Rairè

Procida // Italy

By Lauren di Matteo

WRITTEN BY NICOLE BRAVO

The reasons that drive many to go abroad are endless. However, when Lauren and I travel, the deep motivation is to get to know a culture, and what’s more, the people. While I do play travel agent for our trips, most of the time spent researching is not on the sweetest sights to see or fun things to do, but rather where we’re staying. And not simply the location, but who we’re staying with. Everyone knows, it’s not about what you do, but who you’re with, and that’s the beauty of Airbnb.

Airbnb has built a most valuable bridge between hosts passionate about hospitality and travelers intent on an authentic experience. While there were a number of great places to choose from, after reading through countless reviews from guests, Rairè seemed to be the undeniable, perfect fit for our time on the island of Procida. One comment after another mentioned how the hosts went above and beyond in every detail, providing not only a great experience, but also welcoming guests into their lives. While it was a few bucks more per night than elsewhere, it was well worth the expense if it meant truly connecting with locals.

Enza Schiano di Coscia was born on Procida, as was her husband Domenico, and this property formerly belonged to her father. Rairè is the name of the home, a play on the words Raimondo’s riposo (rest). Her father, Raimondo, found rest and relaxation within the walls of this cool cantina. While the upper levels, where the family currently lives, were built in the ‘60s, the first floor, where we stayed, was the original 16th century cantina. Its walls still measure almost a meter thick, though it has had a bit of a facelift since its younger days. The white walls gave an open, airy feel, while every ceramic surface, from lamps and light covers to sink basins and art work, was handmade and painted by our quintessential southern Italian host, Enza.

Our room, called alla controra, was once the part of the cantina where Raimondo would take his midday nap (riposo). Controra means against the hour, a term more widely known in southern Italy (due to its especially hot summers) as the time of day when work is put aside for a few hours to rest and relax. It is when the sun reaches its zenith, the hottest part of the day, when mothers put their children down for a nap with a story about the carro trainato da cavalli alati (chariot pulled by winged horses). Think back with me to your childhood, when you’d stare at the sun for a little too long, look away and see dark shapes elsewhere. Well, these southern Italian mothers would tell their children that the dark shape they saw was the chariot and horses which would take them away if they did not close their eyes and sleep. An ancient story that is told even to this day, though not as widely believed by children anymore.

As we enjoyed our breakfast of freshly baked torta al limone (lemon cake)—courtesy of Lucia, one of Enza’s daughters—along with the sweetest peaches I’ve ever eaten, homemade plum jam on toast, and espresso, we marveled at the beautiful art adorning the room. Every ledge, it seemed, was decorated with a painting of the island done on coarse red or white clay. When Enza returned that morning from her daily swim with Domenico, I inquired as to how she learned to paint so well. She simply stated that it was her forty years as an elementary school teacher that helped develop her artistic abilities.

The process of connecting—building trust and mutual understanding— took place little by little each day. Enza didn’t speak a word of English (though fluent in Italian & French), and at times seemed a bit nervous interacting with us. However, once she recognized our willingness to use the Italian we knew and fill in the rest with gestures, a meaningful relationship began to form. There was such a sweet gentleness about her that we found ourselves rehearsing the best way to ask various questions in Italian before she stopped in next. Warmed by our genuine interest, she eventually invited us up to the second level of her home to show us more of her art. We attempted to set a specific time to meet, and in true Italian fashion, she settled on “sometime in the afternoon.”

By the afternoon, Enza‘s daughter Simona was around and offered to help translate for us. We had only seen her briefly in passing thus far (she was visiting from the south), but every interaction had been full of unmerited kindness on her part. At this point, Enza brought us into her home filled with ceramic pieces adorning every surface and more works of art than we could have imagined being pulled out of every cupboard. From plates and bowls, to beautiful scenery painted on various tiles and clay, we could not believe that one woman created all of this. When asked if she sold any of her artwork, she shook her head and smiled at the absurdity of the thought. As a sculptor, ceramicist and painter, she created these works of art for her family and herself, solely because she loved to do it.

I was most impressed with her Presepe Napoletano (Neapolitan Manger), as it was my first exposure to such a beautiful work. The history of these nativity scenes dates back to the 13th century when St. Francis of Assisi put on a live reenactment of the Nativity. Soon after, churches began constructing life-size nativity scenes in various chapels; over centuries they devolved into small artistic pieces sold as decorations. Not only are the ornate pieces meticulously carved from cork, but each terra-cotta figurine is painted with a detailed face, and many times even the clothing is made of tailored fabric.

The central scene of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph remains intact but is set alongside common scenes such as people at work, in the marketplace, or families at home enjoying a meal. Though predominantly perceived as a blending of the sacred and profane, I was struck by the beauty and humanity of this magnificent work of art. The coming of Christ was not portrayed as an event far removed from society, as it seems to be in American nativities, but as the humble condescension of Emmanuel—God with us. It was apparent in Enza’s piece, as well as those I later saw throughout Naples, that the focal point of every presepe was the birth of Gesú, with an emphasis on his presence in the lives of ordinary people. The Divine fully entered and engaged with humanity in its current state.

Simona led us into the kitchen where Enza was finishing up preparations for their dinner:

Jam

Prunes, sugar, and lemon

Alici Marinato

Raw anchovies marinated in lemon, vinegar, and salt for three hours, then garnished with garlic, pepper, and parsley.

Cassatiello

Savory Neapolitan bread made with spicy provolone and mortadella. This is traditionally an Easter dish, at which time it is baked with a few whole eggs, shell-intact with a thin layer of dough shaped like a cross placed over each egg—a symbol of the death of Christ and subsequent rebirth.

We moved outside to the terrace and settled beneath the shade of sprawling grapevines, delighting in the distinct flavor of uva fragola (strawberry grapes) that Enza had just picked from overhead. Simona and I chatted in English now, with her pausing every few moments to translate for Enza. She shared many insights about life in Italy, and her intriguing experiences as a well established journalist. For hours, I sat by her side as she carefully explained the details of her family, various traditions, and her own travels. A woman of varying passions, she is now in the process of renovating the top level of Rairè to create an outdoor yoga studio—with views overlooking the sea. Though a wanderer at heart, there is no place that compares to her home.

The Schiano di Coscia family opened up their lives and invited us in. Those few hours spent with them comprised the sweetest moments of our stay in Procida. We received a warm invitation to return again to experience more of the splendor of their island, and we hope to do so. Besides the sparkling sea and picturesque views, it was their transparency, kindness, and true hospitality that made our time in Procida unforgettable.