We've been sitting in the car for almost eleven hours now which means there are only one or two more hours left till we reach our destination: Castelgrande, the little village in the south of Italy where my Dad grew up. It's a long journey from Switzerland all the way down there and even though I love road trips, I just want to arrive already. I'm feeling extremely tired, my legs hurt and I'm longing for a bit more space to stretch them. I can't even imagine how exhausted my Dad must be after driving for the entire day.

The landscape is flashing by while I'm staring out of the window, lost in my thoughts. Every now and then I can hear my Dad swear in Italian which makes me smile because I love the sound of that beautiful language so much, even when it's just a swear word. Him losing his temper is justified though because people here do drive like idiots.

After a while I notice that the car is getting slower and lift my head up from the five minute slumber I've been in. We're stopping on the parking lot in front of a roadhouse and I quickly reach for the door handle, relieved to finally be able to move my body for a bit. When I step outside, I'm immediately aware that I'm no longer in Switzerland because like always the differences are obvious right away. The air, the voices surrounding me, the loudness, the chaos. Everything's so different from what I'm used to yet everything feels so familiar to me. 

Back on the road for the last stage of the trip, we leave the highway. The street gets twisting and is slowly going upwards.

And then, we're finally there. The village appears in front of us and we make our way through it until we turn into the street our house is located in. Nonna is leaning against the front door, already waiting for us with a happy expression on her face. We haven't seen her in months because just like every other year she spent the summer in Castelgrande. It's the middle of October now so once we drive back to Switzerland she will be coming with us. After giving her a tight hug, I can see the neighbours coming out of their houses as well. All of them are welcoming us with a warm smile.  


I wake up the next morning feeling proud of myself because the night before, just after our arrival, I properly talked to my Nonna in Italian for the first time. I've always been a bit afraid to talk in what technically is my second language because I don't speak it fluently. This time while being here I decided to just stop caring about making mistakes and I'm so glad I did. The clearly visible spark in Nonna's eyes was priceless.

At around eleven a.m. we leave the house to go have lunch at Zia Filomena and Zio Angelo's house. We start following the street leading to the centre of the village and while we're walking through the alleys people are looking at us with curiosity in their eyes. Some of them recognise my Dad because they know him from when he was little and used to live in Castelgrande while others have no idea who we are. Castelgrande is far from being a place for tourists so seeing someone they don't know is a rare case for the inhabitants of the village.

Three hours later we're still sitting at the table, tons of food in front of us. That's how it is when you get a lunch invitation in Italy: you eat and eat and eat with no ending in sight. While listening to my Dad and his relatives talk I realise that the five years or something of learning Italian at school are paying off. I now understand pieces of the conversation, not everything because they speak in dialect and sometimes way too fast for me to follow them. When I think of all the times I sat at the table with them as a kid not having a clue what they are even talking about, it's a huge progress though. One that makes me extremely happy just like talking in Italian with my Nonna did.

Before we leave they invite us to help them gather their grapes the next day because they always do that in October. 



When I get up in the morning, the sun is already shining through my window which immediately puts me in a good mood. We will be gathering the grapes later on in the day so I pass time by reading for hours.

The sound of a car engine in front of the house let's us know that Zio Angelo is here so we head downstairs. He greets us in a serious way, telling us not to leave any dirt in his car. I look around feeling confused because the ground is already covered with mud and dust. Then he starts smiling and I realise he was joking. We all crack up.

We arrive at the spot where their grapes are, some of my female relatives already working. My Mum and I join the other women. They give us instructions and we start going through the lines, putting the grapes in huge baskets which will be transported by the men.

I look up and see Zio Angelo loading his small, old car which looks like it's going to fall apart any minute with several boxes full of grapes. They're heavy and the car boot is so full that he can't even close it anymore. He doesn't seem to care though. 

I can't help but laugh because it's ridiculous but so typical for the people here. I think to myself: only when in Italy.

Helping my relatives with their work on this beautiful day, makes me feel like I belong here. Even though we only come to Castelgrande every two years, I can feel the bond connecting me to these people.   

In that moment I realise that this village, this is my second home. I might not have grown up here but it does have a special place in my heart and so do the people living in it. The time I'm spending in Castelgrande is a different kind of holiday because it doesn't really feel like a holiday. It's more like coming home after being gone for a while.