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My Paesani
Part 1 of 3: Donatella & Sandrina
My Abruzzo
by Teresa Mastrobuono
One more full day here in Castiglione Messer Raimondo before returning stateside and nine months of longing to be here. When asked what is the best part of this town, most guests say "the people". Indeed, they are rare and golden. They are what I will miss the most. Here is a sampling of some of them.
Donatella
Each morning I hear her voice through the kitchen window. Her "ortofrutta" is directly below it. It is resonant enough to rise above the thunks and thuds as she and her husband open the truck doors to unload the produce they have driven from their farm only 2 km away. There's a scrunching sound of metal on metal as she pulls up the folding door of her shop. And the ubiquitous, comforting "buon giornos" that tumble one after another as each person passes the shop on his or her way to begin the day.
The barber steers his bicycle up the road, getting off to walk it the final few meters up the hill. At lunch time, I will see him circle around and around the bellevedere, killing time or exercising, I can't tell which.
Sandrina
On the way to meet the fish guy, who pulls up across from the bellevedere every Tuesday and Thursday, I encounter the woman who lives across the largo from my house. Right next to the house of the two other American men from my very own Lancaster county who have bought a house here. But that's another story! We are both seeking the fish guy, who seems to be late in arriving. So we wait and chat together. After all this time I finally find out that her name is Sandrina. But only her friends call her that. I am allowed. The more formal name is Sandra, short for her full name, Alessandra.We buy our respective sea creatures, and then walk back to our "neighborhood" together. We arrive at her door first. Of course, there is the usual offer to come in for coffee. I have time today, and so, I can happily accept. As I sip the amazingly strong but delicious elixer, she asks if I'd like some tomatoes. Would I? Of course! She ducks into a tiny pantry room off the kitchen and brings out a single tomato. I know this is not the end of the story. "Aspetta" she says, and disappears towards the rear of the house. About 15 minutes later, she returns with at least 5 pounds of freshly picked, ripe, plump pomodori, all of which I am obliged to take. No argument from me. Fried calamari with fresh tomato sauce tonight!
Part 2: The Woman on the Piazza >
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