The Cast and Characters of a Calabrian Village

I've been writing about my adopted home, Davoli, for several years, but now I'd like to set the scene so you feel like you know the cast of characters in this mountain village.

The Family

You already know my husband, Francesco. He's the goofy, happy-go-lucky guy I was fortunate enough to marry. After work, he usually heads to the bar. One of my American girlfriends was alarmed at the idea.

"Oh, does he drink a lot?" I could hear the worry in Sandra's voice.

I had to explain that going to the bar didn't indicate that my husband was an alcoholic. He goes there to hang out with friends. Occasionally, he drinks a beer!

Often, my brother-in-law, Nicola, is at the bar. That is, when he's not driving the Federico bus locally or to points up north. He's the manager of the bus line, just like his father was until he retired. Nicola is quiet, at least compared to Fra. But he's always there when we need him (like when he rescued us from our recent train mishap!).

Then there's Papà. He's what Fra will be like in a few decades. The man is constantly singing (in his own version of English) and making jokes. As lighthearted as he can be, he is fiercely supportive of his family and always ready to lend a hand to a friend.

And now we come to Mamma. She's the center of the hub of this family. She holds it together, quietly. She's not one to display emotions often. In fact, before I knew her well, I was shocked at her lack of reaction to great news like us getting married. She'd just make a noise ("Huh."). No fanfare. No tears. But now that I know her better, I understand that she shows her love through actions. And food. She's always nudging us to take another serving at dinner.

The Friends

My friend group sure has changed since my days of girlie happy hours in San Diego. Now, at least once a week, our cousin Giacinto comes over for a beer or an amaro after dinner. Occasionally, we head to his catoijo to enjoy his delicious homemade wine.

Inevitably, our conversations get deeper. Aliens. Love. Trying food outside of Calabria's specialties.

When we go to the bar or to a festa, there's also Gambero (It means Shrimp. It's his nickname!) and Screach (yes, named after the character from Saved by the Bell. Apparently he had thick curly hair once upon a time...now he's bald).

By now, these boys are used to having me around. They tease me like one of the guys.

The Bar

Just like Cheers, we have a local bar. (We only have two choices.) Bar Giuliano is right in the center of Davoli, on the main street. Being on the street means that the dozen men who are drinking their Dreher beer on the cobblestones have to move to the side when a car rolls by.

Daniele, the boy from Palermo who has made Davoli his home, is often there with Lena, my four-legged friend. Whenever she sees me, she skitters toward me and throws her front legs on my shoulders (she's long-legged!). I tease Daniele by always greeting her first. He doesn't mind.

There are many other characters at the bar, and most are regulars. I don't remember most of their names. There's the gentleman who calls me 'Mericana. In return, I call him 'Taliano. There's the cousin of Zia Caterina who calls me cugina. Salvatore, who always has a tiny Chihuahua in his arms. There's "the band," who play at every procession and holiday. They range in age from 20 to 70, and they are always thirsty!

And then there's Vincenzo Formaggio. That's not his last name; I gave it to him because for a period, whenever I saw him, he offered me cheese. His car always seemed to be filled with bags of mozzarella that he passed out like Christmas candy. He's a generous soul, always offering us a drink as we pass by.

No matter who's there, I always get offered and/or bought a beer or coffee. That's the hospitality of Davoli.

The Anciani

I realize that the average age of my friends here in Davoli is probably 80! There is a huge elderly population, so that's who I'm friends with.

My favorite is Agatha. She's a sweet Italian lady who never gets enough of seeing me. Even if it's been only a week, she greets me and asks where I've been. If she can, she lures me inside for a coffee or fruit juice. I like to hear her stories and look at her old photos.

Then there's Anna, who lives around the corner. Likewise, she invites me for coffee whenever I pass. She tells me about living in Switzerland when she was younger.

I recognize that their stories will die with these beautiful souls. Maybe everyone else is already tired of hearing them, so I've made it my mission to open my ears and take my time with them.

The Church Crowd

It's no longer strange to me that I see the town priest and nuns on a fairly regular basis, but I realize that it might be strange to others!

Don Nicola is the youngest priest I've ever met. He's Fra's age, so 42. He's a burly, friendly bear of a guy. I like how his personality shines through. Even when he's wearing his cassock at Mass, he's got his sneakers on. One Christmas, I giggled because I could see his ugly Christmas sweater underneath!

There's a small flock of nuns who formerly ran the preschool until it closed a few months ago. I frequently see them, usually together, walking in their sensible shoes and white habits. There's a new nun in town; compared to the other two, she's young (around 50). She's from Poland and has already caused excitement since she started a seniors' exercise program every morning.

There are other characters in Davoli, but I know them only by sight. I greet everyone with a "buongornio" or "ciao." Inevitably, they know more about me, since I am the American wife of Francesco!