Festa della Liberazione, Ciao for Now, & Puglia
Today, April 25th, is an Italian holiday. It marks the day of freedom from Fascist power. Liberation. In Sicily, especially, it is a day of remembrance also for Americans. Many of our country’s soldiers were here; many are buried here. So many lives lost, from both continents.
Because of the holiday, the whole family was home (except Vincenzo and Mariella, arriving later from the San Biagio trip), so we could say our goodbyes.
We spent the morning doing our final packing and cleaning, then having breakfast at Elena’s. She made pancakes, and had lots of sweets and fruit—and caffe, and fresh-squeezed orange juice. We got to hang out with her and Giuseppe and the kids. Ettore was beyond sweet and happy; we cuddled and played and read books together. He came out of his room with a huge stuffed animal lion on his shoulders, and I asked if he were Hercules and if that were the slain Nemean lion. He said yes, then came back with what was supposed to be the wild boar. I asked if he was going to prove King Eurystheus a coward and make him hide in an urn. Ettore trudged off to his room with the boar, and it sounded as if the answer was yes. I hope nothing got broken.
Matteo just laughed at all of us and was happy throwing a little ball back and forth.
Soon it was time to go. Elena told Ettore we’re leaving. He said ok, I’m ready to go to Minnesota, and took my hand. Elena explained he’s not going until September. I made him a deal. “If you fit into my suitcase, you can come with me now. If not, I’ll show you how long you must wait,” and so we did a pinky swear. He came up and, alas, didn’t fit into my suitcase. Back in his room, I had him find Maurice Sendak’s Chicken Soup With Rice, which illustrates the months of the year. I showed him it wasn’t terribly many pages from May to September. Time to spend first at the vineyard house, then after that, Minnesota!
We hugged and kissed and made promises to return soon and hugged and kissed some more. Alessandro, Rachi, Agnese, Maria Teresa, Nonno, Matteo—and then Elena. “I saved the best for last,” I whispered. Alessandro helped with our bags and Giuseppe and Ettore took us to the airport.
We had great travel conversation and it seemed we arrived to the airport in no time. More hugs and kisses, and I saw on Ettore’s face that this was truly a Karen & Joseph leaving again moment. I went up to him. “Ettore, who is the only monelo (rascal)?” He gave a small grin and, pointing, said “Joseph”. Big kiss, little one. Ti amo.
After a bit of an argument with the RyanAir bag check agent, we found ourselves a nice spot for lunch at the airport. Right before boarding, I got in a call to my sister, who always makes me laugh. Then, the typical boarding/walk outside/wait outside/walk up the scaffold stairs to get to the plane, and in a blink of an eye we landed in Bari.
Our sweet B&B, run by the charming host, Niccolò, is a block off the Adriatic, and 10 minutes from the airport. It is technically just outside of Bari, in Santo Spirito. We asked Niccolò for some advice on things, and when asking about dinner, we implored him to give us a genuine local restaurant with Italian menus. He told us anywhere in Santo Spirito—for eating in a tourist town, go to Bari.
We rested, freshened up, then at dusk walked the few steps to the lungomare (path along the sea). He was right. Locals, especially with it being the end of a holiday, were pouring out of the door fronts of pubs, pizzerias, and the seemingly hundreds of gelato places. Everyone we passed, sitting with friends on benches, or strolling along the sea, was eating a gelato.
Niccolò gave us the name of a couple of places, but by 8:30-9:00, they were packed. I spotted a place called Da Giacomo, and, never having been disappointed by a restaurant “Da” anyone’s name (Da Giovanni-Roma, Da Filippo-Lipari, Da Ciccio-Taormina), I said let’s try it.
Wow. WOWWWWW!!!!
They took such good care of us. We chatted with Anna, our sassy waitress, with whom we sat with at the end of the night while she showed us pics of her kids. Her dad, Giacomo, is the chef. I told him I wish I could write a poem to my primo piatto. We talked with a father/son at the table next to us, and to a group of 20-somethings on the other side, after they caught us admiring the dog that accompanied them. We got our bill, and they crossed off €15 from it. The total for 4 courses, a bottle of wine, grappa, amaro, and a caffe came to €70. What an incredible night. I’d go back in a heartbeat.
We had full stomachs on the walk back; noticed a familiar scent and a 420 Bar, found my “what if I lived here?” house on the sea, and tucked ourselves in for an “early” to sleep night (for Joe), and a writing-til-1:15 night for me.
Right before I signed off, I saw WhatsApp texts from Elena:
My "seek" app says the flowering shrub is Japanese Cheesewood.
ReplyDeleteNicolò says it’s in the gelso family—might be oleander?
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