Peggy's Excellent Italiano Adventure: Small Town Life

Children playing on the morning beach in Amalfi

Lunch in Ravello

I decided to go to the famous hill town of Ravello perched above the sea and containing some very famous villas, gardens and a yearly music festival. To travel there I would need to take the coast bus to Amalfi, then wait for a different, smaller bus able to traverse the even narrower winding mountain roads. Ravello dates back to the fourth century as a refuge against the barbarian attacks along the coastline. Its population and popularity rose and fell over the centuries and is now seen as a small tourist, cultural and artistic haven. It has a famous cathedral containing the blood of St Pantaleone and a convent containing the crypt of Blessed Bonaventura, a monk with many miracles attributed to him.

As I waited for my second bus in Amalfi I had a chance to just watch the native Italians and see what a wonderful pace they set for themselves. Everyone seems to have time to stop and talk to each other. They all smile and yell jokes as they pass. The older women congregate on benches in their drab winter clothes even though it is almost 70 degrees, and many of them wear dresses, stockings, and sturdy shoes. Another young man leans on a rail in his down jacket and converses with someone painting a building across the street. All around busses are stopping, starting, turning around, cars are zooming by, and motorcycles are bobbing in and out. A mother and two children are playing on the beach in the morning sun. Chaos and peace seem to co-exist in a way impossible in America.

My bus arrived and it wound its way up into the mountains and we were let off next to a tunnel. I then walked through and found myself in the charming town of Ravello. On one side of the town are views of the Mediterranean, and on the other are views of the great canyon we traversed to get there. I saw a bar and headed straight to get my cappuccino. As I stood the barista asked where I was from and I told him America. His English was hazy, but I understood. He then asked me what I thought of Obama. Unlike Amercians, Italians and most Europeans, like to talk about politics. A good rousing argument is a way of life for them, it’s consider intellectual not insulting. I wasn’t too sure of our ability to communicate here, but thought ‘when in Rome…’ So I made a bad face and shook my head and said “Non, I don’t like him.” The baristas said “Non, I don’t either.” And then he put up his hand and did the open and close talk sign and I did the same thing back and nodded my head. Then the younger helper chimed in with a big smile and said “I like Obama”. Thus ensued a short, bizarre and good natured political conversation about Obama. I decided to take a photo and each guy was supposed to hold a thumb up or down if they liked Obama. In the photo they both did the opposite! As I was taking the picture and old grizzly, gap toothed guy came in and wanted to know what the discussion was about. Someone told him, and he said he liked Obama and then got up close to me with a big smile and wanted to know why I didn’t like him. I was thinking how hard it would be to explain to a socialist that Obama is spending too much money when I can hardly speak Italian. We said a few things to each to each other and -- here is where I am sure I must have Italain blood – I start gesticulating wildly instead of really saying anything. It was another of those conversations where I wasn’t sure what happened, but I got his picture with a thumbs- up for Obama. All in all, a fine introduction to Ravello.

After that I made my way to the nearby cathedral for my prayers and candles lighting. I then strolled leisurly around looking in shops trying to decide if I wanted to take tours through the large villas or just wander. I also had to find the convent where the Blessed Bonaventura was buried. I stumbled on a tiny cameo shop that I’m generally not interested in, but I saw some figurines in the window and thought I would ask about them. Inside were all types of carved coral and ivory, mostly jewelry and some religious article. A magnificent two level crèche scene in carved ivory was under glass. I asked if they had any figurines of fisherman. My son is a priest and an avid fisherman, he has also answered the call of God to “be a fisher of men” as St Peter and all the apostles were called. So I have tried, unsuccessfully, to find some painting or figure of a fisherman. The young woman asked the older man ‘Papa’ if they had anything like that. In a moment he finished with a customer and asked me to follow him. We passed through a roped off area and into his private museum. What treasures I was privileged to see! Gorgeous figurines he has collected, crosses, paintings, some priceless artifacts, and many special antique cameos. He told me how blessed I was to have a priest for a son even if I would not have grandchildren from him I would get special blessings. He was sorry he did not have a fisherman, but said maybe he could work something out someday with me. He had made a coral rosary for Pope John Paul II and several other items for Vatican officials. How nice of him to share his time and treasures with me even when I was not buying anything.

I was then told to go down a street, under an arch and up a few stairs and I would find the convent I was looking for. So I did so and as I was walking up the stairs I was able to enjoy a view of the sea in the distance and Villa Rufolo beside the wall next to me. The stairs were hardly a ‘few’ and I began to feel like I was back in Praiano, but I finally came to the top and there was the convent. I went into the church, found Blessed Bonaventura’s crypt, said some prayers, and lit a candle. As I came out I saw the cloisters to the side and went over to walk through the area. It turns out the cloisters were now attached to some sort of art gallery and large paintings and sculptures were scattered around the perimeter. Kind of odd. After a short art tour I started down the stairs which were quite lovely as they passed a gated vineyard on one side and the views I already mentioned on the other. As I passed the open door to a hotel, beautiful piano music was drifting out and I could see lovely tables set on a terrace with views high above the sea. I hesitated thinking it was probably hotel type food, but then figured the view was probably worth it. The view was actually outstanding. Slighty windy, but overlooking the sea and coast as far as possible down the boot of Italy on a clear day and overlooking the Villa Rufola’s grounds I sat in a sort of daze not quite believing I was here. I ordered lemon shrimp risotto and a glass of red wine. Piping hot and crisply lemony I savored the food, the wine, the view, the glorious sunshine and my great good fortune. I also discovered the trick to stemming my spending habit when I visit these small towns – wine at lunch. I was so tired, so relaxed I just wanted to go home and take a nap. Home was two busses away so I trotted down the hill caught the first bus to Amalfi. Switched quickly in Amalfi and did the head-nodding thing all the way back to Praiano. If the bus had not been filled with all the high school kids from Amalfi standing in the aisle and yelling back and forth, I may have missed my stop. Tip: avoid the 2:30 Amalfi to Praiano buss, it pretty much becomes a school buss at that time.

I barely made it to the top of my steps and fell into bed. I had made a date with Nan from Canada to go for dinner that night so I needed to recover. Once awake and refreshed I got ready and went back down the stairs. I stopped to talk to the girls who own the ceramics/toys/bra shop that Angelo told me to talk to and I think we decided I would go back the next day and look at boxes for sending home my extra purchases. Small communication gap, but not impossible. As I walked to meet Nan I met Angelo walking toward the Bar. I asked if he was going for coffee and he said "No. I justa go to a boolsheet witha da odder mena in da town." And that is what they do each evening, they stand or sit each evening in this tiny piazetta with two benches and they 'boolsheet' for a couple hours. Each evening I hear their voices gently float up above the stairs and houses to my balcony and I look down and see them standing and sitting and gesturing to each other. I wonder what they are saying and long to understand Italian so I could listen in on these daily meetings. Where has this sort of life gone in Amercia?

I met Nan at a hotel down the road where she was using the internet all week as the place she rented did not have internet. We had a drink at their bar while Luigi poured the drinks. He runs the hotel with his sister, mother, and father. He went to school with Jeanluca who helps run my market at the foot of the stairs. So I got a little town gossip. I mentioned where we were going for dinner and Luigi told me about the crush he used to have on the woman who runs that place. I love small towns!

We walked up the road to this restaurant I discovered when my daughter visited. Then the night had been cold and dark. Now it was warm and still light out. I was surprised to see all the windows pushed open, the bougainvillea and wisteria blooming and a table waiting for us to watch the setting of the sun over Positano and the mountains. It truly was picture perfect. We had more delightful, delicious food: a complimentary glass of prosecco, fresh dover sole in white wine sauce , another smooth lemon risotto, real tomato bruschetta, strawberry tiramisu and a bottle of local red wine. For the second time in one day I had managed outstanding views in a great restaurant. I also barely made it home and was a total washout the next day. Oh well. Buonissimo!!!