Taormina - Ancient Jewell of Sicily's Eastern Shore

A short way south from Messina is the storied town of Taormina, which traces its heritage to the Greeks and later the Romans--with wonderful remnants of both cultures.

For all my Sicilian-American friends, I want it to be noted that the very first thing I did upon stepping on the island, after parking the car and walking into town, was to find a bakery with the best looking cannoli--with my cousin’s whole-hearted support. Like picking a lobster from a tank, we studied the beautiful tray of subjects and then pointed to the cannoli we wanted, paid about a 10th of what we would have been willing, and stepped outside to enjoy cannoli from the motherland--literally--in the shadows of a Greek theater from the Seventh Century B.C. We could have been standing next to a strip mine for all it mattered--the cannoli were indescribably good--a class above the world-class cannoli available on St. Louis’s Hill or Pittsburgh’s Strip. (We think the secret is the quality of the fresh ricotta cheese that is readily available in Sicily.)

Across the Strait of Messina

After such a nice visit with cousin Francesco and family, it was a sad moment to have to ride on to port at Villa San Giovanni, which is the closest point between the continent of Europe and the island of Sicily, and, as such, one of Europe’s busiest ferry ports. But with our flight leaving Italy in just two days, we had to make it closer to our point of departure in Catania.

For this boy from Missouri, I am used crossing mighty waterways--including the great Missouri and Mississippi rivers. The Strait of Messina is nothing like it--wide, deep and windy--and, oh yeah--very close to one of the worlds largest volcanoes. Notwithstanding, for years, the government has toyed with the idea of building a bridge to connect Sicily to the mainland. If that bridge were to be built, it would connect Villa San Giovanni  to the northern edge of Messina in Sicily--and, not to mention, would become one of the most incredible engineering feats of humanity. However, as the Italian economy struggles to pick up pace after a near collapse and deep recession that followed, those plans have been shelved for at least another generation.

As has been the manner since the times of the Greeks and Romans, the way to get to Sicily is to get on a boat. With impressive efficiency, we drove the car onto the boat, and after a visit to the shopping mall-like interior deck of the ferry, drove off about 30 minutes later onto the island of Sicily and the meandering streets of Messina.

Reggio Calabria - The City at the Italy's Toe

If Italy is a boot, our next stop was to the tip of the toe, to visit my grandmother’s first cousin, Francesco, and his family near the regional capital of Reggio Calabria. This short visit with his family would be the highlight of the trip for me.

I had passed through town 18 years ago as a kid in college. My grandmother had given me the name of her aunt and uncle, and I just strolled into town unannounced. Somehow--and to this day it amazes me--I was able to find that aunt and uncle. I then had the pleasure of spending the next couple days with my great-great Uncle Pete and his family, including his son, Francesco and his family.

Sadly, Uncle Pete is no longer with us, but, having made it to 98 years, he set a nice high bar for the younger members of the family. I found cousin Francesco, and his son and daughters--all doing well. In fact, the little 10-year-old boy who showed me around the town, grew up to be quite a soccer standout, including in his resume a season in Serie A--Italy’s top professional soccer/football division. Check out this video:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r7LfnVqsOng

It was fun to walk around town with a local celeb and get to know his wife, who, we learned, is a rising star in regional politics and in the home stretch of her political campaign (which, she later won--Forza Italia.)

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Side note: Congratulations is due to this couple. Just yesterday (as I post this on 3/5), their first child was born. Read all about it here:

http://www.strettoweb.com/2015/03/reggio-fiocco-rosa-a-palazzo-san-giorgio-e-nata-la-figlia-di-mary-caracciolo/253100/

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The next day, we had a fun car ride with Francesco, who took us to the homesteads where his grandparents used to farm (that would my 2x-great-grandparents). Those tiny farms sit exist among Reggio Calabria storied bergamot orchards--which only grows in a few places on the planet, this being the area of highest quality. Bergamot has been cultivated for centuries to provide the oils that give flavor to Earl Gray tea. The local orchards are a strong point of pride for the people of the region.

We stopped at one of the Orchards owned by a friend of Francesco to get a close look at the trees. The fruit looks like a very large, very green lemon, oblong, but more rounded than a typical lemon. Francesco pulled a couple ripe fruits from the tree and sliced them open. The fragrance of a fresh bergamot fruit is incredible beyond description.

It was only as we were leaving the area that I noticed that the narrow orchards stretched upon a narrow ridge, from which, at a proper angle, we could see dry, rocky hills, which would look very much in place in Southern California, that wrap around and tower above the city of Reggio di Calabria. The tip of Sicily and its port town of Messina are visible in the distance. Even after walking the sale land, it is difficult to imagine the life of the generations of my family who worked those same fields and orchards ages ago; I do know they did not hurt for a good view.

Pizzo Calabro

We originally planned to stay in the seaside town of Pizzo Calabro out of convenience. The town has an ample selection of comfortable hotels, which, during the deep low season, are available at an exceptional value.The ancient town (and the accommodations) crushed our expectations.

Arriving at dusk, we were treated to one of the most incredible sights I have seen anywhere--ever. From the edge of town, when the angle of the sun is just right, the incessantly smoking volcano of Stromboli, rising from the  Tyrrhenian Sea about 25 miles due west, was back lit against the setting sun, making the steam and smoke lifting from its crater glow red on the horizon.  A local lady that happened to be standing nearby told me that some on clear, dark nights, you can sometimes see a red glow of lava churning in the crater.

After a fantastic dinner and then tasting the town’s hallmark dessert (truffle encrusted ice cream), we retreated to what turned out to be the most comfortable and enjoyable hotel of our trip. The rooms were beautifully decorated boutique hotel with a bold modern design. My room had a balcony which looked onto the narrow streets, a partial ocean view and--buy fortuitous timing--a bright moon perfectly visible above. My cousin’s room had a private open-air, stone courtyard.

The next morning we were treated to a nice walk around town and the small beach and port.

Mierato - A Small Town that Wants to Keep Its Secrets

In many ways for me, driving into the small hilltop town of Mierato was like driving into a family legend. This is the town of my grandmother’s father.  When I was in college, I used to enjoy spending parts of my winter and summer breaks at my grandmother’s house in Western PA. Some times at my special request, often without, she would make one of her favorite dishes, which was Swiss chard fried with pieces of Italian bread, a grated hard cheese and an ample amount of crushed red pepper. During one of my summer visits, she got up early, cut come chard from her garden and cooked the dish for breakfast. She was well into her 80’s at the time. As we were eating, she told me that her dad, who had passed away some 50 years before, used to love having chard for breakfast--fried up the same way. She said she wanted to make it that day because she really missed him. She told me the stories that had been passed down to her about her father, who came from a well-to-do family “with olive trees” from Maierato, who wanted to come to the US for an adventure. He ended up meeting a girl from a then-bustling mill town and--despite a visit from an older brother who came from Mierato to fetch him--he never returned to Italy.

Even after building up the town in my mind to near fairy tale quality, the little town did not disappoint. The town sits atop a hill on a high plateau that rises up from the coast of the Tyrrhenian Sea just 10 miles away. The buildings--showing more signs of age than their perfectly maintained central Italian counterparts--would otherwise fit right it. To my untrained eye, the town was surprising in that it looked like a little piece of central Italy misplaced in the deep south.

We chatted with some people, but, unlike Altomonte that was eager for the world to see the hidden gem, we got the impression that Maierato was perfectly fine to keep its stunning views and picturesque streetscapes to itself.

Altomonte (a hidden gem of Southern Italy)

On my several trips to Italy, I can’t recall a sight that has put a lump in my throat as instantly as a simple road sign on the edge of the town of Altomonte. This was the village my grandmother’s mother left as a young girl. In all the time I spent with my grandmother, she didn’t speak much to me about her mother, but, even into her 90th year, she would grin a little girls’ grin when she remembered her grandfather. He came from Altomonte as an old man to live out his final years with his daughter and grandchildren (among them my young grandmother). Some time in the final years of her life, when we were at the cemetery caring for the family headstones, I remember her pausing in front of his gravestone, remaining silent for a short time, then uttering the simple, yet profoundly complimentary recollection: “I really loved that man.”

Years later, we passed the sign marking the border of town and drive into a 16th century hill town, pockmarked clearly with signs of modernity, but otherwise much the same town as our family left years ago.

Altomonte is nestled at the edge of a plateau rising up to the Pollino National Park, the largest park in Italy. A shallow gorge bisects the town’s old quarter--which rose to prominence as a Norman outpost beginning in the 11th Century and built up in the 14th and 15th centuries--with more the modern residential neighborhood, where we stayed. From our exceedingly well-managed and comfortable hotel, we were treated to a view of the old town worthy of a great master’s painting. After checking in, were enjoyed an incomparable meal inspired by local Calabrian produce and cuisine.

If I could manage the time, I could (and should) right a memoir just about our two days in Altomonte. The experience were worthy of an movie by Giuseppe Tornatore. All the time and money spent to get here was make worth it just to live these short days in Altomonte.

The full story is available to anyone willing to meet me for a cappuccino or cocktail. The short version is that Altomonte is a Southern Italian jewel that is tired of being hidden. It is a town with an impressive history, individuals of fiery but honorable character willing to welcome the world to share the secret--striking beauty, perfect climate and some of the best regional cuisine in Italy.

At the recommendation of several townspeople, we paid a visit to city hall before leaving and asked for the man (by name) who held position that would be equivalent to city manager in the USA. We found the city managers office and told him why we had come to town. (He already knew, having been told about us already by someone we had spoken to the day before.) After a short conversation, the manager disappeared into a lower level of the building. He came back holding a pair of old books. The books were the town’s records of births from the late 1800’s. Accustomed to reading the Italian script of the time, he thumbed through the pages until he found the record of our great-grandmother’s birth. He scribbled down and address and pointed to a general area on the map. He told us to just ask someone nearby to show us the building. We did just that, in a group of dwellings near St. Giacomo Church (which dates back to the 12th century). We eventually located the precise building (now owned by the town pharmacist) where our family lived before leaving for the US. An entire trip...worth it just for a picture of an old green door of a simple dwelling.

Leaving Las Vegas

Speaking very generally, there are two Italies. The first is the Italy of the great oases of tourism, where people from every corner of the world have flocked for centuries to step back into ancient history, re-live renaissance splendors and the enjoy the flavors of the modern culture.

Today, one can stroll the ancient streets of Rome, medieval urban masterpiece cities of Florence and Venice or wonder at the amazing natural beauty of Cinque Terre, Capri or the Amalfi Coast. At the same time, while taking a stroll or dining out, it is common to hear bits and pieces of conversations in all the World’s great languages. While there is something great to be said about the places that have become confluences for people originating in all parts of our world, such internationalism can pose a challenge for the visitor wishing to experience the local culture. When the crowds of internationals are at their densest and pushiest, the experience can harken to thoughts of standing in front of Caesars or the Venetian casinos in the Las Vegas.

For people traveling to Italy, I always recommend spending a day or two in one of the many, many great places in the nation that do not get the same concentration of tourists. After a pair of days on the Amalfi Coast, it was a great pleasure to find the Autostrada, and weave south between the jagged hills, through ancient olive groves and along the rocky coast of Campania, a tiny sliver of Basilicata and into the mystical province of Calabria, where we were to make our next stop.