Easter morn in Modica: The resurrected Christ threads his way through back alleys, seeking, seeking. The black-shrouded Virgin comes forth, searching, searching.
High noon: Bells peal.Mobs mill.Families hang from balconies. Mother and Son reunite. Her black mantle slips off to reveal a cape the color of a Sicilian sky. Wooden arms swing open. Doves fly. Statues kiss.
12:05: The crowd, warmed by the spectacle and the Easter sun, kisses, too. Then home they go to the family extravaganza to fatten themselves on ricotta ravioli, Easter lamb pies, sweet breads, salads, marzipan lambs, ricotta-rich cassata, and everything else you can think of.
Buona Pasqua!
Have you seen a moving Easter tradition in Sicily or elsewhere?
Male bonding while waiting for mama or nonna to ready the Christmas spread:
En route to Christmas lunch:
Bella figura: Everyone dresses up in their best Christmas finery.
Postscript: This woman offered coffee and sweets to four strangers wandering the streets of her tiny village. Sicilians have truly mastered the arts of generosity and hospitality.
Auguri! This was the word that echoed around the streets today.
I walked out the door two nights ago and stumbled into candles and donkeys and music and straw. Jugs of wine and a vat of fresh ricotta. Why am I always the last one to know what’s happening in my village? It was a presepe vivente, a crèche come to life. Every village seems to have its own, starring locals as shepherds, washer women, and musicians. There’s another one here the day after Christmas, starring Jesus, Maria and Giuseppe.
Well, I never. My first Christmas in Sicily, and so many surprises! I found this pair wandering an empty piazza. They stopped so I could shoot them, but I didn’t dare interrupt the music to ask Who in blazes are you?
The Great God Google says they’re Zampognari. The instrument on the right is a zampogna, or Italian bagpipe, made of reeds and a sheep’s hide, and dating back to the time of Nero.
In Sicily, bagpipe-blowing shepherds traditionally come down from Mount Etna at Christmastime to play in the villages–sort of the Sicilian equivalent of Christmas carolers.
Are these Zampognari real shepherds dressed up as Santa? Or faux shepherds trying to revive what many fear is a dying art? I’m not sure, but they blow a mean Christmas carol.
