May 25, 2010
Can you say that five times, fast?
Pronounced chic-ly, Scicli is not at all chic, though I suppose you could call it shabby chic. It’s got that vintage, distressed look—complete with a baroque voluptuousness, flakey paint, and mottled sandstone walls.
Go if you like out-of-the-way little gems.
It was a Moorish town a millennium ago, later a Norman one, and was rebuilt in the Baroque style after the 1693 quake. Then Time forgot little Scicli until it was declared a World Heritage Site in 2002. It is slowly waking up from a long torpid slumber.
It has its share of ogres, meant to keep foreigners and evil spirits at bay.
Hike up to the decaying Church of San Matteo if you dare. You’ll be amply rewarded with stunning views: a sapphire sea on your left and a town that looks like a stage set at your feet.
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The best place in town for lunch is Pomodoro, owned by Enrico Gugliotto (pictured here) and his brother Giuseppe (in the kitchen). It’s about a five minute walk from the baroque heart of Scicli (Corso Garibaldi 46, closed Tuesday, 0932.931.444).
And check out the gorgeous Scicli cemetery if you’re into stone cherubs and angels. It’s just outside of town.
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Readers, can you help me? Will you consider voting for my Sicily photograph in the Islands 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.)
April 21, 2010
All the street is a stage in Sicily. Those who show up for a performance had better be decked out for the part.
 Living here feels like walking through a gigantic theatrical production. Flamboyance and fantasia rule.
 Couples herald their coupledom with coordinated outfits. My own husband will not agree to this. (He finds it a challenge to coordinate his socks.)
Some dress-alike couples are subtle.
Others not so much.
It wouldn’t be fair to i siciliani to say their obsession with clothing springs from narcissism. Elegance shows civic altruism: you are prettifying the landscape for the delight of your fellow citizens. As the old Sicilian saying goes, Mancia a gustu tò, càusa e vesti a gustu d’àutru; Eat to please thyself, but dress to please others.
Click here to read Shoes Like Gondolas, the true tale of my failed attempt to become an Italian fashion goddess. I wrote it after my first long visit to Ragusa Ibla (Sicily) in 2002.
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April 8, 2010
The men in my town are good at sitting around.
I like this; it makes the streets feel homey.
Retired guys gather at circoli, men’s clubs, like the above circolo for operai (workers) in Ragusa Ibla.
The Circolo di Conversazione for noblemen is on Piazza Duomo. Note the heavy brocade drapes and the fact that the aristocrats lounge on wooden chairs instead of plastic ones. Inside swing old cut-glass chandeliers.
The Circolo di Conversazione is across the street from the fishermen’s club. Someone told me the two groups never mingle or even exchange a buon giorno, but I’m not sure if that’s true.
Tourist tip for women in Sicily: don’t let the fixed stares of sitting-around Sicilian elders put you off. They’re curious, bored, sweet as pie. I started a conversation with these members of Circolo San Giorgio—yet another club in Ragusa Ibla—and the men responded with Old World courtesy, eager to use their schoolboy English to discuss New Jersey cousins, American politics, and World War II, when the Allies charged through the area during Operation Husky. They even invited me inside!
I wonder what the wives are doing while the husbands are sitting around.
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April 2, 2010
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?
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March 30, 2010
Surprise! The 20th-century layers have been chipped off my walls, and I think we’ve found—in addition to big old blocks of Norman stone—some traces of Arab architecture.
North African Moors ruled Sicily for only a couple of centuries more than a millennium ago, but their influence on the island was, and is, huge.
Before I show you my little discovery, take a good look, if you will, at these keyhole-shaped doorways in North Africa.
OK, now compare those doorways with the one below in my house. The arch shape turned up when we pulled off the modern wooden door frame. Don’t you think it looks vaguely Moorish in design?
 It’s not as beautiful as those North African doors, I know, and the curved thingamajig is way up top rather than in the middle of the arch, but still … it makes me wonder. It’s certainly not a pure Roman or Greek arch (more on that below).
I now have three of these vaguely Moorish arches on the top floor of my casa.
The house is a historical puzzle. The top floor, I’m quite sure, was built sometime soon after the 1693 earthquake that leveled not just Ragusa Ibla, but much of southeast Sicily. As I’ve mentioned earlier, the stone blocks in this doorway and elsewhere in the house were looted from the Norman castle that stood on this site and crumpled in that quake. (I know this only because neighbors have told me.)
So, assuming the above timeline, this means that 700 years after the Moors left Sicily, local Sicilian builders still carried traces of their Arab heritage in their builders’ DNA.
Everything here is so knotted and twisted together; it’s hard to tease out the many strands of history from all the superimposed cultures and styles. Layers upon layers—that’s what Sicily is all about.
The house becomes older the lower you go. The bottom floor used to be a cantina, a place where wine was made and stored (soon to be guest quarters). The arch down there seems Greco-Roman in style, an uninterrupted curve.
When was it constructed? Stay tuned. Maybe someday I’ll figure it out. Perhaps you have an insight?
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For more on the Muslim rule of Sicily, click here.
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All photos and text on BaroqueSicily are Copyright of Jann Huizenga ©2009-2015, unless otherwise noted. Material may not be copied or re-published without written permission. All rights reserved.
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