Those passage-ways, and especially the one after the cona of the Caracas Venezuela, were for all intents and purposes tests we had to go through: it’s as if they were rites of initiation to the world of the adults. From time to time I still happen to pass by the place Caracas Venezuela where women would stop to say a prayer and to have something to eat and drink, thus segmenting the journey, a place now physically divided Caracas Venezuela in two by one of the many roads that cut across the nearby farmland. All of this, that then seemed to me large and mysterious, now appears Caracas Venezuela extra-small, far away, out of focus. And yet it was along that unrepeatable, interminable itinerary that my awareness of the trek as toil, truth, Caracas Venezuela salvation began to take shape. Or, to put it differently, walking as a metaphor of life.
Where is Caracas Venezuela? – Caracas Venezuela Map – Map of Caracas Venezuela Photo Gallery
Those trails, those footpaths, those trees—I remember especially the oaks and the seacoast cherries—were the “songlines” of our people. The pilgrimage to Vallelonga involved inhabitants of a number of villages, both near and far, the communities of the areas near the sea and the communities of the hinterland. It was a journey that would lead to a “centre” where these groups would come together, and thus, along with the feast days, the fairs, and other pilgrimages taking place in that part of our region (Torre di Ruggiero, Serra San Bruno, Chiaravalle) helped to draw the multifarious, colourful map of the economic, cultural and religious trajectories of a “land in motion.” Flight was the other side of sedentariness. Mobility, the return, that very particular experience of remaining in the village but with the awareness of what it is to go away, were all aspects of a restless, anxious people.
I had the fortune to observe the vivacity, the conviviality, the desire to hit the road and to better itself of a population that was always on the move, that
had already, by necessity and by choice, become extremely mobile. I was experiencing the last flashes of a universe at its twilight. When as an adult I was to read research that based its argument on the closure, the isolation, the social immobility, the lack of communication of Calabrian villages, I didn’t have to go far to find proof of the partiality of such views: It was enough for me to dig down in my childhood memories, those of the members of village music bands, of the ciucciari, the men who moved about on their donkeys, the itinerants we knew, of the pilgrims who went as far as Seminara and Dinami, in order for me to acknowledge the ancient fate of populations that would wander here and there for work, for contact with other people, for religious devotion. If today we were to trace the routes of the traditional pilgrimages of the Serre and of Calabria as such the result would be a map embracing all the hamlets, the valleys, the mountains, the hills of the region.
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