Iacono Ancestry Adventures in Ischia, Italy
(3AM with jet lag)
Where does your family come from? What did they live like 200 years ago? Have you ever wondered? I know I have plenty of times. I've thought that it would be nice to be in the highlands of Peru (going back thousands of years for my indigenous tribe who also re-migrated north), and also it would be interesting to be in England and see what life was like there. "Misty and miserable" I can almost hear my Grandma Audrey say. But what if you walked into a very hilly sunny little sea-side Mediterranean town and suddenly everyone had your last name: the good pizza maker, the fisherman, the nosy old man, the gelato scooper, the hotel butler, the gurgling fat baby with plenty of chubby rolls, and then they mostly resembled features of you! Well, it would be pretty awesome and you feel like you found yourself, till you get to the graveyard and literally everyone has your last name, then it feels like this is a bad joke!
It happened to us when we decided, spontaneously, to spend a couple of days in the island of Ischia, Italy.
I had been wanting to go since I read a novel by Elena Ferrante (thank you for the recommendation, Jan!) and the chef was in the right mood to try a new adventure. I kept a travel journal for the trip there which I highly recommend doing. We vacated our home, our jobs, our cats, our bills and took every type of transportation available to arrive to remote area of the island of Ischa we were heading to: We took: a taxi to the DC airport, a small plane to New York, a Jumbo plane to Frankfurt, a smaller plane to Naples (which almost didn't land (we almost died): it was landing with the wheels almost on the ground then jolted and lifted at a crazy speed back into flight to avoid another plane on the runway...) but landing twice in Naples was beautiful to see from the plane, then we took Alibus from the airport to the pier for boats, took a boat to Ischia then a bus in Ischia around the island to Sant' Angelo. Sant' Angelo streets are so tiny and hilly that cars can't pass so the last stretch of the trip we took a golf cart from the bus stop to our hotel.
As we arrived to the hilly hotel we desperately wanted to swim in the sea but the clouds were looming and dark so we napped while the rain pounded on the island.
The sound of the rain and thunder helped us nap and rest from the travel. From our hotel room we could see the sea, fig trees, an old abbey and hear chickens clucking and dogs barking. There were lots of beautiful fat cats and the sound of the wind was gentle while the sun was strong. Everything was beautiful. That night, after the rain, we walked down the hill to the town piazza for pizza and gelato.
We walked the most I ever walked down and up the hills, avoiding golf carts and it is the first vacation where I eat double what I normally eat and lose weight from so much hilly walking. Our second day there we walked all the way down the island and around the sea to a nice beach and spent the day hovering under a beach umbrella trying not to get burned.
Our soft fat office bodies were not used to the sun and so much exercise and were pretty vulnerable to getting burned. That evening, after a day full of swimming and napping by the sea, we went to mass and before mass went to the graveyard and saw all our last name on nearly every grave. That was so creepy like seeing our own grave. Not cool.
After mass we were walking downhill on a narrow little street when a golf-cart with two very old men came charging in reverse downhill towards us. Clearly, the driver knew what he was doing. An ancient old man came hobbling out and I swore I was looking at the chef as an old man. This guy had the same body structure, ears, smile, shape of his head, rough manners, etc... He stopped to talk to us and had the same last name as us and told us all about all the other Iacono's and where they come from. He said that my husband probably came from Paqcuales line, a really good guy, and he seemed to vaguely recall my husbands great-grandfather but wasn't too sure on that so sent us to ask someone else.
The Iacono's that we met were all sunny personalities, with a touch of intellectual depression, fascination with mozzarella, are solid cooks, love cats, and have a great relationship with the sea and seclusion of their tiny town where cars can't fit in. I looked at the chef and could really see where some of his personality came from. He would fit in so well here! No wonder he has always wanted a very hilly house! It was so refreshing to spend a few days without getting in a car, hearing the noise of cars and breathing fresh clean sea-salt air and eating either in one of our distant relative's restaurant or another.
Where does your family come from? What did they live like 200 years ago? Have you ever wondered? I know I have plenty of times. I've thought that it would be nice to be in the highlands of Peru (going back thousands of years for my indigenous tribe who also re-migrated north), and also it would be interesting to be in England and see what life was like there. "Misty and miserable" I can almost hear my Grandma Audrey say. But what if you walked into a very hilly sunny little sea-side Mediterranean town and suddenly everyone had your last name: the good pizza maker, the fisherman, the nosy old man, the gelato scooper, the hotel butler, the gurgling fat baby with plenty of chubby rolls, and then they mostly resembled features of you! Well, it would be pretty awesome and you feel like you found yourself, till you get to the graveyard and literally everyone has your last name, then it feels like this is a bad joke!
It happened to us when we decided, spontaneously, to spend a couple of days in the island of Ischia, Italy.
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| Entry door to the house of one of hundreds of Iacono's. |
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| Where our family came from! |
I had been wanting to go since I read a novel by Elena Ferrante (thank you for the recommendation, Jan!) and the chef was in the right mood to try a new adventure. I kept a travel journal for the trip there which I highly recommend doing. We vacated our home, our jobs, our cats, our bills and took every type of transportation available to arrive to remote area of the island of Ischa we were heading to: We took: a taxi to the DC airport, a small plane to New York, a Jumbo plane to Frankfurt, a smaller plane to Naples (which almost didn't land (we almost died): it was landing with the wheels almost on the ground then jolted and lifted at a crazy speed back into flight to avoid another plane on the runway...) but landing twice in Naples was beautiful to see from the plane, then we took Alibus from the airport to the pier for boats, took a boat to Ischia then a bus in Ischia around the island to Sant' Angelo. Sant' Angelo streets are so tiny and hilly that cars can't pass so the last stretch of the trip we took a golf cart from the bus stop to our hotel.
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| I'm so glad we only took carry on luggage and a backpack. Even with what we took we overpacked! |
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| Landing in Naples is amazing. |
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| At the ferry boat terminal |
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| Make sure you get on the right boat! |
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| I think taking a cruise in the Mediterranean would be really nice! |
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| Our ferry made one stop in the island of Procida. |
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| Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum. Everytime I think of getting a new carry-on to replace this one, I can't do it because she is old-faithful and is so easy to recognize! |
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| In the go-cart going full speed uphill and downhill, I was holding on to my intestines and clutching my luggage the whole way thinking that flying out of a golf-cart on an island isn't the way I envisioned ending this life. |
As we arrived to the hilly hotel we desperately wanted to swim in the sea but the clouds were looming and dark so we napped while the rain pounded on the island.
The sound of the rain and thunder helped us nap and rest from the travel. From our hotel room we could see the sea, fig trees, an old abbey and hear chickens clucking and dogs barking. There were lots of beautiful fat cats and the sound of the wind was gentle while the sun was strong. Everything was beautiful. That night, after the rain, we walked down the hill to the town piazza for pizza and gelato.
We walked the most I ever walked down and up the hills, avoiding golf carts and it is the first vacation where I eat double what I normally eat and lose weight from so much hilly walking. Our second day there we walked all the way down the island and around the sea to a nice beach and spent the day hovering under a beach umbrella trying not to get burned.
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| The breakfast view from the hotel = unreal. I could see this every single day and be happy. |
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| Avoiding a golf cart in a spot where even a golf cart is a tight fit! We stepped on the rail of someones house to let it pass us by. |
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| Thank you, United Airlines, for this yummy snack! |
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| The refillable Go-tubes I bought really store up a lot of sunscreen! |
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| Up hill we go! |
Our soft fat office bodies were not used to the sun and so much exercise and were pretty vulnerable to getting burned. That evening, after a day full of swimming and napping by the sea, we went to mass and before mass went to the graveyard and saw all our last name on nearly every grave. That was so creepy like seeing our own grave. Not cool.
 |
After mass we were walking downhill on a narrow little street when a golf-cart with two very old men came charging in reverse downhill towards us. Clearly, the driver knew what he was doing. An ancient old man came hobbling out and I swore I was looking at the chef as an old man. This guy had the same body structure, ears, smile, shape of his head, rough manners, etc... He stopped to talk to us and had the same last name as us and told us all about all the other Iacono's and where they come from. He said that my husband probably came from Paqcuales line, a really good guy, and he seemed to vaguely recall my husbands great-grandfather but wasn't too sure on that so sent us to ask someone else.
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| The similarity with il Signore Iacono is amazing. |
The Iacono's that we met were all sunny personalities, with a touch of intellectual depression, fascination with mozzarella, are solid cooks, love cats, and have a great relationship with the sea and seclusion of their tiny town where cars can't fit in. I looked at the chef and could really see where some of his personality came from. He would fit in so well here! No wonder he has always wanted a very hilly house! It was so refreshing to spend a few days without getting in a car, hearing the noise of cars and breathing fresh clean sea-salt air and eating either in one of our distant relative's restaurant or another.
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| Iacono gelato |
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| Iacono hang out place for old men |
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| Sant Angelo in the night. What are all the Iacono's doing? |
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| Flower in a Iacono garden |
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| View from the villa of Iacono |
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| View from Via Iacono |
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