Since Sofia had gone to bed quite early the previous night, she was up bright and early the next morning, too. The day, however, was not yet bright; gray-blue light bounced over the waves of the Adriatic Sea as she peered out her bedroom window.
She was first to get out of bed, too. She waited on the couch for someone to waken. When they did not, she scribbled a note and left it on the dining room table.
5 A.M.
Nobody’s awake. Went for a short walk. Be back soon.
- Sofie
First thing, she slipped into comfortable clothes and slipped out the front door. The screen door banged gently as she stepped outside.
It was quiet except the sound of chirping birds and waves crashing on the shore. Sofia walked through the city for a short bit, then took the small dirt path around the house. The rocky cliffs leading down toward the beach were covered with thistles and weeds. Sofia quickly and carefully navigated over the rocks to the edge of the sand. She found a flat black rock and wiped it clean with her hand. Then, she sat down, brining her knees to her chest.
This was different than Rome, too. It was much more serene. The rocky cliff where Uncle Paolo’s house sat seemed to be free of all the noises and commotion of Rome. Seagulls running along the shoreline were the only things obstructing the tiny piece of quiet shoreline.
Soft orchestral notes cascaded down the cliff wall.
“Uncle Paolo must be awake,” thought Sofia.
She turned about and climbed the rocky ledge. Sure enough, Uncle Paolo was sitting in his chair on the back patio.
“Buongiorno, mio caro!”
“Buongiorno, Zio Paolo.”
She sat in the chair next to him and enjoyed the sounds of man and nature colliding comfortably in her ear.
Soon, the morning was filled with other noises, too, like cars and motorcycles and boats along the shore. There were also inside noises. Aunt Lisabetta rose from bed to make breakfast while Signora Angelino was first to take her morning shower.
The smell of breakfast quickly overtook the smell of fresh flower blooms. Aunt Lisabetta was preparing an old Italian favorite: frittatas.
She fried red peppers, potatoes, and bacon together in a skillet. Then, she chopped them finely. She then commenced with making her frittatas, frying eggs and mixing in the chopped, fried vegetables.
Soon, the sound of the cappuccino machine replaced the sound of Aunt Lisabetta’s cooking.
“Mother must be up!”
Sure enough, Sofia’s mother was standing next to Aunt Lisabetta brewing shots of espresso. She poured each serving into a tiny espresso cup called a demitasse.
“Would you like a cup of hot milk?”
“Only if it’s chocolate milk.”
“Coming right up!” said her mother.
When Aunt Lisabetta finished, they gathered on the patio deck for breakfast.
“Are you ready for your trip to Venice?” asked Aunt Lisabetta.
Sofia nodded.
“Have you been there?”
Sofia shook her head.
“It’s the city of canals, you know.”
Sofia nodded.
“Mio caro,” scolded Signora Angelino, “take the time to talk with your Zia.”
“I was just thinking,” said Sofia.
“About?”
“This fritatta is the best I’ve ever had.”
“Yes, but meal time is also chat time.”
Sofia nodded.
“Va bene, mio caro.”
It was okay with Aunt Lisabetta and Sofia knew that. Her Auntie loved to cook. Sofia loved to eat. Sofia didn’t know which one of her relatives cooking she liked better – Aunt Lisabetta in Ravenna or Uncle Gio in Venice. Luckily, she would get to eat the cooking of both in a very short period of time.
“Tell your Uncle Gio this is the best frittata ever and I’m sure he’ll be cooking them morning, noon, and night trying to make something better.
“I hope so,” said Sofia with a great big smile.
Signora Angelino sighed as she looked at her watch.
“It’s already time to go,” she said.
“Maybe you can come back some other time,” said Uncle Paolo.
“Maybe,” replied Sofia.
Uncle Paolo returned his sister and niece to the train ternminal where he picked them up less than a day earlier. Everyone kissed everyone’s cheeks and said “Ciao, mio caro” and “fino alla prossima tempo”.
“Goodbye, my dear,” said Uncle Paolo, “Until next time.”
“Soon, I hope!”
Sofia kissed her uncle on the cheek one last time. Then, they were on their way.
Venizia – also known as Venice – included a group of over one-hundred islands sitting just off the shore of Italy’s northeast coast. It would be a short trip from one terminal to the other. Still, it was a far cry between these two points, as Sofia would soon find out.
The train barely got up to speed before it slowed again. It approached a bridge leading across a small lagoon. Buildings gathered along the coast, staring towards the train. They also passed a row of posts, sets of old tree trunks tied together and sunk into the marsh.
“What are those posts?” asked Sofia.
“Those posts are called pilings. They were originally placed there to build the island. They were driven deep into the ground and marble was laid on top of them. Then, the founders of Venice constructed their buildings on top of the marble foundations.”
As the train headed into the terminal, it passed next to canals leading into the heart of the city.
As they disembarked, a row of waterbusses, known as Vaporetti, waited at the other side.
“Buongiorno, Signora e Signorina” said the boat’s captain.
“Buongiorno,” replied Sofia.
Before she could say another word, the porter grabbed her bags and stowed them away. Sofia’s mother handed the porter two tickets and hopped aboard.
The boat rumbled to life as soon as it filled with passengers. The Vaporetto passed schooners, sailboats, and small motorboats as it skipped across the choppy waves. As it crossed the inlet, traffic grew thicker.
“Everybody is driving boats,” said Sofia.
“Of course,” said her mother, “this is the city of canals.”
“What?” asked Sofia.
“I said, it’s the city of canals!”
The wind whipped through the Vaporetto’s cabin, making it hard to hear, so Sofia simply waited until they arrived safely at the other side of the canal. Along the way, they passed the bell tower at St. Marks and the San Marco Basilica that it stood beside. As they entered the Grand Canal, the boat slowed considerably.
“What did you say?” she asked her mother.
“It’s the city of canals.”
“Yes, I see.”
In the Grand Canal, the traffic was much heavier and included Gondolas, the famous Italian canal-canoes piloted by single rowers clad in black-and-white striped shirts, red scarves, and brimmed straw hats.
“Can we ride a gondola?”
“We’ll see,” said mother.
As they passed under a bridge, a voice called out from a canal-side café. It was Uncle Giuseppe – Joseph. Aunt Frannie and her brothers simply called him Gio.
“Mio caro Francesca!”
“Gio!”
The Vaporetto idled up to the dock beside the Rialto, Venizia’s most famous bridge. Uncle Gio rushed out to greet them and helped the porter unload their luggage. Then, he led them down a back alley.
“You hungry?” he asked.
“I’m famished,” said Sofia.
“Me too,” added her mother.
“Then I will get something from the Fish Market.”
The Rialto Fish Market sat behind the buildings facing the Grand Canal. Uncle Gio picked out a couple of brown crabs and paid the cashier a few Euros. The cashier wrapped the crabs in a plastic bag and gave Uncle Gio his change.
They walked through the back alleys, until they emerged on the other side of the islet.
“Here we are.”
Sofia parked her luggage inside the front door and turned about to face the Adriatic Sea. Waves lapped along the retaining wall below the sidewalk. Seagulls floated overhead as they rode wind currents.
“Come inside,” said her mother, “They won’t leave if they think you’re going to feed them.”
Sofia’s cousin Valentina greeted them at the door.
“Sofie! Venga! Entrare, per favore!”
While Uncle Gio, a famous Venetian chef, prepared the crabs for dinner, Sofia took her things to cousin Val’s room. Afterwards, the girls joined Aunt Christa and Aunt Frannie in the living room.
“I’d love it if my husband cooked,” said Signora Angelino.
“I’d love it if my husband let me cook. He never stops being a chef.”
“What is your work?” asked Sofia.
“Normally, I manage the Fish Market. I decide what our buyers want and place orders with the fishermen.”
“Is everything in Venice about fish?” asked Sofia.
“Not everything, but you have to remember we’re on an island. We still have small gardens and fruit trees. There are also farmer’s markets near the town square.”
“That must be hard.”
“The people of Venice have been doing it that way for 1500 years. Most Venetians came from cities like Ravenna or Verona when Attila the Hun attacked Northern Italy.”
“The Huns came to Venice?”
Signora Angelino shook her head.
“Imagine Venice 1500 years ago: a marshy swamp crawled with the most evil beasts. The people of Ravenna and Verona were farmers who had no use for the land before the Huns. When the Huns invaded, they had no choice but to flee for the safety of the lagoon.
They knew the Huns always fought on horseback. If the Huns attacked Venice, they’d have to leave their horses on dry land.”
Just then, Uncle Gio poked his head through the kitchen door.
“Who’s ready to eat?”
Everyone enthusiastically raised their hands.
“Then let’s eat..”
“Uncle Gio, are we eating fritatta for lunch?”
“No, we’re having Linguine alla Pesce.”
“That’s good. We had fritatta for breakfast at Aunt Lisabetta’s house.
“Ah,” said Uncle Gio, “I bet she told you she makes the best fritatta., right?”
Sofia nodded.
“Well, she can make scrambled eggs, but she can’t make a pasta dish like my Linguine.”
Signora Angelino heaved a sigh.
“I am the only classically trained chef in this family. In fact, she’s not even a true Lombardo. She married into this family.”
“See what you’ve done, Sofia? You’ve got your Uncle started.”
“It is not a big deal,” said Uncle Gio, “come, come. Let’s eat a classic Italian meal.”
They joined hands at the dining room table without further discussion as Uncle Gio cleared his throat and led everyone in the Lord’s Prayer.
Then, he piled large portions onto everyone’s plate, whether they wanted it or not. For Sofia, it didn’t matter, because family was gathered at the dinner table and that was good enough for her.
.
No comments:
Post a Comment