Frankly Italy

I am going to start this blog by introducing myself and my connection to Italy, by starting with my close association to Pisticci, Matera, and Basilicata. I have travelled Basilicata, the insole of the “boot”, as a tourist for a good part of my life. I was born in Canada, shortly after the arrival of my parents from Italy, and their marriage in Toronto, so you’ll pick up on some of my affection for Italy, as the son of emigrants. The intention of this blog is to pass on my experiences of travelling Italy, so that my readers can be better prepared on what to see, what to do, how to do it, and when to do it.

My first visit to my parent’s hometown Pisticci was when I was 7 years old, and it was just my father and I, leaving behind my mother, my twin sisters, and my brother. Though he would say he only contemplated moving back to Italy, what I heard was that he was ready to do it. I am pretty sure that seeing how I fit in with my cousins was a positive sign as my first language was the Pisticcese dialect in which I am fairly proficient. What I remember was San Basilio beach in the morning, lunch back in Pisticci, a couple of hours of rest reading my Topolino (Mickey Mouse) comics to learn some real Italian, out to play, back for dinner, then up to Corso Margherita to play in Piazza Umberto 1; that was my every every day. 

Anyways my father didn’t make the jump back home; instead, we became regular visitors every second summer, to Pisticci. As a full family, our routine continued to be beach, eat, rest, play, eat and hang out in the Piazza. 

As I got older, the social interaction of the “passeggiata” (the stroll) become more important. Up and down the corso we would go, meeting family and friends, sharing our dos of the day, and making plans for the next day. As we got older, eventually we started to recognize the other sex, and the passegiata continued in the same way, but we now recognized the young ladies with a look, and had the odd brief conversation; back then, that’s all it could be without practically being engaged in the eyes of the town.

As I got older, I also started to appreciate some of the deep history that surrounded us. I clearly remember my visit to Terravecchia (the old walled town of Pisticci). I remember my father explaining the Dirupo district, and the cataclysmic landslide that created the level of that area now. I remember the solemness, yet also a pride in my mother taking me through the cemetery and visiting the family mausoleums; hearing who was who’s father, mother, etc; like I still hear it today; “si tu ou fidje de Giuwanne Giannon” (are you the son of Giovanni Giannone). I remember the furnaces where the clay materials used in the family construction business, were bought, my uncle’s builder supply store. I remember the visit to le Tavole Palatine in Metaponto (the remains of a Greek temple). I remember clearly my visits to Matera, and the ruin of the Sassi; at that time, it clearly was not the “in” place it is today. Back then, the industrial city of Taranto was more appealing once you got into its centre. I remember one day trip that took us to Alberobello, the safari at Fasano, and the Grotte di Castellana (I still am haunted by the deserved talking to I got for breaking a small piece of centuries-old stalagmite). I remember my visit to Castel San Basilio, and the place being in such great shape that people still lived there. I remember accompanying my cousin Rocco around as he barnstormed the area with his rock band, and playing volleyball for the town team; we played outside in piazzas; both were a great way to experience nearby towns.

It was over these 5 trips back during my youth, that I developed a love for the place and a connection that I would never lose. Once I hit 15, that was my last trip for a while; between competitive soccer, summer work experience, and eventually a relationship, my next visit wasn’t until my honeymoon 8 years later. That was followed by a 16 year hiatus when our four children were old enough to appreciate a three week trip to Italy (our youngest was 7 years old). Now it was my turn to pass on what I appreciated so much about my parents’ community, and it was my turn to start bringing my family back regularly. My love for Pisticci continued to be strong, and I was hoping to pass that on. Initially the routine was the same beach, eat, rest…., but eventually we started adding in a little more exploration of the area, and some visits to the main Italian cities that the kids could/would remember. However, though as a youth our family tolerated living apart because the “Casedde” (homes), were so small and ancient in their finishes, I had to find an alternative for my family of six. We started by hi-jacking my uncle’s country house when we visited; still pretty spartan. We eventually made a decision with my father and my siblings to find something more substantial to either build or renovate, and that is how we ended up being the owners of what is now Hotel Torre Fiore.

Early on we made a decision to create it as a hotel. My brother and my sister handled design, my father handled the renovation, and my role in this new family enterprise was to figure out what more there was to do other than beach…eat….passeggiata, that would interest potential visitors to our hotel. So I started exploring the area within a one hour day-trip. I found quite a bit, I even found places that were new or blasé to my Italian family and friends, but were eye-openers for outsiders like me.

Since our 2010 opening, many have come to our hotel to enjoy the wonderful slow-pace that you can enjoy within Torre Fiore’s walls, or at the beach…., the food…., the passeggiata. But if you are an explorer or a history buff like me, I can tell you about Pisticci and its environs. 

And that is what my first postings will be about!!