Finding Roots in the Piemonte

Seeking relatives we've never met

My son was here visiting for the holiday and we decided to take a bit of a road trip to try to find his distant relatives here in Italy. Our extended plan was to see a bit of the Italian Alps and Lake Como and it was sort of on the way, sort of. His grandmother’s family is from a small town in the district of Turino (TO) called Strambinello, nestled into a mountainside just in the foothills up from Ivrea.

Once we got close to the destination, we sought out overnight accommodations as we sensed we needed more than our planned 2-hour stop. A right hairpin turn took us off the main route and into wonderland. Snow has just fallen in the mountains above and the day was crystal clear so we got a good view of our destination. 

Years ago, my mother-in-law, Gloria Scala showed me photos of the place she’d visited and sent us photos of her cousin Giuseppe, who we were seeking that day. I had packed these photos when I moved to Italy in hopes of one day finding him. With photos in hand and another hairpin or two later, we found via Scala and I knew we were close. Parking on the main street, I saw a man with a baby in his arms and asked him if he might know of Giuseppe. “Yes of course” he answered, “He lives right here. I'll ring his bell.” as we stood under the windows to the homestead. 

Within a minute, spry 89-year-old Giuseppe was eyeing my photos cautiously yet with a curious look in his eye, now seeing the photos and beginning to understand that my son, who stood beside me, was a distant relative. He started right off to ask about everyone in the family and the extraordinary thing was that he rattled off birth years and names flawlessly as if having a spreadsheet in hand. He could recount everyone in the family line, their kids and grandkids and the years they were all born. Needless to say, I would never play poker with this man.

It was amazing as we were not even sure he’d survived Covid and if he’d be able to remember his cousin Gloria!!! Next, he took us across the street to his cousin Ugo and his wife Anna and their family who welcomed us in, these Americans who came to find their roots. Out came the wine and snacks and within 30 minutes there was talk of what we were doing for dinner and where we were staying. Had we been there yet? The road was dark and difficult to find. They had no clue about google maps.

After a bit they insisted on showing us the way to our beautiful hotel in the woods up a bumpy forested trail in the pitch black which ended in the compound of Cascina Montiglio (highly recommended).  Ugo had hurried ahead in his car and had missed the first low-lit entrance ramp, choosing a back unlit stair to descend to find the entrance.

As we exited our car, we heard him yell for us and we found him crumpled at the base of a cement service entrance, blood on the wall where his head and nose had hit, immobile. Luckily, there was a German guest there who was a pediatrician and she had medical supplies enough to patch him up and so with my translation and her medical skills, we figured out he’d hurt his arm, perhaps broken. Into the car and back home to Anna who was already cooking up a pasta dinner and her only reply was “What did you do now?” I guess he had a bit of experience with crazy mishaps and falls. He’s now gotten the care he needs and is on the mend. 

The following day, we stopped by mid-morning to check on things and see Giuseppe. In his little kitchen, had prepared deviled eggs with tuna as he had no mayonnaise which were delicious. His eggs were from his hens and while the turkey he was going to prepare was thawing, he took us for a walk to the cemetery where we saw all the graves of relatives and learned how each was related to the other. I took a vocal recording of his descriptions which I have yet to translate.

Then came a complete tour of the 4-story building and grounds which were full wood he’d collected from the forest for heating, animals for food, gardens for veggies. Like many Italian families I have visited since moving here, they are almost self sufficient with their gardens and kept animals, which I wrote about in my post titled, A visit to Sergio's garden.

There were rooms he and his mother shared as well as rooms where Gloria would stay which had not been touched in years!!! Empty rooms with ancient pieces of furniture covered with cloths to ward off the dust of the ages.

one of several wood storage spaces

Storage rooms with damigiana of sweet white wine, potatoes, onions, carrots, buckets, tools, tarps; everything he could possibly need. Above, each landing to the unused bedroom areas were used for storage of something, corn for the animals, old bread for the chickens, spread to dry and be consumed. I asked him if he used a car and he showed us his trophy, a vintage 1965 blue auto, covered with a cloth to keep off the dust in his “garage”. He said he did not drive it much; it was pristine. 

The Scala home is nestled in an old settlement of houses grouped around a courtyard and at the top, he had an area of land for vines for his grapes which he does not keep up but the land still is there, clearly occupied by wild boars (Cinghiali) at night by the looks for the rutted landscape.

Scala Hen House

Returning to the house, we sat in the kitchen while he cooked, noticing the once blue walls that were now smoke gray, signs of it swirling around photos where he’d tried to wipe away the darkness caused by the wood stove. He’d commented how it was difficult to find someone to paint. It was as if we entered the 1940’s, imagining his mom in the next room, setting the table. And all the while, he was asking us about each person individually, their offspring, confirming dates and ages, soaking up photos we could share. 

The lunch was wonderful; fried potatoes and fried turkey slices with the beautiful bright yellow eggs. Cake, coffee. So much food in typical Italian style. We went back to see Ugo who'd come back from the hospital and met his daughter and her kids. After sharing more photos and proper goodbyes, we set off for Lake Como and promised to return when the weather warmed.  What an extraordinary experience with an extraordinary man/mind. We’d certainly found roots!!! Family roots!

I cannot wait to return in the spring to get to know them all a bit better.