5 Things I Love About Small Calabrian Towns

While we live in the "big city" of Soverato (that would be 9,000 people, thankyouverymuch), Fra and I spend a lot of time in his hometown of Davoli Superiore, 15 minutes away in the mountains.

It's taken me some time to adapt to life in small Calabrian towns, but there are a few things I've come to love.

1. Beauty House Calls

When I asked Fra's mom how much she paid for esthetic services like waxing, she told me...and then she told me that her esthetician makes house calls!

Whaaaa?

First of all, I was paying €12 for waxing in Soverato, but in Davoli AT THE HOUSE I now pay €4. Four euros, ladies!! Except his mamma doesn't ever let me pay.

We also get our hair cut by the stylist at the house. I think the cost is €15. I paid €30 in Soverato AND had to wait 45 minutes!!

So yeah. House calls. I'm all in.

2. Everybody Knows Your Name

   
   

   

   
   

Yes, it's like Cheers. Only in Italian.

The vibe I was aiming for when I lived in the neighborhood of Kensington in San Diego was just that: a small, close-knit community where I knew pretty much everyone.

In Davoli, at first everyone kinda looked at me side-eyed because they didn't know me. AND I was foreign. Now they're used to me and my strange name (Su means "up!").

When I'm in town without Fra (to get my nails did. She doesn't make house calls), the old men at the bar greet me and offer me a beer or coffee, depending on the time of day (ok, to be honest, they're always offering beer, even if it's 10 in the morning!). They ask where Fra is and we shoot the shit (however you do that in Italian). Antonella, who owns one of the two bars, always teases me, asking how I put up with Fra. And I always stop to chat with Pietro, the man with the handlebar mustache who's always reading a giant tome of philosophy in the piazza.

It feels comforting to know people and be known.

3. The Festivals are a Social Highlight

In the summer, there are four festivals in Davoli. Last year, before I'd met Fra's family and the entire town, I went with friends, stayed a few hours, then went home.

Now each one is the social event of the season. Fra works two of the events, so now I go with family. We stop to chat with people (many of whom I have met but can't remember because I've met so. many. damn. people.). We watch the musicians perform. Drink beer. Kiss more people. Then head home. It's exhausting but fun.

4. The Food is Localissimo

I've written about the newfound joy of eating with the seasons. There's also joy in eating food that has been touched by few hands. Every week when we visit his family, Mamma loads me up with the tomatoes, mandarins, potatoes, onions, melons, and more that friends and neighbors have given them. And they have chickens, so there are always eggs.

And the meat we eat was raised and processed by the family butcher.

It's funny, when I read American magazine articles about how to live and eat better, I realize I'm doing exactly what they suggest: eat local. Eat with the seasons. Eat fresh. It's just easier to do here in Calabria!

5. Time Together is Precious

   
   

   

   
   

Fra's family has become my own. I can hold my own joking with his silly father. I've taught the dog "sit" in English. His uncle and I have our own rapport. Each time we arrive, I ask:

"Zio! Come stai?" ("Uncle, how are you?)

His response is always: "Male! Tu?" ("Bad. You?")

In the summer, we sit under the shady oak tree and watch the dogs play. In the winter, we gather around the wood-burning stove and chat. Nobody's glued to their phone (well, not too much). Being together is all that we need.

I spent 20 years living in big cities in the U.S. For a long time, I found that life fulfilling. I loved having access to things to do. Interesting food. Friends. Events.

Now I'm in a slowing-down phase of my life. Without so many distractions, so many options, I find myself focusing more on what matters. A happy, healthy life with people I care about.