“The past is never dead. It’s not even past.” — William Faulkner
Our first few weeks in Italy have been a whirlwind of discovery, nostalgia, and—occasionally—unintentional comedy. Between searching for the perfect olive grove, visiting houses, and retracing Sandra’s ancestral roots, we’ve been navigating the deep connection between past and future, all while learning how to live in this new land.
Searching for Our Piece of Land
We rented a car for a week to visit potential olive groves and homes, hoping to find a place that speaks to us. We know that the right grove and house are out there—somewhere between what we love and what we can afford. But the clock is ticking. If we don’t close a purchase before September, this year’s olive harvest will belong to the seller. While we feel the urgency, we’re still fine—just eager to find our place in this land we now call home.
Walking in the Footsteps of the Past
One of the most emotional moments so far was visiting Pietrabbondante, the birthplace of Sandra’s great-grandfather, Gavino Zarlenga. The town itself is small, beautiful, and perched high in the mountains, exuding a quiet, ancient charm. As we walked its narrow streets, we couldn’t help but imagine him, 140 years ago, climbing the same stone paths.
Gavino left Italy for Argentina in 1888, at just 14 years old, traveling with his father. His mother was supposed to join them later, but that never happened. He never saw her again, and he carried that heartbreak for the rest of his life. He built a family in Argentina, one that now stretches across many provinces, but he never let go of the longing for his mother. Thinking about that—about how much he had to leave behind and the pain he carried—made the visit feel even more significant.
While in Pietrabbondante, we also stopped at the Comune to request some documents for Sandra’s paperwork. What followed was a hilarious, if slightly frustrating, exchange with two very young employees. Our Italian is still basic, and their English was even more limited, so we communicated using a mix of gestures and Google Translate. To complicate things further, an email we had sent in advance—so they could have the paperwork ready—had gone to an outdated address. Technology and tiny towns don’t always mix well! But, despite the confusion, the experience was a warm reminder that people are willing to help, even when language stands in the way.
The Art of Driving in Reverse
Speaking of Pietrabbondante, here’s a lesson we learned the hard way: never get so mesmerized by a town’s beauty that you stop paying attention to the roads! As we drove deeper into the Paese Vecchio (Old Town), admiring the view, we failed to notice how the street kept getting narrower. And then—dead end. No space to turn around.
I told Sandra, “We definitely missed the ‘Dead End’ sign.” And indeed, when I started reversing—300 meters uphill—I finally spotted the gigantic sign we had completely overlooked. Lesson learned: Italian streets demand your full attention!
The Power of Forgotten Aromas
Another unexpected wave of nostalgia hit me when we walked into a butcher shop (macelleria) to buy caciocavallo, a cheese typical of the region. The moment I stepped inside, a scent I hadn’t encountered in over 24 years hit me: the unmistakable aroma of a true butcher shop. It’s hard to describe, but it’s a mix of fresh meat, tallow, and something else—something deeply familiar yet nearly forgotten.
In the U.S., butcher shops just don’t have the same smell. Standing there, surrounded by that scent, I felt something shift inside me. It was as if a piece of my childhood had suddenly resurfaced, wrapped in something as simple as an aroma. I turned to Sandra with teary eyes, overwhelmed by a memory I hadn’t even realized I’d lost. Memories are strange like that—they can be triggered by the smallest, most unexpected things.
Looking Ahead
As we continue settling in, searching for the right home and land, and weaving ourselves into this community, we’re reminded daily that Italy isn’t just a place—it’s a feeling. It’s in the laughter of new friends helping us navigate bureaucracy, in the aroma of a butcher shop that brings back decades-old memories, and even in the absurdity of reversing uphill for 300 meters because you weren’t paying attention.
We’re still figuring things out, but one thing is certain: we’re exactly where we’re meant to be.
Sandra, Fermin and Fabian