Marcellinara 2: The Eclectic… you get the picture
Mom, Dad and I took a drive back up to Marcellinara in the morning while the rest of the folks got L to the airport for her trip home to Schmetterlinglund.
We started off at the town cemetery, which was cool and old(ish) and made up almost entirely of vaults. There didn’t seem to be anyone there born prior to the 1890s, though. And we couldn’t tell if that was because they moved them to other vaults somewhere, or if there’s an older cemetery we just haven’t found yet.
Grandma’s maiden name is the third most common in the city, so there were lots of people who are likely related to us in one way or another buried there, but no sign of the uncle we were hoping had returned to Marcellinara after he vanished from the Census household list in NYC.
We made our way up to town hall, and spoke with a woman who checked birth records for us, and couldn’t find record of the other uncle who we believed was actually born there. After thinking about it some, though, we wonder if he was listed under great-grandmother’s last name, and not her husband’s… may need to investigate that avenue.
Quick walk through of the remnants of the Monday market, and a quick soda, the we headed back towards the homestead with a quick stop at… THE MALL!!
There is a giant shopping complex anchored by an even gianter grocery store just down the mountain from Marcellinara, so we decided to do a walkthrough to grab some supplies from the grocery store. We got there just before not-siesta started, so we had just enough time to get what we needed, but not quite enough to get back to the Bialetti store so I could grab the cool little espresso pot that caught my eye. But that’s okay. We can go back.
Thelma and Louise: Italian Edition
Sitting quietly at the table on the back patio, chatting with P, when I get a message from E and M on my phone:
Thanks to google, and my bad driving, we got caught in ditch. Calling for a tow truck.
Of course Fight or Flight immediately kicked in and went to battle with Don’t Cause A Panic. My simple reply was:
Let me know if you need additional rescue.
Of course, I had to ask P how to spell Parkour, which he then asked “Why?”
We spent the next hour or so guiltily laughing while in communication with the ladies, following their adventures in trying to get ahold of the rental company, and the neighbors helping them out. Helpful Italians eventually got them unstuck, so the tow truck was canceled. Helpful Italians also mentioned that it would be nice if they got a little cash for their efforts, so E threw them all she had — €20. As they prepared to drive away, one of the other gentlemen came over and explained that he had “hurt” his finger. M pulled another €20 out of HER wallet and gave it to him, to which he replied in Italian “You could have gotten away with less than that.”
And so once they were on their way home, I made them a present.
Because if you can’t laugh, what can you really do?
Bonus Story: The Neverending Risotto (la la la la la la la la la)
So we had a phenomenal risotto for dinner. It was, however, a disaster saved only by P’s patience. between the three of us NOT P, we mis-measured the rice, and ended up with like twice what we needed, which took three times as long to cook. Thank goodness for P.
“You are all dead to me…”
More risotto than you can shake a horse at…