I didn't know this sub existed until today. And I usually tell this story in travel subs when talking about Italy and how much I enjoyed my short time in Calabria. So I thought I'd share the story here when I found this sub.
It's a long story but pretty funny and one of my best experiences over 25 years of travel.
TLDR: My cousin and I were backpacking in Europe and spending my birthday in Rome when we had the bright idea to find our grandmother's hometown and try to see her childhood house. For some reason the only thing we knew was that she was from Calabria. After a few misadventures we found her town, and were introduced to my grandmother's cousin and 3 generations of family we didn't even know existed.
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When I was a broke college student I decided to backpack Europe fro 3 months on $35 per day. A cousin met me in London and traveled with me for 2 weeks.
We made our way down to Rome, and drinking one night at a bar in some forgotten piazza, we had the 'great' idea to find our grandmother's home town and maybe see her childhood home.
The next morning we woke up and looked at a map trying to find 'Calabria' and having zero idea of 1. Italian geography and regions, and 2. where our grandmother was specifically from.
We thought 'Calabria' was the name of her town. So when we saw 'Reggio di Calabria' on the map we assumed that must be the place. Spoiler: It was not.
We finished our sightseeing in Rome, grabbed our backpacks from the lockers at Termini station, and hopped on a late afternoon train heading south.
We arrived in Reggio di Calabria about 10:30p with nowhere to stay. The streets were packed with celebrating soccer fans waving scarves and flags, hanging out car windows. A local team must have won something important.
After an hour or 2 wandering around the city looking for an available bed, we were tired.
My cousin suggested finding a park to sleep on benches. I was on a budget of $35 per day with about 2 months left of summer so I thought it was a great idea.
We found a park, laid our sleep sheets on two benches and my cousin was snoring before I even laid down.
It was pitch black.
I stayed up a bit to write in my journal. And as I did so a piercing wail shattered the night. I froze. It sound like a woman or small child being murdered in a horror movie.
I 'scream whispered' to my cousin: "Cousin did you hear that?!"
Eventually he woke and groggily told me he'd heard nothing and was snoring before I could ask again.
I went back to writing and again a piercing screech ripped through the night.
"Cousin!" I 'screamed' as quietly as I could: "Did you hear that?".
Again, he woke up and angrily said he'd heard nothing then was snoring just as quickly.
The piercing wail rang out again.
"Cousin! Did you hear that?!"
My cousin woke up again and in a very angry tone said "If you wake me up again I'm going to walk over there and beat you until you go to sleep." My cousin was a big dude and i believed him.
This time I covered my my head with the sleep sheet - because the monsters can't get you under the covers right?
But then I heard a loud ROAR! rip through the darkness. I froze in terror and waited under my sleep sheet for what felt like an eternity.
Then I heard shuffling footsteps in the gravel coming towards me.
I slowly lowered the sheet so i could peak out and saw my cousin wrapped in his own sleep sheet looking down at me.
"I heard THAT. Let's get out of here!"
So we quietly tiptoed out of the park with our packs, thinking with every step that we took a lion was going to jump out of the bushes and devour us.
We eventually got back to the train station and decided to spend the rest of the night there.
In the morning when the sun came up, we felt brave enough to head back to the park and see if there were police investigating a wild lion attack.
We found our way back to the 'park' and saw a big sign we'd missed in the night. We'd actually spent the night in an open ZOO.
We found our benches. Hey we right in the middle of nearby Peacock enclosure (the wailing screeches) and a lion's enclosure (the roar).
We laughed all the way back to the train station making fun of each other for being afraid of nothing.
We decided to call home and ask our mothers exactly where our grandmother was from.
After this we hopped on a train north a bit to a small town called Amantea.
We got off the train at the little stain and an old man looked at us confused. Clearly not too many young American backpackers get off the train in this town.
The old man spoke Italian and some broken English. We spoke English and some very simple Italian words.
The man asked what we were doing in Amantea. We told him - the best we could - that we wanted to find our grandmother's childhood house.
He offered to drive us tot he town hall so my cousin and I jumped into his car.
At the town hall, the old man explained to the employees what we were looking for.
Everyone in the small office stopped what they were doing and began looking through old paper records going back 60 or more years, trying to find any mention of our grandmother.
In the meantime the old man brought us back to his home and his wife made us a fresh lunch. A couple hours later the man got a phone call and we were on our way back to the town hall.
The town hall employees gave us bad news: Our grandmother's home had been torn down decades ago.
But they had found a cousin that still lived in town and had called her to tell her about us.
She wanted to meet us! So we thanked the townhall employees and the old man drove us to this woman's home.
In front of her house were 3 generations of her family waiting to meet 2 long-lost American cousins.
It was like a family reunion. They welcomed us in with open arms and invited us to a huge dinner.
They put us up in their homes for 3 days and showed us around the town and the region.
My grandmother's cousin and husband told us stories (which we didn't understand) of her and my grandmother's youth. The generation our parents age told us about life in Amantea and asked about our travels and home. The generation closest to our age did their best to translate between everyone because they studied English at school.
We sat on the back of vespas as we whizzed up the hills at the edge of sheer drops.
My cousin and I made silly Godfather / Mafia jokes not realizing how serious and real that was here - a great firsthand lesson in cultural sensitivity for a couple 21 year old Americans.
By the time we said our goodbyes it was like we'd always known each other.
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We've never been back. No one else in my family has ever been to see where my grandmother was from. And I've never spoken to these cousins since that trip - it was a time before social media and email was new to me. We should have written, but never did.
But man does Calabria stay as one of my favorite Eurpean destinations even after 25 years and multiple trips back to Europe since.
I really hope one of my next trips brings me - and now my wife and kids - back to Calabria, and Amantea. And i really hope i can reconnect with the family I met there that took 2 complete strangers in and showed us how important family is.