Maria (right) and Agata are sisters. They have lived all their lives in S’Agata, a small village in the hills above Sorrento. I was married to Angelo, the brother of Maria’s husband Cataldo. When I lived in S’Agata almost 40 years ago these 2 women were wonderful to me and are probably the main reason I love Italy so much. They are both under 5 feet tall and to me look just as lovely as they did when I met them.
Maria met Cataldo when he was about 15 and was immediately smitten. His mother Rossella was not keen on the match because Maria was 20 and considered too old for him. They finally married when Maria was about 29 and they were still happily married when I met them.
Cataldo was a fisherman. S’Agata is perched high above the sea and every day he and some of his brothers would walk to the beach to work. This meant a 20 minute walk to the 600 steps that would take them to their boat. After the day fishing he would do several trips back up those steps carrying fish in a basket balanced on his head. Maria would be waiting for him with a tub of warm water and wash his feet. She did this because she loved him. There was no bathroom in the house and this must have felt like heaven after his day at work.
This is the view from Maria’s house. Cataldo walked from here to the sea below to fish each day.
You would think that all this exercise and a diet of fish and food grown in their own garden would have ensured a long life, but it did not. Cataldo died at 67 – not fair really.
When I lived there the family had a cow that lived in a stable beside the kitchen. Every morning Maria would bring me a huge cup filled with espresso topped up with milk still warm from the cow. She salted her own anchovies and I would eat them on a fresh bread roll and the oil would run down my arms. She also cooked up big pots of little birds. They were delicious and I would try not to think about the tiny bones I removed from my mouth.
Maria’s house has grown since I was first there. There is now an added floor, the cow has gone and it has 2 bathrooms.
Agata lives in the house her husband Vito built further down the hill.
I spent a lot of time with Maria and Agata and their beautiful sister Fellina, who died when she was quite young. They speak Neapolitan and I struggle to understand them, but it doesn’t really matter. I speak to them in Italian and they respond in Neapolitan. If Maria’s daughter, Rosa is around she translates for me, but we seem to get by.
Maria says she speaks her dialect because it is beautiful and when the sisters are chattering together they sound like 2 happy parrots, so I have to agree with her.
Just before I left, Maria’s brother, Ferdinando, dropped in for a visit. He is 80 and remembers everything. He asked if I recalled picking grapes and carrying them in baskets on our heads and treading them with our feet. I do remember that day and wish the photos that were taken were still OK.
The grapevines are now gone and the vegetable garden has been ripped up and replaced with homes for the children as they grew up. It is now a bit of a family compound with most of the available land taken up with buildings.
There were just 2 small houses here when I lived there. The road leading in is a tiny goat track that is now busy with cars coming and going all day. There is barely room for one and if a car is coming down the hill, the car going up has to back up to let it pass. I found it quite entertaining to watch from the window.
A little further up the hill is the original family house, that has now been commandeered by Annamaria, the evil witch sister of Angelo, but that is another story.
My marriage to Angelo was short lived, but I don’t regret for one minute the time I spent with his wonderful family. This generation of Italians was special. They worked hard, often for little reward and seemed happy with their lot in life. Many of them came to Australia and made our country so much richer, not to mention giving us great coffee.
Thank you Maria, Agata, Fellina, Cataldo, Ferdinando, Rosa and Annamaria ( not the witch, the daughter of Maria)
While I was there on this visit I set off to find the steps to the beach. I got lost, ended up in a few back yards and lost the will to go on – next time Ferdinando says he will show me the way.
These are the steps leading to the path to the steps. When Cataldo walked here he walked through bush. Now there are houses, vineyards and olive trees.
I’ll be back next spring to try again. Ferdinando, we have a date.
Click here to see my earlier story about Angelo.