Sidney and I were headed to the beach; since we missed the direct train to Terracina, we took the one to Monte San Biagio. Theoretically the bus was to be waiting for us, but as customary in Italy, this was just a theory, the bus wasn't there. So we waited under the hot sun, we waited, and waited. I called my friend Rossella, she had gone back to her hometown and was telling me all about the people she had met up with, people she had not seen for over 40 years. She was happy. I started thinking about an old song that always made me cry "Paese Mio" by Jose Feliciano http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VJP3gQxpeNg
Hot and impatient I start to look around and to my delight, I see an elderly man picking figs from a tree, I immediately made my way over, the gentle man started sharing his pickings with me. And so here I am feeling 8 years old all over again and the song “Paese Mio” rang even louder in my ears. Then I started thinking of the little town I moved to in the states and thought of the song "My little town" by Simon and Garfunkel http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BZmhg-ntiXQ. Two different worlds, two different cultures, two different towns.
It’s all clear to me now. I came to Rome because I needed to get back to my roots, just like Rossella, who in the past few years has been going back to her paese. I was trying to reconnect with the person that I was, the person that I am, who I will be. My life was changing, my daughters were becoming adults and no longer needed me. My accounting profession was over, it had been taken over by my ex. I had lost my identity and it was time for a change. I knew it had to be a change in my career, but what was I going to do? The last time I had needed a big change I came to Italy for almost a year and found my answer.
NYC is where my life has been, and in familiar places it’s as if I can see my footprints. I recognize them as I walk through the streets and they give me comfort and a feeling of security. New York City is my only home. There are no footprints imbedded in the cobble stones here in Rome but at times I see my family in my mind, I see them walking in the streets, drinking coffee in the bars, I see them everywhere and I miss them. Here in Italy is where my roots are. Sometime I go to the cemetery and visit with them and it gives me time to cry and it reminds me of who I am. Strangely enough, my daughters feel similarly about this cemetery in Italy, they feel a connection to their roots. I remember the first time Alanna saw my father’s grave, a little mausoleum, with the name Cavaricci in the front with pictures of him and his mother and his sister. These are people she never got to meet or know directly. She began to cry. She too felt the connection with her roots.
For the first time I realize that there is a difference between home and roots. I couldn’t understand why I kept coming here when my home sweet home is NYC. My daughters have also understood this fundamental balance, in completely different ways. Alanna, like me, sees Italy as the place where her roots lie. Her sister, Sidney, born and raised in the same house, feels quite the opposite. Her roots are in New York, but her true home is here in Rome.
As Sidney and I walk along the seashore, we watch all the Italian families laugh and yell at each other, eating their various trays of home-made lunches; the quiet tourists gently wading into the water. We see the vendors, almost all immigrants from Africa, India, the Middle East, they weave in between these families, selling their trinkets and cheap clothes so that they can send some money back to their families. Lugging heavy bags back and forth across the hot sand. We always try to buy something from them every year, they are always grateful and thankful when we do and they are friendly and inquisitive (especially about NYC), the kind of people that America was built by: hard working, sincere, with a purpose. My heart goes out to them, I imagine how hard it must be for them to be in a foreign land, far away from their family and friends with no roots and no footprints, other than the ones washed away by the waves.
Lyrics to Paese Mio :
Paese mio che stai sulla collina (My little town that’s on the hill)
disteso come un vecchio addormentato (stretched out like a sleeping old man)
la noia l'abbandono (the boredom, abandonment)
niente son la tua malattia (nothing I am your illness)
paese mio ti lascio e vado via (my town I’m leaving you and I’m going away)
che sarà che sarà che sarà (what will be what will be what will be)
che sarà della mia vita chi lo sa (what will be of my life who knows)
so far tutto o forse niente (I can do everything or maybe nothing)
da domani si vedrà (as of tomorrow we will see)
e sarà sarà quel che sarà (and it will be, it will be what it will be)
amore mio ti bacio sulla bocca (my love I kiss you on the lips)
che fu la fonte del mio primo amore (that was the source of my first love)
ti do l'appuntamento (I’m giving you a date)
come e quando non lo so (how and when I don’t know)
ma so soltanto che ritornerò (but I only know that I will return)
che sarà che sarà che sarà (what will be, what will be, what will be)
che sarà della mia vita chi lo sa (what will be of my life who will know)
con me porto la chitarra (with me I will bring my guitar)
e se la notte piangerò (and if at night I cry)
una nenia di paese suonerò (I will play a folk song of the town)
Gli amici miei son quasi tutti via (my friends have almost all gone away)
e gli altri partiranno dopo me (and the others will be leaving after me)
peccato perché stavo bene in loro compagnia (It’s a shame because I liked being in their company)
ma tutto passa tutto se ne va (But everything passes, everything goes away)
che sarà che sarà che sarà (what will be, what will be, what will be)
che sarà della mia vita chi lo sa (what will be of my life who knows)
so far tutto o forse niente (I can do everything or maybe nothing)
da domani si vedrà (as of tomorrow we will see)
e sarà sarà quel che sarà (and it will be, it will be that which will be)
che sarà che sarà che sarà (what will be, what will be, what will be)
che sarà della mia vita chi lo sa (what will be of my life who knows)
so far tutto o forse niente (I can do everything or maybe nothing)
da domani si vedrà (as of tomorrow we will see)
e sarà sarà quel che sarà (and will be will be that which will be)
Che sarà sarà (what will be will be)
Hot and impatient I start to look around and to my delight, I see an elderly man picking figs from a tree, I immediately made my way over, the gentle man started sharing his pickings with me. And so here I am feeling 8 years old all over again and the song “Paese Mio” rang even louder in my ears. Then I started thinking of the little town I moved to in the states and thought of the song "My little town" by Simon and Garfunkel http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BZmhg-ntiXQ. Two different worlds, two different cultures, two different towns.
It’s all clear to me now. I came to Rome because I needed to get back to my roots, just like Rossella, who in the past few years has been going back to her paese. I was trying to reconnect with the person that I was, the person that I am, who I will be. My life was changing, my daughters were becoming adults and no longer needed me. My accounting profession was over, it had been taken over by my ex. I had lost my identity and it was time for a change. I knew it had to be a change in my career, but what was I going to do? The last time I had needed a big change I came to Italy for almost a year and found my answer.
NYC is where my life has been, and in familiar places it’s as if I can see my footprints. I recognize them as I walk through the streets and they give me comfort and a feeling of security. New York City is my only home. There are no footprints imbedded in the cobble stones here in Rome but at times I see my family in my mind, I see them walking in the streets, drinking coffee in the bars, I see them everywhere and I miss them. Here in Italy is where my roots are. Sometime I go to the cemetery and visit with them and it gives me time to cry and it reminds me of who I am. Strangely enough, my daughters feel similarly about this cemetery in Italy, they feel a connection to their roots. I remember the first time Alanna saw my father’s grave, a little mausoleum, with the name Cavaricci in the front with pictures of him and his mother and his sister. These are people she never got to meet or know directly. She began to cry. She too felt the connection with her roots.
For the first time I realize that there is a difference between home and roots. I couldn’t understand why I kept coming here when my home sweet home is NYC. My daughters have also understood this fundamental balance, in completely different ways. Alanna, like me, sees Italy as the place where her roots lie. Her sister, Sidney, born and raised in the same house, feels quite the opposite. Her roots are in New York, but her true home is here in Rome.
As Sidney and I walk along the seashore, we watch all the Italian families laugh and yell at each other, eating their various trays of home-made lunches; the quiet tourists gently wading into the water. We see the vendors, almost all immigrants from Africa, India, the Middle East, they weave in between these families, selling their trinkets and cheap clothes so that they can send some money back to their families. Lugging heavy bags back and forth across the hot sand. We always try to buy something from them every year, they are always grateful and thankful when we do and they are friendly and inquisitive (especially about NYC), the kind of people that America was built by: hard working, sincere, with a purpose. My heart goes out to them, I imagine how hard it must be for them to be in a foreign land, far away from their family and friends with no roots and no footprints, other than the ones washed away by the waves.
Lyrics to Paese Mio :
Paese mio che stai sulla collina (My little town that’s on the hill)
disteso come un vecchio addormentato (stretched out like a sleeping old man)
la noia l'abbandono (the boredom, abandonment)
niente son la tua malattia (nothing I am your illness)
paese mio ti lascio e vado via (my town I’m leaving you and I’m going away)
che sarà che sarà che sarà (what will be what will be what will be)
che sarà della mia vita chi lo sa (what will be of my life who knows)
so far tutto o forse niente (I can do everything or maybe nothing)
da domani si vedrà (as of tomorrow we will see)
e sarà sarà quel che sarà (and it will be, it will be what it will be)
amore mio ti bacio sulla bocca (my love I kiss you on the lips)
che fu la fonte del mio primo amore (that was the source of my first love)
ti do l'appuntamento (I’m giving you a date)
come e quando non lo so (how and when I don’t know)
ma so soltanto che ritornerò (but I only know that I will return)
che sarà che sarà che sarà (what will be, what will be, what will be)
che sarà della mia vita chi lo sa (what will be of my life who will know)
con me porto la chitarra (with me I will bring my guitar)
e se la notte piangerò (and if at night I cry)
una nenia di paese suonerò (I will play a folk song of the town)
Gli amici miei son quasi tutti via (my friends have almost all gone away)
e gli altri partiranno dopo me (and the others will be leaving after me)
peccato perché stavo bene in loro compagnia (It’s a shame because I liked being in their company)
ma tutto passa tutto se ne va (But everything passes, everything goes away)
che sarà che sarà che sarà (what will be, what will be, what will be)
che sarà della mia vita chi lo sa (what will be of my life who knows)
so far tutto o forse niente (I can do everything or maybe nothing)
da domani si vedrà (as of tomorrow we will see)
e sarà sarà quel che sarà (and it will be, it will be that which will be)
che sarà che sarà che sarà (what will be, what will be, what will be)
che sarà della mia vita chi lo sa (what will be of my life who knows)
so far tutto o forse niente (I can do everything or maybe nothing)
da domani si vedrà (as of tomorrow we will see)
e sarà sarà quel che sarà (and will be will be that which will be)
Che sarà sarà (what will be will be)
10 comments:
Lovely commentary.
We wish we were hearing htis out loud, in person.
Soon.......
Diana, I will be home shortly and have lots of tales to tell.
Dear Franca, Yes, you came from a very beautiful place. I was fortunate enough to have you take me there back in 1968. At that time I felt the warmth and love your family had for you. They were all so charming and gracious in welcoming me as well. I felt very honored. It's wonderful that you go back to visit and bring your daughters. However, I'm glad you live in NYC -- it's a very special place too. See you soon.
A lovely writing, Franca and I have been thinking of you a lot lately.
I think that my heart will always be in Lisccarol (my mother was born there), County Cork, where my lovely kind grandmother lived. Only there was I a child who was treasured and unconditionally loved and allowed to roam and play with my brother, David and my 2nd cousin Tony (my first big crush). There I could run through never ending fields (full of fairies and leprechauns) and be fed porridge cooked on a wood filled stove and never be a troublesome child to anyone, just a very loved one. And when it came time to leave to return to London, where if it rained it was my fault, I'd cry and cry and beg to stay. My "growing up" had so many twists and turns and what ifs. I don't know if I'll ever "belong" anwhere. So I envy your sense of belonging. And am very glad that you have it. Love to Sidney and Alanna and you.
Ann, I think about you all the time. I always felt I didn't belong anywhere but with time I came to realize that through being tossed and turned from place to place, situation to situation, I found where I truly belong and where I want to be. Whether you have found that place or not just know that all around the world you have people who love you and after all, "home is where the heart is". Come visit us soon wherever we may be.
Very touching writing. I am waiting to see you soon, I hope, in NYC.
Bonny
Again I will try to post a comment even though I haven't had luck doing it in the past. I like this commentary. I like the way you pick up on little moments with big impact. I am happily looking forward to your coming home. xx Joan
I can't believe I actually, successfully, joined the fun.
Franca,you write beautifully and descriptively. I enjoy reading all you write.
Emily Grandinetti
Dear Franca, I don't believe we know one another, but I have been seeing your name on the internet for awhile now (on Facebook and LinkedIn), so I decided to look at your blog.
This blog entry is so moving! I spent thirty years of my life in Italy, and though I now live in Switzerland, part of my soul will always belong to Italy. If possible, I will subscribe to your blog, because I also enjoyed the most current one.
All the best, Antonia
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