Centola

Last Saturday, I was still in Campania, and I visited Centola, where my family originated, and about which I've heard so many legends. I went there with Ernesto, a second cousin of my mother (I think, its hard to keep the family tree straight). I was staying with his family in Agropoli, the nearest city to Centola. Ernesto was thin and nervous, but good-natured and intelligent. He spoke in halting English… however, much better than my cave-man Italian, I have to admit. He and his sister showed me around Agropoli on the first day and refused to let me pay for anything.

From Agropoli, we drove down the coast of the Mediterranean, past mountains, steep cliffs descending to the blue Adriatic, and crumbling Norman castles perched high on mountaintops. I commented to Ernesto that I’d read many of the events in the Odyssey took place in this region, and Ernesto told me that Polynoru (sp?), the seaward part of Centola, was named after a member of Ulysses’s crew who was supposed to have died there. Eventually, we turned off the highway and on to the dusty side-road that leads to Centola.

Centola itself is made up of an old town steep on a hill, grey stone buildings from the early Middle-Ages, crowded closely together and piled one on top of the other. They surround a small square with a bell tower and a church. Spreading out from the old town are many more modern (post-war) buildings from the classic Mediterranean mold, with red tile roofs and stucco walls in cream and ochre. My grandfather had left Centola during the depression before WWII, when the old town was all that there was to it, and the south of Italy was in grinding poverty.

Shortly before he died a few years ago, I interviewed my grandfather, and he had told me that, as a child, his biggest excitement was to run down the hill from his house and get a drink from the fountain at the bottom - clearly, there weren't many entertainment options in Centola back then. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to contact anyone from my grandfather's side of the family, Ernesto and his family being from my Grandmother’s. However, I was able to find the house where he grew up - which I recognized from old photos - and the legendary fountain at the bottom of the hill.

Later, I dozed as Ernesto drove me back to Agropoli through the winding foothills of Campania. In my waking moments, I wondered how my daughter, with all her dolls, toys, and videos, would be in a world where the biggest excitement was to run down the hill to have a drink of water.