London, Paris, Amsterdam, Milan, Mexico City, all big cities I’ve enjoyed visiting…once. Check them off the list please, and let’s move on. I’m just not a big city girl, never have been, never will be.
I used to live in a small town, then it became a big town, and now a city really, and I’m still just a small town girl. Only now, I have to leave home to be one. Now, don’t go feeling all sorry for me, hell, I just bragged about all the places I’ve visited! But, those cities don’t fill up my soul like small towns do.
In case you don’t know, the best travel experiences live outside the big cities of the world. If you want to get the essence of a culture, in its purist form, check out the small towns and villages instead. Plus, there’s less traffic, and your meals, cheaper and way better than some fancy place in the city.
Sure, you gotta get to the villages through the cities so why not enjoy both, but don’t leave the countryside off your itinerary. A country drive y’all, if you’re not doing it, do it. Now, a country drive in Italy is filled with both bliss and horror as they drive like absolute maniacs but once your Xanax kicks in, you can enjoy the ride as your hubs carts you around the countryside. Our M.O. is he drives and I hang out the window with the trusty Nikon and snap away, stopping along our route whenever we see something interesting…this is why it takes us so long to get anywhere, we avoid the freeways and interstates and opt for village hopping instead. Our destination always the same: Fiumalbo.
Fiumalbo is the cutest little village nestled into the mountains just north of Tuscany that my in-laws happen to call home. Now, you may be asking yourself how a gal from Darlington ended up with in-laws that live in a tiny, remote village in Emilia–Romagna…well, life’s full of surprises, what can I say? I met my husband in a bar like people used to do before internet dating was a thing. He’s a local boy, or so I thought at the time. He grew up in Charleston, he worked in his family’s local business and when we married, we bought a house less than a mile from his parents. Now that quarter of a mile has stretched to 4,712 miles as his parents retired to their parts which happen to be a tiny remote village just north of Tuscany in Emilia–Romagna.
Has this been an easy transition for my mammone? Not so much, but it does give us a fabulous excuse to visit Italy annually. What kind of son would he be if he didn’t visit his mother at least once a year? Not a good Italian one, that’s for sure. Now, to be clear, when I first met the hubs I had NO idea how, how do I put this delicately, dominant the Italian culture is. I grew up in a family where both sides arrived sometime before the revolutionary war. We been here a minute as they say, and I considered my culture to be not just American, but southern. After 17 years with the Italian, I would now consider my culture to be an interesting hybrid of southern American and northern Italian, thus, ciao y’all. I’ll cook you a mean cotoletta and serve it to you with a big ole glass of sweet tea.
I just love the feel of a small town, I grew up in one after all. Where I come from everyone knows everyone and people care about each other. Luckily, that feeling, that culture, that way of life, I’ve found, is universal. I get the same feeling in Fiumalbo as I do in Darlington and they couldn’t be more different.
The first time we visited Fiumalbo, Pop was walking us through “town” and we met one of his buddies who saw my camera and long story short, I ended up standing on a thousand year alter with a church official playing grab ass with me in front of my husband and FIL like it was a normal Tuesday.
As per usual, the hubs was there to capture the exact moment I punched my ticket to hell..now, I wasn’t raised Catholic but I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to get your hiking shoes where the blood of Christ is kept.
The prayer cards needed a new pic, what are you going to do?
I once helped a young lady in the village who fainted. JJ’s grandmother witnessed this interaction and by the time we got back to Pop and Daria’s word had already spread that I saved a life! I literally got her some Italian Gatorade and put her feet in the air (if the face is pale, raise the tail-nursing 101); but sure, I saved her life…same same. Next day, Daria and I are in the market and a guy comes up to us, starts talking to Daria, and next thing you know I’m looking at his fluid filled knee by the cash register…but that is just small town living, and I love every minute of it.
JJ and his grandmother
To see Pop and Daria back home is a wonderful thing. Retiring and moving back to Italy is their own version of the movie, Cacoon, as they have somehow managed to get younger since they’ve moved. Pop, who in 10 years had said 7 words to me and those were about work, has suddenly become chatty Kathy who could care less about the company he sold that his son still works for. He is mos def living his best life!
Pop is definitely in his element now. And Daria too but she misses Dillard’s or The Dillard’s as she would say, way more than Pop. Pop shed his American sensibilities the moment he stepped foot back in the old country, and hasn’t looked back. Daria still needs to be able to get a box of Bisquick every now and again.
I have loved all of Pop’s stories and exploring the villages surrounding Fiumalbo. This visit, we went back to Roccapelago to see the mummies. Now, Roccapelago has a population of 36. So when I say this is a small town, it’s a small town. It’s also an ancient one with an awesome view, amazing church and crypt that you can tour.
We took Pop this year because we enjoyed it so much last year and the only other people on the tour with us was a couple from the neighboring village, Abetone. The man turns to Pop and says, “oh I’ve heard about you, you’re the American that had a trouble getting your driver’s license”. Pop’s like, “oh yeah, that’s me”…small town living, it’s the same no matter what part of the world.
Near Roccapelago is Sestola which has a castle you can hike to if you’re a glutton for punishment and enjoy walking up a 50% grade in really thin air. I, apparently, am, so up we went. That view tho…
Nestled into the hillside on the other side of Fiumalbo just inside the Tuscan border is Cutigliano where Pop was born. We went there for lunch one day and as I was driving us all there, we passed by a power station. Pop says casually, “this is where my father worked and when the Nazis came, they shut down the turbines, jumped in and swam through them up the river to escape capture”. Mouth agape, I’m like, “that’s crazy!!” and he’s all nonchalant, “yeah and then we hid in caves and made our way to Fiumalbo and the kids couldn’t sleep because the rats would crawl on us and my mother soaked bread in the river for me to eat because I was a baby and we didn’t really have any food”. Quite a different experience from my childhood! Cutigliano is lovely, though the parking is a sitch and we had an excellent meal there too. Seeing the history and hearing Pop’s stories is a needed reminder that we should all quit our bitching. Pop never wastes food because Pop remembers what it is like to be hungry, something I’m lucky enough to have never experienced, and thankfully he’ll never have to experience again. Eating a a Michelin rated restaurant is a far cry from being so in awe of a Hershey bar that an American solider gave you so you lick it daily and wrap it back up to savor it a little each day…but that’s just Pop’s life, fascinating and complex.
Having Pop around is like having a living history book. He knows all the history. All of it. Exploring the little villages with Pop narrating is a true treat. I could listen to him all day. But, Pop is a busy man-there’s flowers to be tended to-and no visit from his son and DIL is keeping him from his routine. So we explore on our own too, hitting up Bagni di Lucca to see one of the oldest suspension bridges in Italy. Built in 1840, it replaced a stone bridge built in 1317 was destroyed in a flood. 1317 y’all…and we think Charleston is old!
Back in Fiumalbo Pop tends to his flowers and Daria makes sure JJ leaves having had all his favs and we leave Italy with both our bellies and our souls full…but that’s just small town living for ya. La Dolce Vita for sure.
Soon we will leave this magically little village and head back to Switzerland where we bypass Como and instead opt of Brissago on this Swiss side. George and Amal can keep Como, I’ll take smaller Brissago any day… but I’m just a small town girl that way. Ciao y’all.
Ciao Y’all 