Voting for Big Brother [Pratola Serra]

Even the Virgin Mary gets a stylish look in Italy

On the day that Sissy and Mom/K arrived in Italy, my father had a special event planned for all of us. I guess, technically, my dad didn't plan the event, but he knew he would be showing us a little bit of Italian culture that few, if any, tourists get to experience.

So after a hot 3-hour ride from Rome in a small Fiat with no A/C, a home cooked meal provided by my Aunt (from my food journal notes (yes, we kept a food journal on the trip, which at some future point I will go into more depth about) we had baked fusilli, lamb, string beans, salad, and various cheeses, sliced meats, fruit, and olives - a typical Italian mid-afternoon meal), a hot shower, and siesta, we all headed down to the main part of town to join the gathering crowds of locals. That evening, the candidates for Mayor were giving speeches.

In Italy, elections are held over the weekend, with both days available for voting. Additionally, the candidates are not allowed to actively campaign on the weekend days. Therefore, on the Friday before the elections, the City organized a final event for all the candidates to present their platform one last time before they had to shut things down. And for us tourists, this very non-tourist event would be our introduction to Italy.

Pratola Serra, doesn't have a traditional piazza in the middle of town; instead it has a T-intersection of its two major roads where the three bars, shops, and church are all located. One of these roads is a fairly busy minor highway; the other a local street that connects to the the City Hall and schools on the back side of the town. The City shut down Via Roma and set up a stage with a big screen behind it, hoping people would stay off of Corso V.E. during the night.

[If you want a visual of the area, type 'via roma, pratola serra, italy' into Google Maps; the intersection is that of Via Roma and Corso Vittorio Emmanuele/Corso Garibaldi. Even better, I've geotagged a lot of the photos on Flickr; if you type 'via roma, pratola serra, italy' into the world map, you can not only see the pictures, but the approximate location of where they were taken. I just started playing around with the geotagging maps, but I think it's pretty cool. I will try to remember to add a link to it in future photo posts.]

Kimberly and family hanging out in front of the coffee shop, as
my Uncle (on the right) watched the candidates perform

We arrived as the first group was finishing up their speech, so we went to my cousin's coffee shop/bar to begin our Italian immersion. The four of us sat in front of the shop sipping our espresso and cappuccino, eating our first gelato. When the first speech ended, the 3,000 residents poured into the bars, engulfing us. Family and friends wandered by to say hello to my father and get introduced to us. It felt like the whole town knew we were coming and wanted come by to meet us and buy us something. It took all of our strength not to consume the 50 espresso and 100 gelato that were offered.

As the next candidate group was preparing (Italy is a parliamentary system where you vote for the party rather than the candidate), we moved closer to the stage; despite understanding pretty much nothing that they would say, we wanted to be in the middle of it all.

The town folk listening intently to the candidates speaking in the middle of the
street. This is the party that ended up winning the election

This was right out of a movie. The head of the party would stand at a podium in the middle of the stage, with 2 associates on his flanks, as his image was broadcast on the big screen. The speeches were typical political fare, with fist banging, passionate pleas, and exuberant cheers from the crowd (or at least that part of the crowd supporting that party). I understand why the screens were there, but I have to say they added a certain Orwellian effect to the whole event that made the whole thing seem much more dramatic.

Sissy and Mom/K retired early - flying for 24 hours straight might make you a little tired - but Kimberly and I stayed through to the end, doing our best to understand the speeches, then pick my semi-English-speaking relatives' brains as to who they were going to vote for. In the end, we mostly ate ice cream, drank coffee, and tried weird new liqueurs.

Over the weekend, the upstart liberal-leaning party, who were known as the Olive Branch or something, ending up winning the election, upsetting the incumbent mayor, as well as another established local party. No one in the entire town seemed happy that they won, so it made us wonder who exactly voted for them.

Overall, we came away pretty impressed with the whole concept, which was to create a social carnival out of a local election. The whole town came out, stood in the middle of the street and listened to the candidates' promises (as cars avoided them), and debated on the street as they sipped their espresso. I feel like interactive events like this could do well to increase the turn out for local elections here in the States, which currently runs at about 3%.

I'm sure the candidates' promises were full of crap, as are most politicians, and nothing has really changed in this small City. But at least you get some coffee to go with the baloney.

There's a few more pics of the event on Flickr, but they're all pretty blurry: we hadn't figured out the intricacies of using the camera in low light at this early point in the trip.

[edited by Kimberly 6:30 pm...
My favorite part of this event is that I was actually able to have a conversation in ITALIAN! After Mom and Sis went to bed, Peter and I remained at the event. Peter is not always the best interpreter, and I got tired of pestering him for English paraphrases. I started talking with a woman next to me named "Maria" who grew up in NJ and emmigrated after she married a local guy. (The only American in town I believe) She had a friend with her who didn't speak English, and we ended up having a wide ranging conversation about schools, politics, and life for women in small Italian towns. Due to our differing language abilities, we spent more time in Italian than English (my Spanish-y Italian being better than the friend's no English). I remember leaving the debate walking on air since I had successfully negotiated all by myself in Italy with actual Italians.]

The Versailles of Italy [Reggia di Caserta]

While we were visiting my dad in Italy, his family suggested that we all go to the Palace of Caserta (Reggia di Caserta), outside of Naples. Most non-Italians, including us, don't know anything about the Palace (although it is listed in Let's Go!, and I assume Lonely Planet), even though it is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. We decided it would be a good start of our tourist adventures, since it wasn't too far from Pratola.

Before we get to the Palace, a brief history of Southern Italy: pretty much the entire area of the Italian 'boot' south of Rome, now known as the Mezzogiorno, was once held under a monarchy known as the Kingdom of Naples (also known as the Kingdom of Two Sicilies); this area was under pretty constant threat and often changed hands between the French, Spanish, and Moors. In the mid 1700's, the Spanish won the area from the Holy Roman Empire (which I'm told is different than the Roman Catholic Church based in Rome (and for a while Avignon in France)). Somehow Napoleon ended up with Naples, was overthrown by a peasant revolution, and eventually the region was incorporated into the Kingdom of Italy (which eventually became a fascist state, then a Republic) in the Risorgimento by Garibaldi and Victor Emmanuel II; the additions of these regions allowed them to perfectly complete the boot shape.

Now that brief summary is, at best, a jumbled misrepresentation of the history of the Mezzogiorno. The important thing to know is that the region was once ruled by the House of Bourbon (a French-Spanish family) and that in 1752 the family decided to build a summer palace, supposedly based on the French Palace at Versailles, outside of Naples.

[Quick tangent: because the south was ruled by this Spanish speaking family, we were told by several Italians, mostly from the north, that the southern Italian dialects have strong Spanish characteristics. While we have no idea if is true, the fact that Kimberly was a language champion while we were in the south, having only studied Spanish in her past, had us supporting this theory.]

So after getting lost in Caserta and driving past, under, and around the Palace 2 or 3 times ('Look kids, Parliament, Big Ben'), we finally found it, a huge Baroque looking building. We decided to walk through the gardens first, which required that we ride a bus 3 km to the back of the grounds. As you may remember, that was an adventure!

Once we entered the gardens, we found ourselves in a serene, lush environment. Like most old gardens in Europe, they prided themselves on the diversity of the fauna, including plants received as gifts from all over the world, including Asia and the Americas. My favorites were the Redwood and Douglas Fir, from the exotic region known as the 'West of America.'

Kimberly and Sissy with a statue of Venus.

Interspersed throughout the landscape were weathered statues, benches, rivers, ponds, and ruins. We marveled at the old roman ruins found throughout the garden, thinking they must have moved them from some other place, maybe Pompeii. It turns out that all these structures were built in the 1700's and made to resemble ancient ruins.

Faux Roman Ruins

One of these 'ruins' was a reproduction of a Greek/Roman Temple, located in a forest in a far corner of the gardens. There was no one else there; it looked like no one even knew about it, even though it was in our guide. The time we spent at this temple was one of the few times we had a quiet moment in our entire trip.

Peace and quiet at the Temple in the Woods

After spending a good couple of hours wandering in the gardens, we decided to get back to the Palace, eat some lunch and do some exploring. After our experience with the bus, we decided it would be a good idea to walk the 3 km downhill back to the palace. The 'causeway,' for lack of a better word, back to the palace was a wide boulevard with a man made river running down the middle. On each side, there were multiple paths, either in a forest, under a row of trees, along the river, or on the bus road.

At the top of the water way, a man-made waterfall.

The man made river was pretty impressive - starting at the top of the hill, a 'natural' water source was created, with the water looking like it was coming out of the ground and running through the rocks. At the bottom of this, there was the first of many fountains, with marble statues of women and water spouting all over. For about 3/4's of the way back to the palace, there was a never ending series of waterfalls and fountains, making the stroll pleasant, despite the heat and humidity.

Angry dolphins spouting water

In various places along the walk, there were also rows upon rows of marble statues; it's like Italy had a surplus of marble and decided to just put statues everywhere. It was here that we first noticed the vandalism (there's a good picture of this in the photo set, but you might not want to let your kids see it). A recurring theme throughout Italy, and really a lot of southern Europe, is the rampant vandalism. In the most beautiful museums and churches, on marble statues and fountains, there is almost always vandalism. And honestly I don't understand why. Is there too much beautiful stuff there? Do they not need it all? Here in the states, there's vandalism, but I feel like if you were caught vandalizing Mt Rushmore, you'd be electrocuted. In Italy, almost everything is marked. And the only place that seemed to be trying to prevent it was the Vatican.

Walking past the vandalized marble statues

Along this walk, we also had our first experience with the other Italian obsession: making out in public. Amongst the trees and benches along the side of the road, there were quite a few couples making out, which wasn't so bad. Then, as we approached the Palace, there was a couple standing in the middle of the road: he had his hands WAY up her shirt and they were going at it hot and heavy. They didn't seem to care that the 4 of us walked by within 2 feet of them. This was not the last instance of advanced PDA that we saw in our Italian travels. My dad joked that we should have thrown water on them; looking back on it, I don't think it would have helped.

When we finally reached the Palace, we had a nice lunch at the cafeteria, where the pressed sandwiches were better than most American restaurant meals (I'm looking at you Applebees). We then wandered around the massive Palace, of which only about 5% was open to the public.

It was a fairly interesting building, built on a grand scale, especially the entrance staircase. One of the more interesting things we discovered was that the marble floors and walls were not in fact marble, but rather painted tiles and walls. The effect was well done, but we thought it was strange that real marble wasn't used; maybe they ran out of money?

'Oh my, a lion'

It also turns out that the Palace has been used in a bunch of movies, including as Queen Amidala's (Natalie Portman) home in the Star Wars prequels, which would be cool, if those movies actually existed.

Reggia di Caserta was a beautiful place, and I highly recommend the gardens; personally, I could have passed on the Palace, but I might be in the minority. And it was a great place to start our tourist adventures as it introduced us to many Italian concepts, like 'queuing up,' vandalism, walking, public making out, and heat and humidty.

All the photos of Reggia di Caserta are now uploaded, and in slide show format here.

Our First Italian Market [Pratola Serra]

On our first weekend in Italy, my father took us to the open-air Sunday Market in Pratola Serra.

Here, in the USofA, you can usually find a pretty decent outdoor market; usually these are farmers' markets, with lots of local fruits and veggies, as well as locally made products, like jams, honey, pies, cookies, breads, pastries, etc.

In Italy, every single town, village, and city has a market (even my mother's grandparents mountain village, consisting of maybe 500 year-round residents, has a weekly market). But in Italy, the market isn't a nice place to go on Saturday morning and get a cup of coffee and scone, some fresh veggies for your week of cooking, some purple potatoes, and maybe some ridiculously expensive bacon (really, it's phenomenally tasty. It really is. Trust me). In Italy, you go to the market not only to get your local fruits and veggies, some olives from Sicily, cheese from Umbria, and meat from Parma, but also to buy a new shirt, sandals and snorkeling gear for the beach, a new espresso cup to replace the one your husband broke the other day, a serving spoon, some sexy underwear (yes, you read that right), and maybe a live chicken that you can slaughter later on in the week (Italians really like fresh food).

In other words, the market is where you go to buy your stuff. All your stuff.

There are supermarkets in Italy, but mostly in the big cities. And the smaller towns have alimentari, but those mostly have the staples to supplement the weekly market trip.

The market is where things happen.

If you ever go to Italy, seek out the local markets - we found one in Rome, so they're pretty much everywhere (I imagine France, Spain, and Portugal are similar, as well as many other Euro countries, and definitely in Asia). You can get yourself supplies for nice picnic, a complete set of coffee cups, and clothes for your next trip to the disco.

The pictures from our trip to the Pratola market are available here and in a handy slide show format here. These are some of my favorite pictures from our whole trip. Enjoy.

[Quick edit: It was here that we first learned about the term etto (pl. etti). An etto is 100 grams, which comes in very handy when ordering meats and cheeses at any market. It is also a very effective word for making people think you know how to speak Italian, as it's kind of a 'locals' thing (and by local, I mean anywhere in Italy).]

Going Back to My Roots [Pratola Serra]

Well, I finally started sorting through our Europe pictures. I'm trying to go through them chronologically, from when we left Boston in mid-May until we got back in mid-July. I'll try to give a little summary of each place as well; maybe Kimberly will come in later on and give her two cents. Here we go...

Kimberly's new friends (Zia Nina is seated all the way to the right)

Our airline tickets to Rome were bought with frequent flier miles. Although that meant that we didn't have to pay for the tickets, it did mean that our flight path was kind of ridiculous: Boston -> Frankfurt -> Munich -> Rome. We were also somewhat fortunate, as we arrived the day after Alitalia was on strike and Lufthansa had to cancel a bunch of flights. Despite the crazy airline schedule, we had no problems with any of our flights and didn't miss any connections.

When we arrived in Rome, my father and his cousin were there, flowers in hand for Kimberly, waiting for us.

My father was born in Italy during WWII then came to the US in the late 60's [Interesting Historical Note that I Just Learned from Wikipedia: Just 10 days before my father was born, the government of Italy, having recently removed Mussolini from power, sided with the Allies and declared war on Nazi Germany]. He moved back to his hometown of Pratola Serra, with his sister, about 2 weeks before Kimberly and I were scheduled to arrive. Initially, we were going to spend some time in Rome, then work our way down to visit him.

After the 14 hours or so of flying, it was nice to have some familiar faces pick us up at the airport.

Pratola Serra is located about 3 hours south of Rome, to the east of Naples. It is located in the region of Campania (campania is the Italian word for farm or farmland, so that should tell you a little something about the region) within the province of Avellino. The town was devastated by an earthquake in the early 1980's, from which it is only recently recovering.

Sunset through the Campania mountains

Kimberly and I spent two quiet days in Pratola, acclimating to the time change, trying to learn /understand Italian, and eating. My Zia Rita (actually a cousin) made us a welcome feast that could have fed 3 times as many people as there were present. Then Zia Nina (also my godmother) provided us more than enough sustenance for the rest of our stay.

One night we took the customary after-dinner walk and made our way to pick up Zia Nina, who was gossiping with her brood of old women friends. Of course, all these old, southern Italian women immediately took to Kimberly, the small, blond, white girl. They offered coffee. And cookies. And crotcheted things [The older woman right in the middle of the picture at the top gave us a crotcheted table runner, which is beautiful. She offered us more beautiful crotcheted things if we were to come back with a baby. Now that's how you do it!].

A few days later, Kimberly's mom and sister joined us and we started doing 'touristy things:' we went to Pompeii, saw a local election, visited a local palace, and went to a pre-Christian church and catacombs. [Pictures and stories from these places will come soon]

We finished up our time in Pratola the way we spent most of our time in Italy: eating. Rita, once again, made us a feast where we must have had at least 12 courses. The cake below was one of 3 desserts.

Rita, presenting us with our dessert. Her husband is in the back, startled.

Then for our going away meal, my Zia Nina made us her 'World Famous' chicken cutlets and eggplant parmigiana (Kimberly's mom 'borrowed' the recipe for the eggplant parm while observing Nina, and we've been replicating the parm ever since, with pretty good results. Come visit, we'll make you some). We left with our bellies content, moving on to new adventures in the north.

Pratola was the perfect start to our trip: Kimberly and her family got their introduction to Italy with friends and relatives; we were able to get up to speed on the language and the culture; and we learned that eating would be a large part of our trip. A very large part.

The Pratola Serra pictures are now up on Flickr.

Damn Internet Cafes

So I'm trying to type a post in an internet cafe in Florence. Except the computer is slow. And the keyboard is hard, with all these wacky extra letters. And they close in 5 minutes, so they wouldnàt let me get a whole hour and I only got half an hour.

So, my hysterically funny post about eating seafood in Fano will have to wait until another day. This is all you're getting right now. (this letter: à is where the apostrophe is supposed to be. itàs really hard).

I am also trying to upload some photos to Flickr, but the computer is slow. And Iàm probably getting a virus.

Some pictures are up, mostly of food. But I need to go before the computer steals my camera. And my passwords.

We are all having a great time. Driving on the roads here is great, except when you,re in the Cities, then it is terible. I am not looking forward to dropping the car off in Rome. Right in the middle of the city. In the middle of the madness.

Later.

PS The market pictures are from Pratola Serra. The other pictures are from Pompeii

The Problem with Italy

Italy is a beatiful country. The hills are full of huge, old villas and monastaries that stand over well-manicured fields full of great things like grapes and kiwis and figs and tomatoes and olives and lemons and oranges and... The drivers are insane. The relatives are welcoming. The food is amazing. Kimberly and the Krew have been completly overwhelmed by the contained chaos of everything.

Italy also contains some of the most beautiful art in the world, in the form of sculptures, paintings, and architecture, and some of the most friendly people in the world. Well, mostly.

On Saturday, we decided to go visit the Reggia of Caserta, near Pratola Serra. [Caserta is in Southern Italy, close to Napoli, which is an important part for the story.] The guide books call the Reggia the "Versaille of Italy" and sing the praises of the English gardens. Once we got our tickets, we walked over to the bus area to take the 3 km ride to the garden entrance. This is where our story begins.

There was a 20-something guy selling tickets to the train and telling people to line up 'over there.' Two problems: (1) he wasn't so much selling tickets as smoking cigarettes and flirting with the young women in the general vicinity; and (2) Italians, unlike the English or the Americans, do not take well to queuing. The line for the bus wasn't so much a line as it was a horde. The first bus came and went, with our Hero-American-Family standing in the bus' dust, looking completely bewildered and scared. Those little old Italians are not as sweet as they look.

Having experienced this before, I decided I needed to act. As we were the last group pushed off the previous bus, we were first in line for the next bus. As the little Neapolitan women started to encroach upon and pass us, I made sure that we inched forward. As the Sicilian women stood in front of us, I politely explained to them (in my poorest Italian) that the line was behind us and we were actually in the front. [I absorbed enough evil eyes that I had an exorcism that evening. No joke.]

When the bus finally arrived, the contained chaos became uncontained. Old Italians were practically running over us and knocking the Krew down to get on the bus first. When the bus finally stopped rolling, it was actually only a few feet in front of me.

Although a few of the little women were too quick and got on before me, I put my plan in action. With one particulary nice woman and her very pleasant husband right behind me, I blocked the door with my rather large frame and arms. I then turned and told the Krew to get on the bus, blocking everyone else. A few jabs in the ribs and screams of indignation later, we were all on the bus, followed quickly by an angry mob. Fortunately, the heat of the bus lulled everyone to sleep and all their anger was directed back at the husbands, just as intended.

[The woman right behind Kimberly is the one who was jabbing me in the back. I wish I had a better picture, but I was afraid if I actually pointed the camera at her, she would spit on me.]

We spent the next few hours touring the 7 km of garden paths, seeing beautiful fountains, fake Roman ruins, tiny frogs, giant fish, and exotic trees, including a Redwood from the West of America and a Doug Fir from the Northwest of America. Just like home.

On the way back, we decided to walk the 3 km down to the palace. Although we will need to face the hordes of old Italian women again at some point, twice in the same day wasn't worth it.

My first morning in Italy

Ah Italy. We arrived last night, were chauffered by Zio Mimmo and Peter's Dad, and welcomed into a bustling house for dinner with Zia Nina and Zia Rita and her family. What a feast! I certainly won't starve in Italy, although I might gain 50 pounds. That could be a problem. Luckily, the towns are set in beautiful countryside, so walking will be a pleasure.

Peter and I woke up this morning to the church bells. The bells ring for each hour and for each quarter hour. This means lots of bells. It's beautiful now, but can you imagine the noise complaints if they tried this in the cities at home?

And, to top it all off, this is the view outside our bedroom window.

It's not so bad.... I can probably get used to this for a while....

Do you think the Middle has views like this?

...Ciao Italia

We have arrived in Pratola Serra, the hometown of my father's family. After a quick drive down the autostrada from Rome, we ate our bodies weight in food last night for dinner.

A few very Italian things that have happened so far:

We saw this on the plane as we were leaving Boston:

Italian Air Traffic Controllers Strike

Someone in Portland was joking that all three times he has come to Italy, some part of the travel sector is on strike. Luckily, this didn't affect us, as it was only for a few hours on Tuesday.

Then we saw:

Garbage a burning issue for Naples

Apparently in Naples, the trash dumps are full. So they are piling the trash on the streets and burning it. I can't wait to go see it.

I can't wait to see what happens next.