Bella Sicilia

Thursday, September 15, 2005

   We arrived in Sicily tonight, a 45 minute domestic flight from Rome, during which they managed to lose one of our suitcases. Pat is disappointed that it was Matthews's instead of hers. She would have loved an Italian fashion shopping spree courtesy of Air Alitalia. Matthew has only the clothes on his back, which he has already worn for two days. Tomorrow he gets an Italian fashion shopping spree.
   So we're late, which means it's dark as we turn off the Autostrada between Catania and Messina, following a sign that reads: Roccalumera, Pagliara, Mandanici. My wife's cousin, Francesco, is driving. Beside him sits her Uncle Mario. Pat, Matthew, and I are crammed into the back seat of Ciccio's Mitsubishi pick-up truck.
   Ciccio (pronounced Chee-cho), is called Ciccio Grande, because he is the eldest of four cousins, all first born sons named for their paternal grandfather, Francesco Ciatto. My father-in-law's eldest brother, Ciccio's father, is named Giovanni, as was his grandfather, and is his grandson, Ciccio's son. Confused yet? It just gets worse.
   The truck's headlights pick out details at the side of the road as we go by. Here, an old stone wall built to hold in some earth for a small garden plot. There, a cactus has grown out over the road like a hangman's tree. In some places the steep rock face is jacketed with wire fencing up a hundred feet or more in an attempt to prevent rockslides onto the road. Almost like being in an airplane during take-off, you can feel the air pressure changing on your ears as the truck rounds switchback after switchback.
   Mandanici (Man-da-nee-chee) is only about 6 miles from the ocean, but it is above 1300 feet in elevation. Ciccio's wife, Concetta (Con-chetta) runs a small store, una bottega piccolo, on the main street of town. A little bit further on is the Bar, which in Italy means breakfast cafeteria, ice cream parlour, coffee shop, lunch room, liquor store, pastry shop...oh, and bar. Beside the bar is a barbershop. A few doors down is the tobacconist, and that's about it for the main drag.

Friday, September 16, 2005


   They have us installed in a little two room apartment. No one will tell us who owns it, or if anyone was displaced to make room for us. Off the kitchen is a small balcony overlooking a small square, or piazza. The piazza fronts Il Duomo Mandanici, The Mandanici Cathedral, a beautiful, old church. Looking farther afield, the view between two other buildings is lush Sicilian mountainside. It's like a picture postcard depiction of the perfect, old world, European village. Except the horses and carts have all been replaced by cars and motor scooters.
   Well, not all. We have heard the distinctive clop, clop, clop of horses hooves go by once or twice. Yesterday morning we also heard the distinctive two tone drone of an emergency vehicle. Later we found out that the man with the horse had only just bought it that day, and that it had promptly kicked him in the head. We never did find out if he lived or died.
   I mentioned that we were right beside the church. Did I mention that the church bell rings out the time? Every quarter hour? All day, and all night?
   Did I mention that we're right beside the church?


   So, we had to go shopping for Matthew. Ciccio collected us in the morning, and we headed down the mountain. Daylight filled in many of the little flashes of detail we received the night before.
   The little stone walled garden plot is only the first of a series of terraced plots climbing the hillside. The cacti are all brimming with ripe fruit. Fico d'India they are called. We call them prickly pears.



   As Ciccio negotiated the winding road down the mountainside, and the narrow streets through the little towns along the way, the driver of every car we passed honked and waved. Every person standing by the street called out, "ciao, Ciccio!" Mandanici is a small town, as is Pagliara. Roccalumera is a little bit larger. But when someone on the freeway in the nearby city of Messina sticks their head out of their car window and yells, "ciao, Ciccio!" you know you are in the presence of a character.