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Celebrating Your Inner Italian

Taxi Tales: Part 2 Palinuro

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palinuroBy Walter Sanders

We always tell our readers and friends that Italy is great, but try and avoid it in August. Ferragosto is when Italians have a month of vacation, and many go to the seaside. Those towns are jammed, and the Italians who work there would rather be someplace else.

So we broke one of our own cardinal rules. We were invited to spend time with a friend in Pisciotta on top of a hill overlooking the Cilento Coast south of Salerno. When our hostess needed to commit to some other friends, we had the opportunity to ride with a driver named Francesca to Palinuro.

She was a delight. And incredibly helpful. (She stored an extra bag in her home while we traveled the shore: a generous offer and a guarantee that we would engage her again later in the trip.) We chatted all the way to Palinuro.

Francesca and her husband surprised us at the train station to say buon viaggio when we left Palinuro.

Francesca and her husband surprised us at the train station to say buon viaggio when we left Palinuro.

She dropped us off in the center of town near the Pro Loco, an office that might be helpful in finding us a place to stay. If we couldn’t find a place to stay in this busiest month of the year in this seaside town, we could stay with her and her husband in the hills. We thanked her for her kind offer.

It was 1:30 PM when we went to the Pro Loco which serves as the nexus of tourism. It was closed until 4:00 PM. So we decided to have lunch. We returned to the Pro Loco shortly after 4:00 PM. It was locked. We sat on a shaded bench outside the front door and waited. We could her the phone ringing in the office.

About 4:45 PM a lovely lady approached, unlocked the door, put on the lights, and booted up her computer. We gave her some time to get organized, then I entered to discuss finding a room.

She gave me the sad news that every hotel, pensione, B and B room was booked. And most had been reserved for a year. I asked her if she had any recommendations. She asked if we would mind staying with a family, her family,

We stayed with her family in a lovely room with a private bath, broad terraces and a distant view of the sea. It was special.

Contact info: Francesca Iorio mobile: 340 5594744

Taxi Tales: Part 1 Naples

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By Walter Sanders

P1120663It was an ideal day of touring in Naples. Via Tribunale was lively with shoppers and tourists taking selfies with the bronze Pulcinella. The funicular ride to Castel Sant’Elmo high above the bay delivered us to a breezy, fresh air mass much cooler than the busy streets of the centro. I shot pictures and videos with my phone.

We splurged on a late lunch overlooking the city, bay, and Mount Vesuvius in the distance. Plates of fresh seafood kept coming. I wandered the terrace and took group photos of families.

It was late afternoon by the time we took another funicular down toward the port. We got off, but we weren’t near the port. I G-mapped to try to figure out our location. At street level, it was hot and humid and we were tired and getting grumpy.  We decided to grab a cab and return to the Hotel Palazzo Decumani.

I always like to sit in the front seat in a cab when the driver agrees. Ours did. The cab driver was a delight. We talked about his two sons…the oldest was a partner in the cab business. We stopped at an ATM for some cash. He took us at the hotel and we were glad to be back in air-conditioned comfort.

Salvatore, the spirited Neapolitan bar man at the hotel lounge, was on duty. I reached for my phone to share some of our videos of the city that Salvatore loves. The phone was not in my pocket.

I was devastated. I scrambled. “Sharon, do you have my phone?  Have you seen it?”

How stupid to leave a phone in a cab. How dumb to leave a phone in a cab in Naples. I asked Sharon to call my number from her phone. No answer. I asked the hotel desk to call the cab stand where we had caught the cab. “No, we didn’t the driver’s name (but we knew about his family!), we didn’t know the cab company, we didn’t have the driver’s mobile phone.”

I got on-line via my lap top to chat with the phone service provider: Google’s Project Fi.

She asked me whether I wanted to deactivate the phone. “No, not yet,” I typed. “I want 60 minutes. The cab driver was such a good guy.”

We camped out in the hotel lounge on a sofa with a view of the front door. An hour went by. Then 90 minutes. I opened the lap top to chat with Project Fi again. The service person, Michael, pulled up the thread via my mobile number and asked whether I wanted to deactivate the phone.

“There he is!” called Sharon as she jumped up to run to the front door.

It was the taxi driver holding the phone up like a trophy. He saw me. I gave him a big hug and he kissed me on both cheeks. I thanked him, and thanked him again.

“May I offer you something…a glass of wine, a beer?”

“No thank you” he said.

I asked him where he found the phone. He said he had five more fares after us. When he was cleaning out the cab for the night, he noticed a black phone sticking out from under a black floor mat under the seat. He saw English language on the screen cleaning pad attached to the back of the phone. “This belongs to the simpatico Americano who I brought to the Hotel Decumani.”

I hugged and thanked him again. I gave him 50 Euro and waved goodbye as he drove off. When I got back to the lap top and the chat, there were a series of “Walter, are you still on line?” entries.

I typed “Yes! You won’t believe this but the driver just returned with the phone.”

taxidrawingI hogged a full page in the hotel guest book with a drawing of a beaming guy holding a mobile over his right shoulder, a cartoony drawing of a taxi cab with a smiling grill, and a recap of the phone story. That’s when I realized that I had neglected to get the driver’s name.

Sharon and I then traveled to some seaside towns for two weeks. Because we enjoyed Naples so much, we decided to return there earlier for our return flight on Meridiana back to JFK. Sharon booked an AirBandB on lively Via Tribunale and we stayed for a couple of nights.

Francesco Aragiusto, the hero of our taxi tale, with Walter.

Francesco Aragiusto, the hero of our taxi tale, with Walter.

One afternoon we enjoyed some time and wine at the port. We decided to grab a cab back to the room. There were a couple of cabs on our side of the street, but no drivers. So we crossed the street to a different cab stand with dozens of drivers at the ready. I acknowledged the nearest, told him where we wanted to go, and asked if I could sit in the front seat. He said yes.

Then we got a better look at each other. He said “I remember you! You left your phone in the cab.”

“And you found it and returned it!” We rubbed each other’s heads and had a mini celebration.

I asked for his name: Francesco Aragiusto. One of the many upright and honest citizens of Naples.

Do you have an Italian taxi tale? Share it here.

Coming up . . .

Taxi Tales: Part 2 Palinuro

The Neapolitan Novels

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Photojournalist x captured this image of two girls in post-war Naples. The f

Journalist David Chim Seymour captured this poignant image of two young girls who could be Elena and Lina in Naples 1948.

As fate would have it, I finished The Story of the Lost Child on a recent stay in Naples.

The last pages resonated with me as I don’t believe they could have anywhere else.

The Story of the Lost Child, is the final book in the Neapolitan quartet by Elena Ferrante. The protagonists are Elena Greco (also called Lenuccia or Lenù) and Raffaella Cerullo (also called Lina or Lila).Elena and Lila were born into a shattered world in August 1944–in a dismal neighborhood in a neglected city that had endured massive bombing during World War II.

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The Neapolitan Novels

My Brilliant Friend
The Story of a New Name
Those Who Leave and Those Who Stay
The Story of the Lost Child

In the narrative, the girls grow into women and then into old women. Their personas are inseparable even when they are physically apart. For those who have read the novels, nothing I could write would enhance your experience of them. For those who have not read the novels, I can say: If you read the Neapolitan novels you will enter a world you will never forget.

Fans are anticipating the November 2016 release of Frantumaglia: A Writer’s Journey, a nonfiction collection of the author’s writings, to glean insights into the life and work of the fiercely anonymous novelist.

cover_9781609452926_806_600Ferrante elaborated on the word frantumaglia in a May 2016 interview with Nicola Lagioia published in The New Yorker:

“We are, as you say, interconnected. And we should teach ourselves to look deeply at this interconnection—I call it a tangle, or, rather, frantumaglia—to give ourselves adequate tools to describe it. In the most absolute tranquility or in the midst of tumultuous events, in safety or danger, in innocence or corruption, we are a crowd of others. And this crowd is certainly a blessing for literature.”

She mentioned the word also in a Paris Review interview conducted by Europa publishers. “My mother liked to use the word frantumaglia—bits and pieces of uncertain origin which rattle around in your head, not always comfortably.”

While Ferrante would no doubt disapprove, journalists and travel writers are descending upon Naples sleuthing for locations to pin to the narrative. Here are a few interesting reads: The New York Times, NPR, The Irish Times.

I myself followed Ferrante’s footsteps to Piazza dei Martiri in the chic Chiaia shopping district. In the books, this piazza represents a place of aspiration, but never quite assimilation, for some of the characters.

Along the lungomare on a Sunday twilight, I spotted two teens who could be Elena and Lina in 2016. I wondered how different, or maybe in some ways similar, their lives are compared to the Neapolitan novels.

Have you read the Neapolitan novels? Share your thoughts with us.

 

 

Naples Alive

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P1120291Mt. Vesuvius looms only a few miles east of Naples. It casts its shadow of destruction down the centuries so that when you are in Naples, you can never forget that life is fragile.

Maybe that’s why the people of Naples are so alive and fiercely proud of their city, a city that’s a survivor. Every Neapolitan we encountered was quick to point out the treasures of their place.

The Chapel of San Severo with Giuseppe Sanmartino’s gossamer sculpture of the Veiled Christ.

The Archeological Museum laden with decorative treasures from Pompeii.

The pizza at L’Antica Pizzeria Da Michele.

The incomparable bay and lungomare.

Caravaggio’s The Seven Works of Mercy in Pio Monte della Misericordia.

Seafood seafood seafood!

The presepe (intricate nativity scenes) artisans on the street of San Gregorio Armeno.

Flaky sfolliatelle pastries filled with sweetened ricotta.

The incomparable vista from Castel Sant’Elmo Castle, and easy walk from the Montesanto Funicular stop.

Coral and cameo artisans. I succumbed at Cameo Factory De Paola on Via A. Caccavello.

Spaccanapoli, the long wide street that from an aerial view “splits” the city in two parts.

During two August visits, one at the beginning of the month and the other one at the end of the month, to the city by the bay, we experienced these places and tastes. We stayed first at the excellent Palazzo Decumani hotel in the historic center. The property is top notch and the staff wonderful. For the second visit, we booked Soffitta dell’Artista in Mezzanine, through airbandb.com, a guest house and art gallery combined on thriving Via Tribunali. It was fun breakfasting with fellow guests: a family of six from France and a couple from Austria.

Of course, there are gems we didn’t have time for but you need a reason to return to the life of Naples. Click here for more experiences.

Have you been to Naples? What is your most vivid memory?

From Pompeii to Today

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P1120532

Italy may be fragile but our love for the land and its people is unshakeable.

“We all forget—visitors and residents alike—that Italy is a stunning but shaky land,” wrote Beppe Severgnini in The New York Times after the recent devastating earthquake in central Italy on August 24.

Only a few days before that tragic event, Walter and I were in the Naples area face-to-face with the history of Italy’s fragility: the destruction of Pompeii in 79 AD. Eerily, historians pin date the deadly volcanic eruption of Mt. Vesuvius as August 24.

We walked the stone streets of the once-prosperous town of 20,000. We saw the stone shells of its homes, shops, public baths, and amphitheaters. We looked in appropriate awe at the peak of Mt. Vesuvius less than five miles away. A French couple we met had climbed Vesuvius to peer into the crater. Like looking into the mouth of hell.

Friends advised us to tour the National Archeological Museum of Naples to gain a better understanding of daily life in Pompeii. The museum houses countless objects from the town when it was alive: Vivid frescoes, stunning mosaics, glassware, silver serving pieces, finely crafted pottery, cooking vessels, and an eye-popping collection of erotic art kept in “The Secret Room.”

The Past is Prologue

The volcanic eruption that time-encapsulated the ancient Roman settlements of Pompeii, Herculaneum, Oplontis, and Stabiae was preceded 17 years earlier by an earthquake and subsequent tsunami. Modern scientists understand that these natural disasters are caused by a fault line where the Eurasian and African plates come together and pull apart to facilitate earthquakes and volcanic eruptions. In other words, a really bad location for one of the world’s greatest civilizations.

As Severgnini explained, “Since 1861, when the country was unified, there have been 35 major earthquakes and 86 smaller ones. Every region has been hit. Over 70,000 people lost their lives in an earthquake that struck Messina, Sicily, in 1908. The island was hit again in 1968; Friuli in 1976, Campania in 1980, Abruzzo in 2009, Emilia in 2012. The Apennine mountain range, the geological spine of Italy, has been repeatedly battered.”

Italy shall prevail. It always has. The hope is that it will prevail with earthquake-proof buildings and improved seismic activity forecasts. Italy may be fragile but our love for the land and its people is unshakeable.

For information on how to donate to relief efforts for people affected by the earthquake in central Italy, click here.

 

   

Renato in Centro

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RenatoinCentroA recent sojourn to the American South took us to Spartanburg, S.C. where we enjoyed a marvelous Italian lunch at Renato in Centro.

Clearly, residents in “The Upcountry” of South Carolina are in touch with their Inner Italians. They’ve enjoyed Chef Renato Marmolino’s tastes of Italy in Spartanburg for 24 years. In restaurant terms, that span is several lifetimes.

Seated beneath a leafy canopy on Morgan Square, we started with Scottish salmon that Renato had cured with Sambuca and citrus. The delightful fish plate was garnished with red onion, cherry tomato, and chopped pistachios.

A classic plate of spinach-and-ricotta stuffed eggplant slices bathed in a perfect passato di pomodoro was melt-in-your-mouth good.

We shared two specials-of-the-day: Salad composed of peppery grilled shrimp, arugula, red onion, ripe olives, cucumbers, tomatoes, and the crowning touch—mozzarella from Battipaglia and tender gnocchi with sausage and tomato sauce.

RenatoRenato comes from Viareggio on the Tuscan coast where he learned to cook with his mother and grandmother and, in the Italian way, family continues to be important. Wife Stephanie, children Andrea and Gabriella, and mother-in-law Joyce Heitler (who previously shared her Inner Italian story with SimpleItaly) contribute at Renato’s in various capacities.

The interior of Renato in Centro is graced with vibrant paintings and happy patrons. It feels like Italy!