I have been blessed to travel to Italy many times, but one trip—visiting the tiny town of Accettura in Basilicata—will always stand out. While studying in Rome, my friend Rocco from New York City invited me on a journey to the town where his family had originated. Although he didn’t know anyone there personally, the trip promised to be magical, and I eagerly joined him. We knew the journey would be challenging, but the excitement of exploring his ancestral roots made every mile worthwhile.
The train rides were long, but the scenery was breathtaking. Rolling hills, Apennine Mountains, and distant hillside towns unfolded in every shade of green. Upon arriving in Potenza, we discovered how isolated Accettura truly was—some taxi drivers hadn’t even heard of it. After much searching, we found a driver willing to navigate the treacherous, narrow dirt roads carved into the mountains. Along the way, we saw men chopping wood and herding goats in the forest, a humbling glimpse of life untouched by modernization.
Arriving in Accettura, perched atop a mountaintop, the town epitomized “small town.” It reminded me of Torrice, my parents’ birthplace in Lazio, but even smaller. Men walked bulls through the piazza, and women drew water from the fountain, their lives intertwined in a strong sense of community. Our host, Gennaro, an elderly widower, welcomed us like royalty. Despite the dialect barrier, he prepared an unforgettable meal of fresh pasta, sautéed vegetables, homemade mozzarella, bread, wine, and espresso. Over dinner, Rocco shared the few family stories he knew, and Gennaro recognized names from generations past, revealing connections that had survived even decades of emigration.
The next day, Gennaro introduced us to the town, calling us the grandchildren he never had, and invited us into homes for cookies and espresso. That evening, we finally met Rocco’s family—Renzo, Matilde, and their three children—after a steep walk down the hill. The reunion was emotional; tears, laughter, and stories flowed as the children embraced us as family. The following day included a visit to the town office and the mayor, who shared more about life in Accettura. During our stay, I felt at home, connected not only to Rocco’s ancestors but to Italy itself, gaining a deeper appreciation for the sacrifices my own family made.
Those five days were life changing. Gennaro, Renzo, and Matilde treated us with extraordinary warmth, and I witnessed a way of life both simple and profound. Twenty-three years later, I still think of Accettura and the magic of that journey. Rocco returned to see his family again, and I hope to accompany him, because in those days, his family became my family too.
