Tuesday, September 5

the family (story)


Andrea lived with his family in a large three floored house, with spectacular views, in a village in the hills above Sorrento. An old hairy chinned grandmother usually sat in the corner of the kitchen, watching the comings and goings of the household, mumbling to herself in a strong local dialect. Andreas mother was a friendly country type, she wasn't too bothered with appearances, and often dressed in a strange combination of wellies, denim skirt, home knitted sloppy sweater and a woolly hat that perched on top of her birdsnest hair.

Andrea was the eldest of four. His two sisters had both accidentaly got pregnant when in their late teens, so had two children and two boyfriends in tow. Andreas brother, at 17 had also managed to get his girlfriend pregnant, but there were still a few months to go before the baby arrived. Andreas father was young and very, I mean very good looking. He looks like a movie star, not a father of four and grandfather of nearly three. So the house was often full. Throw in a selection of cousins, friends and dogs who would often wander in through the open doorway, and the house took on the resemblance of a youth hostel.

There was always food ready to be eaten. The oven probably never had the chance to cool down completely, for inside there was more often than not a huge pasta al forno, or a lasagna or crepes stuffed with ricotta and ham. On the hob were an assortment of pots and saucepans containing vegetables and broths, or risottos. As
soon as anybody walked into the house they were practically dragged to the
table and fed. Then, after they were fit to explode, the digestive liquers were brought out of the pantry. Limoncello, finochietto (fennel), fragolino (wild strawberry), mirtillo (myrtle). You would leave the table quite drunk after trying each one, being sure not to offend Andreas father who had made them all.

One thing that I loved about Andreas family was that they accepted me from the first
meeting. They just drew me into the family and made me feel completely welcome and
relaxed. They never made a big deal about me being 'foreign', and they didn't treat me any different from anyone else. I appreciated that more than they could guess, the
situation I am in now is...let's say different.

10 comments:

  1. I am LOVING these stories! It makes me feel as if I am right there. :-)

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  2. I love the way this story is unfolding! You are so good at remembering details...

    Annette

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  3. different... ooooh, this is getting juicy!

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  4. uhm, what, no photo of Andrea's father? Kidding. sort of.

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  5. So how did I go from watching the news first thing every morning before work to jumping on the computer and reading your blog first thing??

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  6. pictures please, pictures...you've become too intriguing...
    you are not a foreigner Nicki, you are a Positanese now, don't let anyone fool you.

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  7. Yes, an easy family to fall in love with.
    So much fun the way you drag me back to your table oops blog.

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  8. I love these stories too! We do need some pictures - you just can't say someone is soooo good looking and not post a photo. I feel like I am reading a book - this is great!

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  9. Annette? Is that Dan's friend? HI!
    Um, haven't got a photo of them!But, the photos I am using with each post are relevant. For instance the door was the real door to my apartment, and the photos on this posts were taken in Andreas village... If, in 1999 I knew I would be spilling my guts like this then maybe I would have carried my camera around more often!

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