Archive for the ‘P’ Category
Isca sull’Ionio, Calabria, Italy: My Great-Grandmother’s Village
Last week, my grandmother’s first cousin, Domenica (but don’t call her that–she goes by Marie) from America and her childhood friend, Laura, came to visit me. Both of their mothers, as well as my grandmother’s mother Concetta, were born in Isca sull’Ionio, or Isca on the Ionian Sea, which is the village next to mine.
Meet Concetta via her 1941 US citizenship certificate:
To explain a bit, my great-great-grandfather (Concetta’s father) was born in the village I now live in, and he married a woman from Isca, and that’s where they had their children. So my roots, as well as those of my Marie are actually from both villages. Laura’s family is all from Isca.
The connection between this tiny village on the Ionian coast and my area back home in Pennsylvania is extremely strong; indeed, most of the Italian (Calabrian) families in and around my hometown come from this village and share names like Varano, Scicchitano, Bressi, Feudale, Mirarchi, and Nestico (here, it’s Nesticò, accent on the last syllable).
One of my most vivid memories of the first time I visited here was my jaw continually dropping at just how many last names I saw on signs and businesses that were so very familiar to me–even the geographical position of Isca is very much like our towns nestled into the Appalachian Mountains.
You can read more about Isca’s history and links in the United States at IscaCalabria.com, made by a friend of mine that I met via the Internet quite a few years ago. He ended up connecting me with a woman originally from Isca who now lives in South Philly (I also lived in Philly at the time); it turns out that she had also lived up in my area of Pennsylvania…and, as we discovered once we got talking, had even worked with my grandmother in a sewing factory in the 1960s or 70s.
Talk about a small world, huh?
Alida gave me one of the best quotes ever during an email exchange four years ago, and I hope she doesn’t mind my sharing it here:
When I was a little girl, before I knew of the rotation of the earth, I really believed that those pretty mountains ate the sun and by a miracle God would send it back the following day.
Don’t you just love Italians?
A few years ago, Alida, her family, my mom and I went to the San Marziale festival, organized by Iscatani, in South Philly together.
Now back to our visit to Isca with my cousin. Through genealogical research, I was able to pinpoint the street, although not the exact house, of our family. It’s called Via Borgo, and here’s Marie in front of the entrance to the smallest “street” I’ve ever seen in my life:
Here’s a look down said street:
As you can see, there’s actually a bit of reconstruction going on, but Isca Superiore is still mostly emptied out, even more so than my village; in fact, every time we asked about someone who had formerly lived up there, we were directed to the Marina village. Isca was particularly hard hit by an earthquake in 1947, so that was the impetus for many to get off the hill.
We didn’t have too much time to walk around Isca, but here are some old scanned photos of mine from a previous visit:
Then we went back to P’s parents’ house in Badolato Marina and enjoyed a lovely lunch with them. Here are P’s father Salvatore, P’s mom Caterina, Marie (eyes closed, sorry–told her to leave on her sunglasses!), and Laura.
Marie had a great time trying to teach P’s dad some English words–much laughter ensued as “I looooooove you” repeatedly echoed throughout the Marina. And since I never tire of hearing old family stories, this provided yet another opportunity for Marie to share what she remembers of her grandparents–my great-great-grandparents–and others long gone.
P’s mom must’ve been feeling a bit nostalgic too because she broke out her old photos; I had never seen a baby picture of P before, so that was extra special. What a cutie! You may or may not see said photos scanned here at some point. Good thing he doesn’t read the blog, eh?
So after quite a day full of emotion, laughter, great food, and fun, Marie, Laura and I headed back up the mountain to Badolato. As they rested, I got to thinking, as I’m wont to do.
*
I have always thought of Isca as representing the feminine side of my Italian family, as my great-grandmother and great-great-grandmother were born there–who knows how far back that goes, but I’d sure like to find out. Even the town’s name ends in “a” denoting the feminine. I’ve always had a stronger connection with the women in my family, and so I would’ve guessed that Isca was the place for me if I were going to settle in Calabria.
But there’s so much more to me than that feminine side, and I’d say I’m pretty balanced in my traditionally masculine and feminine influences. I’m not a girly-girl by any means, and you couldn’t tear me away from a football, baseball, or basketball game in America if you tried. I can also be awfully aggressive when I want/need to be.
Interesting, then, that it’s my great-great-grandfather who was born in Badolato (note that it ends in an “o” denoting masculine) and relocated to Isca for his wife; I, on the other hand, was first drawn to Isca (my family had never heard of Badolato until I found citizenship records), but then the pull to Badolato was so strong that I ended up staying here, in the masculine village, if you will.
And here I found my P.
Now I struggle to balance those masculine and feminine influences once again–this time in a culture with fairly distinct gender roles. Southern Italy isn’t what you’d call modernized in its ideas about what a woman and a man should do. Lucky for me that I’ve found a guy who loves that I work and that I actually *want* to go hunting for mushrooms in the mountains, etc., with the boys–and he also happens to be a great cook who occasionally surprises me with his housekeeping abilities.
It’s not always easy, of course, but I’m loving the challenge.
let the answering begin: the sequel
Sequel you ask? Why yes!
The original “let the answering begin!” can be found here, and that explains what this is all about, but for those who missed it and don’t feel like clicking:
A while back, I asked you what you would like to know about me so I could fill out the 8 things meme that JennieBoo tagged me with, and you responded. I’ve already answered 6 questions, which you can find here, and now here are five more.
Today’s topics are two very unrelated ones: my Calabrian fiancé P and the United States. They don’t even share a language, but in my world, they get to share a post! Whee!
(1) One of my most favoritist bloggers in France, Meredith of Poppy Fields, asked me whether I’ve married my “beau” or if it’s something I’m planning on doing.
No need to start out small, eh?
Well the first part is easy. We’re not married.
The second part is a little more complicated, but I’d say we’re 85-90% “for” getting married. It’s not really a big deal for either of us religiously or even emotionally (sorry for those who don’t like to see “the just a piece a paper” thing but . . . I do imagine that at some point we will make it official.
I talked briefly about some possible wedding plans here, but there’s nothing officially planned. Next summer is a possibility though.
For anyone not familiar with the odd engagement procedure (at least to me) in Italy, basically you’re fidanzati or “engaged” when the relationship is serious. There’s often no real proposal or ring, so with P and me, we’ve pretty much been engaged since about Day 2 following the whole fateful wind-blown jean jacket thing.
But let’s just call the engagement procedure a cross-cultural difference and move along.
(2) While we’re on the subject of P, One Smart Cookie asked me what he’s like and to name my favorite thing about him.
P gets short-changed a bit on the blog–mostly by his choice, of course–so I thank Ms Cookie for the opportunity to brag a bit.
P is probably someone you wouldn’t notice in a crowd because he’s a keen observer and quiet in groups (except with his closest friends of course). In line with that is that he’s quite pensive and sensitive even though most people who know him wouldn’t think that. And, despite being quiet and a bit shy, he’s actually quite demonstrative of his feelings for me, both verbally and physically.
He’s thoughtful to a fault, always worrying about whether I’m taken care of before he thinks of taking care of himself. One day after we met but before either of us had expressed any kind of feelings, I was walking to the grocery store when I saw him up ahead run toward an older woman struggling to carry her groceries. He didn’t know I was watching as his back was to me and he couldn’t have seen me coming, but that innocent scene? I won’t say it’s the moment I fell in love with him, but I was definitely on the way.
And he’s just sweet–if he goes somewhere without me, he always brings me something back, and I don’t mean he buys something. We’re not exactly rolling in cash and I’m not one for expensive shows of affection anyway (good combo, eh?), so I’m always so touched when he comes home with a perfect shell from the beach after he’s been fishing or the first almond blossom of the season from our tree.
He’s also smart and handsome, makes me laugh *a lot*, can fix just about anything, is an excellent cook, and knows that he should remain calm when I’m freaking out.
The best thing I like about him? He makes me feel so very, truly loved each and every day.
(3) Shifting gears but not questioners, One Smart Cookie also asked how frequently I visit the United States and when I visit, what I can’t wait to see/eat/visit/do.
I haven’t been back to the US since February-June 2004. I want to go back to visit, it just hasn’t happened yet for various reasons, not the least of which being the expense.
The thing I enjoy doing most when I go home is spending time with my family and friends, doing all the stuff that I used to do everyday with them: yard sales on Saturday mornings, trying all different restaurants with my mom, hanging out in Dunkin’ Donuts, Italian restaurants, or friends’ houses to talk and talk and talk. Catching up, generally.
Ah, and I also look forward to eating everything that my mom cooks and bakes. I’ve posted a list of what I miss about the States, but the longer I’m here, the less important those “things” are, and it’s really only the people I miss terribly.
(4) Related to “home” questions, Anno asked “When you think of home, where is it?” and whether I think I’ll return to the States.
Cheesy answers acceptable? Good.
My home is truly where my heart is. I’ve learned over the years that I can make a home anywhere that my heart is committed to, and a lot of my heart is here. P is a big part of that, of course, so I’m comfortable with saying this is my home. Indeed, if I were in the US visiting, I’d know I’d refer to here as home.
That said, the house and town where I grew up in America will always be my home too–a lot of my heart is there as well. And I refer to it as “home” when I’m here. No one ever said you couldn’t have two (or more) homes, right? Life is too short for arbitrary decisions, I say!
Do I think I’ll return to the States? To live permanently? Probably not. Even though it’s not all cappuccino and afternoon naps on this side of the pond, I am really, genuinely happy here. Plus I can’t imagine moving my whole life again, but I suppose never say never.
(5) And last but certainly not least for today, the always lovely and inspiring SomePinkFlowers wants to know:
what did you do/ with all your childhood STUFF/ when you moved to italy?/all those bits of memory things…/ i guess what i’m asking is this,/ are there bits of your life still stored/ in the states somewhere/or/ did you majorly purge/ and then move everything left completely…/ i am thinking christmas ornaments,/ high school annuals, dental charts,/ those typoes of things…/ whatwhowhenhow?/[one question, really.].
I think you can see why I didn’t paraphrase. Isn’t that just a beautiful question?
Anyway, I have a lot of stuff in a storage unit back in America–formerly my mom’s basement until she moved into an apartment. Now we are renting something out until I get back, clean it out, keep and ship (or pack) what I want, and purge the rest.
What’s in there? Well, I have *so* many books, including old textbooks from college and law school that I’d love to have here, but I don’t know if they’ll ever all make it. My Kennedy research collection, yearbooks, photo albums, loose photos, my grandmother’s things, items from church rituals (Baptism, Communion, Confirmation), old report cards, ceramics I made in high school, paintings, drawings, journals, newspaper clippings, memory boxes, holiday decorations, many cards and notes and letters, a collection of baseball memorabilia (old catcher’s masks, shoes, balls, posters). . . .
Not a whole lot from actual childhood, although there are still some random toys and whatnot in my father’s attic. Maybe. My children’s books were damaged in a roof leak, unfortunately, and that’s all that was really important to me of that stuff.
My master plan, to link all of today’s questions together in fact, is that someday P and I will travel to America and spend a few days going through this stuff so I can decide what to do with it once and for all.
He’ll have *so* much fun!
I didn’t mention that he can be rather impatient up in Number 2, did I? Ah, selective descriptioning.
Until next time, then.
Love Thursday: Amore Mio
Shh…don’t tell P, but I snapped this photo of him while he was taste-testing the merluzzo from yesterday’s recipe.
I was across the table from him (not my usual seat) pretending to fiddle with the camera to prepare for upcoming food shots when I zoomed and snapped.
Just so you know, this is 1 in a series of 1. There may not be another for a very long time. Doesn’t sit still much this one. Check out the movement in the fork!
And he’s more than just a pretty face! For more P cuteness, check out Conversations with P. And if you want to read about how we met, it’s in How a Jean Jacket and Some Wind Can Change Your Life.
I hope all of my American readers, at least, are having a nice long holiday weekend–I think I just may take one myself in honor of my birth country. God bless America!
Happy Love Thursday everyone!
what’s cooking wednesday: turkey with sauteed peppers & onions
Before we get to this week’s What’s Cooking Wednesday, a little background.
I think I’ve mentioned this before, but for Thanksgiving last year, P got three turkeys to raise ourselves so we’d be assured of a good bird come Turkey Day. For those who don’t know, turkey isn’t commonly found in Italian butchershops, and although it can be specially ordered, you often end up with a truly enormous bird (just ask Cyndi if you don’t believe me).
Well just before that fateful Thursday, a fox got in and snatched one of our birds. So with only a female and male left, we let them be and ate chicken instead. Then another turkey was snatched, and P just let the other one get all big and meaty, figuring we might as well get our euros’ worth once slaughter time came.
So a couple months ago, when P got around to killing and cleaning our last surviving turkey, he put half of its enormous breast (this was a truly huge turkey, probably 25-30 pounds or 11-14 kilos) in the freezer. Now I’m sure many of you know that this means that once that section was defrosted, I’d have to cook all of it off within a day or so.
So I grilled some, made some turkey cutlets, and then I played around with a new recipe that I invented because I had a craving for peppers.
I put the experiment on the table.
P tried it.
He didn’t say anything.
He didn’t so much as make a face one way or the other.
I thought he’d be great at poker, and then I got nervous.
Me: “Dimmi qualcosa!” (Tell me something!)
P: “Chista è sua morte.”
Literally translated, this is dialect for “This is his death,” but what it means is that this is the way that turkey should be cooked–that it was delicious.
Phew!
As for our turkey fest, I told P it was just like having Thanksgiving in June…3 days of eating turkey! Woohoo!
Turkey with Sauteed Peppers & Onions
900 g (2 lbs) turkey cut into chunks
1 1/2 teaspoons garlic powder
1 teaspoon salt
a few sprigs rosemary
2 tablespoons olive oil2 large green peppers, cut into strips
2 medium onions, sliced
1/2 teaspoon salt
olive oil as necessary
Coat pieces of turkey in garlic powder and salt, sprinkling rosemary about. I let this sit for a few minutes while I cut the peppers and onions, and it worked well.
Now heat 2 tablespoons olive oil in a pan (medium heat) and add turkey. Be sure to cook on all sides until no longer pink, then remove turkey from pan (leaving most of the oil/juice) and set aside. Cover to keep warm.
Add peppers to the pan and cook until just tender, about five minutes, and then add onions and cook until they are both the consistency you prefer. Add salt and more olive oil to pan as needed (if you find that peppers and onions are sticking, for instance, add some oil). Note that you’ll need to stir these quite a bit while they’re cooking.
Finally add in the cooked turkey and let the flavors mingle together for a few minutes.
I recommend serving hot and with crusty bread. I’d normally say this serves four, but it really only served us two.
Even poverina Luna was left out of the fun.
Buon appetito!
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[tags]turkey, turkey with peppers and onions, cooking, recipes, what’s cooking wednesday, peppers, onions[/tags]
Love Thursday: Helping Hands
In case you hadn’t guessed by now, I like my P an awful lot. He’s quite thoughtful and sweet and handsome and lovable, and yes, I think I’ll keep him.
But I’m not going to lie to you. He’s not the hugest help around the house.
Now even that’s an unfair statement because he does cook half the time, but see, I don’t mind cooking, so if he didn’t do that, it probably wouldn’t bother me. Cleaning though? I *hate* cleaning of any kind (except organizing — me likey organization!), and unfortunately, apparently so does he.
Sometimes I get overwhelmed, particularly during the middle of the week when I’m out of the house for two full (10 a.m.-8 p.m.) days — especially if, heaven forbid, it has been raining, which means the laundry has piled up.
But I really hate doing the dishes. A lot. So the other day I casually mentioned that maybe when I cook, he could do the dishes. I’m not even sure the sentiment successfully traveled the short distance between my mouth and his ears — a new record for the Things P Didn’t Want To Hear Game.
[Such a fun game, by the way, fully adaptable to any partner and free to play!]
Or at least I thought he didn’t hear me.
Last night when I came home from teaching, I gave LuLu some LuLove, and then I went to the sink to wash my hands. When I reached for a tea towel to dry them, I was greeted by this:
This scene may not mean a lot to you, but let’s just say that when P uses hand towels, they never end up Martha Stewart pretty back on the rack. But this time? I was duly impressed.
And then I grabbed a yogurt from the fridge and a spoon from the silverware drawer. I noticed that the spoon I picked up was one of our oddball ones with a design unlike the others — not strange until I realized I had used the same one in the morning for my coffee and had left it in the sink.
I flipped around to see this:
This had been half-full of dirty dishes when I left the house, and surely P had eaten something when he got home from work and added to the pile.
But then…he…washed them? And dried them? And put them away?
I kid you not, my eyes swelled with tears. And I didn’t even mind that some of the silverware was out of place.
Who needs a big fancy ring when you’ve got an empty sink and folded dish towels?
I love my P.
Happy Love Thursday everyone!
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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