tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37417720540089217752024-02-07T01:34:49.360-08:00Sicilian DiaryTales of an Irish wanderer in Sicily, my adopted home for over ten years.The Irish Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03748782138100107440noreply@blogger.comBlogger237125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741772054008921775.post-76537499366241858072022-11-28T03:19:00.001-08:002022-11-28T04:05:17.815-08:00The Old Pianoforte<p class="MsoNormal">Last week I was invited to play at an event in a school for
the Elimination of Violence against Women Day. Students aged 11 to 14 performed
pieces of music and short dramatic pieces highlighting the issue which moved
from examples of violence towards a focus on what women can achieve when given
the space and freedom to follow their dreams.<o:p></o:p></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">At the centre of this debate was a beautiful old pianoforte,
donated to the school by the family of the owner, Ernestina Giordana. She was
born in 1895 in Castroreale, but was orphaned in her teenage years and was
raised by two aunts. They saw her musical potential and sent her to the Conservatorio
di Santa Cecilia in Rome to complete her studies. After graduation she came
down with the virulent Spanish Influenza and returned to Sicily to recover,
where she met her husband. They had ten children but Ernesta continued to give
piano lessons in the town and all those who studied piano at the time passed
through Ernestina’s hands... <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Everyone commented on how wonderful those aunts were for
sending her to music school, and that is true. But I thought, she must have had
a good husband who just let her get on with it and also shared or supported the
domestic work.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">As Anne Enright, Booker prizewinner, said recently in a
radio interview: “I look at young women today, my students who wonder how
they’re going to manage writing around family and work, and I think to myself:
you need to get someone in your life who isn’t jealous of your creative life.
There is a dynamic I have observed where men in particular are not hugely
pleased about their wives going off and having this elaborate other life or
going out and being successful in the world. You need a Big man who is able to
manage all those emotions and possessions and dispossessions and let you just
get on with it without interference.” <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Caitlin Moran, feminist writer and journalist writes in her
bestselling memoir “More than a Woman” that of all her friends and
acquaintances, the women who are happiest and most successful are, without
exception, those who have a partner who does at least 50% of the housework and
childcare. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The thing is, when you fall in love and you don’t have
children, you can’t tell if your beloved is going to turn out to be a Big Man or
Very Small Man… <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I have a story about a pianoforte too. The pianist in question
had been living for a long time without her instrument but when, in 2014, she
discovered she was pregnant with her second child, she declared: “This will be
the last year without a piano in the house.” She wanted her daughter to hear
the piano while growing in the womb. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Her husband accompanied her to the music shop where she
tried out some pianos. A pianist friend joined them to help her reach her decision.
It is no small decision, choosing an instrument: there has to be a connection,
a resonance in your soul, otherwise it will be left unplayed. Meanwhile the
husband urged her to hurry up about it, he had work to be doing. The pianist
friend said nothing but would remember his total lack of interest in his wife’s
passion.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Years later, when they separated, the husband would try to take
the piano from her by declaring falsely that he had paid for it. He even
produced the receipt in court. The pianist had had her earnings paid directly
into his account as she did not have one at the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The husband paid for it by cheque and put it
through the account of the restaurant he owned and was then able to claim tax
back on this which he kept. And on the rare occasions the pianist was able to
perform in concerts he grumbled about having to stay in and put the children to
bed. He could have brought the children to the concerts and sat in the front row
and applauded her efforts. There’s nothing she would have loved more. But he
didn’t.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Being a mother is difficult enough, in times when a woman
must balance work and childcare, especially if domestic work is not shared equally.
Being a mother who is an artist is perhaps even more difficult as she has to
find time for her creativity. And society, never mind the husband or partner,
does not always understand. Paradigms run deep. And it is time to change that.
The story of the old pianoforte gives me hope.<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrLjXmu-WgfxigVT8Nbpi4mGI0tIEOJEWs90WG5S1phGs8HMRCHwue_JNZ5Ly6a64ACJc5TTAEeo6kbnb2YnlvKAA4mMLepCu7QFktf8YDttMR_YMXLaQg6C0L1_zYBZwAwhpb-yBpUc7UxuexpRoPvynmRFo4s3N2v7I2k6VI9txiv89mwwDaY6o/s4608/20221125_183637.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrLjXmu-WgfxigVT8Nbpi4mGI0tIEOJEWs90WG5S1phGs8HMRCHwue_JNZ5Ly6a64ACJc5TTAEeo6kbnb2YnlvKAA4mMLepCu7QFktf8YDttMR_YMXLaQg6C0L1_zYBZwAwhpb-yBpUc7UxuexpRoPvynmRFo4s3N2v7I2k6VI9txiv89mwwDaY6o/s320/20221125_183637.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>The Irish Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03748782138100107440noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741772054008921775.post-77076641985871626722022-09-13T12:19:00.001-07:002022-09-15T03:47:31.503-07:00Should I stay or should I go?Out and about on the daily adventures of my life, the two questions I get asked
the most these days are: What brought you to Sicily? (Well, we all know the
answer to that) followed swiftly by, So do you think you'll stay? Of course, the
answer depends on whom I'm talking to, and always brings What's Best for My Kids
into it. Sicilians unanimously agree that my kids would have better
opportunities and a better future if we go back to Ireland. They think my family
would rally round and be on hand at all times, unaware that in Ireland we are
raised to be independent by 18 and get on with our lives elsewhere (unlike
Sicily where it is common to live with parents well into your thirties). We have
just come back from a month in Ireland and my children are missing their
cousins, reliving the glorious summer memories, sunset by pierjump by Whipped 99
ice cream. They know school would be better and would even don a uniform if it
meant jumping on the trampoline and playing hide and seek regularly rather than
hanging out virtually with bad internet connection. It would get me away from
the Evil Eyes from the X Famiglia and I might even get a well-paid stable job
(the condition for the Move). But when I start imagining what life would be like
without Sicily I get this hollow feeling in my gut. A separation after a 15 year
relationship is hugely unmooring, but to also leave your adopted homeland would
be a double unmooring. This weekend I was in Palermo and had a little headspace
to give the matter some thought. It has something to do with the awe I feel when
I walk into the Palazzo Normanno, overwhelmed by the sheer brilliance of the
Arab artists who evoked through mosaics and geometrical shapes carved in the
wooden ceiling Islamic and Christian symbols of paradise. Together. Ruggero's
cleverness at inscribing stones in four languages - Latin, Greek, Arabic and
Hebrew - Sicilian inclusion in the Middle Ages. Or the warmth of Palermitan
women on a singing workshop with me, and chance encounters with female singers
reminding me that I have projects here to complete. While walking past the nude
statues around the fountain of Piazza della Vergogna, I was reminded of how much
Ireland and Sicily have in common. Shame (Vergogna) is one of those vestiges of
Catholic guilt that still lingers in the conscience of both populaces (and
fuelled XMarito's treacherous court separation). I prefer to believe in Miracles
(the other name for Piazza Pretoria) which are never far away, and enjoyed a
miraculous moment of solitude at Zisa (from the Arabic <i>Azis</i> or Splendid)
Castle, with not a single tourist in sight by the fountain at its centre. And
for now, I'm staying in Sicily.
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The Irish Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03748782138100107440noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741772054008921775.post-37346078475680708672021-02-04T06:05:00.007-08:002021-02-04T07:54:05.108-08:00Imbolc<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgih74-DV5FifE64q5fTFX49SHPW3i3YfBDgFCRO6TxEDvOU6Nb7eakT8swclrjM_uUqH-sgTKdR34NxHcH04cEvxK66evTzu75-jcdXghvUyFEXV5XW0WGkflmSoFQRPy3IpFysfNCPrg/s2048/capo+tree.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0px; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2039" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgih74-DV5FifE64q5fTFX49SHPW3i3YfBDgFCRO6TxEDvOU6Nb7eakT8swclrjM_uUqH-sgTKdR34NxHcH04cEvxK66evTzu75-jcdXghvUyFEXV5XW0WGkflmSoFQRPy3IpFysfNCPrg/s320/capo+tree.jpg" /></a>
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Imbolc is the Celtic festival of light which celebrates the coming to an end of
dark winter months and the beginning of Spring. It coincides with La Féile
Bride, St. Brigid's Day, a Christian festival based on the ancient pagan
celebration of the goddess Brigid, just as Candlemas, or Candelora in Italian,
is based con Imbolc. Brigid is the Celtic goddess of poetry and wisdom,
fertility, protection and crafts and is often associated with the Roman goddess
Minerva. <div><br /></div><div>It was heartening to stumble across the Irish president's
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JsmCKziLhQ8" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">message</a>
from Uachtaran citing Brigid as an inspiration for Irish women: she had to
summon up extraordinary courage in order to ensure her voice was heard in a
male-dominated world. In her dedication to the realm of education she had to
transcend obstacles in order to survive and put a "new version of things in
place". Of course, any Irish person will know that there is good reason for the
invocation of Brigid at this juncture in Irish governmental accountability, but
still, I'm willing to give Michael D. the benefit of the doubt. </div><div><br /></div><div>It was also uplifting to stumble across this tree in the last few days. Almond blossom might
be a more fitting symbol of spring here in Sicily, but this tree was a gift at
the end of a laneway I still hadn't explored. On my way back, I found myself
thinking of my children's future and wondering how long it would be before an
Italian president would invoke the goddess Minerva in terms of equality and
human rights. Especially since the two latest nominees for the Sicilian regional
council elections are men, which would make for an all-male council, putting
Sicily firmly last of Italy's regions in terms of gender-equality. </div><div><br /></div><div>Here in
Sicily it is certainly time to put a new version of things in place.
</div>The Irish Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03748782138100107440noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741772054008921775.post-78999124383855979522020-12-15T11:41:00.000-08:002020-12-15T11:41:49.340-08:00Volcanic energy<p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEvi_yDrpeUUoUed_yydiz5WRzc0O1jT_KyEhbf0p9R3RlxlzpUU3S5yiRuA9h0YvPfl5Md5vlFx_-_3UXv11zCp2mPAduvHzeFUzROzZYLLFw1D_OwMFas5JrLjVDrLVVmSQ2bT1_JAw/s2048/Etna.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEvi_yDrpeUUoUed_yydiz5WRzc0O1jT_KyEhbf0p9R3RlxlzpUU3S5yiRuA9h0YvPfl5Md5vlFx_-_3UXv11zCp2mPAduvHzeFUzROzZYLLFw1D_OwMFas5JrLjVDrLVVmSQ2bT1_JAw/w470-h360/Etna.jpg" width="470" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Etna as seen from Capo Milazzo</td></tr></tbody></table><br /> </p><p>There are many reasons to want to leave Sicily. They grow in number when you have kids. A poor healthcare system, malfunctioning public services (Sicilians and expats alike DREAD going to the comune - council offices - for official documents), and an education system that leaves much to be desired.</p><p>But there are as many reasons to stay, or maybe there are more. Etna is one of them.</p><p>Etna is one the reasons Sicilians abroad wax lyrical about the Motherland and why they often find the pull to the homeland so powerful as to return. Catanese refer to the volcano as "la Montagna" such is their respect. Of course if you live in the province of Catania, you will have a daily view of the changing faces of Etna. If you go hiking in mountainous terrain in the north eastern part of Sicily, you can turn a corner and be surprised by a stunning view of Etna's peak. I consider myself lucky to be able to see Etna from the end of my street. Even though the volcano is over an hour away, the view is spectacular, especially on a clear day. And night eruptions are mesmerising. </p><p>I remember studying volcanoes at school and asking the Geography teacher why anyone would want to live on the foothills of Europe's most active volcano. She smiled and replied, "Many people would wonder why anyone would want to live in Northern Ireland during the Troubles". It was a good answer. But it probably takes a walk around one of Etna's extinct craters, or a misty hike at sundown in October on Etna Sud or a tobaggon down its snowy slopes in winter to be really hooked. The beauty of Etna is that you can never get enough. There are Etna Nord's more verdant slopes, the mysterious valleys of Etna Sud and then all the woods and mountain villages to explore, each offering a different panorama and local lore to add to Etna's mythic majesty.</p><p>Etna's allure also comes out of the many legends associated with the volcano, always figured as a feminine form by the Catanese. The most famous one has Etna saving Zeus from the wrath of the flame-spewing giant Tifeo by smothering the giant with her body just as he was about to give a fatal blow to Zeus. Still huffing and puffing today, Tifeo's efforts to free himself materialise as new craters when Etna erupts. Etna, wise warrior and protector of her children, offers the fruits of the land on her fertile slopes. </p><p>It's no coincidence that Etna Rosso, a mix of Nerello Mascalese and Nerello Cappuccio is my favourite wine. You can probably get Etna Rosso in your local winestore, as in recent years wine producers have started to market it after the success of Syrah and Nero d'Avola. </p><p>But you can only feel the volcanic energy here in Sicily.</p><p><br /></p>The Irish Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03748782138100107440noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741772054008921775.post-5407286086740114092020-11-01T10:05:00.004-08:002020-11-01T10:05:54.392-08:00Autumn colours<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjLeO3Hfr-tMBx5qmNoaYTK_XDVHz0_KJnzU4EssELlyTjHIm59xfDrMaINvwEB3aYq_vJNchlL2Xz-R5jP5RtQw5_K92qlZ5T6y_tLKXTYWr-UJ13k2qRCQiU9uUCuLah81dVKgWGdRs/s2048/autumn+colours.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjLeO3Hfr-tMBx5qmNoaYTK_XDVHz0_KJnzU4EssELlyTjHIm59xfDrMaINvwEB3aYq_vJNchlL2Xz-R5jP5RtQw5_K92qlZ5T6y_tLKXTYWr-UJ13k2qRCQiU9uUCuLah81dVKgWGdRs/s320/autumn+colours.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /> Lucky to be able to have lunch outside on a friend's terrace in these surroundings on 1st November. In Sicily...<p></p>The Irish Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03748782138100107440noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741772054008921775.post-45232847679577384092020-11-01T10:03:00.005-08:002020-11-01T10:03:52.440-08:00Full Blue Moon Rising<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg40X9YPgJGFxNGKHvrFQj5RBkyZPQw01MtEJfKJTuNTDvgMnWuJFepSqtggL2eJgYlFgunETd-YRrpeASoJB4dtbPMJS7GKqqZ6VDXFW4s3Fm511uSlYIe9ciw2IJI2IKhlzLh55UFTW4/s2048/full+blue+moon+rising.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg40X9YPgJGFxNGKHvrFQj5RBkyZPQw01MtEJfKJTuNTDvgMnWuJFepSqtggL2eJgYlFgunETd-YRrpeASoJB4dtbPMJS7GKqqZ6VDXFW4s3Fm511uSlYIe9ciw2IJI2IKhlzLh55UFTW4/s320/full+blue+moon+rising.jpg" /></a></div><br />One of the things I like best about my house is that, at times I can see the moon rise from the east (levante) from my bedroom and the sun set in the west (ponente) from my kids' bedroom.<p></p><p>Spectacular to look out the window and see this.</p><p><br /></p>The Irish Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03748782138100107440noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741772054008921775.post-42816503892014706262020-11-01T09:57:00.003-08:002020-11-01T09:57:52.448-08:00Olive harvest<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Qk_hHteSpYiXhxa54A1bU1dgVmsBnndujaZ-wY-MY4Rek189N-bTo4sdSrO7s8OnhIlnigRA1vtGZMeyVbUTTvDxwsXy8ZeVtIVE6cYgs-e_RJt4Fnv2xp1nDyD3T8hjFD-jZIGHdnc/s2048/olive+harvest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Qk_hHteSpYiXhxa54A1bU1dgVmsBnndujaZ-wY-MY4Rek189N-bTo4sdSrO7s8OnhIlnigRA1vtGZMeyVbUTTvDxwsXy8ZeVtIVE6cYgs-e_RJt4Fnv2xp1nDyD3T8hjFD-jZIGHdnc/s320/olive+harvest.jpg" /></a></div><br /> Harvesting olives - a fitting way to spend Samhain in Sicily. <p></p><p>My kids had fun for (all of five minutes) shaking the branches with rakes to loosen the hidden olives - camouflaged by the silvery leaves. But they found your neck gets sore staring up through the branches so they soon gave up the rakes and collected and sorted the olives into green and black piles.</p><p>We didn't get enough to take to a frantoio - you need about 25kilos to get a decent about of oil, but we can dry them in soil to give them an earthy flavour, or just in the oven, then put them in jars with garlic, chilli, origano and a little oil, if we want to soften them up a bit. The olives were juicy and ripe - and released an amazing aroma of spicey fresh olive oil if split. </p>The Irish Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03748782138100107440noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741772054008921775.post-20407544488189210922020-10-25T11:45:00.001-07:002020-10-25T13:33:25.499-07:00Lockdown again<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg6zQJKAiprIV9mLZRuZuOluRDrH6TFf1_VlUvpBcvbZu09EJThON1IuYCCivyKKIxS-4FgsQXHPILb_n0KbU3eEfg7tD-BTlmC_XlahN778qtIz5X1JL2XYYiBWkjOI4VNjn0UvOY5OM/s2048/WP_20190106_16_05_23_Pro.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1155" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg6zQJKAiprIV9mLZRuZuOluRDrH6TFf1_VlUvpBcvbZu09EJThON1IuYCCivyKKIxS-4FgsQXHPILb_n0KbU3eEfg7tD-BTlmC_XlahN778qtIz5X1JL2XYYiBWkjOI4VNjn0UvOY5OM/s320/WP_20190106_16_05_23_Pro.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>The government has released another decree in light of the increase in Covid cases, and tomorrow we are set to head back into lockdown mode, just like Ireland did last week. There's a crucial difference, in that schools in Ireland will stay open, whereas here, upper secondary schools (scuole superiori) will operate distance learning. For me that means my children will still have to go to school every day, but my teaching work will now take place online. Fun fun fun...</p><p>Bars and restaurants must close at 6pm and gyms and public amenities are also on the list. But there are worse places to be under lockdown. I just hope they don't make the beach out of bounds as happened in April...</p>The Irish Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03748782138100107440noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741772054008921775.post-69543107042904837672017-06-07T12:11:00.000-07:002017-06-07T12:11:25.686-07:00The Eye of the Cyclops and the Black Madonna<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjILzkvdarWlX5yD4v8lbMV75TA0MSfZ5bVph9GLlY7CYQlYFDBWYht6bhwK2_dbs8aXjGeJPQrAal-Op6XQFXI9KJSMxq2wXtyvbIx3pJTpImD5n2qsjegQA02k94NU45wSfoHoj1DO-w/s1600/1008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="903" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjILzkvdarWlX5yD4v8lbMV75TA0MSfZ5bVph9GLlY7CYQlYFDBWYht6bhwK2_dbs8aXjGeJPQrAal-Op6XQFXI9KJSMxq2wXtyvbIx3pJTpImD5n2qsjegQA02k94NU45wSfoHoj1DO-w/s320/1008.jpg" width="179" /></a>Only in Sicily an you find the such a compelling mix of folklore, religion and Greek myth. One of Sicily's best hidden gems, the Greek amphiteatre at Tindari, has just concluded its festival of Teatro dei Due Mari, and I was lucky enough to catch Il Ciclope, Euripides satirical nod to the Polyphemus episode in Ulysses... at sundown. And just in case that wasn't enough, the lore of the Black Madonna opened and closed the evening - the sandbank in the shape of the madonna's head on our way to the theatre, and the sanctuary of the Black Madonna in all its kitch shining glory as we left.</div>
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The Irish Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03748782138100107440noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741772054008921775.post-39908539313744802182017-03-01T02:20:00.002-08:002017-03-01T02:20:57.603-08:00Carnival in Sicily - "A Màschira" of Cataffi<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scenes from the Carnevale at Cataffi</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">February
is Carnival Season in Sicily – something not to be missed. Streets of most
Sicilian towns and cities are strewn with confetti and streamers sprayed by
children dressed up as nobility or peasants – or even as mafiosi – like some of
the boys in my English class (“How do you say “mafiosi” in English, </span><i style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">prof</i><span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;">?”).</span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Carnevale</span></i><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;">, born in the sixteenth century to celebrate
the end of the old year and party like mad before the asceticism of Lent, evolved through the centuries. In the 1700s
“<i>Abbatazzi</i>”, or folk poets, similar
to the Irish Bard, improvised rhymes along the streets of Acireale, one of
Sicily’s most famous carnivals. The 1800s brought the parade of decorated
horse-drawn carriages, while the twentieth century introduced floats led by
speers, accompanied by characters in papier-maché masks and fancy dress.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><b><i>Le
Maschere Tradizionali</i></b> originate in the sixteenth century Italian <i>Commedia dell’Arte</i>, characterised by
masked stereotypes and improvised sketches. Traditional stock characters are
Pulcinella, Harlequin, Dottore Balanzone, Pantalone and Colombina, the only
female character. You can read more about them <a href="http://blogs.transparent.com/italian/le-maschere-di-carnevale/" target="_blank">here</a>. This is where the
satirical, burlesque nature of carnival comes from, and it reaches its most outrageous in the Grotesque floats of <a href="http://www.scentofsicilyblog.com/events-sicily/carnival-in-sicily/" target="_blank">Acireale</a>, where Sicilians give vent to
political frustrations.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;">This
year, the <a href="http://amaschira.it/" target="_blank">carnival of Cataffi</a> really impressed me. "A Màschira" celebrates the 1544
battle against Saracen marauders seeking to rape and pillage their way from the
coast to the hilltop town of Santa Lucia. But they met their match in the
villagers of Cataffi hamlet, and Barbarossa and his Turkish pirates were
banished forever. From then on villagers celebrate the victory by dressing up
in the amazing attire of their erstwhile enemy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
The Irish Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03748782138100107440noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741772054008921775.post-20269314941241105752017-02-15T02:56:00.003-08:002017-02-15T02:56:30.496-08:00Morning walk at the cape<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Two boats, two seagulls, and hundreds of cactus fruits facing the sun. This is why it is good to be in Sicily in February...</div>
<br />The Irish Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03748782138100107440noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741772054008921775.post-50132587071695288002017-02-15T02:47:00.001-08:002017-02-15T02:47:36.481-08:00Birthday of a Sicilian matriarch<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span lang="EN-US">This is how
the birthday of 93 year old nonna Aurora begins… This sweet, wise matriarch is
already receiving visitors at 9am when I return from dropping the bambini off
at school. She’s all style in a smart long cardigan, graciously offering coffee
to guests. Among the first to arrive is our former and most beloved postman,
Enzo, also a poet, with his daughter. He has brought nonna his latest book of
poems and flowers for the occasion of course. Nonna’s sister-in-law from Turin paints
her nails for her, a friend brings homemade cakes – torta di mele and a
chocolate one… Ninety-three roses from Holland adorn the living room table –
brought on the airplane from her son in Amsterdam… <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">At lunch,
the extended family occupies an entire restaurant, where poems and songs from
nonna’s talented children and grandchildren are performed between courses of
delicious Sicilian food. “The craic is mighty” – comes to mind; as always at
these family gatherings, I’m reminded of similarities between Irish and
Sicilians… Nonna finishes the day checking her facebook account for more
greetings and Auguri from friends and family far and wide… what a legend. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
The Irish Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03748782138100107440noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741772054008921775.post-36809984988075346652016-06-11T04:56:00.000-07:002016-06-11T04:56:53.333-07:00Sicilia in Bocca<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: justify;">Every good cook book has a story behind
it, and this one is no exception<i>...
Sicilia in Bocca </i>by Antonio Cardella</span><span style="text-align: justify;">, received as a wedding gift
from savvy Tuscan friends years back. It’s printed on yellow-tinged paper with
a rustic feel to it, like the placemats you get in trattorias. The
illustrations are witty, the prose has socio-political undercurrents (the
author prefaces the Starters section with a caveat: Don’t get the idea that
Sicilians are used to anti-pasti; not so long ago hunger was the norm. “It is not
easy to change a state of forced abstinence into one of cheerful guzzling.”) And
the recipes are in dialect, Italian and English – with creative translating from
the original and a good dose of Sicilian wisdom and proverbs. I need to consult
all three version to make sure I’m following the recipe correctly </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Wingdings; line-height: 115%; text-align: justify;">J</span><br />
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<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;">Yesterday
I went to my <i>libraio di fiducia</i>, my
favourite bookseller, Filoramo, and asked him if he had a copy. I wanted to
give it to an American friend who is getting married.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;">“Ah,” said Filoramo. “A fabulous book. Sadly
it’s no longer in print.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;">And why not? </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;">The publisher did a low print
run at first, thinking only a few copies would be sold - to the more discerning
tourist. But Filoramo called the publisher after a few days: </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;">“I’m all out of
that book. Give me 50 more.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;">“I only have 20 copies.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;">“Well, bring them here!” </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;">It sold out so fast that soon the publisher was making regular trips to Milazzo
and Taormina with his carload of recipes. And then, as can happen when money
enters the equation, the thing went sour. Someone tried to cash in on the
success, with another book called Isole in Bocca; they were sued for copyright
infringement, and the result of the legal fallout was that <i>Sicilia in Bocca</i> could be printed no more.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;">“The greatest shame,” said Filoramo, with
heartfelt lament, “is that I didn’t keep a copy for myself. So treasure yours.”<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Humble aspirations: "We offer you firstrate,<br />authentic Sicilian cuisine, borne out of fantasy and<br />popular imagination.</td></tr>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">Cardella suggests that every recipe, being
a creative act, is inherently incommunicable – pretty much in line with my
mother-in-law’s culinary gems. “Oh I just throw in a handful of this, a pinch
of that”. Everything is “</span><i style="line-height: 115%;">a occhio</i><span style="line-height: 115%;">” –
an expression that means a rough estimate, but in terms of cooking connotes
instinct and how you’re feeling that day.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;">Of course, it is so much more than a mere
recipe book. The author takes us on a reconnoitering stroll across Sicily: through
mountain towns of Saracen origin such as Geraci Siculo (“… [whose] inhabitants,
very affable to visitors, live the life of a little mountain village”) to fish
markets, where “[F]oreigners are always cheerfully amazed at the crafty and
noisy expedients used by fishmongers in order to compel the hesitant purchaser
to buy something”. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 115%;">Recipes are pitched with hearty reverence,
from “Agghiotta di pesce spada”, a Messina speciality, to Pasta with sardines,
and wild fennel: “[T]o find it, it is necessary to go to Sicily as it does not
exist anywhere else”. Everyone who has contributed to making Sicily what it is
gets a mention, including musicians, writers, artists and demagogues – and not
forgetting legendary shapers of Sicily such as Aeolus and the Cyclops. Cardella
honours centuries old traditions and gives us his take on Sicilian history: and
this is the book’s passionate achievement.<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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The Irish Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03748782138100107440noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741772054008921775.post-47961799359244943492015-09-21T09:34:00.000-07:002015-09-21T09:34:21.609-07:00Black Madonna of Tindari<div style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-top: 0cm;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8qfyZHJ0DE6Dj6ZjZAWvbRH3taMcSNJf7Fjj7y4Sp2iXpIJEUiedDRx8c9DRr28fSn6e_46XAgwlr_17hnARTy5FIcBAPi6wQyiZp7iUzcdDOtI59CA2XESOnSKz9oKDDcK0S-YRWhbk/s1600/tindari+festa+madonna.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8qfyZHJ0DE6Dj6ZjZAWvbRH3taMcSNJf7Fjj7y4Sp2iXpIJEUiedDRx8c9DRr28fSn6e_46XAgwlr_17hnARTy5FIcBAPi6wQyiZp7iUzcdDOtI59CA2XESOnSKz9oKDDcK0S-YRWhbk/s320/tindari+festa+madonna.jpg" width="320" /></a><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">My favourite Madonna of all the
multitude of Virgin Marys venerated by the Sicilians, is the Black Madonna of
Tindari. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Her feast day takes place on 8 September, but the festivities go on
all weekend: these include the annual pilgrimage to her Basilica at the top of
Mount Tindari, fireworks and local processions.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-top: 0cm;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeIkwUF8Xie1Bwi7zXnjz0J5bqalud4O3MYy4QGg7B5eTXErfdTq8l30OU4YhzguiJQ2zUZ_53XCPqsIT8st3TO1tlX0zAvLVBHSrC0w8M4r1LkoItrdC6n_ERJAMvdkJ-ktm2UZ4jzyk/s1600/Tindary_greek_ruins.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeIkwUF8Xie1Bwi7zXnjz0J5bqalud4O3MYy4QGg7B5eTXErfdTq8l30OU4YhzguiJQ2zUZ_53XCPqsIT8st3TO1tlX0zAvLVBHSrC0w8M4r1LkoItrdC6n_ERJAMvdkJ-ktm2UZ4jzyk/s320/Tindary_greek_ruins.jpg" width="240" /></a><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Part of the draw is the place of
her shrine: Tindari, off the beaten tourist track, sits high on a rocky
promontory with spectacular views. Founded by the Greeks in 396BC (by Dionysius
the Elder, a nasty despot from Syracuse), the ruins of the city include an
amphitheatre, the gates to the city, stone arches and tombs. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">You can enjoy a
picnic there without a Japanese tourist snapping a photo of you while you munch
your sandwich (likely to happen in nearby Taormina).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-top: 0cm;">
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<div style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-top: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">But the interesting thing about the
Madonna of Tindari are the stories surrounding her origins. Legend has it that
the cedarwood statue was hidden on a cargo ship returning from the Middle East
to save it from destruction during the Iconoclastic Wars. A storm blew up and
the ship took refuge in the bay below Tindari. When the storm had passed, the
sailors lifted the anchor and started rowing but the ship didn’t budge. They
left some of the cargo on the shore, thinking that was the cause of the
problem. Still no joy. It wasn’t until they left the Black Madonna on the shore
too that the ship started to move again. Local fishermen found the statue and
decided to build a shrine one the highest point of the plateau of Tindari. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 18pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 18pt;">Today, Tindari draws thousands of
pilgrims and visitors every year.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-top: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-top: 0cm;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip4hfbA6l03qYjzDUUokPz6YET6P06lVwjfWQXsGeeK_piFyjdZsSHKaaZIjPZR_SU1fhmtpXNY7bQ1dKOezG2ajpKGsrThpJXu5QenmjdMNjhBsUO5IqjntDXlumLm-Alc9ZWK-NYXXk/s1600/220px-PattiTindarisLagune.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip4hfbA6l03qYjzDUUokPz6YET6P06lVwjfWQXsGeeK_piFyjdZsSHKaaZIjPZR_SU1fhmtpXNY7bQ1dKOezG2ajpKGsrThpJXu5QenmjdMNjhBsUO5IqjntDXlumLm-Alc9ZWK-NYXXk/s1600/220px-PattiTindarisLagune.jpg" /></a></div>
<div style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Then there’s the miracle: the
legend about the beautiful sandbank below the sanctuary, in the shape of a side
profile of the Madonna and Child. The story goes that a woman brought her sick child
to the sanctuary for a blessing but upon arrival, when she saw the Madonna was
black, she refused to pray to her. The child slipped from her grip and fell
over the cliff’s edge to the sea, hundreds of metres below. But instead of
drowning, the child was found playing safely on a ridge of sand that miraculously
rose out of the sea. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-top: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Finally, you have the theories
about the Black Madonna in general, for the Madonna of Tindari is not the only
one. Prevalent in Hispanic cultures from Guadalupe to Montserrat (there’s even
one in Dublin in Whitefriar Street’s Carmelite Chapel), the mysteries of the
Black Madonna are many. </span></div>
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<div style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Some say she derives from a pre-Christian mother goddesss
figure, linked to Demeter or the Egyptian goddess Isis. Others say that the
dark skin tone of the Black Madonnas reflects that of the Virgin Mary, who likely
had Semitic colours and features. She is often associated with miracles, always
invoked as a protectress. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 18.0pt; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Our Black Madonna of Tindari sits
on a throne, with the child Jesus on her lap, his hand raised in blessing.
Inscribed on the base of the statue are words from the Old Testament’s Song of
Songs: Nigra sum sed Formosa (I am black but beautiful). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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The Irish Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03748782138100107440noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741772054008921775.post-5374592034074626422015-06-27T09:35:00.002-07:002015-06-27T09:35:39.924-07:00Migrant crisis in Sicily<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmsiGyPSqxktrmEu8wGHXx98FIXN7nokXsNqAzIlpiMtvH_GdKMyiVIYdXi89ISvBKwYYqB8yKDiIECF6P9OEPKDM6LUyzsffTPye6imZKu71xb0BkOuwosiBLmdp2Kf5fZEjmpIggt0I/s1600/italy-45-migrants-died-amassed-fish-refrigerated-hold-sicily.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmsiGyPSqxktrmEu8wGHXx98FIXN7nokXsNqAzIlpiMtvH_GdKMyiVIYdXi89ISvBKwYYqB8yKDiIECF6P9OEPKDM6LUyzsffTPye6imZKu71xb0BkOuwosiBLmdp2Kf5fZEjmpIggt0I/s320/italy-45-migrants-died-amassed-fish-refrigerated-hold-sicily.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
I<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">talian premier Matteo Renzi speaks eloquently on the issue of the </span><a href="http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2015/jun/23/mediterranean-migrant-crisis-not-italy-but-europe" target="_blank">Migrant crisis</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;"> to the Guardian UK. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">Milazzo has a shelter for boys, mostly aged 18-20. I know the people who run it and several of the boys have worked for us at the restaurant under social projects. I know they are well-provided for at the shelter, with "tutors" or psychologists, and money to buy food etc. I wanted to speak to them about their experience but was afraid they would get upset. However, yesterday Emilia from Oxfam GB came by to interview some of them.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">Her questions were well-phrased and not too personal so the boys responded briefly without getting upset. I sat with two boys from Mali when they spoke in case they needed translation from French. I was struck by how much they spoke about their family back home and how they feel a loss of identity in coming here. "No one knows me here, no one knows my family," said Issa. With a smile he nodded at me and <i>mio marito</i> and said, "Now I know you." Issa wears an amulet around his neck. When I asked him if his mother gave it to him he nodded, eyes full of tears: for protection and luck.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">Modou from Gambia also works for us. He already has refugee status because his family was persectued by brutal dictator Yayhah Jammeh, in power for twenty years. He told me the real story of weeks of travelling from Gambia to Niger to Libya. Of the fear in Libya where he saw people get killed for the first time. The driver who left him at the border to Libya said: Don't look at an Arab woman or you will get shot. Don't say anything when they mistreat women and children, or they will kill you. Don't volunteer to navigate or captain the boat (for free passage) because when they discover you can't do it, they will kill you."</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">In Libya for three weeks waiting to travel, he only left the holding centre to get food because of the danger of being assaulted by truckloads of "soldiers". "We are all ex-soldiers from the Gaddaffi regime," the human-traffickers told them. They take women and lock them in a room, then call their friends. "We have African women here," they say, and charge a fee. When I asked him about treatment of children, Modou wouldn't tell me. "Libya is a crazy place," he said.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">When at last his turn to sail came, they were given a sat-nav and nautical directions, and a mobile phone to keep in touch with the people-traffickers. "When you are three hours away from Italy, we will give you the number of the Italian coast guard," they said. "You must then throw all sateliite equipment into the sea so they don't know where the boat comes from."</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">Modou knows that Europe doesn't want African migrants. But, he says, "There are thousands of Africans waiting for good weather to travel to Italy." As Renzi says, the history of humanity has been marked by migration flows... Europe needs a management strategy for the arrival and distribution of the migrants and also, most importantly, needs to address the underlying problems in the African countries from where they come, Libya included. Easier said than done, but this is a humanitarian emergency that is not being treated as such.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">The way these youngsters smile, you would never imagine</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;"> their epic journey to Sicily via the harrowing hell experience of Libya. Barely eighteen, they are fleeing persecution under the Gambian regime of dictator Yayhah Jammeh, and post-war chaos in Mali and Sudan. They pay around €600 to travel from Libya to Sicily. The price of human life in so many cases.</span>The Irish Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03748782138100107440noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741772054008921775.post-73930279524724082972015-06-18T02:00:00.000-07:002015-06-20T03:43:11.765-07:00Melanzanine ripiene<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_3wpRawLN8VlvkI0-YQCmhSV8Wv5WXSVJTotyfetNm6YXKhBF6W8AX6441UZzFPO_i5b7uvT0l_n34hsGeUY_hHf-1EJg2BlA6RVtg4s014ZcsfzajP2ScLLgL7qIlG50ewteqU0WwnM/s1600/WP_002631.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_3wpRawLN8VlvkI0-YQCmhSV8Wv5WXSVJTotyfetNm6YXKhBF6W8AX6441UZzFPO_i5b7uvT0l_n34hsGeUY_hHf-1EJg2BlA6RVtg4s014ZcsfzajP2ScLLgL7qIlG50ewteqU0WwnM/s320/WP_002631.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
Ahhhhh...You know summer is here when you catch the sweet scent of fried aubergines/eggplant on the air. These stuffed baby aubergines are one of my favourites of Sicilian cuisine. Make sure you get the chance to try these tasty morsels once in your life!<br />
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Like most Sicilian dishes, there are regional variations and family versions added to that. My mother-in-law makes the best ever :) These ones are stuffed with breadcrumbs (mollica), capers, pecorino cheese and a little fresh tomato sauce (passato) to bind the mixture together. The wonderful cipolla di Tropea (Tropea onions), marinated in white wine, vinegar and sugar and salt are then layered over them.The Irish Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03748782138100107440noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741772054008921775.post-24566582840674962412015-03-22T03:11:00.000-07:002015-06-20T03:42:55.456-07:00Temper temper!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Temperatures are rising, and with it, tempers in the kitchen. So much so that the first cook almost assaulted the second cook last week. Almost, because in the chef's attempt to hit or headlock him, the second cook slipped out of his grip. Witnesses say the first cook was provoked by the second cook's gibes. Mio marito, so <i>sorry </i> to have to deal with such issues, did the necessary legal formalities.<br />
So now we have a situation where the Second is afraid to work with the First Cook. I can understand: First Cook is a big guy. But Second Cook has now closed himself in a little world of his own and won't speak to anyone. Which makes collaboration in the kitchen slightly tricky.<br />
Did I mention my husband's other job is with Oxfam Sicily? He's working on projects related to the hugely pressing issue of immigration into Sicily. From saving immigrants' lives to saving cooks in our kitchen. Imagine what keeps him up at night...<br />
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<span style="font-size: 18px;"><br /></span>The Irish Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03748782138100107440noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741772054008921775.post-66820293860577618482015-03-22T02:34:00.000-07:002015-06-20T03:45:05.057-07:00Caffè, dottore?<br />
<a 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" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Risultati immagini per coffee" border="0" src="data:image/jpeg;base64,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" /></a><span lang="EN-US">At the café. Sunday morning and I’m just about to pay
for my cappuccino when the owner at the till looks over my shoulder, says, “Are
you paying for a coffee, doctor?” And let his mate pay first. I smile
graciously (much more effective than fuming) and then pay for the two cappuccini
and cake we'd ordered for a birthday lunch. The owner realised his error and
gave me 50cents off.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US">Half
the fun in cafés where there are traditional, uniformed barmen is listening to
the lively greetings in the morning. <i>Buongiorno
avvocato; buona giornata, professoressa; caffè dottore? </i>Good morning, Lawyer,
have a good day, Teacher, would you like a coffee, Doctor? (NB any flimsy old
degree entitles you to be called doctor in Italy).<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span>
<br />
<span lang="EN-US">However. We still don’t like queue jumping. Another friend who runs an English School
said she ordered two hot takeaway capuccini at her local café in a five minute
coffee break. The barman made the coffees and then let them stand before adding
the froth while he served a friend called <i>Direttore</i>
(Boss, as in head of business or school). </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US">But I'm a Boss too, my friend thought
to herself, and there’s my coffee going cold on the counter. The barman said, <i>Don’t worry, sure I can just remake them</i>…<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span>The Irish Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03748782138100107440noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741772054008921775.post-84498743878829261692015-03-18T07:00:00.000-07:002015-03-19T07:31:06.414-07:00Adios amigo <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4gv0wxY6MTFTCCxX5d5ZAYWHTJrKY0l1lzaJBiqeFaZM_pmAceTChSPe7B5U4zrU5lfNNW8cU4Fxxka1BznDaRUu5olIfVx_xCA8AAPiF6e6YUXBN3n8ybOiLcb_1O3ak9zr95VXBpwA/s1600/cocktails.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4gv0wxY6MTFTCCxX5d5ZAYWHTJrKY0l1lzaJBiqeFaZM_pmAceTChSPe7B5U4zrU5lfNNW8cU4Fxxka1BznDaRUu5olIfVx_xCA8AAPiF6e6YUXBN3n8ybOiLcb_1O3ak9zr95VXBpwA/s1600/cocktails.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #20124d; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #20124d;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Last weekend we parted company with our barman, who
has been with us since our rocky beginning six years ago. Through the winter he
worked Fridays and Saturdays, but recently the bar had been quiet on Friday
nights so <i>mio marito</i> had him come in
on Saturdays only.</span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #20124d; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #20124d; font-size: 13.5pt;">He was a high maintenance kind of guy so last week he
handed in his notice saying once a week was just not worth it. He had tears in
his eyes, he said, which we couldn’t verify because this was a phonecall. He
ended by saying he would call in during the week to return the restaurant keys.
<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #20124d; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #20124d; font-size: 13.5pt;">My husband turned to me and said: “Rubbish. He has a
new job and I know exactly where.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #20124d; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #20124d; font-size: 13.5pt;">Fact is, the barman duly brought the keys back – when no
one else was there. We only spotted them after noticing his cocktail mixers
were gone. Now, aside from the fact that from our point of view he took the
hint, it’s a shame our erstwhile resident diva didn’t have the balls to bid
farewell in person. Especially since his new employment is so close (<i>mio marito</i> was spot on).<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #20124d; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #20124d; font-size: 13.5pt;">It was a case of “This joint ain’t big enough for the
both of us”. Family members revealed he had complained that <i>mio marito</i> didn’t give him enough space
(now even <i>I</i> know that you don’t slag
a man off to his own family in Sicily). For example, why had my husband not
bought him that special aged Vodka that cost €40? Now with unemployment here at
over 40%, not too many punters would have been drinking that special vodka. And
speaking of Vodka, our former barman loved dealing out free shots to his pals,
so it looks like we’re going to be saving more than just his salary. We have it
on pretty good authority that his new employers will not look too kindly on
free shots; apparently he was working up quite a sweat last Saturday night.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #20124d; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #20124d; font-size: 13.5pt;">Hell, I learnt a lot from him. I remember clearly
apprehending his expectations of me, which could largely be translated onto the
rest of the staff at the time. On opening day he told me
there was a leak behind the bar, which I appreciated, as joint manager with mio
marito. But he wasn’t simply informing me of that inconvenience, he just wanted
me to mop up.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #20124d; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #20124d; font-size: 13.5pt;">If only I'd learnt how to make more cocktails.</span></div>
The Irish Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03748782138100107440noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741772054008921775.post-37527579112050522762015-03-18T06:23:00.000-07:002015-03-18T06:23:15.688-07:00No double-parking at the doctor's<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVpI8pWA1cK0f0XmiatfWg_D9YWspD7vLeOggCT47fy9SEOhlhSXvFtUA6COlv8Nt2jYI3okuvyU-XgS1cx9evolRIBciJAd0yHn5cS6xn_LJz-zXuE-gS5QcU0b88K46xBtJ99jemR64/s1600/WP_002285.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVpI8pWA1cK0f0XmiatfWg_D9YWspD7vLeOggCT47fy9SEOhlhSXvFtUA6COlv8Nt2jYI3okuvyU-XgS1cx9evolRIBciJAd0yHn5cS6xn_LJz-zXuE-gS5QcU0b88K46xBtJ99jemR64/s1600/WP_002285.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
This sign - which I read as a woman blithely skipped the queue and took my 16.20 appointment, much to my dismay as I was on the alert for such common trickery - talks about some basic Waiting Room rules, such as keeping the communicating door closed for patients' privacy (queue-jumping is not mentioned).<br />
<br />
The NB at the bottom warns that "Those patients who double park their cars will not be given priority".The Irish Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03748782138100107440noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741772054008921775.post-60673316409616620392014-12-12T06:36:00.000-08:002014-12-12T06:36:00.987-08:00Street renaming - I object Your honourables!<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDxqwxoCodSkyYdERdMaecrTTgRE4ZYT96LolPm9m-TWlfA6KGcauDiXYqzLe4pGJVRHVBLJFoV1McG_U_B5xg2kjsdG1PdI52fBUIsqrpyS-EebhbJQR8i8ljbjJnitjVW7Vqvr-0MlU/s1600/WP_002029.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDxqwxoCodSkyYdERdMaecrTTgRE4ZYT96LolPm9m-TWlfA6KGcauDiXYqzLe4pGJVRHVBLJFoV1McG_U_B5xg2kjsdG1PdI52fBUIsqrpyS-EebhbJQR8i8ljbjJnitjVW7Vqvr-0MlU/s1600/WP_002029.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Via del Duomo Antico no more</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
A trumpet tune brought me to my balcony this morning. This scene greeted me: a little gathering of Milazzo notables (male) including the mayor and his driver, a few lawyer types, and one distinguished-looking lady, most of them around the 60s mark. A priest, all dressed up in festive gowns officiated at the ceremony, reading from a book that definitely was not the Bible.<br />
<br />
I strained to hear what they were saying but cars hooting at the photographers capturing the scene (from the middle of a dangerous intersection) impaired my hearing.<br />
<br />
A sect? I thought to myself. Ever since I lived in Arezzo and discovered Propaganda Due head Licio Gelli was one of my neighbours, I've been on the lookout for masonic activities; apparently Italy is full of them (and you thought Dan Brown made it all up? Ha!)<br />
<br />
But no, they were simply renaming the street Via Colonello del Bosco - some random Bourbon guy whose army the Garibaldini defeated in Milazzo in July 1960, thus ending the reign of the Bourbons in Sicily.<br />
<br />
It would have been nice to know that Pachamama's address has changed, especially since the council also decided to change the street numbers a few months back causing much confusion (I woke up one day to a number 20 stuck on my pillar).<br />
<br />
For me, the road will always be Via del Duomo Antico, which, apart from sounding so beautiful, is much more fitting. After all, this road in the historic quarter leads to the Old Cathedral in the Castle Fort.<br />
<br />
You can read <a href="http://www.oggimilazzo.it/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=6497:la-lettera-linopportuno-dedicare-via-al-generale-del-boscor&catid=293:attualita&Itemid=548" target="_blank">here </a>what Francesco Atanasio says so well on the subject (basically that Colonello del Bosco was a loser and Milazzo's real hero is Luigi Rizzo who won WW1 for the Italians. Milazzo has a few dodgy street names and competent people need to be employed in offices of such cultural import).<br />
<br />
Amen.<br />
<br />
<br />The Irish Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03748782138100107440noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741772054008921775.post-53237963111436835002014-12-04T00:36:00.001-08:002014-12-04T00:36:11.136-08:00Oh no ... sirocco again<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Oh no ... it's sirocco
again... <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Sirocco, if you haven’t experienced
it, is like spending an entire day on the London Underground. You feel
irritable, headachy, sweaty and dirty, have a stuffy nose and dusty clothes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I was at the <i>fruttivendolo</i> this morning, popping veg
from the outdoor stalls into my bag. "I hate sirocco," the grocer
said. "And you're Sicilian!" I said. "In Ireland we don't get
this wind. It drives me CRAZY." He said, "It's bad news for my
vegetables. I can't leave them untended outside because they get covered in
black, dusty sand." He stopped, as I hesitated, my hand hovering over some
luscious green beans. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">That's it: sirocco
gets EVERYWHERE. You can't hang your washing outside, unless you want dusty dried
clothes. I left a window open by mistake last time and found my piano - my most
prized possession - with little piles of sooty sand in the corners. And you
need to be careful how you clean it off because sirocco dust scratches. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Soon, it will rain,
and we'll all be driving sand-smeared cars and wondering whether it is safe to
clean the sand-streaked windows at home. Because the other thing about sirocco
is that it lasts for days. Bringing with it the chemical stink from the
refinery across Milazzo bay. </span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Insidious,
deadly, foul.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
The Irish Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03748782138100107440noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741772054008921775.post-11907011279166830422014-10-17T07:06:00.003-07:002014-10-17T07:06:56.121-07:00Snake on the steps<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYgIHDU6hMRgYtPcnffR7BaVvpgxFgPBcdxSRPzkYr-Be_UM2Iz9FtnmH_NtMqXxB4akHw_7qtum7TgHFS_XW5C3WJO93HnAuTG4BraxHe3EjsD7n8aeQflpG3zktT3_YIn5y03NvVww4/s1600/WP_001847.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYgIHDU6hMRgYtPcnffR7BaVvpgxFgPBcdxSRPzkYr-Be_UM2Iz9FtnmH_NtMqXxB4akHw_7qtum7TgHFS_XW5C3WJO93HnAuTG4BraxHe3EjsD7n8aeQflpG3zktT3_YIn5y03NvVww4/s1600/WP_001847.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq2o2LRXZghWIpv4HfJF5M6PRP4-CWV1hhhr9U-HJw_1-anMUDvFsRO9jLFbrYNc3FKNgOjyw7UGeMto0blhh7WB1FbgGQd48ineuKFbVOWwMJzpKXDiz5p430crNKIWwP5tMQtdht4tw/s1600/WP_001846.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq2o2LRXZghWIpv4HfJF5M6PRP4-CWV1hhhr9U-HJw_1-anMUDvFsRO9jLFbrYNc3FKNgOjyw7UGeMto0blhh7WB1FbgGQd48ineuKFbVOWwMJzpKXDiz5p430crNKIWwP5tMQtdht4tw/s1600/WP_001846.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Snake on the steps, poo in the piazza... Another thing that always strikes me when I return is the state of the streets.<br />
<br />
Steps lead from this beautiful fifteenth century Spanish church to the school below where my son attends pre-school. On my way to pick him up last week I almost stepped on a snake that was slithering off into the overgrown bushes flanking the steps. I know there are snakes in Sicily, but I just don't expect to see them practically on my doorstep.<br />
<br />
Also last week my son and I were playing ball in the piazza while bambina snoozed in the stroller. But we had to give up because the ball kept rolling into dog poo...<br />
<br />
Dear Mr Mayor, could you kindly clean up the crap (or fine the losers who let their dogs do their business in the piazza), and cut the grass? And while you are at it, resurface our street, the potholes have ruined my car's suspension and the stroller wheels get stuck in them...<br />
<br />
I love Sicily, I do ...<br />
<br />
<br />The Irish Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03748782138100107440noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741772054008921775.post-47154227605570679512014-10-17T05:55:00.002-07:002015-03-05T06:48:05.056-08:00Back with a blast<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgumjWZuE3-vNWu9Si09his5PO2X_XAOip51YI_fXZU-Gdou1-CDYofO-KsyGurG3LPqkbkqrLVadNYAMWAVbv0tkCE3SOCherEr8EY8hVYfZnQnzdb4PRQe1DnVbI62dZfbCkY1fcEs3c/s1600/WP_001845.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgumjWZuE3-vNWu9Si09his5PO2X_XAOip51YI_fXZU-Gdou1-CDYofO-KsyGurG3LPqkbkqrLVadNYAMWAVbv0tkCE3SOCherEr8EY8hVYfZnQnzdb4PRQe1DnVbI62dZfbCkY1fcEs3c/s1600/WP_001845.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Milazz's beautiful castle stencilled against the industrial zone</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
I returned to Milazzo mid-September after a long summer in Ireland - time enough to give birth to our bambina in the wonderful mid-wife led facilities in the north of Ireland - a far cry from local birthing options.<br />
<br />
What awaited me upon our return? Extravagant heat - still in the 30s in the shade, exhausting sirocco wind, mosquitoes and cockroaches galore and ...<br />
<br />
... a HUGE FIRE at the oil refinery, located a mere five kilometres from the town centre. A westerly wind was blowing the night the massive refinery caught fire, sending huge plumes of smoke spiralling towards mountain towns behind. The people of Pace del Mela and Santa Lucia packed their cars and fled in droves as the flames illuminated Milazzo's Manhattan skyline.<br />
<br />
No one was hurt, and refinery workers managed to contain the fire so as to limit damage. But for several days after, mushroom clouds spread in the direction of prevailing winds, so that nowhere was unaffected by the fallout.<br />
<br />
What have we been breathing since then? All the invisible, noxious particles that make their way into our lungs... What if there had been a sirocco wind that night? We'd have had to pack up and flee for Montalbano with our five week old and four year old.<br />
<br />
We've been thinking lately: do we really want to stay here, inhaling unknown quantities of pollution? I say it every time I come back from Ireland: the first thing you notice about Milazzo is the poor air quality.The Irish Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03748782138100107440noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3741772054008921775.post-89157476357562329452014-08-07T03:08:00.002-07:002014-08-07T03:08:54.909-07:00Away with those Evil Eyes!I'm in Ireland for the summer, escaping the ferocious Sicilian summer heat. <i>Mio marito</i> came over to visit last week, just before the high season began. He had hardly been here two days when he got bad news from the restaurant: our main waiter had had a bad accident with his motorbike and was in intensive care.<br />
<br />
While we're all still very worried about him, he'll recover. He's young and strong, but it will take time, poor guy. This week <i>mio marito</i> tells me our barman has hurt his leg and can't work for a few nights - now that it is high season... It is very difficult to find good replacements at this stage because everyone has found work for the summer locally or on the Aeolian islands.<br />
<br />
"You've got the Evil Eye," I tell him, more Sicilian than the Sicilians. "You've got to get rid of it before more disasters happen this summer!" Luckily, a friend's mother can perform this healing ritual. She pours out the oil, salt and water in a bowl, and it turns out there's not just one, but MANY Evil Eyes afflicting my husband (most likely his competitors in the Borgo. Not that there's much to worry about, it's been a fairly quiet summer so far).<br />
<br />
With composure and confidence, the lady chants her incantations and frees <i>mio marito</i> from those bad boys.The Irish Wandererhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03748782138100107440noreply@blogger.com0