I woke up (first to little Robin's wailing at about two o'clock in the morning, and then to my alarm five hours later) and trundled downstairs for a second attempt at breakfast with Armando. To my relief, he did not insist that I cook this morning but instead prepared a beautiful spread of foccaccia, hard boiled eggs, and delicious little pastries with white frosting. Espidenzo lumbered in and asked if I'd gotten my permesso di soggiorno yet (related to my visa, allowing me to stay in the country), because it seemed that Armando was about to welcome me into the family. (I blushed and Armando, not amused, swatted him with a towel.) It was true, though, that I was getting treatment far beyond the expectations I'd had for the owners of a bed and breakfast, and I was extremely grateful, eager to repay in any way I could.
Delicious little breakfast pastries
We made a few stops along the way. As it turned out, Armando sold his eggs to a few people around town and gave them for free to a friend who was struggling to pay the bills. It was very touching to see him, by no means a young man, darting all over Matera with his precious eggs and striking up conversations with people we saw along the way. Clearly he was a recognized figure in town. (Perhaps it was because he rented out apartments and owned a business in addition to running the Bagni.) It was a beautiful day, and the drive - along with meeting plenty of friendly people - was a pleasant one.
Armando's wife was a delightful and hospitable woman who was completely surprised to see me...apparently Armando hadn't included me in his list of things he was bringing home. She immediately sat me down and asked if I wanted anything to eat or drink before taking me on a tour of their apartment, which was large and spacious and beautifully decorated. What looked like very high-quality paintings hung on almost every wall, and their terrace was practically a rainforest of beautiful potted plants (she almost gave me one after I mentioned how pretty I thought they were). She and Armando asked for my phone number and Rome address so they could contact me, and so I could contact them if I "need anything," at which point I was very touched. Then Armando gave me a tour of an apartment he rents out - one he wanted me to rent when I brought my mom to Matera, which apparently he'd decided I was going to do.
Pepignello, the little kitten!
Pepino, his papa
As we drove back to the Bagni, Armando stopped and took me for one last gelato before I grabbed my things and headed for the bus station...but not before a brief stop at the B&B. There, I was also given an entire loaf of fantastic Matera-made bread and a homemade whistle in the shape of a bird. I'd seen clay whistles like these in the shops down in the sassi, and this one apparently had been made by Gianfranco and his friends. Armando also gave me a tour of his chicken coop, which was crawling with cooing hens and a few strutting roosters, and pressed a few cans of juice on me to take on my long journey back to Rome. By the time I boarded the bus to leave, I was teary-eyed at the prospect of saying goodbye; in just three days I felt like I'd received a third grandfather. I kissed him on each cheek in true Italian fashion, promised that I would mail him the photograph I'd taken of the two of us, and wished aloud that I'd be able to return in the spring. Then the bus pulled away and headed back to Bari.
The gifts I received from Matera!
I arrived with a good hour and a half until the train from Bari to Rome left, so I went into the piazza in front of the train station to eat a snack and drink one of the juices Armando had given me. I sat on a bench near a bus stop and was minding my own business when two older Italian women sat down next to me and started chatting. I wasn't paying particular attention - not that I could have understood much if I had - until I realized that one of them was speaking directly at me.
And so I embarked on another adventure with native Italians. In fragmented Italian, I realized that they were talking about my nose. "It's a French nose," said one of them.
I told them I was American, and we were off. They wanted to know where I was from, what I was studying, how I liked Bari, which school I was with, how I liked Italy...etc. Then, they introduced themselves - Angela and Gina - and pulled me into the nearest bar to buy me a caffè. Angela was a tiny woman with a deep, gravelly voice who smoked heavily; Gina was a plump light-haired grandmotherly type. I was so bewildered and pleased that I went with them; Gina was almost giddy with delight when I offered her my arm to help cross the busy street, and the three of us squeezed into the crowded bar and drank strong espresso. I asked if the two of them were sisters or friends; Angela's response was a bit too fast for me to catch, but it sounded like they also had just met each other! (Italian hospitality - particularly southern Italian hospitality - never fails to amaze me, even now.)
After our caffè, we went and sat down outside. They (like almost every Italian I'd met that weekend) asked me if I was engaged; I said no, not even to an American, and they launched into a banter that I half-understood about marriage and children and so forth, something about making sure to find a good husband who helped share the work. I told them I went to an all-women's college so I didn't need to worry about boys; they seemed to appreciate that. Gina invited me point-blank to come stay at her house (never mind that I'd met her about twenty minutes earlier on a bus stop bench and could barely speak the language).
And then, once again, I had to say goodbye to my two new friends. They told me exactly where to go to catch my train and kissed me goodbye. I was getting sad from all of the farewells from these ordinary yet extraordinary people I'd met, but I was eager to return to Rome to tell my friends about my adventures. I boarded the train feeling completely different from the girl who'd arrived barely forty-eight hours earlier. Exhausted, but thrilled. Ready for whatever came next.
Thank you for bearing with this drawn out and incredibly long recount. Up next: the Rome Program five-day holiday to the Bay of Naples. SPQR!
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