It is said that if you want to know more about yourself, write. Yes, it is true, writing allows for a lot of self-exploration and is a totally great exercise. Over the years, I have learned so much about myself, about my reactions to situations, my place in society and my place on the Earth in general, simply by writing it all down, as it were. I have volumes tucked into desks and bookshelves in my home. It excites me to think that one day, after I have exited, my kids will find these and they will learn about all those things that they never took time to ask. Oh, how I wish my mother had done this.
My learning pursuits don't take me to museums or historical sites (at least not in this country). I don't like to "stroll" through anything or any place and those marble floors are a killer to the back when walking on them at two miles per century. I mean, really, would a few yards of padded carpeting be too unreasonable a request?
I, instead, like to learn through observation. I watch people. I savor places and look for the nooks, the tiny spaces in the big old walls that have plant growth in places where it should not be. When I travel, in lieu of joining lines of deer-in-headlights tourists, I veer off and take a tour of the local cemetery, sit at the rickety bus-stop, drop in at thrift shops and local Uno Euro Stores and always, always, frequent the supermarkets. Of course, I've seen "David"... myself and just a hand-full of other tourists that day. Yes, I've spent time in the Sistine Chapel....along with my husband and about ten other people. I haven't missed much as I veered off. But I have danced on Dagliev's grave in a lonely cemetery in Venice and I've spent lots of time alone with Saints Francis and Clare at San Damiano and done solo hikes up to the Ermitage, high up Mount Subasio. I haven't exactly missed out in my learning experiences.
So, what's going to be my point? I'm still in the process of digesting one of the most spectacular visits to my "Motherland" ever. Ever. Fourteen trips to Italy and I can safely say, this was primo. In too many ways to list. I have to add another highlight. I mean, Calendimaggio in Assisi was hard to beat.....but our two week stay in Puglia blew the roof off of my life. Yes, Puglia is drop-dead gorgeous. And, we made some absolutely wonderful new friends there but oh, there was so much more for me personally. In Puglia, I learned who I truly am.
This was the second of our Southern Italian adventures. A few years ago, we did the Amalfi Coast and included a trip to Capri and the amazing Blue Grotto, on our itinerary. Our daughter had spent lots of time in the area during high school and had felt so at home in her tiny town of Cava, just south of Amalfi. We lived vicariously at the time, our kids travel experiences came first while we patiently awaited our turn. Being off-season travelers, we were able to actually drive up and down the coast without a problem (don't try it past April!). We loved every minute. smelled every lemon and orange on the trees that lined sidewalks.
Puglia is on the opposite side of the country, nestled underneath the region of Abruzzo (my grandmother's birthplace), with its majestic mountains, and above Calabria (my grandfather's birthplace) with its rough mountains, gorgeous seashore and mysterious residents. Anyone can tell you that the regions of Italy differ from one another in various ways. Not only are the pastas and other foods different, the geography and the agriculture from one region to the next are oftentimes idiomatic. The language even differs, with accents giving away the secrets of where one was born, raised, now lives. We experience that here, don't we? And, all too often, it is just that which gives rise to our prejudices. People are people, the world-over.
So, every day, while at Casa tra i Trulli in Martina Franca, we had the great privilege of observing the daily lives of the residents, the families Fanelli and Parmisano, two generations combined. We watched Theresa and Pietro from as early as six in the morning, until the sunset each evening, never stopping. Constant motion. Working in the garden, doing laundry, harvesting vegetables, setting up irrigation systems, birthing horses, tending dogs and cats, spending time with friends, and generally keeping busy, busy, busy every single moment of the day.....smiling.... happy.
Suddenly, I realized..... here, in between the birthplaces of my two grandparents, that I am a true Southerner. That I have traits that are so similar to the very people, strangers at first but not for long, who I studied. No, I am not crazy or "hyperactive". Yes, I prefer to air-dry my laundry, to use the sun instead of a dryer. I'm not cheap. I know it takes a few extra steps. Yes, I like to cook with fresh ingredients. Sure, frozen vegetables are easier. And, had I a bit more patience and a lot more dirt to work with, I would have dirty fingernails most of the time. And gee, why ask for help lifting and toting when I can do it myself? And fashion, who really cares about it? I like black and wear it often. And, I love early morning and sunsets from my kitchen window send me to the moon. And when I finally do sit down, I love nothing better than a good cup of coffee with a good friend.
I discovered that I am wired in much the same way as every other Southern Italian. That's who I am. I came to Puglia and found the Owner's Manual. It's all very easy to understand now.
Basta cosi!
