Mission Statement

As Clare and I emerged from the terminal at NAP, I soaked in the reality that I was finally in Italy.  As I dragged on my smoke, I absorbed the people, the color, the noise, the warm, humid air and the Mediterranean winter light that Napoli was throwing at me.  It was good.

The HHI show, naturally enough, brought out the house hunters.  I differed from the rest of the crowd in that I wasn’t going to Guardia with the primary thought being to buy a house.  In order to trick myself into ignoring what can, at times, be crippling shyness, I blast into new environs with a mission objective.  More than one objective is always a good approach, that way if my primary mission fails I have one or more fall-back upon which I can rely.  Yes, of course, buying a remarkably-priced house was an attractive reason to go to Guardia, but it wasn’t a mission I could control and so, therefore, had to be eliminated as my Prime Directive (for all you Star Trek nerds).



My brother wanted a picture of an Italian
plug because...I really don't know why.



Here are my (repeatedly) stated mission objectives:

1.       Decompression – remove the weight of the WYE that was 2012.

2.       Photography – I’ve done photo expeditions of my own making before and they have always worked well.  This place was a natural.

3.       Reading – Like, an actual book.  Made of paper. 

4.       Writing – Not sure what, I just know it, along with Photography, are my passions, so it seemed like it deserved a place on the list.

5.       Buying a House.

See how the whole real estate thing is way down the list?  Being an American over there kinda makes people forget the first four on the list.  But, not in a bad way.  The best way I can describe it is that the beautiful woman that Italy was smiled at me from behind her sunglasses and said “yes”.  I kept saying “no, well…maybe..no, really” and she kept saying “yes”.  So, I fell in love and said “yes”.  But, I’m getting ahead of myself.

As we toddled away from Napoli in Clare’s “wee car” with the steering wheel on the wrong side, I couldn’t deny the feeling that this was what I signed up for.  The elevation grew, the temperature declined and Italy washed over me.  The closer we were to Guardia, the more relaxed I became, not really knowing or caring how much of what I was feeling was attributable to the beauty of southern Italy or the charm and unadulterated Scottish brogue of my host.



Guardia street near the Piazza Costello



The uncanny thing about my experience in Guardia Sanframondi is that everything was as I expected it to be, or, in many cases, better.  Intellectually, I had been almost preparing to be let down since nothing you see on TV can be that way in real life, right?  Guardia is just as I imagined it would be, I thought, as we arrived in what would become a familiar landmark, the Piazza Costello.  It was just a short walk down the cobble stoned streets from The Piazza Costello to Clare’s B&B, Arthouse Guardia.  The Piazza, the streets and the B&B were all featured in the TV episode and were all as presented!  This was starting well.

Along the way from the airport, Clare stopped by a local grocer to enable me to stock up on local toiletries, since mine were undergoing what was undoubtedly much-needed scrutiny by the Department of Homeland Defense, you know, for national security reasons.  Can’t just let any old collection of shampoo, deodorant and the ever-dangerous twin blade razors leave the county all willy-nilly, don’t ya know?  And, all that plaid flannel – obviously a security threat.

By the time I landed in Clare’s lovely B&B, I had been up for something like 28 hours – about 10 hours past my expiration date.  Even Clare’s cats mocked me as I attempted to make social conversation like someone who had just taken two hits of speed after drinking a quart of vodka.  It was only after an hour that I realized the cats didn’t speak English.  I think they were just being polite as they nodded their heads.

I was a nobody 6000 miles from home, but I had already been invited to my first social event in Guardia – a house-warming party for Laurie and her partner, Francisco – Americans from Los Angeles who had just purchased a place in the Centro Storico.  I wasn’t going to pass that up, but I needed sleep.  In the clothes I was wearing, of course, since Delta Airlines was throwing a lumberjack party with my favorite flannels in Detroit.   I just knew I’d get my beloved plaid friends back with stains from the pirogues and Faygo Redpop.  Bastards.

Light switch off.  Light switch on.  Just like the movies.  That was what a three hour nap was like as I awoke to a Scottish bird singing my name, alerting me to the scheduled social event.  It was odd that I was in Europe, but probably even stranger that I was attending a social event, but I felt completely comfortable just drifting on the river of life in Guardia.  It was not familiar to me, but felt right.  It was as if I fit immediately.  That feeling was only to grow over the next two weeks.



L to R: Clare, Me, Pasquale, Laurie, Francisco and Carlo.
Photo by Roberto



We exited Clare’s place and made the short walk to Laurie and Francisco’s to-be-christened house.  A really wonderful place with great bones, as so many of the Centro Storico homes are.  The magnificence of the house was only outshone by the warmth of those inside, not the least of which were the homeowners, Laurie Agard and Francisco Durazo.  They welcomed me like I was family, which was only the first of countless similar greetings I would be the beneficiary of during my too short stay.  In addition to Laurie and Francisco, I met Roberto Adame, Carlo Di Lonardo and Pasquale Orso. 

After a great discussion about the wonders of the new house, some champagne, some pictures and video, Clare and I made it back to the Arthouse Guardia, where I threw myself into the waiting arms of a comfy queen-sized bed.  In my clothes, you know, because…