By Penny Ewles-Bergeron, writer, artist, … finding the many good things in Naples.

See the original article with photos at Italian Notebook

Some people have fairies at the bottom of their garden. We have the oldest military academy in Europe at the end of our street. La Nunziatella was founded in 1787 to turn out officers for the kingdom of Naples.

These days the boys study strategy, topography, firearms practise, horse riding and all manner of sports within a classic Italian school programme.

Twice a year the cadets parade to Piazza del Plebiscito for a grand ceremony. And we rush to the balcony.

At other times you see them out and about, dressed either in summer white buttoned jackets and blue trousers or their winter black with dramatic cloaks and spadini – short dress swords - always on display. You’d think there has been a mass breakout from the opera house!

But you have to dress and act the part when you live and work in a splendid red citadel like la Nunziatella.

It all started as a game.  Sabra was showing off her acrobatic skills, after a big Sunday lunch at Terre di Conca.

As usual, a small group of people had gathered to watch her.   A little  man pushed his way forward and insisted that I enroll her in the upcoming dog show at Roccamonfina.  (This event was part of the inaugural festivities of the Regional Park and was being held to raise money -and awareness- for a sterilization campaign in the area.  Stray dogs are a major problem in Campania where they are often hit by cars, leaving them both homeless and crippled)

“But she’s not even a pure breed” I protested, secretly beaming that someone was so impressed with her.

“Non importa” he interrupted, “Nobody here has ever seen anything like this!”

You must know that Sabra loves to perform and will do just about anything for her pallina (little ball).  She sits and lies down; she jumps on command, she twists, rolls over and comes to heal;  she slaloms like a down-hill racer; she throws herself down slides in the playground; she will sit up and beg like a chihuahua; so long as you have her little ball in hand.

So I enrolled her in the contest and on the day of the show, as we left the villa, chef Berardino Lombardo’s parting words were: “If Sabra wins a prize I’m going to cook her a steak!” and off we went.  The town’s central square had been cordoned off and a raised platform constructed for the judges. On a table to the left were the trophies, medals and statues.  I pointed to a sculpture of a german shepherd that looked like Sabra and told Chiara, Berardino’s 12 year old daughter, “We’re going to win that one”.

There were alot of dogs. Pure breeds, mixed breeds and a couple of alien breeds, pathetically dressed as ballerinas, quivering in their bows and tutus. In the initial round Sabra behaved beautifully, trotting elegantly by my side and seating herself in the center of the piazza. She performed two or three commands, received her pallina and trotted back to our group. She was chosen as one of the 10 finalists.

On the second round we managed to present an “orsetto” (always a favourite, meaning ‘little bear’, where she sits up on her back haunches looking absolutely adorable, and a “rollover” which were with received many “ooh’s” and “ah’s” from the crowd.

It took the judges another half hour to make their decisions.  They announced the “Best of Breed” winners and the dogs and owners were duly photographed with their trophies.  Then came “Il Più Grande” (the biggest), “Il Più Piccolo” (the smallest), “il Più Carino” (the cutest), “Il Più Simpatico” (the most endearing), “Il Più Buffo” (the funniest)… It was getting dark and we had to admit that Sabra had probably not won over any hearts.

Then, just as we were starting to head back to the car, the judge announced, “And last but not least, we award the prize for “Best Show” to Sabra and her owner Signora Goldfinger!” (it’s the closest they ever get to Goldfield)

What a rush! I started to scream and jump up and down like one of those crazy ballroom-dance moms. We ran to the stage, Sabra prancing like a princess, where we recieved our prize: lo and behold, it was that  german shepherd statue mounted on a thick slab of marble…

…and when Sabra got home, there was a huge steak waiting for her.

Che soddisfazione!

It’s time that I introduced you to Sabra, our german shepherd, seeing as she is such a big part of our lives.

Sabra came to us two and a half years ago. We were about to start a new chapter in our lives and moving to the country meant that I could finally have a dog, a BIG dog. My friend Rachel called to say that she had met a young couple who had a giant german shepherd pup that they were trying to find a home for. I liked the sound of ‘giant’; the more dog the better, I always say!

We spoke to the owner and Kaya (as she was named) was delivered into our arms one fine morning in November … torn from her mother, miserable, dishevelled and covered in her own vomit.

Soon however she was comfortably settled into our home in the Sannio. She grew quickly (and remembering that she was going to be a ‘giant’) we decided that it would be better to give her some proper schooling. I had read Jen Fennell’s “The Dog Listener” and began a search on the internet for an amischien trainer in Campania. Lo and behold I found a school located at the foot of Mt. Vesuvius. It was unforgettably named ‘Happy Snout’.

Federico, Sabra and I went to school for six months and it was the best decision we ever made. We studied how to become pack leaders (which basically means learning how to ignore bad behavior and reward the good behavior of your dog). It was difficult at first but the results were rewarding.

Sabra eventually grew to become a normal-sized, german shepherd mix and she is a real beauty. Whatever she lacks in size and breeeding is more than compensated by her outstanding temperment and intelligence. She has been instrumental in making the insertion and weaving of our lives into the tapestry of S. Agata dei Goti a seamless success. I have become known as ‘la signora col cane’ (the woman with the dog) and when I go out alone, the first question I am inevitable asked is “ma signora, dov’è Sabra?” (”so where is Sabra?”)

All over the world it is common for people to have a nickname. But in S. Agata dei Goti, the phenomenon became so widespread over time that many people actually forgot their neighbor’s real last names and knew them only by the nicknames! Mario Rossi, (our town’s accountant) who has had to do with just about everybody, showed me a list he has been compiling over the years. The names usually define a physical trait or a person’s habit or line of work. They are often funny and sometimes derisive. Here are a few (if you would like the full list of over one hundred, contact me) :

A - Acchiappacani (dog catcher), Affitto (rent), Aiza a capa, Assassino, Avucatiello (lawyer)

B - Babà (after the famous Neapolitan rum cake), Baccalà (stock fish), Battilocchio (eyelash beater), Bellu Uaglione (handsome man), Braciola (pork chop), Brigante (brigand)

C - Cacaglia (stutterer), Campusantaro (grave digger), Carciuoffolo (artichoke), Carnacotta (cooked meat), Chiancarotta (broken hip), Collamuorti (funeral helper).

D - Dentepazzo (crazy teeth), Duca (duke), Daziario (tax collector)

F - Fuchista ( the person who sets off fireworks), Ferracavallo (horse-shoe maker) , Ferraciuccio (donkey-shoe maker), Fetuso (stinky)

G - Geluso (jealous), Giudice (judge)

I - Ianara (witch), Iettatore (a person who brings bad luck), Imbianchino (wall painter)

M - Mezzarecchia (half an ear), Mazzacane (dog killer)

N - Nasone (big nose), Ncopp casa (on top of the house), Nirone (Blacky)

P - Petone (fart), Pisciapoco (little pisser), Parlachiano (soft spoken)

Q - Quattuocchi (four-eyed)

R - Ricciulillo (curly), Ricuttara (ricotta maker),

S - Scassato (broken), Scuparo (street cleaner), Sinnaco (mayor), Strunzillo (little shit), Stuorto (crooked)

V - Vorpe (fox)

Z - Zizzella (flat-chested), Zizzona (buxom)

For the past ten years the amateur theater group in the little town of S. Agata dei Goti, has been directed by my next door neighbor, the retired comedy actress Hilde Maria Renzi, who worked for many years with neapolitan author and actors Eduardo and Peppino de Filippo.

The plays are held inside the courtyard of the town’s 17^th century episcopio, or bishopric, and are always filled to the brim with men, women, children, and local dignitaries. Now in its 11^th season, this event is so well-loved that the show is prolonged for four days which allows the whole town to see it. Tickets are free.

This year’s offering, Fortuna Con la “F” Maiuscola (Fortune With a Capital “F”) was due to début on June 22nd.

But who could have forseen that Italy would still be playing in the quarter finals of the European Championship on June 22nd?!  By 8 p.m. people were arriving at the local bars, armed with chairs and flags, anxiously tooting their whistles, seating themselves in front of improvised screens made of big white sheets.   As I walked towards the theatre, I doubted if anyone would forgo this excitement in order to see an old Eduardo de Filippo play…

At 9 o’clock there were 10 old women seated in the audience, wading in a sea of empty green chairs. But slowly, in dribs and drabs, more people arrived. By 9:30 the episcopio was reasonably full. Full of women who had decided to come to the theater, leaving their husbands and sons to watch soccer.

As the lights went down an old woman looked around and chuckled to her friends: “It looks like we’re all widows for one night!”