Villa della Santa Croce

We left Piana di Monte Verna early in the morning for the short drive up into the mountains to look for the small town of Villa Santa Croce (Village of the Holy Cross). The small town dates back to the 10th century, starting as a settlement of shepherds near the Benedictine Abbey, which build atop nearly Mount Holy Cross. The abby lasted into the 18th century, but later fell into ruins. At some time later, the Church of St. Nicholas of Bari was establish in the town and remains to this day.

Villa Santa Croce has only 180 families, virtually all of them belonging to the same family. From what we saw, it seemed that most residents were of retirement age. There were no cafes or shops. In fact, several people, wondering why two strangers were wanting around the town, asked us what we were doing there. We explained that we were American’s from the that family. Upon hearing that, the suspicious glances turned to welcoming smiles and short, bit nice conversations.

By good timing, we were in town when Giuseppe, the fruit vendor, pulled into town. During the week, Giuseppe drives his flatbed truck loaded with fresh fruit up into down. As he parks in the tiny central plaza, he declares his arrival in a sing-songy announcement over the loudspeaker in the truck. Moments later, we were surrounded by ladies from the town. I saw one digging into a crate of the most interesting peppers--red, heart-shaped and about the size of a golf ball. I picked up a handful to try later. (They were an interesting pepper, tasting sweet like a red bell pepper, with the sweetness giving way to sharp spiciness of a jalapeño.)

As we left town for a couple days on the coast, I thought about my Great-grandmother Nellie (Antoinetta). I remember visiting her with my grandmother as a very young boy--probably only 6 or 7 years old. She was in her 90’s at the time. Riding down the steep, winding road leading down from the town, I thought about her as a young woman, possibly traveling that same road on the way to the port of Naples. I wondered what it must have been like to leave those isolated valleys and hills--the same streets and churches we saw in Villa Santa Croce and Piana di Monte Verna--for the long, uncertain voyage by ocean steamer to New York and a new life.