Sicily in My Heart

I spent my last afternoon in Sicily on the beach. As the sun began to drop toward the mountains, I put down my book, finished my Aperol and soda, and went down to feel the Mediterranean one more time. Standing in the sea, enjoying the gentle push and pull of the water, the soft sand underfoot, I looked up at the medieval city of Cefalu at the end of the beach and suddenly it hit me: I'm leaving Sicily in the morning.

Had a giant rogue wave come and knocked me flat, it would not have been a bigger blow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yesterday, I drove to Mistretta. I had arranged with Sandra Gregoli and our friend John to meet me there and introduce me to the Sicilian beaurocracy. We were to meet at the office of the Municipio.

The drive didn't take as long as I'd expected, although there were the expected hairpin turns up into the Madonie mountains where Mistretta is perched 2500 feet above the sea on the edge of the huge Parco Naturale Regionale della Madonie. I drove slowly into town, not having a clue what I was looking for. But knowing Mexico and now knowing the old towns of Italy, I figured I should head to the Duomo and its piazza. I steered up narrow cobbled lanes further into the ancient town and came to the main plaza.

Now, where to park? Tiny cars were crowded into every available legal-ish spot. I saw a local policemen standing talking with a young man, pulled up and rolled down my window. They stopped their conversation immediately and gave me their full and kind attention. I told them about my appointment at the Municipio and asked where I could park. The policeman pointed out the huge old building that houses the town offices and waved around encouragingly to suggest that parking was obvious and ample. It wasn't.

I found a spot that was only for customers of the pharmacy, got out of the car and walked into a tobacconist's shop, more an enclosed booth than a store. I explained my predicament to the man in the shop. He walked out with me, locked his door, waited for me to get my car, and led me around behind the municipal building down a short street I never would've imagined was for cars at all. He then guided me into a spot which, if I had pulled forward a few feet, would have plummeted both me and auto down a steep stone staircase into someone's front door. As I got out of the car, I could only wonder how in the hell I was ever going to extricate myself, but that was a problem for later.

Sandra and John were waiting at the steps of the town hall. Sandra introduced me to her mother, charming Anna Maria, who, with Sandra's father, had decided to come along on the drive. We chatted for a few minutes and promised to meet Anna Maria and her husband as soon as we finished in the office. Then John shepherded me through the big front door and down a hall to a window marked "Servizi Demografici".

Sandra explained to the woman behind the window why we were there. I handed over my notebook opened to the page with the names of my grandparents. Thanks to an email from my cousin Franklin, I also had their birth dates and what we knew of the names of their parents.

The woman behind the glass was certain there had never been anyone by our grandfather's name of Scafidi residing permanently in Mistretta. Now, my grandparents emigrated to the United States in October of 1901. But she was confident. Accetta, my grandmother's name, seemed to ring a bell. She took my notebook, disappeared for half a minute, and returned with a guy and a ladder.

The man removed a ledger, faded with age, from a high shelf.

Sebastiana Manno, for that is the woman's name, turned a few pages and consulted with him. I saw them nod.

In two more minutes, she looked up at me and smiled.

Within the next twenty minutes, the marvelous and kind Sebastiana was able to supply me with a copy of my grandmother Rosa Accetta's birth certificate, a copy of their marriage certificate (for Rosa did in fact marry Basilio Scafidi right there in Mistretta), and copies of the original ledger pages recording both events. She wrote into my notebook the correct names of all four great-grandparents, which to my knowledge none of us previously had. She also told me the name of the town Basilio was from, another missing link in the family history.

All of this, by the way, was free of charge. "No," Sebastiana insisted. "This is what we do!"

Then she walked out from her office, said a few words to another woman there, and told me matter-of-factly that she was now going to take me to the street where my grandmother was born and lived until her marriage.

The three of us traipsed along with Sebastiana to a little street only a couple of short blocks from the main square. "This is it," she said. "I'm sorry we don't have the house number. It wasn't in the records."

I stood, stunned and thrilled, on the very cobbles my grandmother had trod in the late 1800's. Was that her window? Was that the family's door? There was no way to know, but being on the street was an exquisite moment.

Then dear Sebastiana walked us another half block to the tiny church of Santo Cosimo, where my grandmother and her family likely worshipped.

A lovely young woman from Austria asked me a few days ago on our ferry ride to the Aeolians why it was that I had waited until the end of my trip to make this pilgrimage. I told her I didn't know. It just hadn't seemed right before this, and I had now arranged a specific day to go and was very much looking forward to it. I tell you this because of what Sebastiana next said:

"This church isn't used any more. It's only opened one day a year, San Cosimo's Day. Today is the day."

She crossed herself at the door, then turned to me. "Come in! Take pictures!"

Although Sebastiana kept mentioning that she probably should get back to work, she had more to show us. She kept happily informing all the people we saw (many of whom poked heads out windows to watch us pass) who I was and why I was there. She led us further, into an area much older than Strada Numea.

Mistretta cherishes her history and has preserved these old homes, even though they are uninhabitable now and much of the population of 5500 or so live in newer buildings around the edges of the old town.

Once, families lived here with their animals stabled on the ground floor, the living quarters above. Each old wall has a ring for tethering a mule.

Mistretta is very much older than even this. Sebastiana briefed us as we walked. Founded by the Phoenicians who were followed by the Romans and then the Normans, Mistretta's position high on a fertile mountainside overlooking the sea was highly desirable, being both strategic and productive.

Less wheat is grown hereabouts now, but other crops are plentiful. Wine, olives, cheeses, livestock, pastries--and tourism, due to its beauty and proximity to the huge park--are Mistretta's current specialties.

Mistretta's other specialty, her urge for independence, is an ancient one. The town was first granted municipality during the Roman Empire, was granted Royal Status as a feudal state in 1101, and has bought its own freedom from occupying powers time and again over the millennia.

Sebastiana dropped us off in the care of the director of the town's little museum. She made me promise to come by the office and say goodbye before I left town.

After a spin through the museum, the three of us joined Sandra's parents for coffee and a visit. I finally got to meet her father, Biagio, whose name meant more to me now as I'd just discovered that it was the name of one of my great-grandfathers.

Anna Maria and Biagio are visiting Sicily for a few months from Boston, which is where they've lived since Sandra was a child. I was glad we were able to speak English (with a few Italian lessons tossed in for me), as we had lots to discuss and they are lively, intelligent people. I could see where Sandra came by her brilliance and curiosity. Finally, we parted with hugs and kisses.

As promised, I stopped for a fond and grateful farewell and received more hugs and kisses from all the people in the Municipio office. I took a few more photos as I walked back to my precarious carpark.

I was scoping out the car situation with some trepidation when my friend the tobacconist poked his head out the front door of his house, which is very near to where I was parked. He smiled and came out to guide me backwards down the cobbled walkway to something resembling a street. I waved my thanks, and, delirious with accumulated joy, began my drive back down the mountain.

Ah, Sicilia. I am so very glad I visited you and your people. You were in my dreams. You are in my blood. You are in my heart, forever.

Comments

[canela]

it is everything I thought it would be !!! you are so fortunate to have found what you were looking for .....what a magical journey ...

[Sheri]

Lassie come home!

[Sheri]

Drinking Aperol & Pellegrino on the first chilly day in Colorado and waiting for the time very soon to hear more of these beautiful stories in San Pancho...baci, baci!

[Sara e Ketty]

Ciao Candice!
Come stai? .. ti ricordi di noi? .. Siamo Sara e Ketty .. two women from Lucca of Ristorante Rama.
Noi serbiamo un bel ricordo di te e della piacevole serata trascorsa insieme.
Abbiamo visitato il tuo sito, visto la tua bella "casetta" in Messico, la nostra foto! molto carina, e constatato con piacere che hai proseguito il tuo viaggio attraverso l'Italia fin nella tua amata Sicilia.
Speriamo che i bei luoghi visitati e tutte le persone che hai incontrato abbiano contribuito a far si che tu ti porti sempre nel cuore un bel ricordo della nostra Italia.
Ti auguriamo il meglio, qualunque cosa tu decida di fare nella tua vita, siamo felici di averti incontrata.
Un grande abbraccio da Sara e Ketty.

[King Jeribus]

What a heart warming story. Getting back to one's roots seems so....right. The entire story just felt like it was wrapped in love.

And now for the always necessary Travis dig...thank you again for funding this wonderful odyssey my friend. Your unintentional generosity knows no bounds (until I hit the credit limit I guess).

[Char]

Lovely...there really is something about walking the same streets as those long before us, isn't there. I am so glad you made all the connections. Enjoy your last week..xoxo