Welcome to my little corner of Italy.
“Buona festa!” (Happy Holiday!) My boss Mario greeted me with a big smile and was handing me a small bunch of yellow flowers and some foliage tied together with a ribbon. The secretary came up behind me and he picked up another little bouquet from his desk and said, “Auguri!” (Good wishes!) Read More
I was looking at the rusty sign banning motorbikes from entering the narrow street that led up through the old quarter of Amantea and wondering whether or not anyone actually heeded its message. The little stylized rider sat comfortably on his motorcycle inside the faded red circle that blended with the equally washed out, dilapidated wall on which it hung. As I snapped a photo, a car pulled up, dropping off an older gentleman, who greeted me with a slight turn of the head and a warm smile. Read More
My feet were killing me. It was a brisk Tuesday evening in late November. After a harrowing experience on Rome’s overcrowded public transportation system during the morning rush hour, I had decided to walk back to my apartment that overlooked the Basilica di San Giovanni in Laterano. Read More
The first time I laid eyes on Persephone, I had no idea as to her history or the significance she would hold for me in time to come. I was in Berlin and the antiquities collection of the famous Pergamon Museum was on my list of cultural must-sees. Seven years later I would arrive in Locri, Persephone’s hometown in present-day Calabria, with just a suitcase in hand to teach English to the descendants of her disciples. Read More
“You haven’t ever eaten at “La Collinetta”? You have to go there!”
Mercedes was very enthusiastic, to say the least, about this trattoria where she and her friend dined every Saturday afternoon. “They treat us like princesses.” Read More
I grew up with a beautiful hand-carved Italian manger scene that was as prominent in our living room as the live fir tree standing across from it. The wooden pieces were quite large and I particularly liked the animals, but I understood they weren’t toys. My sisters and I had a smaller nativity we could set up on our own in the basement. Read More
Calabrians have shown a lot of interest in my book, Calabria: The Other Italy. Even those who don’t speak a word of English want to know what it’s about and how they’re portrayed. The members of the Anglo-Italian Club of Reggio Calabria have taken a particular interest. Heck, the group is in the book. Read More
My first trip to Mammola was for its number one claim to fame – pescestocco or stockfish, an adventure chronicled in Calabria: The Other Italy. This fall I returned for another of its celebrated culinary traditions – the mushroom. Read More
I could never have imagined, seven years ago, as I made my way down to the southern extremity of the Italian peninsula, stepping off the train in Locri to teach English, that I would one day write a book about my experiences. And I never would have dreamed that my words would be read and appreciated by the people of the region itself, so much so that I would be honored with an award. But this is just what happened. Read More
“Straight to the heart, but spare the face!” These were the final instructions Joachim Murat gave to his firing squad on October 13th, 1815, according to his wife’s memoirs, although Caroline Bonaparte wasn’t actually in attendance that fateful day in Pizzo as her husband and former King of Naples looked down the barrels of nine royal rifles. His attempt to re-conquer the realm by way of Calabria had been thwarted, and he met his end in the courtyard of an imposing Aragon castle overlooking the Tyrrhenian Sea. Read More