...wherein I found Paradise, got lost in a fog-shrouded medieval walled city at night, a hotel room window tried to kill me, and where I fell in love with cookies with kooky names like Belli e Bruti (Beautiful Uglies), Minni di Vergine (Virgin's Breasts) and Sospiri (Sighs).
Dreaming of Sicilyis the story of my enchanting (and hilarious!) adventure to the beautiful island of Sicily, wherein I found paradise, got lost in a fog-shrouded medieval walled city that looked like a movie set for a gothic horror flick, and where I fell in love with cookies with kooky names like Belli e Bruti (Beautiful Uglies), Minni di Vergine (Virgin's Breasts) and Sospiri (Sighs).
My journey ended in my grandparent's hometown, the small paese of Santa Elisabetta in the Province of Agrigento, where the day started like a Frank Capra movie and ended when I found my grandfather's youngest sister, the 92 year old Zia Nina, who told me the story of the last time she saw her brother (my grandfather) before he sailed to America in 1912.
Dreaming of Sicily is illustrated with 39 beautiful watercolor paintings by Kathleen Citrolo Gwinnett, also a second generation Sicilian American who has traveled extensively in Sicily.
Excerpt
La Passeggiata...
or...
EVERYBODY DO THE STROLL!
A favorite custom enjoyed by many Italians is La Passeggiata, or evening stroll. Starting in the late afternoon as the sun begins to set, locals dressed in their Sunday best begin strolling down the main street of town, women arm in arm, chatting with friends and neighbors, everyone on the lookout for something to gossip about.
The time between 5:00 p.m. and 7:00 p.m. is mainly reserved for the teenagers. They stand in small groups, boys over there, girls over here, gawking at one another, until one of them (finally!) gets up enough nerve to take that long walk across the piazza and strike up a conversation with a member of the opposite sex.
At 7:00 p.m. on the button, the teens disappear into the sidelines and the adults take over the streets until 9:00 p.m.
This is a lovely ritual that should not be missed on any trip to Italy (or Sicily).
It was on one such stroll that I found my beloved biscottiera or cookie jar. The shops had not yet reopened for the evening, and people were starting to gather for the nightly stroll.
As we walked up the Corso Umberto toward the Piazza IX Aprile, something caught my eye. Sitting in the bottom corner of a small antique shop window, and quite overshadowed by larger antiques, I saw the cookie jar of my dreams.
It was an oblong vessel standing about 12 inches high on four golden lion’s feet. Golden grape leaves and vines in copper greens, crimson reds and harvest yellows meandered in serpentine fashion around the back and sides of the jar. A beaming chubby-cheeked cherub painted inside the scrolled border frontispiece held a basket of fruit and flowers in the air.
Although I will admit to a predilection for hand-painted Italian pottery (and cherubs in particular), they are not always what one would think of as heavenly; a lot of them look more like gargoyles than pudgy celestial babies with wings. But this little fellow bore two distinguishing features that placed him out of the ordinary: first, he possessed a beautifully pure and innocent face, obviously painted with love, and second, while most cherubs are consi-dered to be asexual, this cherubini was endowed with a little male ‘rosebud.’
The shopkeeper opened the door when she saw me admiring the cookie jar in the window. “Come,” she said, holding the door open for us.
She took the jar from the corner of the window and set it before us. It had an antique patina and was chipped in several places, “…but what would you expect from a jar that dates back nearly 100 years?” the woman asked in her lovely Italian accent.
“Signora,” Eric asked, “quanto costa?” (I didn’t care ‘quanto costa,’ I had to have it!)
“Quattrocentonovantemila” she said. When she saw us struggling to figure out the price she just quoted, she took a pen and wrote the number down on a sheet of paper.
“Four hundred and ninety thousand lire. Is that a lot?” I asked my hus-band, meekly. Very meekly.
Eric had that deer caught in the headlights look. “It’s about $325.”
Well, that was that. Even I couldn’t justify $325 for a cookie jar. We thanked the shopkeeper for her time and continued our stroll down the Corso Umberto. Eric sensed my disappointment.
“You really like that cookie jar?” he asked. “Even though it’s old and chipped?”
“I am crazy in love with it and I will die if I can’t have it!” I gushed.
_____________________________
And how, you may ask, did I get my husband to hand over $325 for an old, chipped cookie jar? That was easy. I told him that little cherub reminded me of what he must have looked like as a baby, ‘rosebud’ and all.
Professional Reviews
Book Review ofDreaming of Sicily by Vincenzo Salerno of Best Of Sicily Blog
It used to be that a visit to Sicily was part of the Grand Tour of Europe undertaken by such luminaries as Wagner and Goethe. Closer to our time, Sicily has become a destination in itself. It is also a point of reference - and an especially attractive destination - for millions of Sicilian descendants in the diaspora of Sicilians who for one reason or another left Sicily two or three generations ago. In such cases a visit to this magical place takes on the nature of a pilgrimage.
Betsy Vincent (di Vincenzo) Hoffman's memoir of her first visit to Sicily describes this kind of experience. Beautifully illustrated with the watercolours of the talented Kathleen Citrolo Gwinnett - another American descendant of Sicilians who has visited our island - this lively if not very lengthy volume is a delightful read. Though not intended as a guide book in itself, it is useful as a primer, especially for those who prefer to wade into the subject instead of jumping in unprepared.
Not every sentimental journey will be similar to this one, but Ms Hoffmann's account of hers may be sufficient to start others thinking about the same kind of trip.
Betsy's description of her grandparents' experiences is touching. Here the human element is never absent. This kind of book reminds us that it is the people who make the place.
Posted by Vincenzo Salerno
Best of Sicily Blog
Feedback from Ebay Buyer who bought a copy of Dreaming of Sicily
I LOVE THIS BOOK!
Post from Cara Walgren on Best of Sicily Blog Review of Dreaming of Sicily
I read your review of Dreaming of Sicily and purchased the book based on your recommendation. I'm so glad I did. It reminded me of my grandmother's stories of when she was a young girl growing up in Sicily.
My sister and I often 'dream of sicily' and have talked many times of visiting our grandmother's hometown of Agrigento.
After reading this book, I'm sure that our dream will come true.
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