My trip from Tropea to the north was yet another trade-up of sea air for train platforms and bus stations consisting of two trains, the final one running on Italian time, twelve minutes late which caused me to miss my connecting bus in Battipaglia. I waited for the next direct bus to Potenza and was on my way within the hour. The Battipaglia train station is a small, dirty area on the edge of town, but hope springs eternal as across the street, new apartment buildings were going up. It was probably the first major new construction I’ve seen since arriving in Italy. Most of what I’ve encountered has been the practice of slapping new mortar on top of ancient crumbling stone .
As the bus followed the mountainous terrain, an upscale civilization seemed to appear. Wind turbines were scattered across the hills, and farmlands were laid out like a quilt in precise rows with modest houses accompanying them aside the sun baked land. Arriving at the bus station and catching a cab to pick up my rental car went smoothly, thanks to a taxi showing up just as panic started to set in. The next leg of my trip was a 45‑minute drive through mostly rural roads once I exited the short stint on the highway.
Arriving in Laurenzana washed a calm over my body after a long day of travel. Passing the sign at the edge of town gave me the same feeling I get when I see the signs for Great Neck, New York, Amagansett, or even Kiawah Island. Laurenzana holds no direct nostalgia for me, but there is a distant link. It’s the reason cousin Bob came here, and my second cousin Karen. It’s the birthplace of our grandfather Angelo Scavullo, the home of his father Vito Scavullo and the family before them. I was warned it wasn’t much, but how could I not experience it?
I arrived at Casa di Giò and was welcomed by Erminia, who showed me around the property. My lack of Italian and her lack of English was comical as we fumbled through Google Translate to navigate the check‑in, acquaint me with the property, and get to know each other. Because it was a Monday meant no tourist crowd, yes, tourists do stop in, but not on weekdays. Casa Giò was all mine, with grapevines lining the property, cherry trees weighed down with fruit, and apple and fig trees holding their immature yield. The neighbors’ lambs scurried around their pen beside the property. Erminia explained that the entire five‑bedroom house was mine and that she’d prepare breakfast in the morning. With my choice of American or Italian, I kept it simple: caffè and a cornetto, since I had oatmeal with me.
Dinner was next. Erminia said there was a pizzeria up the hill behind the White House, which turned out to be more of a walk than I expected, but probably the only close spot in town. Al Camasta is a medium‑sized restaurant offering the standard courses, minus fresh fish and mussels since this is inland by the ankle of the boot. The menu had several pasta dishes and pizzas. I chose the four‑cheese tagliatelle, a tall beer, and finished with a caffè and an oddly basic tiramisù. My new B&B was nicely decorated and had all the comforts of home, making for a relaxing sleep.
The next day I woke early, had a basic breakfast, and spent some time walking the property, doing more plant identification to with my plant‑identifier app, I found almond, olive, apricot, and persimmon trees, as well as horseradish and chicory.
Late in the morning I set out toward town to see the castle, Castello di Laurenzana, which sits atop the hill overlooking the town. Much to my surprise, Laurenzana was laid out nicely, and the infrastructure on the main streets was new and clean. Houses sit side by side along the hills, and narrow roads run throughout. The streets lacked any potholes, and some steep inclines had shallow stairs cut into the center of the cobble stone road for pedestrians, while cars could still drive over them.
It was quite a hike to the castle, but upon arriving I was greeted by Ziza, who gave me a tour in mostly Italian with some English mixed in. The castle was a fortress from a time gone by and is slowly being renovated for cultural events, weddings, and festivals. Being a small town, Ziza was friends with Erminia, and I saw her around town during my daily excursions.
After the tour, I walked down to the Chiesa di Santa Maria Assunta, which unfortunately wasn’t open. Heading through town and returning to Casa Giò, I was introduced to Erminia’s husband. That evening I returned to the same restaurant as the night before, this time by car, and ordered a sausage and mushroom pizza. The owners son was working and spoke fairly good English and upon learning my name informed me of his former teacher who was also named Scavullo. Her family lived in the next town and owned a pizzeria. It would be something to work on for another day.
I’ll have a couple more days in Laurenzana to meld with the locals and walk the land of our Scavullo and Pavese families. My journey has just begun.
fscavullo 