We didn’t see why everyone made such a fuss, but Uncle Bruno and I thought the 70-degree weather was perfect for a dip in the sea. In Sant’andrea, going into the water in November is pure lunacy.
Nino, who took us to the marina after a 3-hour excursion in hunt for the cheese, called us “sick.” Or at least that’s what I think that’s what he said.
I’ve been called worse.
With Sant’Andrea sitting way up on a hill (many of the small towns along the Ionian Sea were built far from the shore as a defense mechanism), it’s quite a ride to get to and from the rest of the world. Nanny and Poppy say there are 60 curves from top to bottom. I didn’t count, but they should know, having walked this path countless times as children.
There’s a more direct path to the Marina by foot through a thin dirt lane, but it has its challenges, too. With only a few stone steps here and there, it has many steep drops. Yet it didn’t seem to borrow the 125-year-old guy we saw foraging for fruit.
We’re in a hotel about 2 blocks away from Rome — we got in at around 11 last night after about 10 hours on the road [again]. Sant’Andrea was simply amazing. I put virtually all of the pictures from the town on the lap top I borrowed from Jackie, so here are a few I took yesterday.
MIA CUGINA: Daniela, Zia Nuzza and Zio Al were phemonenally gracious hosts for 5 days in Sant’Andrea. Daniela essentially runs the town using her quick wit and infectious sense of humor.
PECORINO DEGLI PECORARI: This guy, it turns out, was the most important person we met in Calabria. He’s Mimo Pirritano, the goat herder, whose family has been making cheese for more than 200 years. Everything we did this week revolved around when we could get the cheese for my grandfather. MUCH more on this later.
Nino Lijoi, a cousin of my grandfather, took us on a couple of, um, interesting adventures. He took us just about everywhere in the Sant’Andrea area, whether we wanted him to or not.
Nino, who built a huge house in Isca, a neighboring town, all by himself, has a thick Andreolesi accent. Thank God Uncle Bruno knew what he was saying. All I understood was “Frine, veini qua!” That’s when he called for his dog.
FUNNY TO MEET YOU HERE: Uncle Bruno with cousin Bruno Frustaci and his wife. We met them at the Soverato market, where we got the Godsent cheese.
Uncle Bruno and I spent about 10 hours on the road, much of it overlooking the Amalfi Coast. Videos to come.
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