Southeast Sicily « baroquesicily.com – Sicily Stories and Travel Tips from Jann Huizenga

Death in Sicily

June 29, 2010

Assai megghiu addivintirai si a la morti pinsirai, goes an old Sicilian saying. You’ll be a better person if you think about death.

The walls in Sicily are bulletin boards of death, so there’s ample opportunity here to think about it.

Death Notice in Sicily, Copyright Jann Huizenga

The black-bordered papers called necrologie are everywhere. Ciao Nonno Salvatore one reads. Bye Grandpa Salvatore.

Death Notice in Sicily, Copyright Jann Huizenga

A guy with a brush and a pot of glue rides around on his motorino plastering necrologie around town.

Putting Up Death Notices in Sicily, Copyright Jann Huizenga

My Sicilian-American friend Mary, who has lived here for twenty-some years, says she was “freaked out” by the “morbid things” when she first arrived, but I find them endearing. They celebrate you all over the neighborhood for months, even years, while all we Americans get is a tiny newspaper blurb for a day.

Li morti aprinu l’occhi a li vivi, say the Sicilians.

The dead open the eyes of the living.

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Dizzy in Southeast Sicily

June 10, 2010

There are rivers, cascades, torrents of steps in Sicilian hill towns.

Ragusa Ibla is a natural gym—better than a Stair Stepper. No wonder the locals live such long lives. It must be the steps (oh, and the olive oil that old-timers drink like water).

I gain no weight here, though I eat like a monster: great bowls of pasta alla Norma, cones of toasted almond gelato, artichoke flowers, deep-fried donuts filled with sweet pistachio cream, wheels of cheese.

To the hundreds of steps in town, add twenty-five more in my house. I lie in bed at night, head spinning and spinning. Legs aching and aching. And I’m happy.

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Does this life look fun to you?

Sicily, and a Story of Church Chairs

June 6, 2010

“I know you,” said a tall man with olive eyes as we crossed paths last week.

I racked my brain. Had we met?

“We drink coffee at the same bar,” he laughed. “All stranieri, strangers, are famous here.”

I cringed.

“Do you know Louise from England?”

I shook my head.

He pointed to a low, crumbling building adjacent to the cathedral and pulled out a ring of keys. “The church is trying to sell this building. Do you want to see inside?”

The two dank rooms inside were pigeon-pooped and depressing, but I saw two old chairs I liked in a pile of junk.

Sicilian Church Chairs with Twine Seats, copyright Jann Huizenga

“I gift them to you, Signora.”

I politely protested.

“But they’re worthless!” he said.

Old Sicilian church chairs—seats lovingly caned with a thick, rough twine—have been replaced by pews.

Heading up the stairs to my house, a salvaged chair under each arm, I felt another rush of Sicily-love.

There was also regret. Why had he let them go so lightly?

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Method for Getting rid of wormwood in old Sicilian chairs, copyright Jann Huizenga

ADDENDUM: It’s true that the little church chairs were riddled with wood-munching bugs—tarli, as they’re called here. But there’s a simple solution. My friend Roberta (left) taught me the antitarlo recipe: Buy a syringe at a farmacia, don pink plastic gloves, fill the syringe with toxic goo, plunge it into each and every pinhole (there were millions), then wrap the chair, Christo-like, in plastic and let rest for 2 weeks. Unwrap and enjoy with a glass of Nero d’Avola.

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Restoring a Damp House in Sicily, Part 11

May 29, 2010

I’ve cooked up the idea of installing in my kitchen a tile baseboard (called battiscopa, literally hit-broom) with a floral design. It’s going to be more than twice as high as a normal Sicilian baseboard.

When I explain my brilliant idea to the project manager, he knits his shaggy eyebrows into a scowl and gives his head a sad shake.

“No, Gianna.”

I get a whiff of his strong aftershave.

“Perché no?” Why not?

He shoots me a look you might give a very slow learner.

“Non si fa in Sicilia.” It’s not done in Sicily.

Oh.

I search for the right words. I tell him the ceiling is very high “e a me piace i fiori.” And to me pleases the flowers.

“Non si fa,” he repeats with steely authority. It’s simply not done.

Does he think one non-traditional battiscopa will throw the whole island out of whack?

This isn’t the first time I’ve run smack into the Wall of Tradition. Sicily is a culture that values the Old Way, the Way of Granny.

I adore this about the island, really I do. In fact, I’m restoring my house in the Way of Granny. Mostly. I’m preserving and enhancing whatever is old. The floor tiles I’ve chosen for the kitchen are traditional Sicilian ones made in Palermo. The floral tiles are also an old Sicilian motif.

But I just want to tweak things a bit here and there, add my own little spin.

In the end, I defy the project manager. The new stonemason masterfully installs the butterscotch-colored daisies while crooning Sicilian love songs.

“Beh, non e brutta,” the project manager concedes when he sees the battiscopa. “It’s not ugly.”

Sicilian Floor Tiles, Copyright Jann Huizenga

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Readers, can you help me? Will you consider voting for my Sicily photograph in the Islands Reader’s Choice poll? Here’s the link. The link will bring you to a photo I shot of a Sicilian woman in Capo Passero (in the extreme southeast corner of Sicily). You can vote by clicking on *My Favorite* underneath the photo. (I could win a photography course and you could win a camera!) GRAZIE MILLE! (To see thumbnails of all 22 photos in the competition, click this link.)

Death in Sicily

Dizzy in Southeast Sicily

Sicily, and a Story of Church Chairs

Restoring a Damp House in Sicily, Part 11

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