Biscotti - 21. Chapter 21

Arriving in Rome, I exchanged some dollars for Liras “Let’s buy a map so we can see where the village is located and how to get there.”

After buying the map, we found a table at the train station’s cafe. Brad went to get breakfast while I started to look at the map.

“It looks like we’ll need to take two trains, or we could fly to Venice then take two buses. We’ll get close to the village. Once we are there, we’ll have to check on how to get to the village. If this map is correct, we can possibly walk there.”

“Let’s take the train, we’ll be able to see more of the country. The train ride here was nice.”

“We’ll take a train from here to this station and then change trains which will take us to Venice and then we can take the buses as close to the village as possible. There isn’t a bus to the village.”

“Maybe there might be a taxi or car service to the village.”

“I’m not sure. It doesn’t seem far. We might be able to walk there.”

Since the train ride was during the day, we bought second-class tickets. It was fun as this train wasn’t as smooth as the train from Amsterdam to Rome. Brad was all smiles and kept mouthing the words ‘I love you.

Arriving at the first train station, we checked the schedule and found we had an hour’s wait. Brad went and bought two sandwiches and two bottles of water. We sat outside while we ate, “Why are you smiling?”

“Because I’m happy and love you. This is quite an adventure.”

And an adventure it indeed was. “I think this is our train.” It was, and again we traveled second class.

Arriving in Venice, Brad wanted to take a ride in a gondola. I think he was falling in love with Italy or at least the food. We ate at a trattoria and then we looked for a gondola.

If Brad wasn’t in love with Italy before, he was now.

Since it was late, we booked a room at the Hotel Guru, a small hotel in Venice. The following day after breakfast, we headed to the bus terminal. We bought our tickets from Venice to Cavarzere. “This will be as close to the village as we can get. From there, we’ll have to figure out what to do. I figure the village is about half a day’s walk. I’ll guess that’s what we’ll have to do. Maybe we’ll have to sleep out under the stars.”

Sitting across from us on the bus was a young man, maybe 26 -28 years old. “You are American?”

I answered him in Italian, and that started our conversation. I told him we were going to visit the village where my grandparents had come from. What happened next was a surprise.

“I’m going close to that village. If you don’t mind riding in the back of my truck, I can take you there.”

I told this to Brad, “Scott, we must give him some money for gas.”

“I’ll give him some money when we get there; otherwise, he’ll refuse.”

And so, our trip to the village was finalized. We talked, and I found out he visited his family, who lived in the next village whenever he could. He had family meeting him at the bus terminal. They would take us to the village.

By the time we arrived at the terminal, we were friends. He asked Brad for his autograph. I took a picture of him with Brad. “Lorenzo, I’ll send you a copy.”

The ride to the village was smooth for me but bouncy for Brad. I sat on his lap the whole way.

Arriving at the village, on the pretense of giving Lorenzo our address in the States, I gave him 100 Lira for the ride in an envelope.

“Now we need to find a place to stay.”

“There is a hotel, let’s check it out.”

“How do you know, there isn’t a sign that says hotel?”

“Trust me, Ca’ Maria is a hotel.”

Walking in, there was a woman behind the small counter. Speaking Italian, I asked if we could have a room.

She looked at us, pushed a book, and gave me a pen. I wrote our names, she gave us a key and told me where the room was located. A stranger in a small village always caused an interest.

We took our luggage to our room and decided to check out the village.

“Hey American, come and have a drink with us.” I guess my Italian had an American twist to it. I looked at Brad, and he nodded.

We sat with them and had a glass of wine. Slowly the story of why we were here came out. “Brad, go get the pictures of Nonna and Pa that I brought with us.”

When Brad brought the pictures, I showed them to the men. One of them began to laugh, “I know this man, Victor. He would chase the woman who picked the grapes.”

Of course, everyone had to see the pictures. “I remember them, and they lived in the house where Grandmother lives.”

“I remember the wedding. Victor couldn’t wait for the Priest, and he wanted the magistrate to marry them.”

“I remember that. Her parents said no and wouldn’t let her work in the vineyard till the priest arrived.”

“What a wedding. Victor had 4 barrels of wine, and if I remember correctly, we empty all of them.” They all laughed as if they were remembering.

Marie, hearing all the laughter, brought over more wine and wanted to look at the pictures.

“Didn’t they have children?”

“Yes, two a boy named Geno and a girl named Victoria.”

“Why did they leave?”

“The war, many people left. The Brown Shirts were going to the villages recruiting and stealing. Victor said he wasn’t going to join, so one night, he gathered the children and fled to Malta.”

“How did they get to Malta? That is quite a distance from here.”

“We don’t know, but that’s what we heard.”