An Italian Affair...Food for the Writer's Soul

The story begins two weeks ago...

We are enjoying the rare experience of a writer’s workshop in the hill country 90 miles east of Rome - aptly titled Italy in Other Words. Liz and I have joined a group of six other writers, led by two wonderful educators and published authors from San Francisco and Washington D.C.. Kathryn leads the daily workshop. Helen has family roots in Abruzzo, and a passion to share the richness of this colorful region of Italy.

The medieval fortified hill town of Santo Stefano di Sessanio is an intriguing maze of stone archways, tiny balconies overlooking secluded courtyards, steep cobblestone pathways, and terracotta planters overflowing with a tumble of red and pink geraniums.

Ancient doors stand closed at every turn, daring me to open them and explore inside. Every house in this charming village is a cave of mystery, lit with candlelight flickering against walls stained with age and smoke.

Books filled with yellowing pages of indecipherable Italian script lean against each other for support, their bindings aged and cracked. Pigeons roost on weathered terracotta tile roofs, while swallows dart for tiny gnats in the deep blue summer sky. Old men sit in the piazza, sharing observations of life in their lilting Italian tongue.

I sip on a late afternoon cappuccino, relaxing after several hours of writing. The poppy I picked yesterday from the field down in the valley is pressed blood-red between the pages of my journal, full of the passion of these villages perched on hillsides throughout this beautiful Abruzzo region.

Santo Stefano dates back to the 13th century, a time when feudal barons ruled a dozen villages and shepherds grazed sheep on the rocky slopes of these Apennine Mountains. At night they would corral them within the security of stone-walled sheepfolds.

The crumbling remains of Rocca di Calascio, the medieval, 12th century fortress, presides from its lofty peak 4500 ft above broad, fertile valleys and surrounding hill towns. Wildflowers grow among the ruins of its ancient walls and Rapunzel towers.

Sextantia Albergo Diffuso is our hotel and the rooms are actually houses scattered throughout the village of Santo Stefano. It is akin to sleeping in a cave, except for the luxuries that have subtly been incorporated into the medieval simplicity of each restored room. Yesterday I soaked in my big white tub fragrant with lavender oil, enjoying the tallow candles casting a soft glow on rough stone walls and ceiling. The bed is covered in blankets woven from the wool of local sheep, and on the dresser sits a bottle of locally-made cherry liqueur.

Each morning we wander into the Cantinone for breakfast – a delicious spread of fresh-baked pastries and pies, bowl of fresh fruit, yoghurt, cereal, and three choices of pureed fruit a long wooden table. The room is mellow and inviting, and we sit at rough hewn tables on long wooden benches. One of the two ladies offers to cook us eggs or frittata.

Our daily workshop runs from 9am – 12 noon, with the mandatory break for cappuccinos at a nearby store in the little piazza.

Our group has bonded quickly, and we have surprised ourselves with the vulnerabilities we’ve shared. The focus has been on a combination of travel writing, food writing and memoir writing, critiquing well-written pieces and studying what makes them work so well and why.

The writing activities have been interspersed with tours to local sites (and some further away than anticipated!), including an olive oil factory, a hike to the remains of Rocca di Calascio in the Gran Sasso National Park, and learning about cheese making near the town of Castel del Monte. We saw the sheep being milked, then watched while the milk was churned into mozzarella cheese. After visiting their cheese shop in the nearby village and relaxing with a cappuccino (of course!), we returned to the cheese factory for some tasting of the final product – fresh from the vat.

To support local businesses in the village, we ate at different restaurants each day.

Lunch one day was at a little restaurant up in the mountains of Campo Imperiale (Little Tibet) in the Gran Sasso National Park. The drive wound up into the high pasture land where we encountered a herd of longhorn cattle, all wearing jangling cow bells that echoed across the hills. Unconcerned at our intrusion to their peaceful existence, they wandered across the road in front of the car, staring at us curiously.

The hotel’s own restaurant – Locanda Sotto gli Archi - was a five star affair, where Massimo, the maitre d’, treated us like royalty in his charming Italian style.

Five or six courses are the norm in Italy, and each one brought new surprises. Liqueurs made locally were the finishing touch to our evenings of good conversation and laughter. Two of our writers had birthdays this very week, and we celebrated in style at Sextantio’s Locanda Sotto gli Archi for Gina, and gave Kathleen a surprise at the delightful Agriturismo Al Borgo by the lake.

The village was a perfect retreat for writers, stimulating the imagination with the mystery of the past, settling the mind and spirit with its peacefulness and beauty. Several of us stayed back from some of the excursions to write, or sat up late into the night in our cave-like rooms, and those times of seclusion helped us tap into the wells of our deeper self.

Kathryn gave each of us a 1:1 consultation and critique, and I shared for the first time the opening chapter to my book in process. She encouraged me to change from 3rd person novelist’s view to a 1st person memoir. In the rewrite I discovered the sharp pain of reliving the experience and making it my personal memoir –but when I read it to the group next day, their warmly encouraging comments let me know the story is both emotive and compelling. So stay tuned – the author is inspired to continue with Whatever Comes Next!