I volunteered to drive back to Rome from Benano with my dad and cousins. Jeff, Perrine, and Milo were with us for week one and would be flying back to Paris and my dad would take over driving their rental car. It was the first time I got to touch Milo the entire trip as we had been living in a family quarantine situation. Milo brought some hand, foot, and mouth disease, and mild chicken pox with him on the trip. So, we all had to keep our distance a little to protect baby Oliver. Luckily, we mastered air kissing, winking, goofy faces, and knowing eyes among adults. As for Milo, I fear he might resent us for years to come as the relatives he went on vacation with and wouldn't even give him a hug. Oh the stuff of family vacations is always so rich.
So, after our goodbyes, my dad and I hopped into the Peugot station wagon, and set off in the direction of Gualdo, Le Marche, Italy. I know what you are thinking. It was our favorite joke of the trip as well. Credit to Ben G.
"Where's Gualdo?"
Here it is:
There were even people wearing white and red stripes in the region who always seemed to be a little bit lost.
Anyway, back to the drive to Gualdo. I went with my dad on one condition: we could do something "cool" on our drive. Equipped with no guidebook or phrase book, the finding of the cool seemed a bit elusive. As we drove through the stunning beauty of the Sibillini Mountatins, our stomaches began to grumble. So, when Posta, Italy appeared, it seemed as good a place as any to stop for a meal. My dad ordered the tagliatelli with sausage. I ordered pasta with porcini mushrooms. We got an Italian beer to split.
After our first bites and satisfied murmurs, we looked up to find an Italian man, who had been enjoying a leisurely lunch with his family on the porch next to us. He placed an empty wine glass in front of my dad, filled it with a generous pour of red wine, and in his best Italian-accented english said, "This is the wine to drink with that pasta." We smiled and cheersed him and went on with our eating. Of course from that point on the meal quickly expanded from a daddy-daughter date to a full family affair. Marcello was the pharmacist from the next town over. He was showing his brother a good time (as the two bottles of wine on their table showed). His wife had better english and helped translate the more depth-ful parts of the conversation about politics and work. The conversation fizzled as Maria got pulled back into talking with her sister-in-law, and my dad and I returned to our one-on-one. However, as soon as our wine glass was empty and we had returned to sipping water, Marcello was standing over us, "I do not like water," He said.
With that, we were back in it. We learned that Marcello is a communist and his brother is a socialist. We learned that while it was 3:30 in the afternoon, and all had been having a great time, at 4:30, Marcello and his wife would go back to work til 8. Marcello was a principled man. He was the head pharmacist for all the small town pharmacies. He did not get extra pay for this responsibility, but he felt it was the right thing to do. They all originated from Puglia, in the heal of Italy, a place they raved about. It was work that brought them to the mountains. There was a 9-year-old girl, Marcello's niece, who occasionally answered questions with her school-learned english, while her parents smiled proudly. It was the kind of conversation that only happens on the porch of a small-town restaurant over a couple of glasses of shared wine. It could not be found in a guidebook.
As we wrapped up the meal and conversation, a bottle of 10-year aged grappa appeared on Marcello's table with two glasses. My dad commented to me, "Wow, he is really bringing out all the stops for his brother." Just as soon as the comment was made, one of the two glasses was placed on our table and filled with grappa. "Grappa, 10-years aged, very good." We clinked glasses and obliged. A bit worried about just how generous Marcello had been with the alcohol, I took a few extra sips to spare my dad any chance of tipsy driving. It was the least I could do.
We made it safely to Gualdo where we met up with the rest of the family for another week of fun. Too many stories to share, each worthy of their own blog post. But the lazy-womans approach will be photos with highlights from the two weeks:
Le Coste de Gradoli, a natural winery, where we walked the vineyard, and tasted many wines, even though Jean Marco was"too busy, and could only let us try one... ok, one more... ok five more." My cousin, a wine enthusiast, planned this outing for our first day in Italy, one that remained a favorite for the entire trip.
No family trip is complete without homemade, gourmet meals. This trip included wood-fired pizza, eggplant parmesan, cabbage slaws, pesto potato salad, fresh fig and pear galette, homemade gnocchi, fennel salad from the garden... We did not need to eat out every night to eat like Italians. It is in our blood.
Good friends of mine, Zach and Bill, peace corpser and fulbrighter and international affectionados, joined us from their posts in Moldova for a few days of the trip. Their energy complimented our family well especially for the celebrating of the Fourth of July, done with a full-blown first, hopefully annual, Gingold-Gerhardstein & Co. International American Olympics.
Weeks of work went into this exhibition piece. Events in the olympics included: relay race with such strokes as side stroke, elementary back stroke and doggy paddle; underwater distance launch; synchronized swimming including dolphin mimicry (pronounced Mimi-cry); underwater rock scramble; individual creative jumping; running. Winners of each event were awarded penne pasta medals. Re-runs should be playing on your local PBS station.
The most important part of the trip, and the reason we were all in Italy, was the celebration of my parents' 40th year of marriage. The town of Benano blessed them in their Catholic church (see family photo above), we heard stories of their college years and young love. We discussed family values and how to find role models to help guide your life. We chewed on all the good and bad and authentic stuff of family. Thank you mom and dad for this amazing trip and for creating such a strong and beautiful family. Here's to 40 more.
