A guest post by Michelle Fabio of Bleeding Espresso.
As the car wound its way up the two-mile serpentine hill, I smiled to myself, daydreaming about how I would feel when, within minutes, I would be the first in my family in nearly 100 years to breathe the air, walk the narrow streets, and step inside the churches of my great-great-grandfather’s village in Calabria, the toe of Italy’s boot.
Although the logic of avoiding motion sickness told me to focus straight ahead, I couldn’t. I was mesmerized by the groves upon groves of olive trees lining the hillside in perfect rows, their leaves glistening so brightly I could’ve mistaken them for being covered in snow if it weren’t June.
Some of those trees simply had to have been there when Papù made his way down the hill that last time toward his ship of destiny in Naples; many of the thick, gnarled trunks easily showed a century or more. Now I could feel the trees watching me, and I imagined that their shimmering dance in the breeze was the olive tree version of smiling. And I smiled right back.
Whenever everything and everyone seem to be smiling upon me, I know I’m on the right path.
My stomach flipped and flopped around each bend, but it was worth every bit of queasiness to arrive at that random “S” curve halfway up the hill when suddenly, literally out of thin air, it appeared: Badolato and its ancient stone houses clustered together one on top of the next, in support or conspiracy or both, precariously perched on a hill, anchored by a church in the center – just as it had been for a millennium.
Is it possible for your heart to leap with joy and simultaneously sink with heaviness for everything you didn’t even know you were missing just moments ago?
Mine did. And then it did again when I stepped out of the car in the piazza and felt a century’s worth of lost time collapse into a single heartbeat.
Quite simply, I was home.
I know that sounds trite and probably unbelievable, but just as people describe love with the phrase “You just know,” I just knew.
*
That was 2002, less than a year after the death of my grandmother. She was the first to be born in America, although she was as (southern) Italian in spirit and temperament as they come. Despite having other heritage mixed into our family, Italian always ruled, especially on the dinner table. Never underestimate the power and influence of a nonna.
So there I was, standing in the village of my great-great-grandfather, the one he had left in the early 1900s for a “better life” although truth be told he traded the back-breaking work of a peasant farmer for that of a coal miner; either way he was digging himself an early grave largely for the benefit of someone else.
I’ve often wondered whether he regretted changing his scenery from the brilliant Calabrian sun to the deepest, darkest depths of the earth, but as far as I know, he didn’t – or at least no one ever asked.
And yet just a few generations later, I was back in his town, feeling nothing but calm and goodness and warmth wrap around me – as if my ancestors had huddled around me, just like those houses on the hillside, and welcomed me home.
*
I have been fascinated by family history from the time I would stay up way past my bedtime, eyes at half-mast and head resting on my crossed arms on the kitchen table, absorbing my grandmother and great-aunt’s re-telling of stories of the generations that had been born in Italy. The desire to connect only grew over the years as I compiled family trees and meticulously recorded birth, marriage, and death dates.
But documents are cold, and I needed the warm touch of my roots – in person.
Indeed, just a few days into that first visit to Calabria, I knew I had to move there and live as my family once had (albeit with Internet and some modern conveniences). My plan was solidified when I discovered I was eligible for Italian citizenship as our blood line had never been broken according to Italian law. After more document collection and many phone calls to the Italian Consulate in Philadelphia, I proudly reclaimed something my family didn’t even know it was entitled to and now hold all the privileges and responsibilities of an Italian citizen.
In August 2003, I set off, making the return journey Papù never did. The original plan was a year, maybe two, but now eight years on, I can’t imagine leaving this place behind for anywhere else.
My soul has found its home.
A year and a half into my Calabrian experiment, I met and fell in love with my husband Paolo, a true paesano as his family and mine are from the same small quartiere in our village (and it’s where we now live). He’s introduced me to so much I didn’t even know I was looking for when I set off to learn more about my heritage.
We keep a garden, raise goats and chickens, and this past February we made our own sausage, pancetta, capocollo, supressata, and guanciale from a pig we had raised. Wine-making will come in due time (pian piano, slowly, as the Italians say), but for now, our proudest accomplishment is our little piece of land with olive trees – and our own olive oil.
Whenever I walk through our grove, returning the smiles of the leaves flickering in the sunshine, I wonder what Papù would think. Were these the same olive trees he took care of for the Baron but couldn’t dream of ever owning? Could he have imagined that one day his granddaughter’s granddaughter would even have the choice to return and reclaim his family’s heritage?
*
For the better part of a decade, I’ve gradually entrenched myself in an old-fashioned way of life that has been re-branded as “homesteading” and is all the rage in the United States. But here, eating organically, locally, and in-season aren’t trendy fads but a lifestyle that’s been around for centuries – most of what we consume that we don’t grow or raise ourselves comes from local farmers and butchers, who are the familiar, smiling faces at the weekly outdoor market.
Indeed, one of my favorite aspects of living here is that Calabrian life revolves entirely around being in tune with nature. Even if I didn’t have a calendar handy, I’d know the time of year by village’s activities, whether it’s vendemmia (grape harvest) in September, olive-picking in November, sausage-making in January and February, or brush clearing and burning off in May and early June.
Through this intimate relationship with the world around me, I’ve come to savor the simplicity of it all and realized just how little we truly *need* to survive. With the help of Thich Nhat Hanh’s The Miracle of Mindfulness, I have come to identify and name this desire to appreciate and be present in each moment: mindfulness. It’s a wonderful thing.
This move has been the greatest gift I’ve ever given myself.
My journey to discover my roots has helped me better understand where I come from, but it also continues to shape me into the person I was meant to be. It has re-rooted me in this terra that I couldn’t love any more had I been born here.
*
Though I’ve come up our winding hill hundreds of times, I’m still to this day struck by the vision of the village around the random bend in the road – I can never remember exactly which “S” it is, and I hope I never do; I like to think that such small mysteries, along with thousands of still-hidden secret pleasures, keeps my relationship with this ancient place alive.
I’ll also never know whether Papù regretted his decision to go to America, but I love that just in case he did, I’ve replanted a small part of him back here. I like to think this would make him proud, and in fact, I often feel him, his wife, his daughter (my great-grandmother), and other ancestors envelop me in warmth, just as I did that first day in the piazza – but never more strongly than when I’m among the olive trees in our campagna, drinking in their dancing, shimmering smiles.
Yes, I am home, and I’m smiling right back at them.
Michelle Fabio is an attorney-turned-freelance writer who has lived in her ancestral village in Calabria, Italy since 2003. She writes about savoring simplicity one sip at a time at Bleeding Espresso and about raising goats at Goat Berries. You can also find her @michellefabio on Twitter.
Join Leo Babauta and Mary Jaksch in their upcoming kickass Bootcamp
“Skyrocket Your Subscriber Count”. Click here to check it out
“A-List Blogging Bootcamps kick butt! My blog is toned, shaped, and kicked into a higher gear every time I participate in one of Leo and Mary’s amazing Bootcamps. You get a renewed sense of energy, passion and direction for your blog. And the bonus – you’ll meet awesome people in the forums and at the webinars – Katie Tallo: Momentum Gathering
{ 81 comments }
What a beautiful post. Thank you for sharing this.
The power of our surroundings never ceases to amaze me. I love that living a Calabrian life brought you closer to nature and a life of mindfulness. I’m blessed to living in a city with untouched wilderness within a fifteen minute bike ride. Whenever I’m feeling stressed, I simply go there to bike, run, swim or just “be”. Nature always reminds me of the true priorities in life.
I’m headed over to Bleeding Espresso now to see what other gems you have waiting readers.
Jason Billows´s last [type] ..How To Achieve Balance In Your Workout Plan And Avoid Overtraining: Guest Post At Balance In Me
Thank you so much for reading and for your comment, Jason; just “being” in nature is absolutely one of my most favorite “activities.” I didn’t plan it, but I often refer to my blog as BE…how’s that for the subconscious talking?
Michelle | Bleeding Espresso´s last [type] ..Aligning Mind and Body Through Yoga Practice
I am lucky enough to count Michelle Fabio as part of my inner circle of friends. She’s honest, forthright, and was born to live the life she leads. She is one of those people who has been a calming force for me as I have negotiated life in Italy with all of its peaks and valleys. I can only suggest that if you want a dose of simple understanding about how life in Italy REALLY is and what moves a person to live simply and honestly in this magical but complicated country, make Bleeding Espresso part of your regular blog reading.
Wonderful post, Michele. You are the best, my dear.
Diana Strinati Baur´s last [type] ..creativity rediscovered: kiln firing 12.6.2011
Everything you so beautifully wrote, Diana, right back at you. Your calming presence online and in real life is so very precious to me, always xx
Michelle | Bleeding Espresso´s last [type] ..Aligning Mind and Body Through Yoga Practice
What a lovely post. Thank you for bringing that ray of Italian sunshine into my life today. You put a smile on my face — and got me thinking about following our inner guidance and the peace — and delight, and mystery — that faithfulness brings.
I lift a nice Espresso to toast you! Have a marvelous day.
Thank you, Susan! Toasting right back to you
Michelle | Bleeding Espresso´s last [type] ..Aligning Mind and Body Through Yoga Practice
Michelle,
Well now. A home run I think. Great blog post. I just spent 20 minutes writing you the most mellifluous “Bravo Zulu (BZ)” you ever saw. Sigh, the machine burped and the respnse disappeared into thin digital air. I actually feel like I finally know; “the rest of the story”.
So a simple “Rat On!” and may I say the “loose garment” of consciousness/loving kindness/mindfulness aka. “home” has been and will be a boone to humanity all around you.
While you had your ancestral heritage to help you realize what and where “home” is, many will need to do this in their kitchens, back yards, work place, but mostly in their hearts. This seems to be the path of the modern day mystic. You set a great path for others to follow.
Thank you so much.
Love and light,
Richard
Sifu Punta Gorda, Fl
ezduzit777 on Twitter
Richard Curtis´s last [type] ..So, it is not what I think but how I think eh?
So true, Richard, that our work is our work no matter where we find ourselves. Thanks so much for reading and for your constant support
Michelle | Bleeding Espresso´s last [type] ..When Olive Trees Smile: How Living in My Ancestral Village Changed My Life
Great post! I love to hear about how someone got the courage to move to a foreign land and survive. I’m actually looking at doing that myself, but not for a reconnecting with ancestry. Just a new perspective. Within the year or two, I’m looking at moving out of Texas. I have some states that I would live in, but I”m actually looking to move out of the country. Top of my list right now is England, but Italy is up there, too.
I will check out your blog. Have a balisimo (spelling…yeah, I know…I’m working on Spanish, not Italian) day!
Kristi´s last [type] ..Things Go Bump in the Night
Good luck with your move, Kristi! If you do end up coming to Italy, the Spanish will help, but knowing Italian would make your transition *so* much smoother (says someone who knew “ciao” and “come stai” before moving here)
Thanks so much for your comment and for visiting BE as well!
Michelle | Bleeding Espresso´s last [type] ..When Olive Trees Smile: How Living in My Ancestral Village Changed My Life
Beautiful story, Michelle. Sounds like heaven! Some of my ancestors are originally from somewhere in Italy. I haven’t yet pursued ancestral research for all the details. Italy is on my wish-list of places to visit. Thanks for sharing, Michelle.
Marianne´s last [type] ..What’s Miracle Mama Up To?
Hi Marianne, it can feel like heaven sometimes — although check out my blog for a post about la agrodolce vita here (the bittersweet life)
Good luck in your genealogy research; I need to get back into my own one of these days as well…plenty of other family branches to explore!
Michelle | Bleeding Espresso´s last [type] ..When Olive Trees Smile: How Living in My Ancestral Village Changed My Life
Michele, Your writing always transfixes me. I so enjoy anyone and anything that is close to the earth; senses the seasons and the quiet gifts of nature. You, indeed, live that way. And our ancestors? I felt my grandmother in my newborn granddaughter just last night as I walked back and forth outside a restaurant trying to soothe her and allow my daughter to eat a dinner, just one dinner, in peace. My little newborn was named after both her great-grandmothers – Stella Lucia. Is that endearing? I think so. And she’s so new she still carries that otherworldliness with her. I think maybe she was with her strong greatgrandmothers before she so recently arrived here. One (Stella) from Poland and one (Lucia) from Italy. Love it. – Barbara (The Empty Nest Mom)
What a lovely experience — and name for your daughter! Thank you for sharing. Someone asked me not too long ago which element I’d be, and without a doubt, I’m earth (as much as I love all the others of course)
Thanks so much for reading and commenting.
Michelle | Bleeding Espresso´s last [type] ..When Olive Trees Smile: How Living in My Ancestral Village Changed My Life
Wow, siamo gemelli! La grande differenza e’ ho piu’ anni. Per fortuna, avevo l’opportunita’ di chiedere ai nonni se erano contenti negli stati uniti. e tutti hanno risposto SI! Ma i figli e nipoti dei loro fratelli in Italia sembrano molto contenti..
mimi´s last [type] ..The man on the street
Ognuno fa la sua scelta…e poi tiriamo avanti. Questa è la vita. Mi fa piacere di “vederti” qua, Mimi. Ti ringrazio molto per il tuo sostegno. Un bacione!
Michelle | Bleeding Espresso´s last [type] ..When Olive Trees Smile: How Living in My Ancestral Village Changed My Life
Your story was so endearing and the truth is that ones blood calls out to its own, ancestors and thier stories become our stories as we surround our selves with those lost memories.
Beautifully put, Antonina; I couldn’t agree with you more. Thank so much for taking the time to share your thoughts
Michelle | Bleeding Espresso´s last [type] ..When Olive Trees Smile: How Living in My Ancestral Village Changed My Life
What a beautiful tribute to your great-great grandfather! I’m sure it made him happy to see you happy.
Thanks Gil; I sure hope so! I do have a photo of him here with me as well as his US citizenship certificate
Michelle | Bleeding Espresso´s last [type] ..When Olive Trees Smile: How Living in My Ancestral Village Changed My Life
Michelle, You know that you were the first American expat to help me and Bill on our Italian journey to find our roots and to live here. You never cease to amaze me with your poignant insights and your chronicling of our parallel universes. We have found amazing contentment and simplicity here in alto Lazio, among strangers who’ve become family. (not to mention Jobs …:-)
carol´s last [type] ..Alex’s Video B’Day Card from Norcia, Italy
It’s been such a pleasure to have come along on your journey as well, Carol — love reading about the lives you’ve made for yourselves here! xx
Michelle | Bleeding Espresso´s last [type] ..When Olive Trees Smile: How Living in My Ancestral Village Changed My Life
So many moments in your post that I love, all the while reading I was thinking of my father in law who came to Australia from Calabria. He did get a chance to return, not only to his place of birth but to the home he remembered from childhood. My father in law is a very gruff man with a twinkling sense of humor hidden away unless you really watch for it. When we stood at the fountain that he remembered watering the donkey from he cried. I have never seen him cry before this and not again since.
I am certain that your Great Great Grandfather is happy all the way to his soul, and all those relatives who came before you. You truly have found your heart in Calabria.
ciao Lisa
Such a touching moment to have experienced, Lisa; how wonderful to have been able to share that with your FIL. Thank you for sharing this on Facebook as well
Michelle | Bleeding Espresso´s last [type] ..When Olive Trees Smile: How Living in My Ancestral Village Changed My Life
Bellissimo post cara.
I don’t think one can underestimate how important it is to feel at home.
Thank you, and I completely agree — I can’t imagine spending any significant amount of time in a place where I didn’t feel this kind of inner peace with my surroundings. It’s a true blessing.
Michelle | Bleeding Espresso´s last [type] ..When Olive Trees Smile: How Living in My Ancestral Village Changed My Life
This is so key, and we are so privileged: “I can’t imagine spending any significant amount of time in a place where I didn’t feel this kind of inner peace with my surroundings.” And excellent point Ragazza!!
What a beautiful post! I love your writing, and I love this story even more. Thank you for sharing!
Thanks so much for taking the time to read and comment, Sharon!
Michelle | Bleeding Espresso´s last [type] ..When Olive Trees Smile: How Living in My Ancestral Village Changed My Life
What a beautiful post and an incredible journey. Thank you for sharing it so eloquently!
Just this week, I visited Ellis Island and discovered the passenger manifest for my grandfather who emigrated to the US from a small town in Slovenia not too far from Trieste. I felt a deep sense of connection. I was also incredibly moved by the story of immigrants traveling to the America, I could feel their delight, angst, turmoil and sheer joy all wrapped up in one, it was an amazing experience.
While in NYC, I also visited a special exhibit at the Museum of Natural History on the brain and realized that we are wired for connection. Our brains actually release oxytocin when we connect with others that makes us feel satisfied and complete. I guess that’s why its known as the neurohoromone for connection. So there’s are even a scientific foundation to support the tremendous satisfaction to finding our roots and desiring that sense of belonging.
Thanks for helping me connect the dots and for sharing your incredible experiences!
Oh Lisa, I love this! I had no idea about the scientific foundation — must learn more. Thank you so much for your kind words and for sharing your story and information
Michelle | Bleeding Espresso´s last [type] ..When Olive Trees Smile: How Living in My Ancestral Village Changed My Life
Great Post, Michelle.
I have very similar feelings each time I land and head south!
You just know
Lisa at Wanderlust Women´s last [type] ..Wanderlust Women’s Top 5 Tips to Preserve Travel Photos
Thank you, Lisa; now when are you heading to Calabria?!
Michelle | Bleeding Espresso´s last [type] ..When Olive Trees Smile: How Living in My Ancestral Village Changed My Life
I had the same feeling when I arrived in Puglia, despite the fact that there was no family heritage here in my case. I just felt like “home” and it was such a strong pull that it was irresistable.
saretta´s last [type] ..I Did It!
What you’ve written is so important, Saretta, because I’m a firm believer that the feeling of home isn’t necessarily tied to ancestry or any sense of reason/rationale whatsoever. Glad you followed your pull
Michelle | Bleeding Espresso´s last [type] ..When Olive Trees Smile: How Living in My Ancestral Village Changed My Life
That’s such an inspirational story, Michelle! I can totally resonate with your feeling of going somewhere and feeling totally at home, it’s amazing. I would LOVE to visit that area of Italy someday, and your post only makes me want to do so even more
Andrew Olson´s last [type] ..How to Find Your Passion
Thanks so much, Andrew! I hope you get to come down this way — it’s a beautiful place with the mountains and sea within just minutes of one another. I’d avoid coming in August (too hot, but mostly because there are too many tourists) and the dead of winter (probably rainy and not much going on), but other than that, come on down!
Michelle | Bleeding Espresso´s last [type] ..When Olive Trees Smile: How Living in My Ancestral Village Changed My Life
I’m so glad I made my way back to reading your blog. This post reminds me of when you started blogging and I became addicted and fascinated about your life. Your writing is so vivid that I feel like I’m walking right besides you.
I’m not insinuating that I haven’t been following you, but this kind of writing brings so much calm and peace into my life. Sono contentissima per te!
Always lovely to hear from you, Carole, and I’m humbled to be able to provide even a few moments of peace and calm. Thank you
xx
Michelle | Bleeding Espresso´s last [type] ..When Olive Trees Smile: How Living in My Ancestral Village Changed My Life
a very, very inspiring post! Michelle described it in a way that lets me put myself where she was. I seemed to experience her experience. I love the “moment” brought about by the scenery.
Thanks so much, Nezel! I’m happy that you enjoyed
Michelle | Bleeding Espresso´s last [type] ..When Olive Trees Smile: How Living in My Ancestral Village Changed My Life
I so agree, Michelle. I let nature guide me as much as I can. Your wonderful experience being in your great grandfather’s village for the first time is something I long for. I have now uncovered which village my great grandfather came from in Norway and hope to visit it “someday.”
I hope you get there sooner rather than later, Caterina — such an amazing experience
Thanks for reading and commenting!
Michelle | Bleeding Espresso´s last [type] ..When Olive Trees Smile: How Living in My Ancestral Village Changed My Life
Wow Michele, excellent post. You captured and put into words the same feelings I experienced when I visited my ancestral home in Calabria. Hoping that perhaps by some stroke of luck there was an overgrown olive grove somewhere waiting for the returning grandson to reclaim it 75 years later. I especially like your observation about the peasant and the miner making others rich.
Jim, in many ways, generations of my family’s working for The Man made my decision to become a freelance writer almost a no-brainer despite the stresses and uncertainties that come along with it — they are *nothing* compared to risking one’s life as so many in my family have had to do over the years. And when you see your loved ones give everything they have to line someone else’s pockets and all they receive in return is a paycheck and a whole lotta grief when they try to claim what is rightfully theirs (i.e., Black Lung benefits), that sticks with you, you know? I know you know, and I hope you find your olive grove
Thank you for visiting and commenting.
Michelle | Bleeding Espresso´s last [type] ..When Olive Trees Smile: How Living in My Ancestral Village Changed My Life
Stress is part of the natural environment and it is evident in your writing that the stress of freelance uncertainties is preferrable to the stress of billable hours; neither of which compare to the miner’s dangers of black damp and a bad roof.
Exactly, Jim
Michelle | Bleeding Espresso´s last [type] ..When Olive Trees Smile: How Living in My Ancestral Village Changed My Life
I totally agree with this post! you did the right one Michelle i am new to my work and it’s bringing joy into my life, in this way i can express my feeling and by writing, at night if i can’t sleep i just write and it come up into a good idea.thanks!
Anna Marie´s last [type] ..You and Your First Job
Thanks Anna Marie; I wish you nothing but the best of luck and many wonderful productive writing hours no matter the time of day
Michelle | Bleeding Espresso´s last [type] ..When Olive Trees Smile: How Living in My Ancestral Village Changed My Life
Hi Michelle,
What a beautiful post. You really made us picture the surroundings of your precious great-great-grandfather’s village in Calabria. You have really come full circle for your family. Enjoy.
Cathy | Treatment Talk´s last [type] ..How Drug Class is Helping to Prevent Addiction in Canada
Thanks so much Cathy, and thanks for visiting my site as well
Michelle | Bleeding Espresso´s last [type] ..When Olive Trees Smile: How Living in My Ancestral Village Changed My Life
Grazie for this beautiful post. Your sharing of your experience is a gift to all of us. The spirits of your ancestors are smiling down upon you, I am certain!
Thank you so much Susan; your support is very much appreciated
xx
Michelle | Bleeding Espresso´s last [type] ..When Olive Trees Smile: How Living in My Ancestral Village Changed My Life
Michchelle,
I loved you post for many reasons! First, my father came to the US during WWII from France. I have always felt a great affinity for France. Every time I’ve visited I’ve felt that I’m home. Secondly, I love a good story!! I’m very happy to have found your blog through Mary and will go visit right now!
Thanks Mary, for always having interesting posts!!
Betsy
I hope you’ve been able to visit France or will sometime soon, Betsy! Thanks so much for your lovely comment and for visiting my site as well
Michelle | Bleeding Espresso´s last [type] ..When Olive Trees Smile: How Living in My Ancestral Village Changed My Life
Now I’ve just been to your blog and you have cooking, too! I’m in heaven!!
Betsy at Zen Mama´s last [type] ..What Would You Put In Your Child’s Backpack? A Life Lesson!
Haha YES plenty of recipes to keep you busy, Betsy — thanks again for coming by!
Michelle | Bleeding Espresso´s last [type] ..When Olive Trees Smile: How Living in My Ancestral Village Changed My Life
Michelle, a beautiful homage to your home town and of coming home. We all need to find a home be it a place, a heart, or a choice of work, that makes us feel whole and more complete. Home is where the art is, the art of feeling alive. I wish you a life long love affair with Calabria. Your ancestors will be smiling upon you.
John Sherry´s last [type] ..Why It’s Best To Honour Your Shadow Side
Thanks so much for your lovely comment, John; “home” is such a multi-faceted concept to explore, isn’t it?
Michelle | Bleeding Espresso´s last [type] ..When Olive Trees Smile: How Living in My Ancestral Village Changed My Life
What a great illustration of the courage to reboot your life. Perfect post for this blog. I think it’s a lot easier for people — even people who don’t have to detach themselves with some addicting aspects of their work-life identity the way many recovering attorneys do — will be much more successful in changing their lives if they change their context. Literally, a move to a different and distinct culture that appeals to you deeply is a great way of doing that.
Brandon Martin´s last [type] ..Glass bottle water: Is glass justified?
You raise an interesting issue, Brandon, about changing one’s context. One question I’ve gotten quite a bit, and one I’d like to explore more on my blog, is whether the kinds of changes I’ve made in my life would have been/could be possible in the United States . . . or did it have to be Italy. It’s a complicated question with an equally complicated answer, but I am looking forward to writing more about it. Thanks so much for reading and commenting!
Michelle | Bleeding Espresso´s last [type] ..When Olive Trees Smile: How Living in My Ancestral Village Changed My Life
Michelle,
As always, a great, heartfelt story that makes me jealous of your experience. It’s nice to know someone actually achieved what many of us had only hoped to do. Thanks for sharing this.
Carl
Thanks so much for reading, Carl — I hope you can at least visit as often as possible
Michelle | Bleeding Espresso´s last [type] ..When Olive Trees Smile: How Living in My Ancestral Village Changed My Life
It’s always good to go back once in a while to the place where we grew up. We are being reminded of our roots and be motivated to continue to move forward. I always know I’m home when the fresh air welcomes me. I just knew it -even with my eyes closed.
Daisy@My Costume Express´s last [type] ..Kids Costumes
Fresh air is a definite plus in my book
Thanks for reading and commenting, Daisy!
Michelle | Bleeding Espresso´s last [type] ..When Olive Trees Smile: How Living in My Ancestral Village Changed My Life
I really enjoyed this! I could almost feel it, the sensation you must have had upon seeing the village for the first time.
Goosebumps 
At this point it would do me good to look back on my own similar experiences. Thank you for writing this!
Tina´s last [type] ..Clumsy
Can’t wait to read whatever you’d like to share about your experiences, Tina
Thanks so much for commenting!
Michelle | Bleeding Espresso´s last [type] ..When Olive Trees Smile: How Living in My Ancestral Village Changed My Life
Michelle,
You are an amazing writer and I always enjoy your blog posts! Hugs!
Hugs back at you, Pam! Thanks so much for your support
Michelle | Bleeding Espresso´s last [type] ..When Olive Trees Smile: How Living in My Ancestral Village Changed My Life
Michelle,
As I prepare to live in Italy for the month of September again, teaching and traveling, I’m so inspired by your writings about Italy, especially Calabria, the homeland of my ancestors. Grazie.
Lenora Boyle´s last [type] ..Fred Plotkin’s ITALY
Ciao Lenora! So happy to hear you’re on your way back over here; one of these days we’ll meet in person
Michelle | Bleeding Espresso´s last [type] ..When Olive Trees Smile: How Living in My Ancestral Village Changed My Life
Michelle, I do plan on getting back to Calabria to visit my relatives, and also to meet you, and ‘your kids’.
Lenora Boyle´s last [type] ..Fred Plotkin’s ITALY
Yay! Be sure to be in touch — the girls will be so excited
Michelle | Bleeding Espresso´s last [type] ..When Olive Trees Smile: How Living in My Ancestral Village Changed My Life
I have read and reread this post, Michelle, in an effort to write a comment worthy of your prose. I absolutely love the way you create pictures with words such as, “I was mesmerized by the groves upon groves of olive trees lining the hillside in perfect rows, their leaves glistening so brightly I could’ve mistaken them for being covered in snow if it weren’t June”.
I traveled to Italy in 1998 – in late May to early June — and your words about Italy’s beautiful countryside brought back some wonderful scenes to my mind of an otherwise not-so-nice vacation. I was traveling with my paternal, elderly, eccentric, artist-aunt, who had treated me to the trip. My aunt is someone whom I had only been with a few times in my life, as I grew up in Illinois prior to my move to New York, and she lived in California, where I visited her on a handful of occasions. Therefore, most of my correspondence with her had been by letter. I had alway admired her free spirit, her work as an artist, and so the chance to go to Italy was a wonderful opportunity, but mostly I wanted to go with my aunt because it saddened me that such a talented artist had never been able to go to Italy.
We arrived in Rome — without hotel reservations — on the Feast of the Ascension, and also it was during the time of the Shroud of Turin. Even though the latter event was not near where our anticipated “stomping grounds” would be, it did make procuring a roof over our heads more difficult for our first night in Italy. We could not find a place to sleep anywhere in Rome. My aunt became violent when I refused to go to an Italian hospital with her, which was her “plan” for a place for us to sleep. She wanted me to go to the hospital, and to pretend to be with her because we were visiting someone in intensive care. My aunt figured if we did this, we could sleep overnight at the hospital. I told her that the fact that we had luggage, and did not speak Italian, would be a big tip off that we were in fact travelers, with no place to stay. My refusal angered my aunt, since her own mother had apparently traveled around Europe by sleeping at hospitals — in the guise of visiting the sick. Later, that same evening of day one in Italy, my aunt nearly assaulted me when I did not think it was safe to sleep in Rome’s train station.
From Rome, we went to Florence, but there was no place to sleep there either. My aunt became angry at a priest who would not let us sleep in his church that we happened upon, screaming at him, “No room at the Inn, huh?” Finally, we found a cab driver, who suggested we go to the Montecatini Terme, and the cost in getting there nearly depleted us of any monies we had with us. BUT the next morning when I awoke and saw the beautiful countryside I was memorized much like the way you described your impression of the olive trees.
My aunt and I spent the duration of the vacation taking day trips from the Terme into various cities in Italy (and she only hit me once, in Lucca, for reasons I fortunately cannot recall) although we did not make it to Calabria because of the distance from our “starting point”. (I have always been interested in the Calabria area because many people in my NYC neighborhood are from there and, for a number of years, my local supermarket carried bottled water from Calabria which was quite delish.) Additionally, because my aunt misplaced her passport and rail pass every day, I was quite stressed, and I lost ten-twelve pounds during a trip to a country known for its cuisine.
I am sad to say that I was not able to achieve the bond with my aunt that I had hoped for; and she died without me seeing her again — although we did continue to correspond by letters and occasionally on the phone after my “travels with my aunt”.
My aunt’s death meant losing any connection to my father’s past, as he died in 1995, long before her death in 2009, even though he was many years younger than my aunt. Throughout his life my father was remarkably taciturn during any time I spent with him, as I may have told you in my comment directed at your beautiful “Zia post”. In my father’s there remains a surviving brother, but he has no interest in any correspondence, nor does his daughter, who is my age. Fortunately, my aunt did give me some information about our ancestors, but there are big gaps to fill in — which is a project I am dedicated to pursuing.
Meanwhile, back to you, Michelle, and to the moving pictures you create with words; not only are they deeply felt, but they are hopeful, “leaves glistening brightly” as opposed to concentrating on the “motion sickness” which I might have done had it been me, and as I believe Joan Didion (an author who I have read time and time again) might have done, as indicated in this excerpt from her essay, “Goodbye to All That”, when she described her first impressions of New York City: “When I first saw New York I was twenty, and it was summertime, and I got off the DC-37 at the old Idlewild temporary terminal in a new dress which seemed less smart already, even in the old Idlewild terminal, and the warm air smelled of mildew, and some instinct, programmed by all the movies I had ever seen and all the songs I had heard sung and all the stories I had read about New York, informed me that it would never be quite the same again. In fact it never was.”
As a becoming-jaded person, I must say, it is so refreshing to me that you wrote about leaves “glistening ” and I believe that is why your experiences in Calabria continue to be glistening and enlightening. I am not saying they are without struggle or strife, for you are certainly sensitive to difficulty as indicated by many of your entries and by this quote re: your great, great grandfather:”changing his scenery from the brilliant Calabrian sun to the deepest, darkest depths of the earth . . . ”
I feel blessed to have read this accounting, Michelle, and I wish you well in your many endeavors —–Patricia Youngquist, the LLG (Last Leaf Gardener)
Patricia, thank you so much for sharing your experiences; from what you’ve written about your trip to Italy, it’s amazing that you even care to read *anything* more about the country at all! I think a lot of our “takeaways” from experiences come directly from our general attitudes…it’s not always easy to look on the bright side, but when we do, we often find that it does glisten
I hope you can fill in those gaps in your family tree/history, and I thank you for your kind words.
Michelle | Bleeding Espresso´s last [type] ..You Can’t Steal Second Base with Your Foot on First
Not only do I enjoy reading about Italy, Michelle, but I do hope to come back one day; perhaps with my sister or my dearest friend, Victor. I agree with you about “take aways” as I indicated in my comment comparing your first impressions of Calabria “glistening trees” versus Joan Didion’s first impression of New York (“air smelled of mildew”) — although I can be like Didion at times. She once wrote that when she watched John Glenn land on the moon, she was at a bar with friends and that all eyes were riveted on the pub’s television while she was “watching a cockroach crawl on the liquor bottles behind the bartender”. I’ve been known to see those kind of details, but, I also notice diamonds in the rough too. As for family tree gap filling, I do miss my departed eccentric aunt especially while I embark on this endeavor. Fortunately, I did tape record some of her tales (prior to our trip to Italy) and in spite of my recounting some of the horrific moments that we had in Italy, I loved her dearly and still do.
Tape recordings are such a lovely thing to have! There’s just something special about having a person’s voice with you forever. I’m also one for noticing small details — good and bad — but it’s where we choose to place them in our takeaways, I think, that matter…so while I “note” I don’t necessarily “focus” and make an entire experience about the not-so-great observations. I truly wish you the best in your search, and hopefully will get to meet you when you return to Italia
You are right, Michelle, it is a blessing to have a tape recording of someone’s voice especially if they have died. My father died in 1995 in a hospital in Connecticut. He had left my mother, sisters and I many, many years ago (when my sisters and I were children) to marry his secretary. Part of the reason I moved to New York City was to be a bus ride away from where he lived as I desperately wanted to have a close relationship with him, but despite my efforts, it never happened. Although as I think I have mentioned to you before, he was remarkably taciturn, and that is one reason I never got the closeness with him that I wanted. In any event, the last week of his life, he made a short (just a few minutes) tape, from his hospital bed, and I am grateful to have it. My father did have a sense of humor which was not lost in his recording and I have even posted it on my blog which you may refer to by going to the following link:
http://thelastleafgardener.blogspot.com/2010/11/monday-after-thanksgiving.html
As for the tapes I have of my aunt recounting some of our family’s ancestors, I have not listened to them yet, and I am thinking that I should transfer them to my Mac (as I did with my father’s tape) because tape recorders are becoming harder and harder to find — and I certainly don’t want the tape to rip in the interim!
As for a return trip to Italy, I’d like to come with my sister, upon hearing about you, she referred me to a book (she is a school librarian) called “Strega Nona” which is set in your village. Here is the link to the author reading “Strega Nona”:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3hycbIlBv90
Thanks again for your heartfelt comments, Patricia Youngquist, the LLG.
Strega Nona is indeed from the region of Calabria — not sure why Tomie dePaola spells Nona wrong though hahaha
Hi Michelle,
Loved your blog! I’ve spent the last year building a website http://www.DelPrincipeFamilyTree.com about my family. I have been contacted by many relatives that I never knew I had when they stumbled upon my website. I hired a genealogist to research our family tree and discovered that my great grandmother and great grandfather came to the US from Pescasseroli, Italy. I went to Ellis Island in 1999 and visited the Wall of Honor where we’ve purchased a plaque to display our family’s name. My husband, daughter, sister and I went to Italy in 2000 but I didn’t know much about my family tree at that time. Now I know so much, and have connected with family members in Pescasseroli and I want very much to visit the town and to meet my relatives. I enjoy your blogs very much, keep up the good work!
Thanks so much, Phyllis! You’ve gathered together quite a lot of information — you’ve been a busy gal
I hope you get back to Italy now armed with all the background; I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful experience visiting the town of your ancestors, etc. 
Comments on this entry are closed.