San Daniele is the small town next to the village where my grandfather was born.
Just 100 years ago, he was 13 years old, working there to learn the craft of cabinetmaking. Three years later, he left the town to travel through Europe — a journey that eventually brought him to Belgium, where he met my grandmother, settled down, and started a family.
A century later, I’ve come back — following his footsteps.
Giavons: Fewer Than 100 Souls
Eduardo Contardo was born in 1907 in Giavons, on the eve of Saint Edward’s Day.
Twenty-five years later, he arrived in Belgium and became a cabinetmaker — a trade he would practise for the rest of his life, with my uncle by his side and my grandmother managing the accounts.
In the early 1970s, we used to visit my aunt, Zia Gisela, during the summer holidays. We’d spend three weeks in the family house. From there, we would explore the Adriatic coast or venture into the Dolomites — both just a short distance from the village.
The Earthquake
San Daniele, the larger town nearby, was where we’d go for shops, cafés, and the local market. My parents loved the regional white wine — crisp and fruity, perfect in the heat.
On 6 May 1976, a devastating earthquake struck the Friuli region.
Entire villages were flattened. San Daniele suffered greatly.
I remember the ruins lining the roads — I was eleven at the time. Since then, the town has been rebuilt with great care and respect for its historical character.
Cousins, by Chance
Wandering through the village, I took a path I used to walk as a child. At one point, I stopped in front of a small sign marked “Contardo” — my grandfather’s name. I took a photo. A woman approached, thinking I was lost.
We spoke. I explained the connection to the name on the sign.
She told me she was married to one of my grandfather’s cousins.
They run a small horticultural business here.
Timeless Places
The village hasn’t changed. Giavons, like San Daniele, feels untouched by time — as if it had no need for it. Maybe time doesn’t exist here. Or maybe it simply passes differently.
I’ll return, someday, to walk the paths I once loved.
But that… will be another story.
