Sicilian Diary

My son has just done his terza media (Junior Cert) exams and his theme was WATER. He spoke about Ungaretti’s I Fiumi, where rivers are a metaphor for human experience, and John Donne’s No Man is an Island on the interconnectivity of our lives as humans. His teachers gave him a theme so close to my heart: my songs and books often feature some form of water – rivers, seas and oceans appear as metaphor and meaning. Then, having done my work (apparently it is the mother's job to write the tesina for their child's presentation) I left for the islands to complete some fact-checking (days earned thanks to separation laws which accord parenting time to fathers). Gratitude. A woman travelling alone garners so much attention here. The lusty squat hydrofoil attendant breathing down my neck as I tried to sleep on the trip over, the Senegalese waiter in the port cafè asking too many questions, the Peruvian caretaker of the place I stayed curious about my age. The group of six lads on a part...

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. 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...  Everyone com...

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 s...

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.  It was heartening to stumble across the Irish president's message 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 governmen...

Etna as seen from Capo Milazzo   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. But there are as many reasons to stay, or maybe there are more. Etna is one of them. 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 ...

 Lucky to be able to have lunch outside on a friend's terrace in these surroundings on 1st November. In Sicily...

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. Spectacular to look out the window and see this.

 Harvesting olives - a fitting way to spend Samhain in Sicily.  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. 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. 

  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... 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...

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.  

Scenes from the Carnevale at Cataffi 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, prof ?”). Carnevale , 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 “ Abbatazzi ”, 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. Le Maschere Tradizionali originate in the sixteenth century Italian Commedia dell’Arte , c...

Two boats, two seagulls, and hundreds of cactus fruits facing the sun. This is why it is good to be in Sicily in February...

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… 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 betwee...

Every good cook book has a story behind it, and this one is no exception ... Sicilia in Bocca by Antonio Cardella , 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 J Yesterday I went to my libraio di fiducia , my favourite bookseller, Filoramo, and asked him if he had a copy. I wanted to give it to an American friend who is get...

My favourite Madonna of all the multitude of Virgin Marys venerated by the Sicilians, is the Black Madonna of Tindari.  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. 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.  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). 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 ...

I talian premier Matteo Renzi speaks eloquently on the issue of the  Migrant crisis  to the Guardian UK.  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. 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 mio marito and said, ...

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! 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.

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 sorry  to have to deal with such issues, did the necessary legal formalities. 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. 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...

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. Half the fun in cafés where there are traditional, uniformed barmen is listening to the lively greetings in the morning. Buongiorno avvocato; buona giornata, professoressa; caffè dottore? 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). 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 h...

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 mio marito had him come in on Saturdays only. 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. My husband turned to me and said: “Rubbish. He has a new job and I know exactly where.” 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 ...