Home Away From Home

In less than one week, I will no longer live in Italy. I will be back in the U.S., working my day job as well as an internship. That being said, Sorrento, is my home away from home. I might not be fluent in the language or dress like Italians, but when you have been in a different culture for a small but significant amount of time, you start to become a part of it. It's a part of me that I will take back to the United States.

I have been saying it for a while and I will say it again: There's no place like Sorrento. From the lemon and orange trees, to the unique dogs(mutts, strays, and rather intelligent), and the jagged mountains that surround it, Sorrento is a little sliver of paradise. Located an hour south of Naples and neighboring the Amalfi Coast, it is no wonder why tourists come here for holiday. In my situation, I studied in Sorrento for four months. I saw it transition from a lonely outpost in January, to a popular destination spot with more than ten thousand people migrating into the small city for a weekend.

A little bit about my school: You enter through a big gate door and go up a driveway covered by arches with lights wrapped around them. The school, Sant'Anna Institute used to be a religious institution before it became an educational one. There are three floors, big windows that look over the Gulf of Naples, a lounge, and a library. It's quaint, small, and contains all the essentials including an espresso machine that I will miss dearly. The school is a cultural mixing pot, hosting American students, Chinese students, and Italian students who come to learn English among other subjects. As it gets later into the year, there have been faces of people who I have never seen before. It's almost like Sant'Anna is a hangout spot for the tourists who know about it. Whenever I travel outside of Sorrento, I can proudly say that I study there as I watch people reply with surprise, envy, and respect.

Before I came here, I knew Sorrento was in a unique spot, geographically speaking. One quick look on google maps, and you start to think about how cool it must be to live there. Sorrento is a peninsula on a peninsula, which makes it a bit hard to get to. Nestled in the mountains and on the coast, one has to take many twists and turns before they can arrive here. I told friends and family I would be studying there, and they would reply by saying "I knew someone who went to Sorrento for their honeymoon." They told me about how lucky I would be. Needless to say, they were right. When you walk down the main street "Courso Italia," your five senses become stimulated in ways you never thought could happen. The smells of sweet pastries mixed with dog shit is really like nothing else. The taste of dark espresso gives me a warm feeling, and simultaneously makes me a functional human again. The touch of the city walls(alleyways) is chalky, because they are made with volcanic ash. The views are incredible, with Vesuvius never being too far out of sight, watching you like a big sister. There are multiple piers, with crystal clear water perfect for swimming. If you're lucky enough, you can see dolphins swimming off the coast. Lastly, the sounds are spontaneous and random. On any given day, you will hear: Zooming vespas, unannounced fireworks, windstorms that slam your doors and shutters, and church bells that go off for no particular reason. Every now and then, maybe on a sunday night into monday morning, Sorrento will be so quiet that the only thing you can hear is your footsteps on the cobblestones.

I've had experiences here I won't take for granted. I got to swim in April. I got to go out on a boat and net fish only to eat them an hour later. I have been able to pick oranges and lemons off the trees for a midday snack. Lastly, I've learned a lot about myself and the world, because I have been able to examine how Italy and Europe operates. And although we do have our differences, our political-economic struggles are collective(Migrants, unemployment, partisanship).

And here I am, sitting in a park that overlooks Vesuvius. Even after four months, I can’t get sick of this view. There’s one Italian word for this place: Torneró. It means: I will be back.  

Grapes, Vines, Wine.

I woke up, still drunk from the night before. This is pretty normal when studying abroad. It was also really early. My family was in town for the week and today we had an activity planned. This wasn’t just any activity. This was a wine tour in Tramonti, Italy. Tramonti is about an hour and a half away from Sorrento, where my family was staying and where I study. That mean it was going to be a long drive.

I walked up to my parents’ villa and they met me out on the curb. My younger brother who had come out with me the night before was also feeling the effects of too much alcohol. He was hungover, and in a pissy mood. “You’re not going out again” my mom said. I personally couldn’t have been happier to go try some of Italy’s finest wine.

The drive didn’t last very long because I slept for most of it. It was actually one of those half-sleeps, where you can hear everything around you but can’t respond because physically, you are asleep. Mentally, I was still there, despite my drunken state. I could hear my older brother complaining about how windy it was. “I’m kind of feeling sick.” “Not this again” my mom replied.  He gets car-sick easily. My parents were also bewildered by the twists and turns through the Italian hills.

For anyone who isn’t from Italy, Italians drive like mad-men, passing people with barely any room while oncoming traffic lurks around the corner. Or maybe they are mad, and that's why they drive so aggressively. Since I had already been in the country for two months, I was used to it. It didn’t bother me whatsoever and I’ve never really experienced travel-sickness before. However, sleeping while traveling is rare for me and I was able to do this( half-sleep).

Before I knew it, I was there. It was a cloudy day: Gray skies, wet from the previous night’s rain, and cold. However, Campania is such a beautiful region that even when it rains it looks quite amazing. My sister told me about how sometimes the rain makes things look better, photography wise. I half agreed with that statement. Nonetheless, the scenery was stunning: lush green grass, a ghostly fog, and rolling hills for miles on end.

I had been on a wine tour before with my family in Dijon, France. The two vineyards could not have been more opposite. The Dijon vineyard was flat, with acres upon acres of vines. Out in the distance, a man walked his horse through the vines as part of the making process. The vineyard was big and historic, with a town close-by that was fairly populated.

The vineyard in Tramonti surprised me in the moment, but it made sense later. This vineyard was not flat at all, with layers of terraces with the vines planted on them.

This vineyard was owned by a couple of families in the town, which only had a population of four thousand or so. They had three types of red wines and one white wine. One of their red wines was not a blend of grapes but one grape, and they only produced 300 bottles a year. The high end stuff.

After the small tour and interesting factoids, it was time to taste the wine. On top of that, we would be sampling food.  And like a good Italian family, it was cooked right on spot for us by the mother.

I can’t remember all the food we tried(still drunk), but I do remember two dishes. We had a spicy bean dish and some bolognese accompanied by cheese, bread, and wine. There was more than that but that is all I can remember. What you need to know is that it was some of the best food I’ve had here. I can say that about the wine as well. But don’t take it from me, take it from Justin Timberlake. He went there with his wife and even sang for the winery workers. Just to prove it, they whipped out the photo book and there he was. So yes, I have been on the same wine tour as Justin Timberlake and countless other celebrities. Get on my level.

Everyone was satisfied, but my  younger brother was still being pouty. “I’m so cold” he said. “Your being a little bitch” I replied.  I was in heaven. My parents were too, and they were eager to order some wine at the end of the tour. My spoiled sister also managed for them to buy her a case of wine for her house in Nashville. “Hey, I actually drink wine so screw you guys” she said after my brothers and I all called her a spoiled brat.  Even my mom, who doesn’t like white wine, wanted to order theirs. I would hope that they would save some for the summer for when I get back.

As we were saying goodbye, I felt sad to leave. Italians really know how to make you feel like family. Even though we had paid money to be fed and entertained, it did not feel commercial at all.  This was the difference between the Dijon vineyard and the Tramonti vineyard. While the  Dijon tour was very good and a bigger tour, it did not have the personal feel of this vineyard.  On this tour, my family got to know who owned the vineyard, their background, and the heart, blood, sweat and tears that go into their product. Also, it’s not everyday you get to try wine so rare, that they only make 300 bottles a year.

While it all seemed shocking at first, it made perfect sense. For the most part, there is not much mass production in Italy. Maybe leather, but other than that I can’t think of too much. It’s a very refreshing thing for Americans, who can find a Dunkin Donuts on every corner in New England.

The ride home was much longer. I could no longer sleep and was sobering up, slipping into my hangover. None of that mattered too much because I was missing class anyway. I got back to Sorrento and headed right to school for the last fifteen minutes of my Italian class.

“Sono Andato Tramonti!  Ho Bevuto Vino!” I said to my teacher. She and my class laughed at me. It means: “I went to Tramonti, I drank wine.

Website: http://www.vinitenutasanfrancesco.com/home_eng.html

Once in a Lifetime

Once in a Lifetime

McCabe Hemmers

3/2/16

"You guys are very lucky today."

Mr professor was right. It's not every day that you get to take a field trip to an olive oil factory. This isn’t any regular olive oil factory either. The name of the mill is Frantoio Ferraro, located in the hills of Montechiaro, Italy. It is owned by the Ferraro family and has been for  almost a century.

It was a sunny morning with absolutely no clouds in the sky. The Gulf of Naples and sky nearly mirrored each other and Mount Vesuvius was towering over the sea, like it always is. At the top of the hill outside of the factory is a terrace where we would soon be sampling olive oil and meats. First, we would get to tour the factory to see how the product is developed.

Producing olive oil is by no means easy. It is one of those processes that at first glance does not look hard, but so much more goes into it that you cannot see. The first step is to harvest the olives. We were not be able to see this because harvest season was over (October to January) and the olives are harvested in another location. However, our professor did tell us a little bit about the process.The workers beat the branches by hand, shaking them so that the olives fall into a big net that catches the fruit. At the end of the harvest, the branches of the olive tree need to be cut to keep the plant productive. In other words, pruning will help the plant to produce more crop, and stay healthy.

The next step is transporting the olives to the mill. Even this action has to be done with a special perforated plastic box, to assure the olives have air and do not get moldy or crushed. Next, the olives are cleaned so that any solid particles such as leaves and other debris are not mixed in. The olives are then sucked through a box-like container, and transported up a conveyor belt. They fall into a grinder at the top of the conveyor belt.

After grinding, the olives are kneaded in a big steel tank with steel blades rotating slowly. At this point, the olives look like a thick wet sand, or much like a paste. The color of the paste is wine-like due to the variety of colored olives being mashed together. After kneading, the separation process occurs so that there are no more solids, as the desired product is liquid oil. Once separated, the oil pours out into a huge metal bucket. It is filtered and then ready for packaging.

The amazing part is that whatever isn't turned into oil is used to make more olive-based products. The Ferraro mill does not waste a single part of the olive, from the pits to the paste. They only use the liquid for the highest quality olive oil. The solid parts of the olive are then turned into Sansa, which can be used for lower quality oil. The workers can also take the solids and turn it into a biomass or as Ammendante, which is used to support natural fertilizers. It is not only devotion, but an effective use of the whole plant. I really appreciate that they strive to not waste anything. It proves that the process is so much more of an art than a profit-scheme. The Ferraro’s prefer quality above anything else.

Now that the tour was over, we got to taste the fruits of their labor. I'm not joking when I say it is the best olive oil I have ever had. It only helped that I would be tasting this family-made olive oil in such a beautiful place. The olive oil was sweet, and rich in flavor. All you needed was a tiny dab plopped on a piece of bread and your taste buds exploded with joy. It was sacred, just as the Greeks believed when they first discovered olives. I mean, the Greeks would use olive oil for their skin. Olive trees are also indigenous to Greece.  

We were then handed a plate with different types of meat. The plate looked like a painters palette, with shades of red, pink, and white. "Really enjoy each individual taste" my professor advised us.

All of the meats included in the tasting were Salumi: Coppa, lardo(both local) and prosciutto. It was easy to feel the different tastes, but difficult to explain it. Some were softer, others were harder. Some took a couple bites to swallow, others slid down my throat as if it was liquid. The spicy ham(lardo) is the most notable, as I needed to chase it with five glasses of water.

Along with the meats, we got a piece of bread and cheese. The cheese was sharp and delicious. Even the bread was to die for: soft, warm and fluffy. Along with our food, we were given some wine and water. Lucky for me, a girl to my right was not too fond of prosciutto or meat in general. Boy, did I feel sorry for her. I happily ate seconds, this time actually trying to enjoy each individual taste more than I had on the first plate.

At the end of the tasting, we were guided to the gift shop. I bought a bottle of the famous D.O.P. olive oil for ten euro. D.O.P. stands for Denominazione di Origine Protetta, literally translated to Designation of Origin to ensure its validity as a top of the line product. The bottle remains unopened on my kitchen counter. I’m saving it as a gift for my family. My professor approved of this idea because this is very, very special olive oil. In fact, in the United States, imported olive oil is sometimes diluted for profit reasons. It is actually the mafia who does this, not the good people of Southern Italy. The mafia has their hands in almost everything, including food transportation.  

On the bus ride home, I was sad to be leaving. There is something about family-ran businesses that is just so damn unique. Even in America, the mom and pop shops are always the ones we keep coming back to because they’re so special and quirky. Here, it was one of those experiences that make you never want to leave the giant peninsula. If you ever have the chance to go, you will forever be in love with the Ferraro’s olive oil.

Saint's Day 2016

Hello from Sorrento, Italy. Today was a national holiday, Saint Antonin day. This holiday is religious, specifically geared towards Catholics and happens to fall on Valentine's day. Instead of giving candy to each other during class, candy stands could be found through out the streets of the city. In the morning, there was a parade where people part of the church carried a statue of the Saint through out town. This was accommodated by the never ending sounds of bells and fire works. From my apartment, it sounded like cannons were being fired off. While the streets were noisy, there was a moment during the parade where everyone became completely silent. As a foreigner, I did not know why. However, I would deduce it is out of respect of Saint Antonin. If I were to compare it, I would say it was a moment of silence accept no one had to be told to be quiet. I was in another country as outsider, but I will tell you what remains the same. Whenever there is a holiday, there is money to be made. The streets were filled with vendors of all sorts. One street vendor was selling pets, such as birds, turtles, fish, and rabbits. I found this quite amusing. I wondered to myself, are there any holidays in the world that absolutely do not try to profit off of the people celebrating? I might have to research more cultures to find the answer. In the link below are three pictures.

https://twitter.com/MAC_UH_BEE/status/698964055260860417

The first picture is of Piazza Tasso. This is Sorrento's main square. As you can see, it is full of people walking the streets despite heavy on and off rain. Underneath the "snowflake-like" light is a statue of Saint Antonin. I found that the streets at night were just as busy in the day.

The second photo is of a chocolate churner, if that's even what they call them. I like how they melted down the chocolate on the spot. Just another example of how the food is so freshly prepared in Italy.

The third photo is what I mentioned earlier. As you can see, they are carrying a statue of Saint Antonin. I was wondering how much the statue weighed.

Overall, it was a really fun day full of festivities and a great end to Carnivale. Keep coming here for more information about my time in Sorrento, Italy.

Ciao!

The View of the City

https://twitter.com/MAC_UH_BEE

In the above link is a photo of the city Sorrento. I am having a hard time posting it to here because all of my pictures are on my phone. This photo was taken fifteen minutes before sundown. A friend and I went on a quick hike so we catch a view. At the bottom of the mountain, there were steps leading up to an old church. What surprised me the most is that people live up on this mountain and have to walk down many flights of stairs before reaching the bottom. I thought that it must be pretty hard to go home at night when it gets dark. I chose this photo because it includes the buildings, the streets, and the coast. Sorrento is a fishing town, and I imagine many citizens own a boat. Located on the Gulf of Naples, it is easy to see why this town attracts so many tourists. It is only an hour away from Naples and no matter where you go Mt. Vesuvius is always in sight. I wonder if it will erupt again anytime soon, although I do not wish that. I plan to continue these hikes and exploring the villages in the hills. While there is plenty of life in the city of Sorrento, there is much more to be seen in the hills. We came across a villa that hosts weddings in the spring. We also thought that in the hills is where the wealthier people live. Exploring the city is like a child walking for the first time. I can't wait, till one day I can call myself an expert of the city.

Greetings World!

Hello world! My name is McCabe Hemmers. I am a student at Plymouth State University currently studying abroad at Sant'Anna Institute in Sorrento, Italy. Over the next 3 months, I will be posting about my travels in Europe. Expect to see more writings and pictures throughout the semester. Ciao!