What is Tropea like? It is the color of the sea, from turquoise at the shore to deep violet as it meets the horizon. It is the cheep, chirp, and tweet of birdsong, of church bells that toll for vespers, and Gregorian chants emanating from Il Santuario di Santa Maria dell’Isola. It is the heady fragrance of jasmine on the sea breeze. It is the sweetness of blackberry gelato beside tart bergamotto on an ice cream cone, the earthiness of slices of cipolla rossa and juicy tomatoes in a crisp salad. It is the warmth of the people of Tropea whose smiles and helpfulness touched me.
Perched on a hilltop, Tropea overlooks La Costa degli Dei, the Coast of Gods, on the Tyrrhenian Sea. Below is a beautiful white sand beach that is favored by sunbathers. Cobble stone streets wind around piazzas with outdoor seating for restaurants or bars to sit and have a glass of wine or a gelato. There are jasmine plants everywhere, but I smelled them before I saw them. The old town is geared to tourists with gift shops everywhere. Most of them carried local or Calabrian made or grown products: ceramics, amaro, anisette, wine, olive oil, herbs, pasta.
When the train stops in Tropea one can hear the sound of suitcase wheels rolling along the cobbled streets as the next group of visitors make the walk from the train station to their B&B’s. When I arrived there I became lost walking through a maze of alleys that led onto secret piazzas. It was two o’clock, the time of day people shut their businesses for a three hour rest with their families. I asked a gentleman who was closing his jewelry shop for directions to B&B Georgia. Tomasso said, “I will take you.” He insisted on pulling the suitcase for me and recommended good places to eat. He stopped at one of the numerous nespole (loquat) trees and picked a stem of the fruits. He rubbed one between his palms to show me how the clean and eat it, and gave the rest to me to enjoy. The B&B was around the next corner. I appreciated Tommaso going out of his way to help me and wanted to go back to his store to thank him again. As I walked around the town the next two days, I never found the street where his shop was.
I was determined to visit Il Santuario di Santa Maria dell’Isola. It is a long walk down a series of zigzag steps from the top of the town to the beach. From there banks of ramps and steps ascend to the top of the great rock upon which the church it built. The sound of female voices singing Gregorian chants drew me up into the church. I was surprised by how small the interior of the sanctuary is, and enjoyed a half hour of peace in that sacred place.
I was hot and tired after the walk down and decided to rest and have something to eat before attempting the climb up to the town. I sought a shady table at the little beachside restaurant at the foot of the sanctuary. My brother Nick went to school in Naples for two years. I remembered him telling me that the tuna in Italy is the best he’s ever eaten, and so I ordered a salad with tuna. It came on a bed of crisp lettuce with thick slices of the famous red onion grown in Tropea, cipolla rossa, tomatoes, and mozzarella. It cost five euros and was one of the best meals I had on my trip. The best pizza I ate was also in Tropea. The crust was airy and crisp, and the sauce was flavorful.
I was so proud to have limited myself to one carry on suitcase and a backpack, but after ten days of rotating the same three pair of pants and five tops I wanted fresh clothes. I asked Michele, the owner of B&B Giorgia, where I could find a Laundromat. It was nearby and run by three delightful women. They washed, dried, ironed, and returned my clothes to me neatly folded and wrapped in paper. Anna is the matriarch of the family. She was all smiles and love. Vera and Michela do the washing and ironing. They work hard and are happy people. I was sorry that I didn’t take photos of the other people who were so kind to me; Tomasso who helped me find the B&B, and Maria who served breakfast at the B&B and cleaned the rooms. She stopped me as I walked through a piazza and gave me a big hug.
Tropea was the last stop on my stay in Calabria. Two days were not enough time to spend there, nor were the twelve days I travelled through Calabria. I guess I’ll just have to go back.
The Write Mind of a Lefthander 