured it.
But then one exceptionally windy day in May of 2005, I carelessly rested it on my shoulder bag as I walked from the piazza to my house, about a three minute walk. In my defense, I was also carrying my friend’s cat, who I’d be watching that weekend. When I got to my house, I set down the little guy and took the bag off my shoulder. No jacket.
Now, when I say that it was exceptionally windy, we’re talking hurricane force gusts. We get powerful winds from all directions, but this one was the scirocco from the Sahara (they tell me), and it was ridiculously fierce. We’re far enough away that we don’t get the sand too, but my friends in Sicilia often aren’t so lucky (they tell me). I actually had doubts that my jacket was even still in the village.
I went back up to the piazza and began walking around kind of aimlessly, looking for cornered spots where the jacket may have landed. I was interrupted by one of the guys from the village. We’ll call him #1. I had seen him around and we had exchanged “ciao” many times, but we had never actually met. Next thing I knew, he had rounded up a group of young boys and they were searching high and low for my jacket; he even sent one down into the vegetation just over the ledge of the lookout point of the square.
In the meantime, another young man from the village–let’s call him #2–began chatting me up. A bunch of smalltalk, nothing special, but noticeably not even a mention of the missing jacket. So I’m standing there, and I’m nodding to whatever it was he was blathering on about, and what I’m really thinking is how unbelievably nice it was of #1 to organize a makeshift search team and actually *do* something for me rather than just hit on me. And wasn’t he kind of cute after all?
The fruitless search ended soon thereafter. Dejected, I walked home on the main street. About halfway down, I heard “Signorina!” from a woman on her balcony. Turns out she saw my jacket fly away, and she was keeping it safe and sound in her house the whole time. Reunited!
That evening after dinner, I put on my beloved jacket and took a walk into the piazza. I noticed #1 in the doorway of the bar and thought I should at least tell him that I found the darn thing. So I walked up there and did just that. He asked if I wanted an amaro (a digestive liqueur). Here I should mention that #1 had asked me if I wanted a coffee or other beverage, oh, probably 20 times before–but that’s not an usual thing here as even the old geezers are always offering. Or maybe I just always look thirsty.
Anyway, usually I respond to such questions with a quick “No, no,” wind up the conversation, and skadoodle. But this time, before I had chance to think, I had already accepted the amaro. And I don’t even like amaro.
We spent that evening walking and talking, getting to know one another, and have been together ever since. Yes, clever readers, #1 is the infamous P, and this was our first official meeting. It was love at first flight! Sorry, couldn’t resist.
But now you know the story of how a jean jacket and some wind can change your life. Or at least mine.
But if you’re waiting for pic of P, or of P and me, sorry to disappoint. He’s still blog shy and despite the fact that he doesn’t read English, pictures are the universal language.
Please note that Chookooloonks, the founder of Love Thursday, has ended her written journal, but you can find her photography journal (with a fabulous Love Thursday photo) here.
Happy Love Thursday everyone!
What’s Cooking Wednesday: Potatoes and Peppers
And onions too, if you want to be particular.
P’s mom brought me some gorgeous peppers, so today we’re doing a side dish that’s good enough to eat as a whole meal–and it’s easy as all get out. Six ingredients. Olive oil, potatoes, green and red peppers, onions, salt, and peperoncino. That’s it. You can also use yellow peppers, by the way; you’ll have a sweeter overall taste.
But before we get to the recipe, a note on the peperoncino (chili pepper) for the uninitiated. As I was cooking, I realized that I put peperoncino in everything–I’m fairly certain this is the law in Calabria.
Those who don’t like spicy food might be afraid of this lil’ devil , but don’t be! If you add just a dash, it will heighten all of the other flavors. Add too much and you might be calling the Vigili del Fuoco, but just take it slowly at first, and you’ll be fine.
Potatoes, Peppers & Onions
(serves 4)
- 6 medium sized potatoes
- 2 large red bell peppers
- 2 large green peppers
- 1 medium onion
- 5 tablespoons olive oil
- salt to taste
- peperoncino to taste
1. Peel and thinly slice the potatoes. Keep them in a bowl of fresh water until you are ready to cook them.
2. Wash and slice the peppers into thin strips.
3. Peel and slice onion into strips as well.
4. Put 2 1/2 tablespoons of olive oil in a large pan and turn heat on to medium. Sauté the onions until they are translucent, about 3 to 4 minutes.
5. Remove them, leaving behind as much oil as possible, and put potatoes in pan. Coat the potatoes in the remaining oil and cook for about 10 to 15 minutes, or until the potatoes are cooked through and slightly brown. Be sure to move the taters around a bit or they’ll burn and or/stick on the bottom.
6. Remove the potatoes.
7. Add another 2 1/2 tablespoons of olive oil to the pan. Put in the peppers, stirring to coat them in the olive oil, and sauté for about 10 minutes or until they are almost fully cooked to the consistency you like. They won’t cook all that much more once you throw everything in together.
8. Put the potatoes and onions back into the pan, add salt and peperoncino/pepper, and mix well. Lower the heat and cook for another 10 to 15 minutes, or until everything is cooked to your satisfaction. Be sure to stir occasionally..
9. Serve hot with fresh Italian bread and/or as a side dish with sausage, chicken, and more.
Buon appetito!
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.
Calabria Guidebook
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