Phoenix Rising
Around 1 pm local, on
a recent Wednesday in March, we celebrated the Vernal Equinox about five hours
before the official start of spring. We
viewed the event from a perch overlooking eternal Rome. What made it extra special was that it
coincided with the last of the 2019 Supermoons.
To coin an idiom, the combination of these events is a rare “once
in a blue moon” occurrence. It had been 19 years since these phenomena
overlapped, and it would be approximately another eleven years before they
would occur together again. We were not
there the last time round and I make no predictions on being there for the
next. Best seize the day. What added to this special happening was the
rising of one of the largest full moons of the year, a “supermoon”. This phenomenon has
everything to do with the
moon’s orbit which is not circular in shape, but elliptical. Being an ellipse, it has a
farthest and closest approach point as it moves around the Earth. When the moon is closest and fullest, it’s
referred to as a supermoon due to its obvious increase in size. This particular Vernal Equinox (when the sun
is directly above the equator), marking the beginning of spring in the northern
hemisphere, coincided with one of these close approaches. I have to come clean. Unfortunately, we weren’t physically in Rome
on that Wednesday in March. A virtual
magic carpet allowed us to watch a live feed of this spectacular moonrise over
Rome at sunset on the Vernal Equinox, the carpet courtesy of Astronomers without Borders – One People,
One Sky.
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| Moon Over Rome |
Moonrise, over the legendary monuments of Rome, was regrettably obscured by scattered clouds. With the Campidoglio
(Capitoline Hill) in the background, in addition to the panoramic scene
that included the Victor Emmanuel II Monument often referred to as “The Wedding
Cake”, and the pointed domes of numerous churches poised like missiles ready to
launch, we could hear the sounds of Rome.
Beyond this sweeping bird’s-eye scene, just outside the purview of the
lens locked on the horizon, the traffic horns, the melodic voices of onlookers,
the clang of church bells in their campanili,
sirens mixed with the warbles of police cars, and the rattle of motorcycle
mufflers as they scooted by, brought Rome alive. The bells and voices got to me. I wanted to
pack and fly off to Rome immediately.
Murphey’s Law had stepped in and was no friend of Roman astronomers that evening. Unfortunately, the eastern horizon was cloudy
at the exact spot where the moon was expected to make its appearance. Of the entire evening sky, we were informed
that only this sector of horizon was obscured.
What luck. To fill the time as we
waited for the moon to break free of the clouds, the narrator made continual
apologies about the obscuration with enjoinders like, “Come on moon, we wait
for you”. Keeping with a focus on the
moon, he also mentioned that American astronaut Michael Collins, who on the
historic first moon landing was the Command Module Pilot of Apollo 11, was born
in Rome. Eventually, the moon tired of
playing coy. It appeared at first like
an arching scimitar rising above the clouded horizon but hastily grew as though
trying to make up for the delay to full disk shape to the delight of all,
present and afar.
Spring may have sprung in Italy, but in order to avoid Mr. Murphy’s cugino (cousin), Mr. Foul Weather, experience has taught us to
forestall arriving in Italy before the 15th of May at the
earliest. When it rains in the forest
where we live in the States, we call it “woods in the wet”. In Calitri,
lacking a sheltering forest, we
have no precise equivalent. When the
weather turns foul, in place of trees, we carry on among the cold, wet, grey
stone and concrete of a medieval maze of
narrow lanes and cobbled hallway-like streets.
It was while housebound, listening to the moaning wind and enduring the
inclement weather of one of these early spring days, that we discovered “Double
Jack” (DJ), not some card game mind you to idle away the hours, but a local
pub.
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| Welcome to Double Jack |
Knowing you’re in “Bella Italia”, if you’re going to live the dream, you can’t stay inside. It’s a gigantic waste because each day in
Italy can be so special. This was Italy
after all, and a little foul weather couldn’t stop us from enjoying it. We’ve walked to Double Jack since, but that
first time, because of the dismal weather, we drove there in our rental, seeing
it was years before we purchased our little Fiat, Bianca. Leaving the Borgo on foot with our umbrellas
deployed in filthy weather, we made our way out to the piazza in the town hall
square. That
first night, we had no idea where we
were going. Thankfully, we’d noticed signs in town and
found it easily. From there it was a short ride down Corso Matteotti, up Corso
Garibaldi, Italia, and Europa to a left at the CONAD supermarket sign onto Via
delle Paludi, and finally right onto Corso
Rinascimento. We’re so thankful we made
the effort for beyond the food, the beer alla
spina (on tap), and the spirited televised soccer games, we found the
people of Calitri and in particular, the Germano family; paterfamilias Giuseppe, mother
Antonia Santa who we’ve learned
to call “Santina”, and their
entrepreneurial son, the owner of Double Jack, Bruno.
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| Head of the Family, Giuseppe |
Double Jack is not a run of the mill rural pub, it’s a Gasthaus. A Gasthaus is a
German-style inn typically found in small towns, often family owned and
operated. They include a bar, a
restaurant, and when large enough, rooms for rent. DJ checks most of the boxes. There are no
rooms for rent, but it fits the bill with the requisite bar and
restaurant. And though not a requirement
other than in my imagination, neither is there a young, short-skirted fraulein type scurrying about delivering
beer. Our Saint Pauli Girl equivalent
was lovely Donnatella, who for years rushed from table to table like
some roller-derby legend, unfortunately, absent the much-needed skates and the
stereotypical short skirt. One of its
greatest similarities to the classic image of a German pub was its décor. If you were led into DJ’s blindfolded, then
opened your eyes inside, you’d insist you’d magically arrived in Germany. On that first visit, that was exactly our
experience, absent the blindfold. The
interior featured dark wood treatments in the form of heavy wooden tables and
chairs, display cases, flooring, and railings which divided what
I’d equate to
a beer hall from the bar. Scenes of wildlife, from stags to pheasants, decorated
the ceiling along with dangling authentic beer steins. German
coats of arms, posters, checkered flags and patterns, decals, and filigree
alpine patterns filled our eyes. The visual was complete right down to German
text on the walls (“Bia her, Bia her, oder i foi um”), whose meaning which
still eludes me. “Beer here, beer here,
… “? Right or wrong, there was certainly
beer. It greeted you on entry from an altar
size bar that sported beer taps beneath a marquee that repeatedly announced Besonderen Biere (Special Beers), and
there certainly were. Somehow, an authentic German tavern had been
painstakingly recreated deep in the Irpinian countryside of Campania, right
there in Calitri. For Calitri, to
borrow from the idea of a destination
wedding, it amounts to a destination pub,
a place with an atmosphere that gives you the impression you’re somewhere else,
in this case, Bavaria. How this came about, right there in small-town Calitri, is a
story unto itself, a story rising from ruinous disaster.
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| Double Jack Interior |
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| Entry View of the Bar |
My dad used to tell me, “Never
forget who you are and what you represent”.
He’d go through “Readers Digest” faithfully each month but I wouldn’t be
surprised if he’d developed the expression on his own. I never thought to ask him. Maybe it was a prayer on his part, but to me,
it grew to become a motto and guiding principle in my life. Growing up, Bruno may have had something
equivalent, I don’t really know, but he certainly had a positive example of a
rewarding life in his parents where success was measured in the gradual
achievement of self-set goals. Their
resolute work ethic left a trail for him to follow. No matter the impediments, and they were
huge, the struggle to continue, likely unspoken, to achieve and maintain their
family dream, was clear.
It began in 1955, when as a teenager, age 14, Giuseppe Germano became an apprentice of Vincenzo Toglia. Vincenzo, a
professional pastry chef, was the owner of Bar Toglia, then located along Corso Matteotti in one of the present-day deserted caves near the remaining castle tower. Over the next seven years, Giuseppe mastered the trade and was duly dubbed, pastry
chef. In the early 1960’s he moved to
Freiburg Germany. It was there while
working as a baker that he met the brother of his future wife. Together, they visited Calabria where he was
introduced to Santina and were soon married.
The family nucleus now established, they went back to Germany together
and remained there until 1967 when they returned to Calitri.
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| In Seconds, Destruction |
A year later, they opened a pasticceria
(pastry shop) on Corso Garibaldi, where today's Jolly Bar Gelateria (ice cream
parlor) is located. In 1972, they moved
closer to the Borgo, back to where Giuseppe, as a young man, had learned his
trade at Bar Toglia. Seven years later, their success allowed them to purchase
the business from the Toglia family.
By this point, their dreams beginning to be realized, things were going well for the
Germanos. Their business was a success
and with the birth of their first son, Michele, their family was growing as
well. An event on the evening of 23
November 1980 was about to change everything for them and everyone living in
Calitri. Nature played its hand that
Sunday at 7:34 pm when the earth shook violently in a series of shocks of 10 to 40-second durations. The great 7.2-magnitude Terremoto dell'Irpinia (Irpinia Earthquake), centered in Eboli, south of Naples, had struck. Almost 3000 people died, many towns were
leveled, hundreds damaged, and 300,000 found themselves instantly homeless just
as winter was setting in. While the lives of the Gernamos were spared,
the destruction was complete enough to destroy their fledgling business, forcing
them to abandon the location.
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| The Earthquake's Aftermath |
They, along with many of the survivors, appealed to the government for assistance
which proved painfully slow in coming.
In the meantime, they traveled north to Turin and moved in with
Santina’s sister. It took almost a year
before they were provided a prefabricated wooden building by the
government. The location was just
outside of town at a site where
regional fairs are currently held. This
allowed them to reopen their bar and pastry business in 1981, while they
awaited promised, post-earthquake reconstruction funds. In what would be the first of many temporary
accommodations, and under far less than optimal conditions, they toiled to make
a living, one family among the many struggling to survive in a flattened city. Like Venice’s wooden Accademia Bridge across
the Grand Canal connecting the San Marco district with Dorsoduro, designated as
“temporary” when it was installed in 1932, it remains to this day. Any hope for government assistance, though
promised and eagerly awaited, eroded with the years along with the funds
earmarked for reconstruction. Temporary
took on new meaning.
Bruno shared with me that it was during those waiting years, that the Germanos would take
turns, almost daily, to check on the status of the much-needed reconstruction
funds at the Town Office. Much like
early Christians had anticipated the return of the Messiah, expected any day,
the family would check, buoyed by promises that any day, any week, any month
the funds would arrive. Lacking Federal
funds, the family also appealed for contributions, like a temporary loan from
the municipality, in order to rebuild the pastry bar lost in the
earthquake. It too fell on deaf ears. It’s no wonder then that southern Italians
hold meager faith in government, and instead put their trust in family. In time, these wooden, uninsulated
trailer-like shelters became an iconic poster-child of a government, far off in
Rome, incapable of meeting its people’s urgent needs and reminiscent of the
historical neglect perpetrated on Italy’s southern inhabitants. Knowing this history now, I shake my head each time I
drive past a colony of these shelters which now serve as vacation cabins
alongside Lago di Conza not far from Calitri.
It was not until 1993, a staggering 12 years later, that as opposed to the earth, this time
the government moved. The municipality
needed space to build a warehouse complex to serve as the Inter-regional
Fairgrounds. Unfortunately, the site was
at the very place the Germanos and others had been “temporarily”
quartered. While the reconstruction
funds remained a fiction, the city repossessed the prefab structures. Once again as a temporary lash-up, the city
provided them with a business location to carry on their business. In compensation, they were assigned a
municipal building in the city center.
This time they relocated to via Francesco Tedesco, next door to today’s Foto Nicolais, near the present-day bus
stop. On the edge of safety, they found
the structure in a precarious condition but made the best of it. It is interesting to note that all these
moves, from one place to another, were at the Germano’s expense. In solidarity with their fellow townspeople,
they continued their vigil, awaiting the famed or by then infamous
reconstruction funds. Unbelievably, they
maintained this watch while running their business until 2005, when
miraculously, the funds finally arrived!
In time, the Italian government spent
59 trillion lire on reconstruction, while other nations provided assistance and
made financial contributions. West
Germany contributed 32 million in US dollars and the United States, 70 million
USD. With such enormous amounts of money
on the move, corruption was guaranteed to follow. It didn’t take long, for in the early
nineties, a major scandal was uncovered.
Of the billions of lire earmarked for aid to the victims for reconstruction,
a large part of the funds managed to disappear into mendacious pockets. Of the $40 billion earmarked for earthquake
reconstruction, an estimated $20 billion, if I’m to remain polite, went to
create an entirely new social class of regional millionaires. The Camorra criminal organization, which seemingly by chance entered the construction
business after the quake, absconded with $6.4 billion, while another
$4 billion went to politicians in bribes.
Only the remaining $9.6 billion, about a quarter of the original
amount, was actually spent on people's needs.1
As the funds for recovery evaporated little by little upstream unbeknownst to its intended
recipients, these interim quarters took on a permanent quality of their own,
for “temporary” persisted another twelve years (1993-2005) before what was left
of the money finally appeared. A situation
like this is mind-boggling to an outsider.
It is inconceivable to me that the Italian government let this go a
whopping twenty-five years (1980-2005) since the quake! Yet it did.
Funds in hand, the Germanos first tried to purchase the premises at 8
Via Francesco Tedesco from the town.
Logically, their preference was to continue their business where they
were established and thus avoid the expenses of another move. Unfortunately, their repeated attempts were
turned down, only to see the property sold a few years later to the adjacent
men’s clothing store. It was at this
point that they resolved to invest the funds to build a much larger place, a
Bavarian-style restaurant, which became the germ of the idea that grew to
become what Mare and I know today as Double Jack Gasthaus. Clearly, the example
set by his mom and dad of persistent hard work hadn’t been lost on Bruno.
Fueled by Bruno’s dream and his parent’s support, the Double Jack Gasthaus opened its doors
on 4 March 2010. Even as a small child,
he’d contributed around the pastry shop helping-out by doing little
chores. But there was more. As a young man, following several training courses, he developed a passion for
foreign beers. Earlier while located in
the bar on Via Tedesco, Bruno had conveyed his fondness for beer by introducing
over 30 imported beers at a time when foreign brews hadn’t reached the
popularity they enjoy today. Encouraged
by this initial success, his vision next took the form of a Bavarian theme for Double
Jack, a name he tells me he chose without any special significance. And here I’d anticipated and so wanted to
hear some dramatic German saga revealed about two legendary knights of old his
parents may have learned of while away in Germany, or as a minimum, some
connection to the two, two-eyed jacks found in a deck of cards. Regrettably, it was not to be, though I
remind Bruno that there is still time for invention.
While wine has
Sommeliers, now beer has its Cicerones.
Relatively new, the fledgling certification denotes a trained
professional working in the hospitality industry who specializes in the service
and knowledge of beer. They know
their malts
and hops. Beer, like wine, is a fragile
product and can be ruined by improper handling.
A self-made Cicerone, Bruno prides
himself in his knowledge of beer and
understands the complexity of each pint he serves. Just ask Bruno and he’d go into how,
for instance, Augustiner Lagerbier Helles beer is a particularly delicate beer,
with a malt and yeast fragrance, a very soft taste, crisp, that travels a long
road to reach maturity. All in Italian
of course. Bruno cuts a handsome figure behind DJ’s string
of beer taps as he throttles the frothy stuff into pint glasses and mugs in his
buttoned, white, chef-like jacket. I’m
guessing he’s in his forties now. A
little grey edge, just a little, to his sideburns gives away the fact that it
has been a few years now since he first crawled around on the floor of this
parent’s pastry shops. Personable to a
tee, his broad smile, like a facial marquee, advertises that he’s glad to see
you and is willing to take time to share a moment with you.
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| Spaten Beer on Tap |
When a
craving for beer comes a callin’ there is no region more well known for its beer than
Bavaria. With summery Weissbier and Pilsner, Märzen in autumn,
and Bocks for winter and spring, Bavaria has a brew for every season. You’ll find many of the best bottled and draft beers from around the world at DJ’s. But it’s the golden lager known as Munich
Helles (“Hell” being German for light), like Spaten Münchner Heller, that holds the “most popular” title. In fact, Spaten, a Bruno favorite, occupies the number
one “alla spina” (on tap) position at
the bar. For the strong Pale Ale
types, also on hand is
Belgium’s copper red Leffe Royale
Whitbread Golding or John Martin’s
IPA India Pale Ale English style beer. Looking for something a bit more pale, cloudy, even a little
effervescent? A malted wheat beer like König Ludwig Weissbier from upper
Bavaria, light in body and easy to drink, comes to mind. With things changing all the time
though, there’s no telling what we might find on our next visit.
In addition, generous cocktails, skillfully prepared by Bruno, are only a request away. Maria Elena’s favorite, to accompany a plate
of fries, is a Black Russian. Mine is a
sipping Negroni. We dropped by once when
Bruno wasn’t there minding the bar.
Giuseppe and Santina were holding the fort for a while. More familiar from their years of serving
cafe style coffees, they had a time figuring how to make Mare’s Black
Russian. We talked them through it from
a nearby table. The result was a
supersized cocktail, not that we fibbed on the amounts of Kahlúa and vodka mind
you. Once they found the correct
bottles, making the Negroni was a piece of cake, or for these seasoned pastry
folks, a piece of torta.
Whether we raise our glasses, whatever they might contain, to
“Cin-Cin”, “Prost” or “Saluti”, talk
of beer can get you hungry. It can soon
elicit the need for something to munch on while enjoying all this beer. DJ offers classic Italian style pub food but with a German twist here and there. Pizza, of course, is standard fare with the
pizzaiolo (pizza-maker) using a wood-fired oven to craft pizza using
quality ingredients. It doesn’t
get any better than a pizza made with the real stuff. Take DJ’s “Bufalina” pizza which uses DOP
certified Buffalo Mozzarella. There are also
a few German named pies on the long pizza menu.
The “Teutonic” pizza, for example, featured werstel (frankfurters or to emphasize more finery, Vienna
sausages). You’ll find that all the pizzas offered are
not your “Pizza Hut” garden variety.
Going along with the theme, there are also Bavarian appetizers, and even
that German mainstay, Bratwurst and Sauerkraut with a pretzel for good measure.
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| The "Pizzaiolo" Pizza Maker |
As an innovative idea, there was also the "Cornetto
Caldo a Mezzanotte”, something we’ve not tried, even heard of. Our timing was simply off. We’re not often there in August, and when we
are, we’re at fault for going to bed early.
Guilty on two counts, we’ve simply missed out on the mezzanotte (midnight) fun at DJ. To stimulate business, Bruno introduced the
idea of a hot croissant served at midnight that he churned out by the
hundreds every August night! At the
time, his was a novel concept, found nowhere else. It brought in the late-night Calitri
crowd. This led to Double Jack becoming
the place to be, most frequented by the young people of Calitri and neighboring
towns.
For genuine moments
in the
company of friends, the DJ calendar also features theme nights and various
forms of entertainment - evenings of ballroom and Latin American dancing for
the Copacabana
salsa types,
live music, cabaret, karaoke, and trivia nights. For sports fans, it’s possible to overdose on
soccer matches and other sporting events, year-round. Here admittedly, the pub loses its Bavarian character
outright, for the cheers would favor Napoli over Salzburg’s Red Bull team any
night. It might have to do with
the German-Italian in me but I’m wondering if a continuous intake of Negroni’s
and pizza while shouting “Vai Napoli”
could alter my 23 DNA pairs and swing me toward being just a little more
Italian. I’m certainly trying.
DJ is a place with a story a shade too big to be hosted on the backside of a table placemat. Following
a disastrous earthquake, government apathy, years and years of struggle, the
kernel of an
idea in a young man, and the support of family, like a phoenix
rising, it has grown to become a landmark in Irpinia, Campania’s heartland. In a way, Double Jack is much like that obscured moon
over Rome we’d waited on, though our wait didn’t approach the years of
postponement before DJ appeared on Calitri’s horizon. In Bruno’s young mind, it had always orbiting
in his thoughts. Here
you eat well and drink even better. On a stormy
cold evening, it can be like an awakening of a springtime equinox, while on
those sporting event nights, it grows larger than life. In a sentence, it might best be
summarized as “Good beer, good food, good people, and a good time”.
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| Maria Elena, with Black Russian, Chats with Santina |
Words
should have larger meaning. They can
stir you to action, then again, they just might go beyond the page to create an
image in your mind. Like the words
to the theme song from the TV hit “Cheers” encouraged us, “take a break from your worries” and go “where everyone knows your name”.
That’s been our experience at Double Jack, a hospitable getaway for
sure. Someday soon when we’re back,
we’ll try it again, and again after that. You
can tell, I like Double Jack, whether it’s raining or not. I see it in my mind. I like everything about it, especially Bruno,
Santina, and Giuseppe. They’re good
people, the kind you’d want to know your name.
From That Rogue Tourist
Paolo
