The day of nearly overwhelming generosity

11/18 - Vallo della Lucania to Marina di Ascea - 18.79

Rita had laid out a magnificent table for my breakfast, with a cappuccino, three different types of home-preserved marmalade (fig, blackberry, and cherry), homemade honey, various pastries, and juice. We had a nice long talk as I feasted, and when I was done, she gave me a big jar of honey, an apple, a banana, and an orange.

After she dropped me off at our meeting place, I thanked her again, and took a short side rip to Novi Velia, a city on the hilltop above Vallo della Lucania. It was a charming little place, with medieval courtyards and a tower dating back to the the Lombard invasions. Since I had a ways to go, I did not linger, but moved on to San Biase, a captivating little village on a river. I was told to look for the water mill, which unfortunately was closed, but I walked all around the river's two banks, embarking on a little impromptu hike in the tall dewy grass to see what the surrounding area was like.

Once I had explore the entire town, which did not take long, I asked an old lady for directions, and after a short chat, ended up with three smallish apples that she had just picked from her tree. While they were maybe the ugliest apples I had ever seen, I think you know what I'm going to say: they were some of the best that I have eaten, fresh and crunchy and tart and full of flavor. As I munched, I wondered whether I liked the hill towns or the beach towns more. It doesn't really matter, I guess, but I've learned that the old notion that hill people are less friendly and more reserved is a false generalization.

Smiling at the chirping birds and pines intermingled with ancient, broad-trunked olive trees in full harvest splendor, I began my descent back to the coast. After stopping four times throughout the course of the walk to talk to people, I was in peril of only finishing after dark, but of course I was happy to stop each time. I even met an American girl from Westchester, New York, who had come to stay on the ancestral farm with Grandma for a few months. I hoped for an invitation at least to meet Grandma and check out the farm, but was also happy with the mandarin oranges and pomegranate she kindly gave me. Americans don't invite strangers into their homes like Italians do, and more than anything I believe this comes from a deep-seated fear, and too many horror movies. Oh well.

The sun was setting as I neared the coast, with one last stop at a farm produce stand, where I found myself handed a bunch of hot peppers. I bought some fennel and some apples, just to be nice, and as a way of repaying the lady for her generosity, and kept going. When I finally did reach the town of Marina di Ascea, I walked for some time looking for a place to sleep, and ended up backtracking quite a bit to finally reach my destination, a pizzeria/hotel. Oh, it bears mentioning that someone bought me a bag of chips as I walked down the street asking about lodging.

Would you believe me if I said that the weight of this generosity completely overwhelmed me, actually causing me pain in the shoulders? Well, it's true. In one day, I had received: four apples, a pomegranate, an orange, a banana, a jar of honey, a bag of potato chips, a bunch of hot peppers, and three mandarin oranges. Wow. Refusing to carry around this delightful burden tomorrow, I had an interesting dinner consisting of these items, some leftover bread, a can of tuna, my fennel (last time I ever purchase that, by the way), and some chocolate. It tasted like shoulder relief. I know, I shouldn't complain, and in truth I was deeply touched by the generosity and warmth I had received on this lucky day.