From Vic diary
“On a typical morning, my brother and I will brew an espresso and sit on the terrace of Giovanni Mastrogiovanni, who has opened his home to us as guests. The view is overlooking beautiful rolling green mountains, with the landscape dotted with other small villages, each with their own personality. A goat herder with about one hundred of the creatures makes its way through the narrow street directly in front of us, and makes us smile.
We take a walk through the town, and come upon a quaint little courtyard that is the centerpiece of adjoining residences. I stepped inside to take a picture, when a door suddenly opened behind me. There was a pleasant looking elderly lady standing there. I was a bit embarrassed. I thought we may be trespassing, so I tried to explain to her with my extremely limited knowledge of the language that our grandfather was born in Orria, and we had made the trip there as an ancestral journey. We complimented her on the courtyard. She said she lived there lone and was very happy. She then did something that completely dumbfounded me. She invited us in to sit at her table. Two strangers standing in her yard. We politely declined, but the incident left me with a complete understanding that we were indeed in a land of genuine peace.
We spend a casual day roaming the streets and marveling at the many centuries old stone architecture that had probably changed very little since my grandfather left for America as a young man in 1906. I couldn’t help wonder what a sad day it must have been to leave it all behind.
The best part of the day comes in the evening, when we go to Lorenzo’s Bar for his famous pizza, topped with mozzarella cheese of buffalo, and sausage from local wild boar. After dinner, Antonio, a young teenage boy, with some pretty cool specs, sat across from us, and with some enthusiasm said “Speak English with me!”. So we sat there laughing while we murdered each others language for a few minutes. Our laugher attracted the attention of Lorenzos two young daughters, who joined in the fun also. Soon some parents arrived, and we all sat enjoying othrers company among those old stone walls, just as thousands of others had, for maybe a thousand years, and we had a great time”.
Vic Mastrogiovanni
Detroy / Michigan / USA