To celebrate my grandparent's 45th anniversary, my family traveled to Italy. My grandparents wanted to return to their homeland to visit relatives. My mom’s father, “Nonno,” is from a small city in Calabria called Crotone. Although we visited the more modern, thriving cities, like Rome, I was enthralled by the traditions and roots of this struggling city.
To get to Crotone from Rome, you can take a 7-hour train ride or fly from Leonardo Da Vinci International airport to LaMezia Terme International airport and drive about two hours along the windy, rural roads to Crotone. Crotone is a port city located in southern Calabria that borders the Ionian Sea. As my grandparents say, Crotone is the “sole of the boot.” This city, home to one of the most popular beach attractions, Le Castella, has struggled to return from its once lavish beginnings and continues to experience economic hardships. Immediately getting out of the car after the long journey from the airport, I was greeted by women all dressed in black from head to toe who immediately swept me into the house to eat. I was met with kisses and hugs from total strangers who unconditionally loved me without ever having met them before. The “primo” or first course, started with a very traditional course called pasta e patate. As I took bite after bite, I couldn't help thinking that this food was better than any I had ever tasted. This food was cooked with love, and these women invoke true generosity when they invite you into their home. For the next four hours, I watched the women serve us course after course, with such abundant pride, while the wine was pouring, and the men just engaged in conversation, catching up with Nonno.
After dinner, the main activity is called “passeggiata,” a stroll through the streets to catch up with friends and other relatives, and of course, stop at the gelateria. I watched people lock arms and stop to say hello, and although I couldn’t understand what anyone was saying, I felt the energy and excitement as they caught up on their daily activities. During my stroll through the city, I noticed elderly ladies all sitting in a row of straw and wooden chairs. Nonno informed me that these women were the “eyes and ears” of the town. They were the ones people went to for advice and, oftentimes, for medical care. Crotone remains one of the poorest regions in Southern Italy and falls short of providing some of the most basic essential needs to its citizens. Government corruption, lack of doctors, and infrastructure make it impossible to reinvigorate this region’s health inequities. These old cities in Calabria still rely on the traditional remedies that are given by these women when people are sick.
Later that night, when I returned home from our stroll, I realized there was no running water. During the summer months, the government restricts access to water to help with conservation. Although Crotone lacks modern amenities, it is still a popular beach town for tourists, and the lack of infrastructure makes it impossible to support the influx of visitors. Before I could ask for help, I realized there was already water in the bathtub to help me wash up for the night. In addition, the next day, my mom informed me that the washing machine was off-limits, and they would take our clothes and wash them by hand. This city is a city of resiliency. They have learned how to do more with less; even in these times, I could never see the despair in their eyes. All I could think about was the small things I took for granted, like clean running water and a working front-load washer, and what I could learn from my relatives in this small city.
While I was in Crotone with my family, we celebrated Ferragosto, the Assumption of Mary. Although it may mark summer vacation for some Italians, for the devout Calabrians, it is a day of tremendous religious significance. I watched hundreds of people gather in the streets throwing flowers and candy, singing, and commemorating their faith. There were processions holding the Virgin Mary down the streets with fireworks and displays. It was a spectacular visual to watch, as we usually don’t witness those types of religious celebrations in the United States. I could only compare it to when a team wins the Superbowl or when we celebrate New Year's Eve in Times Square.
Spending time in Crotone, I witnessed the economic and political damage it has endured. However, the strong bonds of family, connections to friends, and roots in religion keep it, and its citizens thriving and have given me a sense of pride and love for the city for a long time to come.
Picture of Crotone (credit: Italy Magazine)
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