I was on a property site inspection visit with a client in the town of Nicotera. For those who have never visited the region of Calabria. Nicotera is located in the province of Vibo Valentia; it was built in the medieval times around a castle of Roberto Il Guiscardo, XI century. This charming town has a seaside marina with attractive summer resorts equipped with a holiday village for camping sites, sports facilities and amazing little family operated traditional craft shops that attract many tourists during the summer months along the Lamezia Coast. Its name reflects a Greek origin surname”Nicoteras” made of two words meaning victory and miracle.

Victory & Miracle! (True story)
Before viewing several properties for sale early in the morning with my American Client named Marco, who was actually born in this town of Nicotera, but like many of us “Italos” his parents took him away too America at the very young age of 7. Now 32 years old, this was the first time; Marco had come back to Nicotera to discover his roots.
I had just finished dipping my last “mostaccioli” biscuit into my early morning latte. Outside the coffee bar; I noticed Marco was having a small conversation with a local Italian merchant. The artist had pulled an old leather bag off a tiresome looking donkey. The bag was filled with incredible hand carved smoking “Pipes”. I saw Marco reach for his wallet and hand the local merchant Artist some money. “That’s when all hell broke loose”
Marco did not purchase anything but paid for an adventure ride he will never forget …Marco had climbed on top of the donkey and before I could go out and stop him or find out what was going on. “Marco and that “Jack ass” (asino) took off down the road, like a bolt of lightning leaving me and a frantic Italian Artist in a cloud of smoke.
Ok, well here we go... another Italian hand language lesson, just what I need in early in the morning....The frantic Italian Artist had his hands waving in the air like a maestro, yelling out “Ciuccio Americano” and cursing out all saints names, more than I thought ever existed. “Mamma Mia Dio Santo” As the artist kept shouting and repeating out loud “Ciuccio Americano fermi!” all town residents’ heads started popping out from their balcony windows. It was like staring at cornels in a popcorn machine, then they began coming outside yelling and screaming wanting to know what was going on.

Here I am, trying to get thru the crowd that had gathered onto the street, so embarrassed, my face red as a ripe tomato, supposedly on a business trip, now chasing a client on a donkey down the town road in my car.
I make sharp turn onto a bumpy dirt road leading thru a field. With my car window open and my head was continuously bounces underneath the top of the roof, and after swallowing a half dozen flies there was still no sight of “Marco the real jack ass” and the donkey.
Finally, after a few klm and somewhat still in shock with my client’s behavior and with the speed of this animal, I heard the sound of running water. I quickly slammed on my car breaks and managed to stop inches, from crashing off the edge of the cliff. As I looked down the steep cliff, there below was Marco hanging from an Olive tree branch and the smart ass donkey calmly resting underneath the tree. Thank God, Marco was not seriously injured as I helped him get down from the olive tree. “It was a miracle”.
After giving Marco a large piece of whatever was left of my mind, we eventually tied the stubborn donkey to the car and slowly headed back into town. As we entered the town, it was filled with people outside waving all sorts of towels, aprons, and hanker chiefs.
Marco: “Ma che casino”, “Wow...It feels like we won a race and it looks like we are making our formula one a victory lap”,
Yes...Franco its true, my parents always said ... I would experience a “victory and a miracle” when I went back to visit my hometown of Nicotera!

senza parole!

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