Theo Guards an Agriturismo

 We love Italian history and the pieces of the past that surround you when you visit Italy--the statues, the old buildings and fountains. You can step back in time and imagine life as it was. But we are also fascinated with how Italians live now. That is why we are spending an afternoon with Aldo.

Aldo runs an agriturismo in Salina, the largest of the Aeolian Islands south of Sicily. 

Salina is known for its capers and Malvasia wine. It is also where Il Postino, a famous Italian movie, was shot. Aldo lives with his sister, daughter and cousin. He's a spry eighty year old, who is usually working seven days a week from dawn to dusk. His vast piece of land up a mountain--plenty of death defying winding roads to reach it--comes with an old farmhouse, a field full of capers, fruit trees, flower bushes, vineyards, and chickens. 

He lives off his land and sells his products. By law, 50% of the products he uses and sells must be home grown.  

Aldo is determined to give us the full "farm experience." Dan and Theo go with him to the fields to gather the capers, of course. It is the first step in the rather laborious process of curing the capers before sale. Later he'll show us how the capers are salted then rinsed. 

I stay behind with his sister and daughter to prepare lunch which we'll eat at a long table on a porch that is protected from the sun but open to the air. It is nothing fancy.

This is a neat experience for me--to watch real Italians cook. We're preparing pasta with wild fennel pesto and zucchini sautéed in olive oil. A few anchovies will be added for flavor. 

We wash, chop, and slice. The sister is the head chef. She tells everyone what to do. I am nervous. She speaks in a rapid Italian that takes me a minute or so to make any sense of. Occasionally the daughter will chime in. She speaks a little English. The aroma of the fennel is intoxicating. 

Then before lunch Aldo takes us up a long and winding upward path to where the chickens are. 

He's got around 40 chickens and one oversized rooster behind a fenced in area. 

Our job is to collect the eggs into a basket. (Somewhere along the line I imagined this was going to be fun, but never anticipated that in June in Italy it is hot. Hot.) 

Finally, we sit down to eat. The pasta is delicious. Wine is poured. There is something truly miraculous about this afternoon. In Italy. Eating homemade pasta. Looking out over fields that seem to go on forever. 

And what about Theo? He's fed up with being inside, in museums, looking at things on the other side of glass. He wants to be outside and sniff. But he doesn't like the smell of capers. Aldo manages to find him some cut up chicken which Theo gobbles up so fast you would think he didn't have breakfast. Which he did. Then he rests by my feet on the cool cement floor, in the shade, with a gentle breeze blowing in. Until . . .

Who can anticipate these things? A stray cat wanders by and meows. Before he even makes an appearance, Theo rouses himself and looks around. Can he smell him? Then, of course, Theo sees him. Now Theo at home is a guard cat. Come around our house--if you're a cat--at your own risk. His tail expands, he smacks at the patio door glass, and glares. Will he act the same? Is he intent on guarding Aldo's agriturismo? 

I grab hold of Theo (just in case) and, of course, he struggles to be free. 

"I'll handle this," Dan announces, slowly rising from his comfortable chair and reluctantly leaving his wine behind. He disappears. I know the drill. Keep Theo occupied for a few minutes. Distract. A few minutes go by. Theo is napping again at my feet. Dan still doesn't return. Where the heck is he?

He's made a friend. The stray enemy cat is, of course, the cutest, friendliest, and most cuddly cat you'd ever want to meet. He is all over Dan.

 

For a minute we consider if we should arrange a greet and meet. Would Theo appreciate meeting an Italian cat? We think of the advantages. We think of the obstacles. We know Theo. 

"He's taking a nap." I shrug my shoulders.

"Yeah, it's probably not a good time."

Dessert is zeppoles. The sister deep fries pumpkin dough with raisins (like a donut) and covers it with sugar. Sweet. Light. Airy. It hits the spot. 

Aldo talks about his struggles. Besides the capers and the eggs, he sells jams made from the fruit from his orange and lemon trees. But his biggest concern is keeping the farm in the family. Who will run it when he can't do it anymore? 

In Italy, many things are different, but some things are remarkably the same. Parents and kids. Stray cats struggling to survive. Guard cats who won't give an inch. And life goes on.

Theo Teeter Totters in Gaeta

 When I first visited Italy, I went to all the hotspots--Rome, Florence and Venice. The Vatican to see Michelangelo's Pieta. The Galleria dell'Academia to see the David. You get the idea. And always I battled tourists, usually too many people crowded into too tiny a space.

Now years later we choose places with fewer tourists and more locals. We practice speaking Italian. That's why we decide to cruise down the southern coast of Italy with a small group of people and stop at Gaeta, a smaller lesser known Italian town.

But no one comes to Italy and doesn't eat. Restaurants and trattorias and bars and/or cooperatives and even the local supermarket will offer prepared food. The choices are endless . . . but we decide to stop at an agriturisimo--a family owned farmhouse that offers good food from local sources (often from their own fields) and if you want, a place to stay. Agriturisimos are located most often in the country so you also get a terrific view. 

The food is simple and fresh. Wine is plentiful. The service is friendly. It is a good choice if you are visiting Italy and want to avoid the tourist spots, and we simply love this agriturismo. 

They are family oriented.

No, these are not children on the teeter totter. We stare in envy as this young at heart couple go up and down. Theo is watching them, too.

When Theo issues a meow and wears that hangdog expression on his face, I know Theo wants to teeter totter, too.

"Okay, we'll do it."

 

Never easy. Dan climbs on his seat, and Theo jumps up on his seat on the other side. Of course, he has to sniff everything first, but his balance is pretty good. Tentatively they go up and down. Up and down. Everything is teeter tottering just fine, until it isn't. 

Theo spots a small squirrel lurking near the swings. With no warning, he jumps off his seat and well, you know what happens. As Theo later admits, he underestimated the force of gravity. Dan limps off his seat.

When we finally arrive in Gaeta, we are exhausted. So our first view of this beautiful town, called the "city of a hundred churches" is after the sun goes down. Theo is restless, but luckily falls asleep when we're ready to so outside for a walk. Or so we think . . .

We spot a big moon sitting in the sky and Dan captures it. 

"Can you believe we're here?" I ask him.

"I know, right?"

We hear a meow. And Theo, as if he's fallen straight from the sky, is standing right behind us. Stalking us?

"What are you doing here? After what you did this afternoon to dad on the teeter totter . . ."

Theo shrugs. "I had to do it, see?"

Always a gangster cat, right to the end.