But If You Try Sometimes, Well, You Just Might Find, You Get What You Need
I hope you all had a nice Thanksgiving. We called my Mom, I missed a call from Nikos, and we chatted with Maria. Lori and Doug did a video call, and it was fun to see them. Lori focused on Joe and asked how he was doing, as everyone assumes I’m the difficult one. Lori also asked how immersing in Italian speaking was going, and we said, other than being with Elena’s family and the occasional shopkeeper or vendor, we haven’t really exercised it as much as we had hoped. But we’re loving being here!
I thought today was the day I was to accompany Mariella to the hair salon, so I spent the morning going over the translations for phrases such as “please, just a trim,” and “I don’t want a permanent dye, please”. I put on nicer clothes and was ready a couple minutes before 9:00, when I saw Elena, who said Mariella had Pilates today—I should have said something yesterday. (I was still going off our conversation from last Friday about the salon). I felt bad for the misunderstanding but also a little relieved.
With the morning free, and it being a beautiful day, I suggested we drive to Bronte. Reputedly, it has 3 castles, nice vistas, and good places to eat.
Bronte is essentially a rural city renown for its pistachio nuts, “Pistachio di Bronte”. They are the pride of this area (“green gold”), and they’re everywhere. It is the only place in Italy where this precious nut is cultivated; it was imported by the Arabs in the 9th century.
I read that Bronte hosted three castles, and the Museo del Carretto (hand painted antique Sicilian vendor carts—check out a design copied onto a Smeg toaster by Dolce and Gabbana, running about $1,300), as well as the Serravalle bridge, and a nice Pinocoteca (art museum). So we were set with an agenda inclusive of a couple of indoor things, in case of rain. Off to Bronte!
Entering the area, we found it pretty, charming, and bustling. It was hard to find a place for the car. Finally, we parked it about 20 minutes by foot from the town center. As in Adrano, I expected an almost magnetic force drawing us to the main sites; the mother church, at least one castle, … but no. I looked on Google Maps and found a piazza for which to plug in directions, as that should get us somewhere with something notable. As we approached, there was a memorial for the town’s fallen solders of both WWI and WWII; and a couple of important looking churches. We walked up the steps of the first church, and there were a number of people dressed in black slacks, white shirts, lanyards with name tags. A woman said something to me that I couldn’t quite hear, but thought something akin to “visitation” was in the sentence. I nodded, apologized for the intrusion, and walked back down the steps. We continued on; a pretty town with colorful buildings, whose spaces between were filled with views of the hills. I learned later that the castles all sit in the outskirts; you must go to one and the next by car.
Not far from the first church was another one. We peeked inside. A group of similarly dressed people were also at this church. We started to back away, when a woman who appeared to be in charge said, do you want to look? So we walked back up to peek in. All of a sudden, two young men pointed out the Sicilian Baroque interior, explaining the materials, the colors; one spoke, the other continued, as if scripted actors. We soon figured out they’re students, the woman greeting us, their teacher. Two more students walked up to explain the oil paintings. Two more, the altar. Etc etc. upon leaving, we thanked them and asked for their picture. Walking away, the teacher told two of them to show us the school they attend. And by show, I mean we got a tour. Again, two at a time, from those explaining the entrance, to those showing the Bourbon and Antica libraries; the pair pointing out the school chapel, the church, the history of the founder, Ignazio Capizzi of Bronte—another 20 September birthdate! Born of a poor family, he dedicated himself to helping the the poor. Bronte was deprived of schools, so the children of poor families were kept uneducated and they were forced to work in the farms. The wealthy people were able to send their children to other centers to study. In 1774, Capizzi went to Bronte, determined to buy a lot of land and build an educational centre, and succeeded with the Collegio Capizzi we unexpectedly visited today.
We left there, shaking our heads, but only in amazement at our fortune. We wanted a Bronte visit of castles and art, but we needed a day trying to understand non-stop Italian. And it was spectacular. I don’t think I’ve met teenagers who are this respectful, polite, articulate, and sweet. They lunged forward to hold doors, used the formal tenses in speaking to us, and were enjoyable to be with. Two of them gave us an excellent restaurant recommendation.
We arrived at La Vita at the time for “pranzo,” but of course it’s November and we were the sole patrons. Carlo (or, Joe thinks it’s Paolo), guided our choices beautifully. Impeccable service. We started with Funghi Misti, three types of mushrooms: porcini breaded and baked, porcini cooked in olive oil and garlic, and Fungo di Perla, from “basso” (low woodlands) vs the porcini which were from the forested hills. Excellent. Next, I said I had to have something, of course, with Pistachio di Bronte. He suggested the busiate, a pasta that looks the way young females flat-iron twist their hair these days, covered in a delectable pistachio-cheese pesto. Joe had calamarata (think of a paccheri noodle cut in half) with a light broccoli sauce, and freshly grated bottarga (tuna roe) over it. I had a glass of Inzolia, he had a wowza Nero d’Avola. We finished with caffe and started the trek to the car.
Ettore and the girls (and later, on his own, Tito the dog) came up not long after our return. I might hide the washable markers I bought, as they are leaving their mark everywhere (e.g., the chair I sit in).
We haven’t heard about the purported Thanksgiving dinner scheduled for tonight, but me misunderstanding things seems to be the way, lately. And Mariella brought us Linguine con Vongole. Our favorite. And who doesn’t like pasta twice a day?
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