LIFE: A Little Something for My Family

SARONNO, Italy - This week’s blog is a little different than others I’ve written. I decided that I wanted to give my family an Easter present, a small trip to Italy, and post a special video for each one of them that I hope all of them enjoy.

Video No. 1 is for my Aunt Florence, I could do no better than to offer this short video on one of the most beautiful cities in Italy, her namesake, Florence.  I hope she likes it as Florence is one of the ‘beautiest’ of all Italian cities, just like she’s the ‘beautiest ‘ of the family. 

 

 Florence Italy for Aunt Florence

For my Aunt Adele, a short trip to Venice, a city she has always wanted to see and hopefully will in the not too distant future. The long boats you see pulling up the dock are actually the local buses that go from dock to dock (bus stop to bus stop)  just like all buses everywhere. 

For my Uncle Ray, who loves flying and has his own plane and his own airport, the video I found is a pilot training to fly an amphibian plane on Lake Como. The only flight school for amphibian planes in Europe is on Lake Como, which is the best lake for planes because it is so long and narrow. A more perfect landing field for an amphibian plane would be hard to find.

For my Uncle Frank, just a small taste of what his homeland looks like, too bad they don’t have videos that can bring you the sounds and the smells from this corner of Italy where pizza was born. It's a fantastic place, full of life and energy and really deserves more than the three minutes on this video.

For my Cousin Ray who is saving his pennies to buy a Ferrari, here’s a road trip along the Amalfi coast and a few tips on how to “drive Italian.” After you pick up your Ferrari you can head south and check this out. I'd done this drive and it is just as hairy and scary as it looks.

And for my Cousin Jo Ann,  a video of the Dolomite Mountains in northern Italy, just in case she’s thinking about taking a ski vacation on this side of the world.

I hope everyone enjoys these videos and that everyone has a very Happy Easter.

AUNTIE PASTA: Hello My Little Lamb (Chop)

SARONNO, Italy- This Italian life that I live started long before I moved to Italy, it started back in upstate New York when I was really young. We lived in an apartment next to my Italian grandparents, in a big house that had a large basement. My grandfather used to make wine in one section of that basement and I remember going down there with him as he checked on the barrels of fermenting grape juice, to make sure they were doing what they were supposed to be doing, becoming wine. 

 Sheep grazing in a field outside of Rome

Every now and again there would be something else in the basement, a baby lamb. It would be tied up in the same area as the wine barrels, and when I would go down to check on the wine with my grandfather, I would play with the lamb while my grandfather did whatever he had to do. 

And then the lamb would be gone. I didn’t think too much of it, in fact it never occurred to me that the only thing that had happened between the last time I played with the lamb, to the next time when the lamb was gone, was Easter.  

Roast lamb with potatoes

So ever since I’ve been in Italy, I’ve been looking for a leg of lamb that looks and tastes like the one my grandmother used to put on the table on Easter Sundays, brown and juicy, studded with slivers of garlic and rosemary, but I’ve never found it. The lamb they sell in Italy is baby lamb, but so baby that there isn’t any meat on it. To me, the lamb they sell here looks like a pile of bones. It is a pile of bones.

Once, about six months ago, I saw what looked like a real leg of lamb (my idea of a real leg of lamb). It was at Carrefour, a French grocery chain that is very popular here in Italy. I bought the lamb immediately and cooked it, but it had a different taste than the one I expected. The store offered the larger legs of lamb only that once, I’ve never seen them since. So at this point I’ve about given up. On the outside chance that you can find some meaty lamb where you live, here's an Italian recipe from the Corriere della Sera, Italy's leading newspaper, for lamb alla Romana.  

Macellaio (Butcher) @ Eataly, Torino, Italia

After the recipe was published one viewer wrote in saying: "i filetti di acciuga nell'abbacchio alla romana? ma chi inventa queste ricette? Translation: Anchovy filets in abbacchio alla romana? Who invents these recipe?" Which leads me to doubt the authenticity of the recipe, but maybe it’s like everything else here, everyone thinks their version of things is the one and only true version. As for me, I just hope my grandmother isn’t reading this.

Abbacchio alla Romana

Ingredients for 4 People

2 lbs of leg and shoulder of lamb – cut into pieces

3 cloves of garlic

3 filets of anchovy (preserved under salt)

1 spring of rosemary

3 tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil

½ cup of vinegar

Flour

Salt and pepper

Crush the peeled garlic along with the anchovy filets (that have been well rinsed). When the garlic and anchovy become a smooth paste, dilute it with the vinegar.

On the stove, add the oil to a large frying pan and add the sprig of rosemary. When the oil begins to smoke, remove the rosemary and add the pieces of lamb that have been lightly floured.

Brown the meat well on both sides, then remove it from the frying pan and set aside. Season with salt and pepper.

Reduce the cooking juices by two thirds. Put the lamb back into the frying pan with the cooking juices and cook for another 10 minutes. Remove from heat and serve immediately.

Preparation time: 25 minutes.

Cooking time: 30 minutes

LIFE: Guiseppe (Joe) the Plumber

SARONNO, Italy - This week started with me calling my super fixer-upper Signor Michele, or as my daughter used to call him, Grampa 2, and asking him to come over and take a look at the faucet in my kitchen. It’s gone all wobbly and seems to have forgotten whether it needs to turn right or left to turn off. 

 You Gotta Have a Sense of Humor in this Business

I would have taken it apart myself but unlike most kitchen faucets which have a turn off valve for hot water and another for cold water under the sink, I have a vast collection of valves, some of which are color coded, none of which I have never been able to figure ou­­t.

You see my kitchen is in the space that was originally a bathroom, so the valves are the valves for the ex-bathroom sink, for the ex-bidet and the ex-washing machine, as well as the current dishwasher and the current kitchen sink. It goes back to the Italian habit of never removing anything once it is there. Need a new whatchamacallit? Don't take off the old one, just add another to the rest of the whatchamacallits and start a whatchamacallit collection. It’s the same reason I have two intercoms, an old one that doesn’t work, and the new one that does. Plus there are dozens of electrical outlets, some of which work, and most of which don't. You don't do away with something away just because it doesn’t work, do you? I guess that depends what country you are in.

But to get back to the kitchen sink problem, without being able to identify which cut off valve is which, you can understand why I am reluctant to start fooling around with the faucet. Seriously, what would I do if it broke off in my hand and water started spouting out like a fountain?  Stand there with my finger in the hole like the Dutch kid who had to stick his finger in the dyke?  And then what?

So I sent out an S.O.S. to Signor Michele. “Oh cara,” he says, “that is not my area of expertise. I can come over and take a look at it but, you really need a plumber. Tell you what, I’m gonna give you a number to call. The guy’s name is Giuseppe. Tell him you got his name from me, and he’ll take care of you.”

So I did, and one of these days he’s going to show up, I’m just not sure which when.  But I have learned the hard way, that it is better to wait for someone who has been “recommended” than do a loop-dee-loop with my finger and land on a name in the yellow pages, or worse, hire someone from an hand written ad in a tobacco shop. Some lessons I do learn.

When I first moved into this apartment I saw a small advertisement in the tabacchi for a painter, and asked if the shop owner knew him. He didn’t. He only knew he was a young guy with a family trying to earn a little extra money on the side. Perfect. I’d much rather give my money to a young guy with a family than a company. After all, it wasn’t a big job, I just wanted the living room, dining room and one bedroom painted.

So I called him. He came over. He gave me a good price. I gave him the job. There was just one stipulation: I wanted the walls in the living room and dining room painted cream. Not white, not beige, cream. No problem he assured me, he’d be back on Saturday ready to work. And he was. 

It's not Easter Egg Yellow any More

He set up his ladder and other equipment, I got out of his way and went into my office to work. An hour or so later he put his head in the door to tell me he had finished the living room, so I went out to see what he had done.  What he had done was paint this enormous expanse that is my living and dining room a bright Easter egg yellow. I almost fainted. 

This is not cream, I said. Don’t worry, he assured me, it just looks like that because it isn’t dry and he went to work painting the bedroom. White. 

Of course you know that Easter egg yellow is never, ever going to become cream, no matter how long it dries and so I was back to square one, handicapped by the fact that it was August.  If you have ever been to Italy you know what that means: every painter, plumber and candlestick maker is at the beach. It was the middle of September before I found another painter and got the whole mess straightened out.

So yes, I’ll wait for Signor Giuseppe. And hopefully it won’t be too long before I have water in the kitchen again.That will be nice.

AUNTIE PASTA: In Buon Campagna

SARONNO, Italy – One of the most beautiful places I’ve ever visited in Italy is the Amalfi Coast in the Campania region of Italy. The volcanic soil under Mount Vesuvius nourishes the rich variety of vegetables like zucchini and eggplant that are grown there, along with the internationally recognized Castellammare Violet artichoke and San Marzano tomatoes.    

Castel Dell'Ovo, Naples

Today’s recipe is zucchini a scapece, a typical dish of the area. No, I’m not going to bore you with a lot of nit picky facts that I seem to find so fascinating, but you might be interested in knowing that the term scapce comes from the Spanish escabeche, a method of cooking and preserving food brought to Spain by the Muslims in the Middle Ages. The Spanish then brought it to Naples when they ruled the Kingdom of Naples during the 15^th and 16^th centuries.

Sometimes trying to unravel who brought what food/cooking method/ etc. to Italy is a little like trying to follow the breadcrumb trail left by Hansel and Gretel in the woods. But so far, it seems the Muslims have done more to enrich Italian cuisine than either the French or Austrians. Maybe, because the Muslims were primarily in the south and they had more to work with: better weather and better soil.

 The Bounty of Campania

That's not to say northern Italy didn't have its share of foreign culinary influences. Here in Milan, the occupation of both France and Austria are still felt with the two most popular dishes: costoletta alla Milanese, which is wiener schnitzel (Viennese schnitzel), and cassoulet, a rich, slow-cooked casserole of meat and white beans popular in France. Cassoulet is spelled differently in Milanese dialect but close enough so you'll recognize it if you see it on the menu in Milan.

Ingredients

150 ml red wine vinegar

150 ml water

Garlic – one or two cloves

Fresh mint – a few springs

Salt – Q.B.*

Zucchini – 1 kilo

Olive oil – Q.B. for frying

*Q.B. – as needed

Wash and trim the zucchini (1), then cut into disks (2). Put the zucchini in a colander, sprinkle with sale (3), then let them sit for a couple of hours. 

(in the sink or in a bowl) to drain the excess liquid (4). After a couple of hours rinse then under running water (5) and dry them with a paper towel (6).

 

Fry the zucchini in olive oil (no cheating here) (7), making sure the temperature is not too high. You don’t want them to burn before they are cooked. When they are lightly browned drain them on paper towels to remove the excess oil (8). Layer the fried zucchini in a casserole dish, adding salt, pepper and pieces of mint leaves to each layer (9).   

 

Put the wine vinegar in a pan, add the sliced garlic cloves and bring it to a boil. Boil for about 10 minutes (10), then add 2 or 3 tablespoons of the oil the zucchini were cooked in (11) and the pour the boiling vinegar mix over the zucchini (12). Cover with film wrap and let it sit for at least 24 hours before serving. 

How vinegary this dish is depends on the type of vinegar you use. If you prefer a less acidy taste, you can dilute the vinegar with water until you get the taste you want. If you want a more vinegary taste you can add more, or a different type of vinegar.

This method of preparing vegetables is very similar to “al carpione” of Piedmont and “al saor” of the Veneto. Now how that happened is another story altogether, but that will have to wait for another time.

LIFE: Roman(ing) Around

SARONNO, Italy - The entrance to my apartment building on Via delle Vite in Rome was through a small green door that had been cut into a larger dark green door. You see doors like this in a lot of  apartment buildings all throughout Italy. The small door is for people, but the big door was for the horse drawn carriages. 

Spanish Steps, Piazza di Spagna

I always wanted a key to one of those doors, I wanted to be able to enter the inner courtyard and climb the steps to what I imagined would be a fabulous Italian apartment. So for me, the key in my pocket that opened the door to the building on Via delle Vite was a dream come true. 

The apartment wasn’t mine, it belonged to an old woman named Niola. I was in Rome studying Italian at the Dante Alighieri School, and she rented rooms to students. Another girl also rented a room in the apartment, but since I didn’t speak Italian, and she didn’t speak English, the only thing I knew about her was that she was from Argentina. I found it strange that she called Signora Niola, just Niola, which was actually her last name, but now I know that it's not that uncommon to address people just by their last names. I still think it's odd though.   

Trevi Fountain

The apartment was large. It had at least four bedrooms, a living room, dining room and kitchen, and a long balcony all across the front of it. You could access the balcony from all of the rooms on the front side of the apartment, including the kitchen. Niola kept most of the rooms locked so my space, and that of the Argentinean girl, was limited to the kitchen, the dining room and our bedrooms. While I would have liked to have had full run of the apartment, Niola’s restrictions didn’t diminish my joy at living in the center of Rome. I was around the corner from the Piazza di Spagna and Via Condotti, and the Trevi Fountain was just a short walk away.  

I did my grocery shopping here and there and where ever I could find a shop open. Sometimes that would be the posh rosticceria on the Via Condotti, but most of the time I shopped at a small open farmer’s market up the street from the Fontana di Trevi. It was just across the busy Via del Tritone and up Via della Stamperia.

A Quick Coffee at the Caffe Greco, Via Condotti

On the corner of the street there was a small bar, and every time I walked passed on my way to the market, there would be this guy standing outside, dressed in a suit, who would take off his hat and bow and say to me, “buon giorno Contessa.”  I would smile, and nod my head and say hello. It was like a fairy tale, the stuff dreams are made of. 

The market, now we’re talking outdoor market, was just a collection of small producers, like the guy with a couple of goats who made cheese and the lady I bought eggs from. You could buy one egg, or two eggs or however many eggs you wanted, but you had to bring your own container. If you didn’t have a container she would wrap each egg in old newspaper for you. 

My Most Favorite Place in the World, the Piazza della Rotonda

In those days my Italian life was pretty confusing and sometimes intimidating. What intimidated me the most was the SIP office. SIP was the national telephone company and they had an office on the Via del Tritone. It was a large room with dozens of telephone booths, called cabine, and a cashier. What you had to do was to wait in line until you got to the cashier, tell her where you wanted to call, and she would tell you what booth to go into. After you made your call you had to go back and pay for the time of the call. 

You could not, as I found out one day, make more than one call at a time. But who knew? I don’t remember who I was calling but their line was busy, so I thought, well, as long as I’m here I’ll call my father and say hello. That was a big mistake. The next thing I heard was a booming voice paging the ‘Signora in cabina tre’ instructing her to immediately hang up the phone and come to the cashier’s desk. Cabina tre? That was me. What did I do? I was so embarrassed. 

Turns out, we were only allowed to make one phone call at a time. Line busy. Too bad. You lose your turn. 

Largo Argentina

Changing money wasn't exactly high on my list of favorite things to do either. I think I had traveler’s checks at the time, all I know is I had to go to the bank, show them my passport and sign my name about twenty times before I could get any lira. But, oh, the thrill of getting those large wads of colorful lira worth thousands and thousands, stacks of 20,000 lira bills. I felt so rich, I was rich. Sort of.

Unfortunately, because my school was not in the center of town, by the time I got back from classes the banks were usually closed. They may have opened again for 20 minutes or so later in the afternoon like they do now, but I didn’t have the language skills to figure it out. Days would go by when all I ate mozzarella and tomatoes because I didn’t have any money and in desperation I would often have to take a day off from school just to get to the bank. 

Campo di Fiori

When I did have money, I would eat at the Il Delfino Self Service Restaurant, an always open cafeteria across from Piazza Argentina. Again because I got back to the center of Rome so late, most of the restaurants would be closed and unless I wanted a panino or a slice of pizza, my choices were slim. So the Delfino was perfect.  Besides I couldn’t really read menus and I was usually starving at that point, so it was also the easiest place to go. It’s still there. If you are ever in Rome and find yourself in Piazza Argentina, stop in and tell them I said hello.


It was a wonderful time. Rome was spectacular, another world that I was fortunate enough to be part of and I loved everything about it. I loved exploring the streets and wandering here and there discovering the things that people have been discovering about Rome since the days of the Romans. I used to think how much nicer it would have been if I had been able to communicate better, but maybe that was part of the charm. Now so many of my experiences in Rome are just a normal part of my life, but it’s still wonderful, just different.

And just because I finally figured out how to do this, here's a walking tour of Rome I found especially for my Aunt Florence, because I think she will like it. It's part of a tour taken by some Japanese tourists and narrated by Dennis Callan. It's a little off beat but he does cover some nice sites.

AUNTIE PASTA: Once Upon a Time There Was a Small Village

SARONNO, Italy - Here’s some good news. The President of the Republic of Italy was in Vernazza, over the weekend, to witness the changes that have taken place since the disastrous storm last October. The last time he was here, the town was buried under a river of mud 14 feet deep (4 meters) and people in his group were telling him, “the village pharmacy was here, the tobacco shop was over there and next to that a restaurant, and so on and so on, but all he could actually see was mud.  

 Vernazza, Italy

Gone were all of the places everyone had seen a thousand times in the photos and postcards sent by enchanted visitors as they marveled at this wonder of this village wedged between the sea and the sky. Even the underpass that once went to the train station was gone, the only reminder was a crooked blue Stazione sign pointing the way.

But that’s all changed. It’s not perfect yet, but the residents of Vernazza have been digging themselves out and on Monday, under a bright blue spring sky, Piazza Marconi was once again crowded with people sitting and having a drink by the sea. The old folks were out too, sitting on the village benches enjoying the warm spring sun and talking about the this and that of everyday life in the Cinque Terre.

Lunch in the Sun

And, as I said before, the President of the Republic was in town too. Officially he was there to attend a conference on protecting resources in an emergency, but I suspect he really wanted to see for himself what the people of Vernazza, and the many volunteers who came down to help, have done. One thing they didn’t do was wait around for the government’s help. They stepped up, got to work and made it happen.

I found a charming video of Vernazza on You Tube and if you’ve never been to Vernazza you'll get a good idea of what it's all about. Of course you won’t get to eat focaccia or smell the sea, or feel the warm breeze coming off of the water, but, you'll have to go there for those extras.  By the way, the church was built in 1310, just to give you a sense of the place, and because I know you are wondering, the total population is 974.The music in the video is coming from Piazza Marconi.

No, I haven't forgotten that it’s Thursday and it’s supposed to be Auntie Pasta’s turn to talk, so here’s an easy pesto recipe I found on the internet.

Fresh Basil Pesto Recipe

• Prep time: 10 minutes

 Ingredients

• 2 cups fresh basil leaves, packed
• 1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan-Reggiano or Romano cheese
• 1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
• 1/3 cup pine nuts or walnuts
• 3 medium sized garlic cloves, minced
• Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

• Special equipment needed: A food processor

Method

1 Combine the basil in with the pine nuts, pulse a few times in a food processor. (If you are using walnuts instead of pine nuts and they are not already chopped, pulse them a few times first, before adding the basil.) Add the garlic, pulse a few times more.
2 Slowly add the olive oil in a constant stream while the food processor is on. Stop to scrape down the sides of the food processor with a rubber spatula. Add the grated cheese and pulse again until blended. Add a pinch of salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste.


Yield: Makes 1 cup. (enough for four portions)

Of course if you are like me and you don't own a food processor, you can also use a mortar and pestle, no reason why you can't And what do you think about making some pesto, cooking your pasta and eating it while you watch the video. Sounds like a good idea to me. You'll have to eat fast though. 

LIFE: Song of the South - Lecce

SARONNO, Italy - In Lecce, the ornate buildings in the historic center seem to be sculpted of velvet and sprinkled with gold. They give the old town a golden glow, even on cloudy days. The secret of that glow is in the stone, a particular limestone only found in the Pugliese town of Lecce, several kilometers inland from the Adriatic Sea. The stone is the element that binds together the various periods of history and architectural styles you see in Lecce, ranging from the Renaissance and Baroque periods, right up to the nineteenth-century.

Lecce

It seems to be another magnificently curlicued and putti decorated building around every corner. You would think your eye would tire of the endless parade of the exaggerated Baroque designs that Lecce presents, but the perfect proportion of the old town gives you just enough space from one elaborately carved church or building to another to make each new discovery as breathtaking as the last. I have never seen anything quite like it, and I don’t think there is anything like it anywhere else in Italy.

Along the streets of Lecce

The secret is in the stone. It is unlike any other, soft and almost paste like when first pulled from the quarry, and then as it is exposed to the air, it slowly begins to harden and turn a rich golden color,  and holds firm to the decorations that have been cut into it. It’s almost like magic.

It was in the early 1600’s that Italy began to take on a new look. Symmetry was out, decoration was in. There were two Renaissance architects who were primarily responsible for the change - Gian Lorenzo Bernini and Francesco Borromini - and they were both in Rome. Bernini’s decorations were elaborate and beautiful. Borromini’s decorations were so embroidered and over-the-top that many considered him mad. It was an impression that would linger long after his death. But it was precisely because of Borromini, and his perceived madness, that the works he created during this period was called Baroque, for in those days baroque meant abnormal. 

 Church of Santa Croce, Lecce

But it was anything but abnormal for brothers DGuiseppe and Antonio Zimbalo, local sculptors and architects working in Lecce. It was as if this new style developed by Bernini and Borromini had been invented just for them. the Church of Santa Croce in Lecce’s Jewish quarter, is Antonio Zimbalo’s most over the top design. The church took more than 150 years to complete, and at least five other architects had a hand in its creation.  Zimbalo worked his magic on the top half of the façade centering it with a rose window encircled with winged angel heads, acanthus leaves and rosettes. Then he moved on to dragons and cherubs, griffons and lions, saints and sinners and pot-bellied mermaids. It’s almost more than the eye can take in, and the brain can process.

Duomo of Lecce

Just a short distance from Piazza Oronzo, the town’s main piazza, large porticos lead to into the Piazza del Duomo, and the Basilica. It’s another Zimbalo brother masterpiece, this time Guiseppe Zimbalo. It is difficult to appreciate the impact the Basilica had when it was first built as the city was configured  differently now than it was then. What that means is that the first ornate   ornate façade you see as you walk into the piazza is not the church entrance, but the exit. There is another equally ornate façade along the right hand side of the church, and that is where the entrance is. The interior of the Basilica is also a cornucopia of baroque ornamentation, but perhaps the most unusual of all the decorations are the large statues made of papier mâché.

Papier Mache Artisans at Work

The art of papier mâché was brought to Naples from the Far East, and it migrated south to Lecce in the 17^th century. It didn’t take long for Lecce to rival Naples as the papier mâché capital of Italy and  it is still a thriving business. Life-size saints, crucifixions of all sizes, and crèches for churches are created here and shipped around the world. You can easily spend an entire afternoon watching the masters at work at the many workshops scattered throughout the historic center.

One of the most popular saints made is a life like figure of St. Oronzo, Lecce’s patron saint. It’s a fascinating process that starts with wet sheets of paper are wrapped around a featureless wire and straw mannequin. There seems to be little hope that a recognizable figure will ever emerge from the mass, but then, with a red hot iron, the maestro begins to burn details into the mannequin’s head and body. With every pass he makes, licks of flames and billows of smoke shoot skyward. The mannequin is soon blackened from head to toe. The next morning the charred figure of yesterday now has several coats of paint, and from the charred and blackened mass stands a life-like figure of St. Oronzo, a tall mitre on his head and dainty slippers on his feet.

 Saint Oronzo, Patron Saint of Lecce

In Piazza Saint Oronzo, a much larger statue of Oronzo stands high on a column looking down at the city he loved, his hand held high in an eternal blessing. It was carved in 1666 to  thank  the Saint for having saved the town from the plague that had swept through Lecce ten years earlier. The tall marble column the statue sits on is even older than the statue. It was brought from another Apulian town, Brindisi where, along with another column of the same size, once marked the end of the ancient Roman Appian Way.

Roman Amphitheater

In the same piazza as the statute of St. Oronzo there is a Roman amphitheater from the 1^st century BC, which was discovered quite by accident in the late 1920’s when Lecce was cleaning up after an massive earthquake. And just a few blocks away,  a Roman theatre that was built during the time of Caesar Augustus was uncovered from the rubble as well. Twelve flights of steps have been excavated, enough to hold up to 5,000 spectators, but there is every reason to believe there were more. The area where the orchestra sat still has the original floor of large slabs of stone which end with three big steps reserved for the city officials to sit on. And in the apron of the stage, the groove where the curtain slid back and forth, is still visible. 

The historic center is closed to traffic, and few drive there except for the brave residents who expertly maneuver their Fiats and Smart cars through the crowds of tour groups and gawking tourists like me. Even though the old town is built on a medieval circular plan it is easy to find your way. If you get lost, the Tourist Police will put you back on the right track. But you probably won’t need them. There are well placed signs on just about every corner, that keep you going in the right direction.

Rolling Produce Stand

The shops close in the early afternoon and open again around 4:30 PM, the hour of the passeggiata. It’s the part of the day when the whole town turns out for an afternoon stroll and the clean and quiet streets come alive and jugglers and musicians materialize out of nowhere, to vie for your attention.   As the noisy metal grates are raised, colorful storefronts suddenly appear  and soon young and old are strolling hand in hand, the staccato sound of Italian as it’s spoken in the south, fills the air.    

The day I was there, there were several groups of school kids, probably 9 or 10 years old, being led around town by their teachers and parents who had volunteered to chaperone. I ran into one group in the church of Santa Croce. Their teacher told me they were from a small town near Bari and I commented on how well behaved they were, and how they actually seemed interested in the particulars of the church. She looked at me and said, “why wouldn’t they be interested? This is their heritage, this is about them, this is them.” 

 Well now, that's true, isn't it.