Buono (mezzo) Onomastico

Yesterday was June 29th, Paolo's onomastico, or name day. Of course he complains, because he only gets half a onomastico. It is shared with St. Peter. When he was a kid, he used to get little gifts, but as folks get older, they tend to stop celebrating onomastici, even though they were considered as important as Americans tend to consider birthdays.

Anyway, the town went all out for Paolo. All the ships were in the harbor, there would be no fishing on Paolo's St. Day. I had no idea he was that important.
The streets near the port were bustling with bancarellas selling more junk than you can find at a county fair. Of course I was tempted by everything, but ended up with an air pump to help fix flat tires that plugs into car cigarette lighters. Now I will no longer have flat tires that can be fixed.

Of course the band was there, as were boy scouts and girl scouts, all in their different colored uniforms. Actually, the uniforms of the girl scouts and the police almost looked the same. The only difference being, of course, that the girl scouts acted in a far more mature manner.

I had come down the night before to wander through, and it was indeed a good time. The streets had been crowded with young families, old couples holding hands and arguing past all the stalls, and adolescents, their hormones raging, running down the street to get to the luna park, or carnival rides, as we call them in the states.

Usually on Saturday and Sunday night, all the junior high age girls get dressed up as junior sluts to promenade downtown in front of the boys, who hang out against the wall and try to act cool. Well, for this festa, the girls got dressed up as super sluts. I would print pictures for you, but I would fear we could both be arrested for kiddy porn.

The festa runs for four nights, and each night the fisherman push the statue of St. Paolo through the streets. This time it really isn't fair, as Paolo is on wheels, so they do not have to work as hard as they did for Sta. Maria de Soccorso, where they actually picked her up and paraded her through the streets. It is still fun to watch. I am amazed at how little the statue at the right looks like the real St. Paolo, pictured at the top of this entry. Oh well.

And by the way, in case you are wondering why the port goes overboard, so to speak, for St. Paolo and ignores St. Pietro, even though the two share the same feast day, it is because the port is named St. Paolo. So even the port was celebrating its name half-day.

Pretty and Prickly

One of our cacti sort of fell apart last fall. Fran did not think she could get it to grow, but put some of the fronds in soil near our small wall edging on Totòs property. It has not been coddled in any way. Not only did they grow, they flowered last night. It just goes to show, you have to be careful if you put your walking stick in the ground here, as if you leave it there for ten minutes, it might become a tree.

The Navy Has Invaded

Fran and I were becoming friends with Maryellen, whose blog is linked to this one on the right, and she has introduced me to some of her friends who are connected to the Naval Air Station at Sigonella, and have the taste and brains to live off base in Nicolosi, on the slopes of Etna.

This past weekend, four of her friends came to Sciacca for two nights. I love showing folks who know mostly the eastern part of the island some of the treasures of the west. Here is a shop of Rob, Mike, Ann and Jaque at the temple of Venus in Erice.
We also visited Segesta, took a long walk around Sciacca while they decided which ceramics they wanted to take home, and took advantage of some of Sciacca's wonderful seafood restaurants. Rob, with the gray shirt, is in charge of some contracts at the Base, and Mike, with the white shirt, is a short timer, getting out of the Navy in early August after 11 years. He plans on resettling somewhere in the Micronesia area. Good luck to you Mike.
On Sunday morning, we went up to Caltabellotta for the wonderful ricotta breakfast. You can read all about it on Jacque's website, www. alohafromsicily.blogspot.com

However, one important note, when we were near
the ricotta place, I noticed an old contadino building
that Dad had often asked about. They used to be
built out of straw or cane every year during harvest,
for the contadini to live in near the fields, as they
put in the longest days of their work year. It is in a
park, and designed for school kids to visit and see
what life was like. So Sam, if you are looking at this
one, here is a picture of a Canneria for you:

Jake in Paris

My nephew Jake, who had just finished an art class in Turkey for his work at Earlham College, was doing a short tour of Europe, and as he had seen Sicily before, we decided to meet in Paris. One of the places he wanted to have coffee was Les Deux Magots, where Papa Hemingway used to hang out when he was not expostulating on the wonders of cellophane tape to my mother when she was a librarian in Paris. Here is Jake in front of the place that sells the most expensive coffee I have ever had. It even beats the absurdity of Star###ks, but at least the coffee was good.
Jake and I did some of the usual tourist things, including the Musee D'Orsay and some churches - including my favorite St Severin and everyone's favorite Notre Dame. Of course, I needed to do some shopping, and that gave Jake time to see the other sites he was interested in, including the Tour Eiffel, Mont Marte, and the Louvre. We also went to a nice quiet jazz club in St Germain de Pres one evening, and ate our fill of wonderful Paris Bistro food.

It was fun for me to spend some time with my nephew, and I think he enjoyed Paris as well.

Stampa Stampa Paga Paga

Fran already wrote about Stampa Stampa in these pages. So now I have to add Pagga Pagga. This was a time of year that Fran dreaded. It is time to renew the Permesso de Soggourno. It is the resident alien permit that Italy requires, much as folks in the US who are not citizens must register every year at the Post Office.

We used to have to go to the Questura's office, and were always missing documents, had the wrong stamps, or something. Usually it was three trips before we got it right. Last time, Fran used me as a stalking horse, and once I had it right, she came along and breezed through.

Well, things have changed. It is no longer the Questura's office. It is the Post Office. I went and picked up a packet of information. The process has changed to 'reduce the amount of paperwork involved', as well as to make it less expensive for resident aliens to renew their permesso. It used to be that the Questura would fill out one piece of paper, attach a 24.50 Euro Franco Bollo (tax stamp) and send the packet on to Rome, along with a copy of the picture part of our passport, our insurance card, two passport photos, and a statement about why we were in Italy.

Now, I had to fill out a twelve page form, in order to reduce the amount of paperwork. At least the Franco Bollo had been reduced to 14.65 Euros. When I had filled out the paperwork, I took it back to the post office. I asked him the man at the correct window what my next step was, and he looked at me and said 'Bo', which means 'who knows'. He got a supervisor, who handed him his notebook with the instructions. He looked through everything. He said he was sorry, he could not process it because I needed the Franco Bollo, which I could only get at cigarette shops (go figure). I gave it to him. He was surprised I had already gotten it. Then he said he needed a copy of the complete passport. I asked him to look at the 13 page copy in his hand, within the twelve page application. He was amazed that I had followed the directions. Then he said he was sorry, but the instructions forgot to mention that I needed two passport photos, as well as my original permisso, which he would copy, so would I please go get those. I had them, and handed them to him. Flabbergasted does not begin to explain how he felt.

So, instead of one page of application, there were twelve. Instead of one page of passport, there were thirteen. The permisso was the same as at the Questura's office. So were the passport photos. At least it would be cheaper.

But wait. Let me see, the price of the Franco Bollo dropped from 24.50 to 14.65. Indeed, that is a nice savings. But then there was the 27.50 administrative fee for the post office, plus the one euro handling fee for the post office, that they need in order to accept the 27.50. Oh yes, and then I had to pay special postage for the package to go from Sciacca to Rome. Another 30 Euro, which is partly for the post office for delivering it, and partly for the Department of Treasury for accepting the packet.

So the paperwork went from to pages to twenty five pages, in order to reduce paperwork. And the cost, to save me money, went from 24.50 to 72.15. I think I should be glad it was not free. Now I just have to wait and see if they accept the application in Rome. Oy.

We'll Always Have Paris

We’ll Always Have Paris
To Fran, six months on

We’ll always have Paris
She said
Shrugging her way
With Bacall’s wistful smile
Past an empty mussel shell
From her favorite moules et frittes
At La Petite Pèrigourdine

We were as full of ourselves
As we were full of moules and entrecote
With nothing but our future
To look forward to

No matter that future
We would always have Paris
A recurrent dream of joy
To wake us in the middle of the night
And then gently rock us back to sleep
Spiraled in each others arms
As if around a Caduceus of love

Today, there were no moules frittes
At La Petite Pèrigourdine
And no entrecote
And I still have Paris
But she is gone
Except for our dreams of joy

Targa Florio

It has been almost four years since the Targa Florio came through Sciacca last, and I had gone down to see it with Claudio and Giusy. It was a wild ride, and Claudio managed to get his Smart Car into the procession of antique and luxury cars going to the main piazza in town, with Giusy hanging on for dear life in the trunk of the car. There we saw a full collection of Bugatti's, Ferrari's, Morgans, and other rare and exotic cars. This time, when I saw in the paper they were again making a stop at Piazza Scandialloto, I went down with a lot of anticipation.

Of course, being an American, I got there on time. The cars were an hour and a half late. But they finally did arrive, at least some of them, including the cartoonish little old Fiat truck above,

and the wonderful rare Ferrari at the right. But that was almost it. There were a few more Ferrari, and some other exotic cars, but as it turned out, the main group of ninety cars skipped the Sciacca stop, and went on to their evening hotel where they could tune their cars for the competition the next day.

And yes, the Targa Florio is a competition, a timed race like the rallies they have in the states, and it is named after the Florio family, one of the biggest names in the making of Marsala wine. They have holdings all over the island, including a mansion on the grounds of the Selinunte ruins, and they sponsor the rally around Sicily every year.

The saddest part of the rally, as far as I was concerned, being a patriotic American, was the way in which the only American car in the Rally appeared at the Piazza. Oh well.

SAN DIEGO MARATHON

I received the following from Carl Buchin after Kyla and Claudia completed the San Diego Marathon, that they took part in with Fran in their hearts and minds. Again, I thank them for their efforts, and those who supported them, with all my heart.

Steve

First, some numbers: the San Diego marathon had some 17,000 participants, of which 4000 were members of "Team in Training", the group organized by the Leukemia society to raise money for research into blood cancers. Those 4000 people did an amazing job: the total raised by the group effort on this race is 12.5 MILLION dollars. It was awesome to see these dedicated people, who were far from being athletes or regular runners, walk and run 26.2 miles; many many people ran with the picture or name of a victim or survivor of leukemia -- Claudia and Kyla had buttons made with Fran's picture, and the caption: "in our hearts." Seeing so many examples of generosity and pain, it was impossible to avoid tears.

Now as to the race itself, Claudia and Kyla both finished but not without the challenge of overcoming the rigors of the marathon. It began with some of the things that have to be done to manage a race with so many people. I watched C&K get ready at 3:00 a.m., arming themselves wirh layers of clothing, water bottles, and power bars. They left for the race at 4:30, even though the start time for the event was at 6:30. Both were nervous at the thought of being surrounded by so many people; but when the race started, Kyla felt a moment of awe at the sound of so many people beginning such a big effort in the silent darkness of the early morning. But perhaps because of the anxiety of the event, she had trouble keeping food down, and thereafter toughed it out for 26 miles with no food. Claudia, for her part, started with another group after Kyla, and was striding with a lot of energy when I saw her at mile 12. She had picked up her pace to try and intersect Kyla, who wasn't feeling well. But meeting up with someone in a race with 17k is no easy task, and though she took an advance at mile 14, she finished before Kyla, who had had to slow down to keep going. They finished not too much the worse for wear, really exhilarated by the energy they felt from their teams and the spectators.

Thank You Claudia and Kyla

This is the big weekend. My dear friend Claudia Valas, and her bright and charming daughter Kyla Buchin have participated in the San Diego Marathon, and her friends and family have raised over $7,000 to help fight Leukemia. They decided to do this to honor Fran. Claudia did the walk part of the marathon, and Kyla did the running part. I know that they have been practicing and getting in shape for it for months, as I have heard Carl talking about how much training they have done. Claudia even spent a couple of weekends at Long Beach State, where Kyla is a sophomore, so that they could train together. Carl went down to San Diego from the Bay Area to be part of their cheering section and tactical support team, and son Josh stayed home and took care of the dogs. Truly a family effort.
I want to thank my friends and family who contributed to this effort, and with their help, the goal was reached. Thank you all, and especially thank you Kyla and Claudia, for your magnificent effort, and for remembering my beloved Fran in this way.