The whole reason for our trip to Catanzaro was to see a small village called Gimigliano, the hometown of Michelle’s grandfather who emigrated to the US at 14 years old. Being all the way over here made it hard to contemplate not stopping.This morning we slept in a little, and enjoyed the breakfast buffet at the hotel. Chloe has really taken to Europe because of the Nutella. She eats it at home, but is amused by how prevalent it is here. This morning she frosted a Nutella croissant with a whole package of Nutella and proceeded to eat it while we all looked on in awe and horror. Rylie meantime found a particular juice she really liked and when questioned told us it was “Ace Juice.” Of course I told her it was pronounced “Ass Juice.” I’m still laughing about it.The language barrier is getting easier, but the learning curve is steep here as very few people speak English. (I know why, our TV only gets three english channels: CNN, Fox News, and Fox Business. Who could watch any of that long enough to learn anything?) For some reason people keep speaking to Rylie and me in Spanish. Which is definitely better for them…The drive out of Catanzaro Lido wasn’t bad save for the seemingly endless string of traffic circles. They’re better for the flow of traffic, but each I got into one ot seemed like someone was ringing the bell for a WWE death match. No accidents that I saw and all ended well.As we moved through the province of Catanzaro and toward Gimigliano we covered highway, country road, and village main drag, often changing second to second. At least it felt that way. The last village before Gimigliano, Cavora, was my first introduction to a less than two lane road that goes in both directions. The apparent solution here is maintaining speed without flinching and that somehow it all will work out. Blind hairpin turn after blind regular turn, and again, all was fine. As we approached our destination I was feeling more confident. Michelle and Chloe were just feeling more nauseous.Gimigliano is believed to have been settled in the late 800’s by refugees from the coast looking to find homes away from the Muslims who were beginning gather power in Southern Italy. In the 1400’s then victim of the Feudal system, the village was sold at least twice. It gained freedom when feuldalism was abolished in 1806 only to be set fire to in 1807 by Giuseppe Boneparte’s soldiers. It was since rebuilt and is currently home to roughly 3400 people, less than the population of Rylie’s high school.Driving in, I can see the appeal of the location. Perched on the upper two thirds of a steep and rugged hill, defense would be easier and only the most prepared and hearty would-be conquerors would even attempt to gain the ground. There were even visible traces of terracing on the surrounding hillsides indicating a historic focus on farming, but that doesn’t appear to be active today.The town is really well maintained and rustic at the same time. It was unique experience dealing with road work being done with a bobcat excavator because a full size backhoe would undoubtedly be way too big to allow traffic to pass. All the major servicesappeared to be present with the exception of a restaurant, totally missing. I had expected one tiny place with exceptional food, but not that we found. Plus, the one bar was closed.We drove through as much as possible and took quite a few pictures. The town’s major roads were barely conducive to our compact SUV, the minor roads likely wouldn’t have been passable. Michelle was pretty emotional seeing the place her family left to come to the United States. I enjoyed seeing her run through the full range and really soak in the experience.We spent the affernoon in the hotel room recovering from the experience. It was far too hot to head to the beach across the street: upper 90s and humidity over 70%. It was quite nasty.Tonight we ordered pizza from a local place because we need an early start tomorrow and I wasmt going to risk not having a parking place when we got back. Four neapolitan pizzas for 5 euros each. We won’t see that price again. The kids enjoyed theirs, even with the “salty mushrooms” that were used as toppings. Some people call them “anchoives” but the kids didn’t seem to mind calling them mushrooms. At least, not until they read this…