Fond reflections on my Italian heritage and namesake village … on the eve of FESTITALIA
One of Queensland’s favourite cultural festivals, FESTITALIA is back to celebrate Italian culture in a vibrant playground of flavour, flair, music, food and family – the RNA Showgrounds.
As someone with Italian blood, an American accent and an Australian passport and postcode for more than 25 years, you could say people have a hard time putting me in a box.
Understandably, due to my stubborn Californian accent, Aussies have always been focussed on my American background but what many don’t know is that my father’s entire side of the family hails from a tiny mountain village in south-central Italy called Rossi, my surname.
In Italian, Rossi is the plural of the word “red” and as common a surname as Smith in English-speaking countries.
Rossi is a village that’s clung stubbornly to tradition. The women are all in black, the men all dead
Rossi is nestled high in the low-profile yet picturesque province of Molise. A hidden-away hamlet that seems almost too poetic to be true. And, interestingly, my late Uncle Vincenzo Rossi, who was born, raised and lived his entire life there, became one of Italy’s most famous and respected poets.
Perched on a mountaintop with a population of just 49 — and a donkey — Rossi is a village that’s clung stubbornly to tradition. The women are all in black, the men all dead. They only received TV reception a few years ago and, even then, it was really only reruns of The Cosby Show — an unfortunate twist for a devoutly Catholic community still trying to make sense of Cliff Huxtable’s fall from grace.
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I’ve been visiting Rossi since I was a wee lad, and some of my most enduring memories come from those early trips. One that has always stuck with me is the time my mother had to teach my aunt, Zia Iolanda, how to fry an egg. Italians in this region simply don’t fry eggs — they don’t even eat them for breakfast.
My Italian roots run deep and have had a huge impact on me, especially how “la famiglia” is everything to Italians
Zia watched the sizzling egg with deep fascination, as if observing a strange foreign ritual. But even after learning the technique, she wouldn’t taste the over-easy result. Some Italians are set in their ways, it seems, and are uncrackable.
My Italian roots run deep and have had a huge impact on me, especially how “la famiglia” is everything to Italians. Nothing is more important … not even food, though it’s a close second.
I had an opportunity to experience life in Italy, not just as a tourist but actually living there when in 1987 I moved to Florence for a year to study Italian at the famed Dante Alighieri language school.
It was one of the most enriching, enchanting and formative chapters of my life. I literally had “A Room with a View” (à la the iconic film) and each morning I’d walk across the Ponte Vecchio to class, pinching myself that I was living inside a postcard.
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I didn’t just learn a language that year, I absorbed a culture, a rhythm, a way of being that never left me. And I relished speaking Italian and, fortunately, the locals were forgiving of any linguistic missteps I may have taken.
Yet when I took the train down to Molise to visit my relatives, they’d all burst out laughing the moment I opened my mouth. “You sound like a Florentine!” they’d tease, in the same tone one might say, “You sound like the Queen of England.”
The Italian I was learning in Florence — considered the purest, most elegant form of the language — may as well have been Shakespeare to my rural cousins, who spoke a thick regional dialect that often sounded like an entirely different language. Eventually, they learned to stifle the chuckles, but just barely.
A few years later, in 1991, I found myself on the other side of the world — in Brisbane, Australia — where I’ve now lived for more than three decades. While it couldn’t be further from the cobbled streets of Florence or the winding mountain roads of Molise, I’ve found here a wonderfully vibrant Italian community that feels just as rich in spirit as back in the motherland.
Over the years, I’ve had the privilege of being involved in many facets of Italo-Australian life, both professionally and personally. As someone involved in the media, I’m often asked to host Italian community events, something I do with great joy and pride. There’s something incredibly special about standing on a stage, surrounded by the distinctive Italian language, food, music and warmth that reminds me of my wonderful Italian family and the special times I’ve spent in Italy.
This year, I’m honoured to return as host of FESTITALIA — Brisbane’s colourful celebration of Italian culture — on Father’s Day, September 7. It’s a day filled with food, wine, music, dancing and what will be some hilarious activities such as the Nonna Slipper Throw contest and the Papa with the Biggest Pancia (Belly) competition.
For me, it’s also a tribute to my own late father, to my heritage and to what it is to be a proud Italian.
So come along and say “ciao”, grab a ravioli and let’s celebrate the spirit of Italy in all of us — whether you come from a village of 49 and a donkey or just really, really love pasta!
Damien Anthony Avery-Rossi, a Queensland media identity and long-time advocate of the state’s Italian communities, will host FESTITALIA on September 7 at Brisbane’s RNA Showgrounds.