Tag Archives: Italy Australia

Returning to Italy for the first time since the 1930s…

Part 2 – Il grande viaggio 1975… 50 years since Nanna Francesca and Nonno Anni took their ‘big trip’ overseas.

For this instalment, one photograph stands out – when Nonno Anni returns to Fossa more than three decades after emigrating to Australia. I wrote about this in Joe’s Fruit Shop and Milk Bar, in the chapter ‘Orange Drink – 6d’ and looking at this photograph again now, it takes me right back to sitting at the kitchen table when Nonno Anni handed me this picture and spoke of returning to his beloved Fossa for that first time. I can still smell the brewed coffee, feel the biscuit crumbs on the tablecloth, and see the tears in his eyes…

‘It seemed the entire village came out into the street when we arrived in Fossa,’ Nonno Anni shakes his head, marvelling. And having stood in that lane, I can almost hear the clunking open of shutters and doors, footsteps on stone.

He shows me a photograph of the return – Nonno Anni in his travelling suit, kneeling on the cobblestones surrounded by dozens of villagers clustered around him, many reaching out with a hand on his shoulders, his arms, his back. The emotion in his face is pure. They never forgot him, enveloping him back into their village family. Several decades of poverty, migration, and the war had forever split an entire village. A period short in historical terms but long for those living through it, and everlasting in that there would forever be those who went beyond the mountains and those who stayed encircled by them.

The younger people in the photograph must’ve been thinking, ‘who are these people?’ but it’s clear the older people knew. It’s lovely how they embraced Nanna Francesca also, though she wasn’t from Fossa or Abruzzo. Of course, she too was very keen to see her family house again in Calabria, but that is in the next part of their travels… Buon Viaggio! 💛🌠

Part 1…

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…sulla spiaggia di Palmi, 1950

“Ricordo del 26 July 1950 sulla spiaggia di Palmi – Memory of 26 July 1950 on the beach of Palmi…”

Sent to my grandparents from relatives in Italy during the 1950s, these beautiful photographs with their fleeting, heartfelt messages written on the back say a lot about the sacrifice of migration. Yes, that courage to go to the other side of the world brought much-needed opportunity and prosperity, as well as new friends and family. And yet, there was so much that had to be left behind too, loved ones, ancestral homes no matter how modest, centuries and generations of history and belonging.

To think of the fragility of such photographs criss-crossing the world sent with love and a need to keep family ties strong, well, it both warms my heart and makes it break a little, if I’m honest. These photographs were taken in Palmi, Calabria and Fossa, Abruzzo, Nanna Francesca and Nonno Anni’s birth towns and I wonder how they must have felt when they received them from their loved ones, Vincenzo, Pierina and Luigi.

I know this tradition kept on at least until the 1970s since Nanna would get me, as a child, to pose for photos to send to Italy. Back then, I couldn’t understand why she’d be sending a photo of me to some far-off relatives I’d never met. Now, it is quite amazing and beautiful to think how, for many decades, families between two countries on far sides of the world kept close in this way. 🖤📸

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At the end of the year…

“On Boxing Day, Annibale, Francesca and the others loaded the back of the Chevrolet with cold drinks, some roast chickens and a couple of large watermelons. After several years of keeping the fruit shop and milk bar open almost every day, Annibale had decided they’d close for a couple of days over Christmas and the family would head to the beach for the day…

They chose a grassy spot in the stippled shade of a Norfolk Pine and set out the Esky on top of an old canvas tarpaulin. Maddalena and Vitale sat on fold-out chairs in the shade while everyone else headed for the beach. The sand was rough with bits of broken shell underfoot but it was a perfect day for the seaside, warm, with little wind, sunlight glinting on the water. Francesca hadn’t stood on a beach since her childhood in Palmi. Just the sound of the gentle waves breaking in little bubbly ripples around her feet brought a smile. None of them could swim but they only went in waist-deep, crouching and talking, ducking under at times to cool their heads.

At noon, Maddalena waved everyone in, and they traipsed up the beach for lunch. Towels wrapped about their waists, they sat on the edge of the tarpaulin, feet caked with wet sand sticking out onto the grass. Everyone devoured pieces of roast chicken, licking salt and grease from their fingers, before biting into slices of watermelon, the sugary juice flooding their mouths. Remo and a few of the young migrants who’d come with them competed in how far they could shoot black seeds from between their lips onto the grass.

After lunch, while the others went to get an ice cream or for another dip in the sea, Annibale lay back on the tarp snoozing, one arm flung over his eyes. The waves slapped with calming monotony. Children shrieked in their games along the sand. Seagulls strolled, squabbled and scooped water into their beaks at the water’s edge. With a chuckle, Francesca took a photo as Annibale dozed, unaware. Then she sat down next to him, watching Remo and Lorenzo building a sandcastle with a moat. There was no way the incoming tide would fill it until they’d long gone back to Brisbane. Francesca felt so happy being at a beach again she didn’t want it to end.”

From, Joe’s Fruit Shop and Milk Bar.

(Nonno Anni at Suttons Beach, Redcliffe.)

Like so many migrants running their own businesses, for years, my grandparents worked every day, including nights and weekends to keep their fruit shop and milk bar open from 7am to 11pm, and after several years of no holidays at all, only had a one-day holiday at the beach each year for decades. I will forever be inspired by their work ethic and have so much respect for all those migrants working hard in the same situation today. Grazie con molto rispetto. Zoë xx

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from Italia to Australia…

remo ship in SydneyThe ship, RemoThe Italian ship, ‘Remo’, which is linked to four generations of my family… my great-grandfather, Vitale arrived in Australia for the second time aboard it in 1932, my grandfather, Annibale sailed from Italy in it when he was just 15 in 1939, my father was named after it, and my nephew shares with it his second name.

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