Salerno
24 Nov
What a gorgeous morning! I found the most beautiful sea-front town with the sun shining and the weather about 85 degrees. I found a rock jetty where the Italian fishermen were fishing and chatting. I sat down and I must have seemed quite the spectacle… shades on, pant legs rolled up, toting a hefty pack and painting watercolors amongst the rocks and dudes. The guy in front of me called “ciao!” and asked me in italian “pesce?”
He gave me his pole and I fished for awhile. He and his friend were really nice and chatted with me in their limited English. We covered all the typical topics such as where I am going, where I have been, am I married (YES) and what do I think of good old George W. I used my amazing skills to score a really sweet fish.. my new italian friends were totally impressed when I dehooked it myself. Calls of congratulations were heard throughout the jetty and I proundly displayed my catch. it was the biggest pesce they had caught all day!
The rest of the day was spent hanging in Salerno, checking out the local bookshops, and figuring what trains I need to get to my farm. I didnt get into Lamezia until 5pm and it was getting dark out. The train was empty and scary. When I looked out the window all I could see was boarded up graffittied skeletons of buildings through the dark night. Most places didnt have street lights and there was NOBODY on the road. I finally reached my destination, and its a good thing I did. The creepy thin balding guy who was singing and laughing to himself was getting a bit over the top with his falsetto.
I exit the train and theres only one woman there… and NO signs for anything. I try to communicate with her to see if she can point me in ANY direction. She brings me to her car and drives me to the local bar. The girl behind the counter spoke a little English but she was busy serving drinks. I show her my scribbled down directions to the farm. She calls the number of the family who supposedly knows the people I am to stay with… they say they dont know anything about this. GREAT. Now the old counter man speaks some English too. He takes over the situation and tries to decipher my directions with a group of young boys in an arguing sort of way. They were really loud and throwing their hands up at every possibility. One guy, Julio, seemed to speak perfect English. He had shoulder length light brown wavy hair, a soul patch, and regular clothes (jeans + hoodie compared to black leather and slick stuff). I seemed to not exist for 15 minutes as everyone else figured out my direction problem. The guys loved doing it and didnt want my input at all! Julio, obviously the alpha male of the group (loud and obvious, flashy and impolite) said he would drive me to the place.
We get into his two person convertible sports car and he pops the clutch by rolling backwards down a really steep street. WHAT?! He puts on some really bad club music and starts BARRELING down these dirt curvy roads. I grip up the door handle and laugh. We arrive at the “wooden gate” that was spoken of in my directions. This “wooden gate” is actually two wood palates fastened together by a bamboo stick shoved between them. Julio, who obviously knows EVERYBODY in this town, says he remembers these people. They come to town with a donkey and have no electricity. Their kids were supposedly taken from the state because they were deemed unfit. AHHH!
MRumianowski
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