You’re about to read of a family story, like many happen to be in the South.
Nothing special, some of you might think. Not really. Every family story has a plot: difficulties, hopes, dreams, sometimes even illusions and disappointments that never end up being the front cover. Indeed, they are crammed into the most hidden corners of our memory, like footnotes at the mercy of introspective readers. What comfort human beings are happy endings. Good endings have always had and will always have the capability of comforting people. Our history doesn’t differ much in that.
This is just a reminder for ourselves and the little ones that, behind every success and happy ending, there are difficulties to be faced. The magic lies in looking back at those hard times after years with the eyes full of deep gratitude. Similarly is the skeleton of this trullo: each chianca represents fatigue, sweat, tiredness, disappointment, but also grit, stubbornness, ambition and inner strength. We could talk for ages about my childhood memories this trullo evokes: this is where my grandmother was born and raised and today she still is the family rock. The trullo was the abandoned in the 1960s, as it happened to all the others in town - they were indeed housings for the poor people on the edge of the economic boom. However, all the stories told about these magic cone-roofed houses hardly mention the strong willpower and patience involved in developing a revolutionary project. Reconverting these decadent yet unique buildings and giving them new life was quite neglected throughout the community of Alberobello at the very beginning. Yet, in a matter of a couple of decades, the turnouts are incredible: Alberobello is under the world’s spotlights. After studying and working in London for a few years, I felt the need to be back home. A few years ago, taking over the renovation of an abandoned trullo was seen as a real gamble. I had little money in my pocket but a lot of passion and the need to be independent. With the help of my father, we brought every chianca of the building and the cone back to life.
Each day was a new challenge and life lesson.
The trullo represented the mirror of my future freedom. It would allow me to build and self-fund the life path I dream of: becoming an airline pilot. Day after day, the mosaic started to take shape.
After a year and a half, the trullo was finally ready to welcome the first guests, even though summer season was about to end. Unexpectedly, reservations came in as a godsend and I was busy day and night: preparing breakfasts in the morning, cleaning up in the afternoon and studying for my flight course in the evening. In the meantime, I received a job offer which gave me the opportunity of employing my mother to take care of the trull. Today, she’s the soul of the place you are staying at. She will pamper your mornings with a breakfast of handmade produce, preparing foamy cappuccinos and freshly cooked eggs in front of you. My tireless grandmother never stops working: she takes care of the laundry and her hand is grabbed to the iron, while her mind keeps evoking memories about the trullo from the past. Each of my family member is a pillar. Without each of them, this would have not been possible. We have come a long way and we still have a longer one to go. However, all I can say is that I am becoming more and more aware of my roots and values instilled by those who raised me. I struggled to go away from home