The view from my bedroom window in Santa Domenica Talao, Calabria, Italy Ciao Bellisimi!
I thought I would take keyboard in hand today and write you a little note.
As you may know from leafing through my blog, I am a total Italophile. I LOVE everything Italian. So much so that my husband and I bought a little place there in a centuries old Southern Italian hill town an hour and a half by train South of Naples. (Click here for photos and more information about the house and the area)
The name of the village is Santa Domenica Talao and it is magic.
When we first took ownership of our house. it was with a mixture of awe and reverence. We were new to the culture and did not want to accidentally do anything to irritate our new neighbors.
The couple who had owned our house had lived there for years, probably since they got married. The woman had died and the husband had moved to Turin to live with relatives. Although they had many relatives living in Santa Domenica, they sold the house.
I wrote this next post very shortly after we moved ourselves in. It is a very brief excerpt of the magic of an Italian family and their ready acceptance of a couple of very American “tourists” who had come to stay.
For those of you that have been viewing my photos, I promised you the back story about the Italian wardrobe in our apartment.
As you may or may not know, in Italy buying a house is a very different matter than buying one here in California. Here we meet with loan agents and our real estate agent as they walk us through endless stacks of papers requiring our signatures. You never actually see the seller whose house, and to some extent, whose life you are buying, at all. In Italy it is quite different and you cannot avoid becoming somewhat intimate with the sellers of the property.
In our case, the properties we were buying were owned by a man whose wife had passed and who was now living with his 2 grown sons. We met the sons in the office of the Notary as we all gathered to perform the ritual of house buying.
The 2 sons were there with power of attorney for their father. In the agreement, we were to take possession of the property immediately upon signing the papers. Unfortunately there were still a lot of possessions in the house that belonged to this family and they had nowhere to store them.
Since we were not planning to renovate the attached ruin that we were also purchasing, for a few years we told them they could put all of their belongings in there. They had been advised that we wanted to stay a night in the house before we left and they told us that they would move everything and be out first thing the next morning.
We arrived at 10:00 as they were just finishing up. They took the time to explain to us in Italian how everything worked. While they were finishing packing I noticed a tiny older lady in the kitchen helping to go through the items that had been left in the house. I wondered who she was. After everyone had left she came to me and told me that this house had been her sister’s and she was a bit tearful about going through her sister’s things. She told me that her house was just below the piazza and I got the distinct impression that she wanted to be friends. She took me into the bedroom and told me that she was leaving me everything in the wardrobe and that included the “good pillows” These were brocaded fabric stuffed with Pura Lana or pure lamb’s wool. Apparently this is very valuable in her eyes and she was proud to leave these for me.
She also told me that she was leaving everything that was left in a big old trunk in the corner of the living room. She said that these things belonged to her sister and she hoped I could use them.
I went through the trunk and found many old towels that had obviously been well used and well loved.
These towels had warmed up little boys as they emerged from the tiny shower in the house or they had been packed down to the beach each day as the boys went to look for sea creatures for dinner or just to cool off.
These had been washed probably by hand and hung up on the clothesline that is still attached to the front of the balcony which overlooks the sea. I also found a very old and heavy wool blanket that someone had stitched ribbons onto for decoration and to keep the edges from fraying as it aged. I am sure the blanket was used in the sometimes cold Calabrian winters.
There were also tons of hand towels, some more expensive ones that were unused, probably because they were too pretty.
At the bottom of the trunk, I found two light cotton nightshirts which I am sure the lady of the house had worn on the hot and humid summer nights. They were washed and ironed with great care and perfectly folded.
The trunk included many more cherished items and even more resided in the wardrobe that was left in the bedroom. What really struck me as a treasure was that this was a quick snapshot of someone’s life that went by in the blink of an eye.
This is where she lived, where she had and raised her sons and finally where she had died leaving her grieving sister and husband. The husband now lives in Turin and will probably not be living much longer. The sons have their own families and now live a modern existence in a busy city.
Without this trunk, this wardrobe and the things they contain, soon nothing would be left of this life. This is exactly the life I wanted when I bought this house. I wanted a simple lifestyle where one is proud of her domestic achievements and fills a house with love. This lady created a wonderful life for herself and those around her. Judging by her sons and how generous and gracious they were, she has much to be proud of.
All day as I puttered around in her house I could feel this lady following me. I could feel her happiness that the house would be occupied even if it was only a few times per year. I made a little promise to her. I promised her I would keep the things in her trunk and her wardrobe and cherish them. I may not be family but this is something I can do and felt honored to do for her.
Her sister had gone on her way and I found her sitting outside her little house below the piazza. I befriended her and tried some conversation. Polite chatter with the elder villagers is a random mix of Italian and rapid fire Calabrian dialect which I cannot make head nor tail of. It makes my head spin. We had a few laughs and promised to meet again when I returned.
I got up the next morning and went to my bedroom window to look at the purple and green mountain that wildly juts up into the sky making the perfect border to the Pollino park. My eyes wander to it on their own accord. It is so beautiful and I could gaze upon it for days without ever getting tired.
I heard a shy “Buongiorno”. Looking up I saw my cute new neighbor whose balcony was right across from mine. I can see why she and her sister lived where they did. I am sure that each morning they woke up to find each other. I got the impression that this lady is very happy to see a friendly face there even if it is not the face of her sister.
When I return I will bring her chocolate and stories. I will take her and her wonderful husband (Whom she assures me, “Never listens!”) to their little slice of land where they grow amazing vegetables. I will watch in awe as they show me in great detail how they manage to grow such beautiful produce. We will sit together on her porch and drink insanely alcoholic Cedro-cello made from the cedro fruit that grows only there and a billion proof alcohol that you buy in the supermarket.
I will be her family member, me in my white blond hair and my blue eyes that match the sea.
There is so much to tell. The magic really never ends.
If you want to hear more of the story of my love affair with Italy, please buy and read my book “Chasing La Bella Vita”.
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