The Mafia's black hand, migranti in Siracusa & Buon Pasqua

Guarda! This is what happens in Sicily when someone makes you "an offer you can't refuse" and you refuse. Or at least that's the word on the street. This small unextraordinary pizzeria on Via Giudecca (the main one- not the smaller Viale Giudecca) was firebombed last Sunday night at 2am in the morning. The blast woke my friend Carlo, of "Mom invasion" fame, who lives down the street. This is the old Jewish ghetto in Siracusa a popular neighborhood among young locals since there's not much tourism here- several buildings are still pretty distressed and rent is cheap. There's a popular wine bar down the street called Tinkite and I'm particularly fond of one of the sisters who runs it- ciao Maria...
Anyway, the folks who ran this little negozio are also supposedly very nice. The pizza wasn't anything to write home about- (and yet here I am) but it wasn't bad and it was very cheap. Perhaps too cheap- because everyone says this place was targeted by the local MAFIA for not paying the piper. La Cosa Nostra qui in carina Siracusa! Non! Non posso credere. But apparently so. Interesting. ... because one morning I went into this place- and a well dressed guy with a large briefcase came in a sat at the counter. The owner came out and- as far as I could make out- the guy was there to fill an order form and the owner was saying he really didn't need anything- but the guy just sat there and looked at his watch as if to say, "listen you and I both know you have to order SOMEthing, so... why are we wasting time." And after that, I went back to the Hostel I was staying in at the time and announced "I think I may have seen Mafia today." But I didn't really think I had. But NOW... I'm pretty sure I did.
Anyway... there IS Mafia in Sicily- and there was some of it right here in Siracusa today. This morning- Easter Morning (Pasqua in Italy) a sbarca, or a peschebarca- a fishing boat- was spotted 26 miles of the coast of Sicily carrying 87 Egyptians- and the boat was brought in to Siracusa. This is interesting because 1) I'm not aware of any boats making it to Siracusa... as you're probably aware- most of these boats are landing in Lampadusa, Sicily's southernmost island. But those are mostly Tunisian and these were 2)) Egyptian refugees. E diversi. and #3) accompanying them were 13 smugglers. They were immediately arrested and are suspected of being part of a mafia refugee smuggling operation. According to the Italian telegiornale only 18 Egyptians were allowed to disembark here- the rest were taken south to Portopalo- (except the smugglers who were arrested). Anyway- I'm going to follow up on this- if not tomorrow then Tuesday with Ramzi. Ramzi speaks Arabic and I'd like to see if we can talk to some of the guys who got off the boat here. But he's out of town until Tuesday. It's very interesting- no? I will follow up.
BTW I fully support Berlusconi's initiative- why not give the migranti (the refugee immigrants) papers to travel throughout the EU for 6 months. THe rest of the EU nations have self righteously lectured Italy about the immigration "problem" and completely refused to help or provide any humanitarian assistance. They've ignored repeated requests by the ITalian foreign minister to meet and discuss the problem. So Il Cavalieri simply issued them papers. Brilliant. For a while France responded by shutting down the north-bound train- I think it's one that goes from Genoa to Marseille (not sure about that). But it's running again and finally Sarkozy is coming here on Weds to talk to the PM directly. See- that's government Mafia-style, sometime you just have to make them an offer they can't refuse.
Meanwhile I've been hosting some migrants- or one migrant. This is Nicholas, a very nice French biker who contacted me through couchsurfer. He's biking the entire Meditteranean- here's his route (see pic). He's already biked Morocco, Algeria and Tunisia and put something like 20,000 KM on the bike (over 5 months). It was a pleasure to host him for three days last weekend. The weather was horrible, but he ate everything I put in front of him and rested up. We took a small bike ride together to Plemmirio (about 15 KMs away. Give me a break. Sono vechio- I'm an old man) on the opposite side of the bay. It was a beautiful spot- a spit of land that juts out into mediterranean. There are some pillbox bunkers left over from WWII. Would be a beautiful place to camp. I'll try to load a picture. We got caught in the rain on the way back. The following morning he was off to Catania- bon voyage Nick! It was amazing to see how efficiently he was traveling- two rear saddlebag, two saddlebags on a rack mount on the front wheel, a small duffel sandwiched between the saddlebags on the rear rack- and a small handlebar bag with a weatherproof clear plastic pocket for his map. Incredibile! BTW Nick said he had no problem using couchsurfer throughout North Africa- the people were incredibly generous and hospitable- a sentiment echoed again and again by people who've traveled there. In fact, he said he was finding it more difficult to line up couches in Europe- . Nick's website where he's blogging about his trip is www.nrichaud.eu, but I think it's in French.
Anyway, he's off.. but there are other couchsurfers on the way... I think next weekend. I better look into that and get my dates straight.
Allora Buon Pasqua from Siracusa. uova ciocolata per tutti.

"Mom invasion" - the morning snails

Domenica mattina. Sunday morning.
I started the day with a box of snails. It's a strange way to kick of the day gastronomically- but they were cooking pots of them outdoors by the market and I couldn't resist. But I'm feeling a little regretful now- because i think I feel those f++ckers sliming their way through my entrails. Oh mio dio.
Mio dio- or mio madre de dio- is actually how I start Sunday mornings here in Ortigia- because my bedroom is directly across the street from La chiesa della Santa Maria dei Miracoli- I live on Via Santa Maria dei etc.- and the bells start peeling around 9 maybe a little later, and then don't stop until the congregants (are Catholics called congregants?) are in the pews by 11.
My own madre was in town for the past week. It was a full on "Mom invasion," as Carlo put it. I think Judy was particularly charmed by my friend Carlo who variously referred to her as "Meees Jewdeee" or "Sewper Jewwdee"- he was particularly kind enough to drive us out to the mall in Syracuse so Mommy could by me a knife and a cutting board for the Cucina- thanks Carlo.
We had a good time- I think... The regina stayed in the Hotel des Estranges, a elegant hotel near the Fontana Aretusa- her room had a beautiful view of the harbor. The price of the room- which we can only guess at- included breakfast (colazioni) every morning on the rooftop dining area, bar. A lovely view of Ortigia from up there.
La madre rented a car for two days and I played navigator- she did very well. We drove south the first day almost to the southeastern tip of Sicily, to a tiny fishing town called Marzememi with a now defunct tuna processing plant. Wholesale or commercial tuna fishing has been illegal here since- I think- the late '80s, early '90s... but they're still for sale at the markets and on the menu at most restaurants (I bought a beautiful piece of one today at the market). So I suspect local fisherman are allowed a quota- as long as they don't use the nets, maybe? Once again, I should probably investigate but I'm not sure I want to. Because I'll wind up feeling bad about the piece I just bought.
On the way back from Marzememi we stopped in Vedicari- an estuary and protected park along the coast- and that really is a beautiful spot, and a secret to most travelers to Sicily. Here it's regarded as a sort of paradise- you can walk there and swim there- but there's no garbage, and there are rangers- or the italian equivalent- who give you a map of the protected area. There are flamingoes- which we didn't see, and white herons (airon bianco) which we did. There are lots of geckoes. ... and plenty of other things for the nature/ wildlife lover to see... it was all but empty the day we went. I want to go back- it's only accessible by car.
The next day we drove north to Taormina- which is known as a sort of vacation spot for the well to do Italians and tourists. Lots of bars, hotels and restaurants- lots of nightlife in the summer. It has a bit of a Cote d'azure feel to it but it's very dramatic. It's built into a cliff overlooking the sea. I think Judy, la madre, was particularly taken with Taormina- not necessarily the driving, which is precarious- lots of switchback turns up a steep incline... but the town, which has a gorgeous view of the sea and, of course, the shops- all the big ones are there, and they're not cheap. But I think she bought a few scarfs there- if I'm not mistaken.
Also we visited the bagno ebraio (the Jewish Baths) here in Ortigia- which are very old... They discovered them twenty years ago some 18 meters beneath a B&B in the the old Jewish quarter and I hadn't visited them yet because- the girl who runs the desk at the B&B is the same person who takes you down the stone steps to the baths- she does double duty, and she's never been at the desk when I've gone by. Perhaps she's been down in the baths.
According to her the baths date back to 79AD... which makes them very old indeed, according the study of medieval whatever association in Siracuse they're the oldest Jewish baths in Europe.
They're beautiful actually- they were filled in with sand during the inquisition. They dug a lot of sand out excavating the baths which now recieve very clear natural spring water- so they're full. But the inquisitors also walled up the egress for the water to naturally flow out... so they've rigged up a pump which pumps the water 18 meters up into a new well on the ground floor of the B&B... otherwise the baths would be completely submerged. Getting up and down was a little tricky- but the feeling in these large rock cut chambers with pools of water and water dripping from the ceiling- is stirring- not unlike the aptmosphere in a deep cave. Very quiet and deep and sense of a timeless place.
So that was nice- and it was nice to see a bit of the island outside of Syracuse. I don't have a car or a moto (which makes me a complete niente in Italy) so I've only been able to visit places that I can get to by bus or train- and there aren't that many actually. You can get to a beach just south of here called Fontan Bianche- certainly not as lovely as Vendicari- but the bus is only a Euro and it takes maybe 15 minutes to get there. THat's exactly what I did on Saturday, and I got in the ocean for the first time since I've been here... the Sicilians, who were at the beach, looked at me like I was nuts because it's still too cold- and the sea was cold, but no colder than the Atlantic on any given day- and I've felt invigorated ever since then.
And I believe "Mees Jew-Dee" is now back home, having arrived safely yesterday morning.

Italy turns 150, I find myself weeping to Verdi

This past Thursday was the 150th anniversary of L'Unita Republic of Italy. I wanted to celebrate, but there was hardly a whisper of festa in Syracuse- though everyone seemed happy to have the day off work. There was a lot of passagiating con bambini (walking around with the kids) who had the day off school and were generally running the town.
They're not crazy about the central government here in Sicily, never have been. ...And what with Burlesconi's affairs and his cozy relationship with Khaddafi, patriotism- never prominent in post-fascist Italy- seems to be at a low ebb. And the radio and news were full of gripes about this and that aspect of the federal government. One of the biggest political parties- I think it's actually to the right of Burlesconi's Populi dell'Libero party is the Northern Front- or League, which is pressing for greater autonomy for the regional governments...
It's all a little sad, and it just feels a bit besides the point to the outside observer. After all, the Unification of ITaly is a remarkable achievement and this chance to honor the nation only comes once every fifty years. Garibaldi was one of history's only truly admirable men- some historian said that, I can't remember who. He's great- and I'm always quick to remind and sometimes inform my ITalian acquaintances that the Generallisimo lived in NYC for a year or two-e vero, in Staten Island in fact, at some inventor's house... not Marconi, but someone like MArconi whose name escapes me now. And Abraham Lincoln offered him command in the Union army during the Civil War, but he begged off and eventually returned to Italy to effectively unite and liberate the country from foreign occupation... He DID eventually turn the whole think over to a monarch from Turin... and I think history is still out on that one, and that's part of the historical grievance here in the south- which viewed the Lombardy king as just another in a long string of foreign occupiers.
But ... it IS besides the point because Italy is not a country united by a government in Rome or Turin or anywhere else. Everyone gripes about the government. That's a given. In fact, that's one of the traits that you'll find throughout Italy. The cuisine and dialects might vary, but everyone hates the government.
Italy is an IDEA- of a country united by beauty and CULTURE- and an artistic legacy that is a gift to the world. Which is why I- not Italian in any way shape or form (except possibly aspirationally)- alone among my Sicilian friends found myself in tears that night watching Verdi's Nabucco on the National tv station.
THe opera, Verdi's third, is tedious. It's long- and there's a lot of war and martial sounding music. But then... in the beginning of the third act is "the lament of the Hebrew slaves" which begins "Va pensiero, sull'ali durate..." Fly (or go) thoughts, on golden wings... It is a lament for a lost homeland, a song that (some claim) was taken up by the Risorgimento troops and supporters as an anthem in support of Italy's Unification. There's some historical debate on whether this is true- or whether that was ever Verdi's intention- there are various stories attached to it. It IS true that graffiti V.E.R.D.I was scrawled on walls by supporters of unification signifying "Vittorio Emmanuel Rei D'Italia" (pretty cool) and the song "Va pensiero" has since become an unofficial national anthem. It's a beautiful sweet song in the middle of a loud, bombastic (and VERY long) opera.
But what was most moving was Ricardo Muti- who directs the Chicago Symphony now I think- but who was on hand to conduct the orchestra. He'd just undergone surgery and had a pace-maker installed- and I think he just won a prize, the sort of lifetime achievement prize they give you when they're not entirely sure you're going to make it.
Well Muti turned to the audience, which was full of politicians (I don't know if Burlesconi was there or out dancing with the party girls) before "Va pensiero" and criticized the drastic cuts in national funding for the arts which has sent so many italian musicians abroad and reduced others (so he said in an interview) to itinerant troubadours with a can in their hand. Awful! and particularly so in a country whose PRIMARY export/ import or attraction- is ART, beauty, and the artistic aspiration to create something so awe-inspiring that it seems touched by the hand of a god.
Then the audience erupted into applause and demanded an encore of "va pensiero" and the camera panned the audience where everyone was in tears, on their feet singing along with the chorus... from the floor to the mink and jewelry wearing crowd in the boxes were tossing thier tickets or invitations into the air. It was VERY moving to an outsider. Because it would never happen in the U.S. ... ONLY in Italy does opera still have the power to do that- to unsettle the status quo. So here are the words to "va pensiero" and a link to see this performance on youtube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G_gmtO6JnRs
Get out your hankys. Bravo! Encore!

Lyrics
Va', pensiero, sull'ali dorate;
Va, ti posa sui clivi, sui colli,
ove olezzano tepide e molli
l'aure dolci del suolo natal!
Del Giordano le rive saluta,
di Sionne le torri atterrate…
Oh mia Patria sì bella e perduta!
O membranza sì cara e fatal!
Arpa d'or dei fatidici vati,
perché muta dal salice pendi?
Le memorie nel petto raccendi,
ci favella del tempo che fu!
O simile di Solima ai fati,
traggi un suono di crudo lamento;
o t'ispiri il Signore un concento
che ne infonda al patire virtù!

English Translation
Hasten thoughts on golden wings.
Hasten and rest on the densely wooded hills,
where warm and fragrant and soft
are the gentle breezes of our native land!
The banks of the Jordan we greet
and the towers of Zion.
O, my homeland, so beautiful and lost!
O memories, so dear and yet so deadly!
Golden harp of our prophets,
why do you hang silently on the willow?
Rekindle the memories of our hearts,
and speak of the times gone by!
Or, like the fateful Solomon,
draw a lament of raw sound;
or permit the Lord to inspire us
to endure our suffering!

Two Jewds in Noto

... Speaking of the fascisti
Last weekend I boarded an autobus to Noto, and the driver was kind enough to take me to Noto. As I was walking from the station, I passed a open doorway with a sign that said it was a typographic museo- and I peeked in.
One thing about ITaly.... there's no such thing as window shopping. If you pause in front of a storefront, if you eyeball a vegetable, you are inviting a purchase... the proprietor will approach you and ask you what you want. He will explain that his sardines are the best, they are far superior to the sardines down the street and you want some. Even if you do not eat sardines, he will assure you that you do, or that the only reason you don't is because you haven't eaten his sardines.
Anyway I was ushered inside this museo by three animated scholars who asked me my name and where I was from.
"You are Judishe! Jewd!" exclaimed one
This was not the first time my name has solicited this reaction- so I'm a little less alarmed than I was the first time.
"Yes, si- I am a Jewd," I told him.
"But I am very happy! Happy to see you! I am a jewd!"
He was, in fact, not a jewd because only his father is Jewdishe... but he considers himself Jew and "sono Communismo!" Allora, I said, if he goes to New York he will meet many who so identify.
In any case, they gave me a discount on the bigletto (2 Euro) and showed me around the book/magazine museo. There were newspapers dating back to the risorgimento, and a dictionary of the sicilian dialect and a 17th century Spanish/Italian dictionary printed by a medici ("there are only two!," the museo's curator exclaimed) Nothing was under glass.
I confess I find myself drawn to the fascist era publications. The aesthetics of fascism tend to be pretty cheesy (see kanan makiya's book about fascist kitch in Iraq) - but the futurists (or most of them) supported the fascists in Italy (they were all interested in creating "a nuovo mondo" si?) And so, in Italy, fascism had a genuine artistic movement attached to it- and fascism is all about the spectacle, the uniforms, the crowd. The futurists were truly innovative painters, sculptors (I'm not crazy about their architecture) but they definitely made strides in typography, graphics, print publishing - anything that involved technology. Most of their publications are dated "Anno XV, or anno XVI because they're dating everything from 1920, when the fascists took power and reset the clock. So here are some pictures I took of some of the magazines and books at the Noto museo.
and yes, "sono Jewdiche" and mi piace the fascisti fonts.

Water sports in Ortigia, the Arab spring and fear of an arab planet. I wash my socks

Allora, I don't know what this sport is called- was on my way to the lavanderia to wash the dirty socks I'd been dragging around sicily for a month- and there, between the two pontes that connect Ortygia to Siracusa- this was going on. It appears to be a cross between kayaking, basketball and water-polo. Whatever it is, I want in- it looks like a lot of fun and a good way to work off the copious amounts of racotta and gelato I've been stuffing down my throat.
I made it to the lavaderia- and was trying to explain in my impeccable ITalian that I was going to do my own laundry and wanted to dry it in a machine... and the owner looked at me and said "Hon, you can just speak English to me." She's from Virginia and she runs the laundry with- I'm guessing it's her husband or boyfriend, David. IT's an excellent laundry- they do it for you- it costs the same. and then they fold it and pack it in neatly in a bag with your name on it and they taped my change to the bag. And she will keep my detergent at the laundry with my name on it! Bravo.
Well, me and my clean socks are at some internet cafe/bookstore in Ortygia. The internet isn't working in my building and I'm convinced Khaddafi is scrambling it, because at one point yesterday it was coming out in arabic. E possibile. And I'm not the only one anxiously weaving apocalyptic scenarios about N. Africa. All of Sicily is gripped by fear of an Arab planet. Last night I was watching Italian television, a program called "L'ultima parola" (the last word) and they had the population of LAmpedusa standing out in the rain and cold at night screaming questions at the guests- a bunch of politicians and ministers who were sitting in a warm television studio in Roma. You didn't have to speak ITalian, and I don't, to get the gist- the Lampedusans are furious because the African migrants are generally brought there first. One reasonable journalist was trying to explain that ITaly was a great nation, a prosperous nation, and surely it could absorb a few thousand migrants. I thought the LAmpedusans- and the other guests ( a minister of finance in particular) were going to demand his head and eyeballs on a platter. (Siracuse's saint, Lucia, is depicted with her eyeballs on a plate... look for more about that in a future, yet to be written "guide to the saints" blog entry).
So the Sicilians and much of the rest of ITaly are watching developments across the water with alarm and concern. And I am upset because I can't get the internet to find out whether Tripoli has been liberated yet... we're all in a lather. But my hopes and prayers are with the Libyans. I fully support armed intervention on their behalf. Depose the Colonel. THere, I said it. lynch me.
The Arab spring and the opening of the Magreb might be VERY GOOD for ITaly and il sud. Marco d'Eramo, the Manifesto correspondent I met in Roma, told me that Sicily's problems and the econmic decline of the south is partly due to Europe turning it's back on Africa. I don't know if that's true, but surely trade and business with a free, democratic, and open African north could only benefit Sicily and the south... and in the meantime they can demand $ from the EU to provide for the migrants. But apparently that's already going on.
I met a Ramzi- a tunisian in Siracusa who is the head of student services at MCAS, the Meditteranean Center for Arts and Sciences, some American exchange student program here (I didn't even know about it until two days ago- it's pretty small) Ramzi believes it's all "a game" to get the EU to cough up money and jobs for Sicily.
who knows? I capito niente... but Ramzi promises to put me in touch with agencies and folks who advocate for the migrants and work with them. So I'll be able to tell you more later.
Until then, NApoli has a BIG football match against #1 Milano on Monday... Is extremely important! Napoli is #2 this year and is led by a living incarnation of Apollo in the person of Cavani- he scores all their goals. The hopes and dreams of all of southern Italy rest on his bony shoulders. And I am a big Naples fan- a "mastiff" as the squad's quasi-fascist fans call themselves. Crush Milan! Viva Napoli!

Dionisio- the tyrant of Syracuse, Damocles sword, the Orecchio, and lessons for today's aspiring tyrants/playwrights

Ah yes... given the events transpiring just a quick ferry, or dingy ride away in North Africa, I was going to reflect- somewhat ostentatiously- on the nature of tyranny. And where better than Siracusa (??!) where one of histories' first and most notorious military strongmen, Dionisio, ruled with an iron fist. We have many colorful stories about Dionisio ("the tyrant", as he was known) because his forty year rule over Siracusa and at least two thirds of the island of Sicily roughly corresponded to the golden age of Athens (end of the 5th, beginning of the 4th century b.c.e)- and to the Athenian mind, he came to represent all that was cruel, vicious and degrading about despotism. The Athenians were very proud- as I guess we all are- of their invention which was something like a direct democracy. You could participate if you were free, white, male and athenian. If you were conquered by Athens however and you survived, you were generally made a slave. Also the Athenian opinion of Dionisio may have been colored by his allegance with Sparta during the Peloponnesian (anyone on the spelling here) war.
So what do we know of Dionisio... well, he seems to have been the first Napoleon-style dictator. He was of low-birth. A number of biographies refer to him as having been a government clerk. I wasn't aware they had those, but I guess someone had to push the papyrus. He distinguished himself in a number of military campaigns against the Carthigenians, who occupied much of Siciliy at the time. He then convinced the governing senate or elders or aristocrats of Syracuse that his life was in danger and needed a personal guard- and so they provided him with a personal mercenary guard (first mistake) with which he subsequently made war on the city and, having annihilated his enemies, he appointed himself king. His forty year rule was characterized by almost continuous warfare both against other cities in Sicily and Carthagenians, Etruscans, Greeks, Roman, pretty much all comers. He displayed a tyrant's characteristic paranoia. He used both mercenaries and an internal security force to eavesdrop and rout out any opposition to his rule. He cruelly squashed dissent. He supposed had a golden bed and a bedroom that was surrounded by a moat (I've got to get one of those... although-actually, given the lack of demand, I could probably just leave the drawbridge down).
But there are signs that Dionisio was not entirely brutish and without redeeming qualities. He seems to have had a taste for irony and even intellectual pursuits... One uncle, named Dion, decided wanted to create a utopia in Syracuse and persuaded his nephew to invite Plato to the city to attempt to make Dionisio the Philosopher king he'd envisioned. And Plato came, but so disgusted was he by Dionisio's quick backslide into despotism- this time I think it involved marrying off one of his enemies' wives- that Plato quickly turned his back on the city. He returned to Greece and denounced the dissolute king
Perhaps the best known story involves one Damocles- some gadabout of the city, who declared that Dionisio was the happiest man in the world because he could have anything he wanted. Dionisio, hearing of this, invited Damocles to his palace and asked him if he wouldn't like to change places with him for a while and taste his life. Well, Damocles leapt at the opportunity and the tyrant gave orders that Damocles was to be treated as himself and then he secretly arranged that whatever he was doing- whether eating, drinking or laying in the tyrant's golden bed- a sharp sword should be suspended over Damocles head by a horsehair. Damocles spent the day too terrified to enjoy the food, the dancing, the sycophants- all the trappings of absolute power. In the evening, Dionisio returned and said "now you know what it's like to be a tyrant," and allowed the panicked man to return to his normal humdrum life. It's a good story- and hence "Damocles' sword."
But my favorite story about Dionisio involves his artistic pretensions and aspirations. The tyrant fashioned himself a playwright- drama was adored at the time, and playwriting was considered the most elevated and profound of the arts (oh how times have changed). But Dionisio, like so many kings with artistic pretentions, really sucked. None of his plays or poems have survived, so we have no way of knowing for sure, but SUPPOSEDLY his plays weren't just bad, they were awful. He entered them in several dramatic competitions and despite the fact that he could pretty much have anyone decapitated at the snap of a finger- he tolerated no dissent, his tragedies never won a prize. He couldn't even place. One Philoxenus was sent to the quarries for refusing to applaud the tyrant's poems. Some time later when he was again recieved at court, Philoxenus was pressed for his opinion of a new poem by Dionisio. Philoxenus looked at the king, hung his head and gestured to the attending officer/bodyguards with the words "back to the quarries!" And the story goes that on this occasion, the king appreciated his wit and did not imprison him. So maybe he wasn't all THAT bad.
At last in old age, Dionisio's tragedy "The Ransom of Hector" won first prize at one of the lesser Athenian festivals. Dionisio was so jubilant- he ordered a public holiday and provided food and wine for everyone in the city. A monumental feast was laid out before the successful dramatist and the tyrant banqueted long into the morning- his life-long ambition at last realized. But so intemperately did he binge, that at dawn he suffered a stroke and died. The city fell into the hands of his son, a tyrant who lacked his dad's iron will and ruthless cruelty. He didn't last long.
Now that's history- and a lesson to all you aspiring playwrights and artists out there.
Here is a photo of the Orecchio de Dionisio (ear of Dionysius) and the magnificent Greek amphitheater- huge even by todays standards- in the archeological park in Syracuse. They perform Greek tragedies here in the summer. I bet it's magnificent- and this fountain at the back of the amphitheater is still running. The acoustics are great. It costs 10 Euros to walk around the theater and 9 Euros to gain entrance to the theater and the nearby archeological Museo. Why is it more expensive to see one than both? Who knows? The guy at the bigletteria (ticket stand) told me it was "a promotion" and then "a Sicilian mystery."
Actually no one knows why or exactly when this large acoustical chamber was carved out of the quarry. It was Carravagio in exile in Sicily some 2,000 years later, who believed it was a prison the tyrant designed so he could eavesdrop on his enemies- a theory that reflects the painter's paranoia as much as the tyrant's. Another hypothesis- the one I like- is that Archimedes made this echo chamber- the master scientist/engineer/inventor and a Siracusean, to conduct acoustic experiments. Maybe. It's fun to go in there- it's very deep- and shout "allora" or your name or clap or stamp, and listen to the reverberations.

Freedom for Arab North Africa. And I share the secret recipe for cozze (mussels) de Noah

Okay- or "owe kayee" in Southern Italian... I know i know. I haven't been blogging. Stop your whinging. A lot has happened- the Author has been busy. I have rented an apartment in Ortigia, I am observing the scuola di Inglese in the hopes of make-a the work, I am planning to exhibit some pictures, Napoli beat Roma and Catania, I stumbled on a festa in Noto (Noto is molto buono), in another trip one of the AST bus drivers left me in the middle of nowhere a good mile from the beach fontane bianche, Max (the owner of the hostel where I was staying in Siracusa) asked me if I wanted some horse meat... oh what else... Oh yeah- the entire middle east/North Africa erupted in popular protest. Not that that's personally affected me, although I'm of the mind that it affects us all... and it certainly affects Sicily, since Tunisian refugees are desperately trying to make it here. THe ITalian government likes to put them on the Isole di Lampadusa, which is actually closer to Africa than Sicily- but the normal population of Lampadusa is about 5,000 and the refugee population has trebled that. THere is no more room on Lampadusa, which the locals say is actually a lovely place to visit and just a ferry ride away. So now the Tunisians are being sent to an American military base on Sicily that I've heard is quite close to Sircusa- which (get out your maps) is on the eastern side of the island and pretty far south. So I must investigate and get back to you on that. Interestingly, Max (who describes himself as fairly conservative politically)told me last week he'd heard that Quaddafi or Khaddafi (maybe those are two of the 20 billion ways you can spell his name) was actually aiding the Tunisian refugees- encouraging them, and maybe giving them money and supplies to make the journey. Seemed a little conspiratorial to me. But Max may have been onto something. The European leaders are meeting in Brussels today and are they discussing ways to promote nascent democracy in arab states? No, of course not. First on their agenda is dealing with the refugee crisis- because god forbid the French speaking north africans make it to Italy or France or Brussels or Germany and try to earn a living. Apparently, as part of the 2007 rapprochment between Great Britain and Khaddafi- and later America and Khaddafi (which, of course, primarily had to do with western oil companies wanted to go into joint ventures with the state owned oil company) Khaddafi agreed to use his extensive security apparatus to round up migrants attempting to make the crossing to Europe... and now that the Western "powers" are guiltily and very slowly condemning the brutal crackdown on peaceful protestors in Libya, Khaddafi has threatened to lift the cordon and encourage his disgruntled countrymen to head north. So fear of waves of arab refugees is now gripping Europe. But Sicily is destination #1 so the island is "watching developments closely" and Burlesconi (taking a break from getting indicted for hanging out with underaged prostitutes) was here last week inspecting immigrant detention centers on the island and marshalling the coast guard...
Allora, and meanwhile I successfully made cozze (mussels). They aren't hard to make and they're delicious and cheap. But you will spend more time sorting and cleaning the mussels than you will cooking and eating them. Now I will tell you the recipe for cozze di-Noah. You will sort and clean the mussels. You must cut of their beards and scrape off barnacles. If they are open- you can tap tap and see if they close. If they do not close, you do not eat- the very opposite is true after you cook-a the cozze because then- if they do not open, you do not eat. Got it?
Oh-kaye you put the olive oil in the bottom and you cook'a the garlic, pommedoro, some parsley (prezzemolo) maybe some shallots or onions- and you saute. Then you pour in the white wine- here you can buy in plastic liter bottles the homemade vino bianche. Very cheap. So use liberally. And you bring to boil. Then you put in the sorted and cleaned mussels and cover. But you do not cook'a for too long- maybe 3, 4 minutes and you can stir them maybe once. Oh-kaye- now you look'a, the cozze are open, you are almost done. You scoop out'a the cozze into the bowl... and here's the secret weapon: you gow-a to the store and buy panna di cuccina (but you have already done this by this time). Is like cream- in fact, it may be heavy cream. I don't know. What I DO know- is that if you whisk-a the panna di cuccina into the sauce at the bottom of the pan- you have a very delicious and thicker broth which you can put onto the mussels. And you can also save this stock to eat with the pasta. Is very good! Is sooo good that I ate two servings of cozze, and one serving of tortellini in one sitting and went to bed with a big tummy ache. It is oh-kaye though, because I hear there is a gym in Ortigia and also the farmacia sells something called "Bio-trap" which can help-a make a regular the stomaco.
Here we have the pic of the cozze. We also have a pic of the Festivi in Noto for the "padrone" of the city San Corrado (I think that's him in the coffin) for pics of developments in N. Africa... I guess you can go to the BBC World Service.

more pictures at...

Ok, having quickly maxed out the space on flickr, I am now posting Sicily pictures on Picasa. The address is: https://picasaweb.google.com/nrr1970/NoahOnTheGoInItalia#

Siracusa- where our hero makes a stand

Oh I have been a very irresponsible blogger- its been almost a week since my last post. Where to begin? "I cant go on- I'll go on"- Beckett (and me most mornings)
Well my watch broke shortly after I arrived in Siracusa on Friday. And in this land of omens, superstitions (MALEocchio=the evil eye) and oracles, I took it as a sign. I'd arrived and time had stopped. Either I was going to die here, or live here...
The rents are very low- I'm afraid to mention precisely HOW low for fear of sparking a massive counter emigration from New York back to Sicily... so I won't. However, I have spent the past two days looking at apartments in Ortygia, the beautiful old section of Siracusa. I am looking to rent (affittasi) per un brevi period... one or two months. One of the curiousities about Sicily- I don't know if it's true in the rest of Italy- the Sicilians don't like to live in the gorgeous old neighborhoods in their ancient cities. They like new- new apartments, new furniture, new fixtures, new appliances and especially new cars and motos. There are legitimate concerns with some of these buildings which are centuries old- but for the most part, they're fine. I've spoke to people who live in Ortygia- people live there, it's nice. But in Palermo the neighborhoods are rigidly defined by class (I've heard) and only the untouchables live in the old city.
Ortygia is a little dew drop of land, almost an island, that hangs off the bay. It's surrounded by the Ionian sea. The mare is translucent green/blue and Ortygia is almost heartbreakingly beautiful. THe buildings are constructed of this very chalky white limestone. The Duomo here was actually constructed around the ruins of an ancient greek temple- The piazzas glow in the dark- and the baroque buildings along the narrow streets, the tiles, at times it looks like frosting on a cake... difficult to describe the sensation of walking around in this weird abandoned crystal palace on a monday or tuesday evening in the off season, when there's almost no one around.
Anyway, this blog needs to catch up. I will post every day from now on. Next up, Dionisio- the tyrant of Siracusa- an aspiring playwright, not content to subjegate the population he subjected them to his abysmal plays.
I should mention that I'm trying to post more pictures on a flickr page that you can go to. It should be the flickr url - whatever that is... and then /noahonthego so go there to see more of beautiful Sicilia/2011!

Noah on the Moto

In this picture I succeed in simultaneously fulfilling mi Mama's wish and expressly ignoring her instructions-
She asked me to post some pictures of myself- here is one, and she strictly forbade me from getting on il moto- the scooter. Bravo!
There is an explanation Mama mia! I wanted to go to Erice- which is about 5, 10 miles up a hill over Trapani- but the funicular is chioso (closed) per servizio and the autobus is closed per festivi (Sunday?) so, allora, I am out of luck and I walk back to the ostello with my head hung low.
But when I get back the beautiful Antonella at the office/desk- she cannot bear to see me unhappy- so she phone someone and then- I find myself renting il moto for the day. I drove it up the winding road to Erice where there were spectacular views of Trapani (that's it in the background) and the Isole d'Egadi, the Islands and the ocean, and I saw the norman castello and the village which has changed little in 800 years- and I also left my offering for Aphrodite at the site of one of the most important shrines in the ancient world. So I'll put some of those pics up on my next post. It's OK MAMA mia- it was Sunday, Dominica, so there was no traffic and the road was all but empty. I live another day.

Trapani/Erice where the Goddess of Love lives

Ah dear reader- there are only twelve of you, but you are demanding. I have requests for more food pictures and requests for more hostel (ostello) info...
Well, I am in Trapani after four days in Palermo, where the ostello was not so good. THe city? I walked it over and over and over again- but it still confounded, escaped me. I will come back to it and write more.
I just ate one of the best meals I've ever eaten at La Cantina Siciliana in Trapani. The lonely planet guide calls it "one of the finest places to eat in the whole of sicily" and it earned the Slow Food Movement badge of approval.
It was pretty damn good and pretty slow. The restaurant, btw, is on Via Giudecca, the Jewish ghetto/block in Trapani until 1492 when they were inquisitioned off the island- they didn't even make it to il fascisti. There is a Trattoria di David on Via Giudecca today, but I suspect David is an interloper who arrived post-WWII.
Allora, la cena- it was good. I started with the pasta con gamberi and parsley... which I thought meant lobster and parsley- but it was those mediterrainean shrimps with the heads, the long antennae and the beady eyes... very good. I sucked their blood from the juicy heads. And then il secondo piatti was il carne- scaloppine masala... I figured I'd give it a try because Masala- the syrupy dessert wine- is produced just down the road from here... in MASALA. It was good, It was very complex. It might have been too complex and savory for my unschooled palate. In any case, mi pacere.
Trapani is the appendage which juts out into the sea from the north-west corner of Sicily. Erice is an ancient and medieval city which resides on a promontory overlooking the harbor. The women of Trapani/Erice are legendarily beautiful. There was a important temple to Aphrodite/Astarte in Erice in the Greek period (6th and 5th cent B.C.E. ). In those days you could come to the temple, leave an offering for the goddess and get serviced by her priestesses. Legend has it that Deadalus- who made the wings for his son Icarus- was Siciliano- and after he was liberated from the maze/prison on Crete, he returned to Sicily and offered the goddess a golden honeycomb at the temple in Erice. There is an excellent book about Sicily called "The Golden Honeycomb," which I will discuss in greater detail when I'm not about to pass out from food- because it's very good and out of print- but if you're thinking of visiting Sicily, I recommend going on Amazon and tracking down a copy.
According to one Moslem chronicler, the Erice ladies were soooo beautiful that in the 8th and 9th centuries (that's anno domine)- when the Arabs invaded the island, they prayed to God to make the women their slaves. I sort of hoped dinner and a movie would do the trick.
That is where I am. Tomorrow, I will ride the funicular to Erice and beseach the goddess on my own behalf. Better find something to offer her.