Salerno

Martina likes Salerno, mainly because it’s not Naples. It’s ok. Naples is not for everyone. And if she only liked one, I’m glad it’s this one because this is where my grandmother’s family (Rossi) comes from. From the terrace of our apartment, I can see the Cilento Mountains where Monteforte is located. That town was our connection to Italy, and I’ve been lucky enough to have visited a few times. Salerno is also a Rossi city. The cousins in Monteforte had jobs here and one owned a store. I could hear the dialect spoken in the streets and cafes that sounded just like my family when they spoke Napulitano. Aspetta! But sounding more like “ajshbett” or “mannaggia!” pronounced “mnajj.” We ate in a place where the menu was basically nonexistent. The woman in charge (Rossi women are always in charge) told us what we would have, and she saw my face light up when she said eggplant parmigiana. She brought us an antipasto that would have made my nana proud. Buffalo mozzarella, prosciutto, provolone, bruschetta, etc. — and everything was perfect. Sophia Loren photos were proudly in place around the restaurant and the owner told us how she adored Sophia. “She’s the face of Napoli,” she explained, and that brought back memories of the one time I remember my grandparents going out to the movies — to see Sophia — I think it was “Lady Liberty” with the mortadella in the US customs office. When dinner was done, they brought us two shots of limoncello and were so happy we enjoyed everything. What I didn’t know about Salerno is that it’s the site of the relics of Saint Matthew. We visited the Basilica and were blown away by the crypt. It’s a beautiful church dating back to the 11th century. The medieval city center came to life at about 8 pm and it felt more like a small town than a big city. We found a little pub where the bartender had his nephew (maybe 10) helping out behind the bar. He was serving up the soft drinks by the draft. Martina said, “This is a problem.” But again it reminded me of Stirling (the American hometown of the Rossi Clan) when my uncles used to run the bar at family parties in the firehouse. I can remember playing back behind the bar and just wanting to help out. The boy’s mother came out from the kitchen and said one word “Esci!” (get out) and he made a quick exit while the men at the bar laughed, including his uncle. Neapolitan women are always in charge. We came back to sit on the terrace and watch the stars over the Gulf of Salerno. Today was a day when I felt a real connection to my mother’s family. Down the road there are well-preserved temples to the Greek gods, as the entire region of Salerno was originally a Greek settlement. Today I felt the pantheon of the Rossi gods giving their approval.Leia mais