He’s Off, They’re Up

It seemed as if the three strikes were up, but no; Nikos had another snag trying to leave Italy. He really does fit in here. The Motherland is trying to tell him to stay.

After the potential Agrigento stall, the delay in Catania, and his flight cancellation in Rome yesterday, Nikos set off to the airport and arrived 3 hours before his rescheduled flight. Luckily, he had this narrow cushion, since Delta messed up a couple of times. First, he went to the terminal for his flight; Delta said oops wrong terminal, and sent him to a different one. Delta was wrong. Indeed Nikos was to be at the original terminal, from where he had just left. Great—he had time, although, what a pain in the butt. With the flight cancellations yesterday, there was a long check-in line. Nikos finally got to the front of it, and learned that Delta’s promise that his Covid test for the canceled flight would still be ok, was indeed a lie. He had to leave the long line, and get to the back of another very long line for a Covid test. Finally accomplishing that feat, he returned to the flight line, where thankfully he was allowed to go to the front. He’d been running back and forth all morning and needed water, which is critical to stave off the airsickness for which he has a propensity. He got to his seat, and — yep; you guessed it — the flight is delayed. He texted me all this, and I told him to tell the flight attendant he’s diabetic and needs liquids asap. He was so desperate, he asked if airplane bathroom sink water was safe to drink (it isn’t). Last I checked, he’s in flight. Fingers crossed.

Meanwhile, I went downstairs to get Ettore from Mariella’s, where Elena and Andrea were having caffe. I turned down their offer for one, as this morning I dared to try the instant caffe I found at Decó. It’s made by Crastan, a brand I wholly trust, so I bought a jar of it when I first arrived, “just in case”. And it is nothing like Nescafé (thank God). It’s pretty darn good! I had two big cups.

Crastan’s instant coffee

Vincenzo was on his computer, working a bit from home this morning. Mariella yelled to him to explain something to me. Hmmm. What’s happening, I asked in Italian.

Vincenzo and Mariella have invited us to attend Agamemnon, one of the INDA Classical Greek tragedies in Siracusa.

Every year, classical plays are staged at the Greek Theater in Siracusa. The event is organized by INDA (Istituto Nazionale del Dramma Antico, i.e. National Institute of Ancient Drama).

Amphitheater at Siracusa’s archeological park 

The 57th season of the INDA Foundation at the Greek Theatre opens with the staging of two tragedies, Agamemnon by Aeschylus (458 BC), directed by Davide Livermore and translated by Walter Lapini; and Oedipus Rex by Sophocles (415 BC), directed by Robert Carsen and translated by Francesco Morosi, which mark the origin of the history of theatre and of human consciousness.

This Thursday, we will see Agamemnon, the story of a veteran who finds nothing in his home that he had left behind and expected; the arrogant king with a marked destiny. I will read the Cliff’s Notes equivalent online before Thursday. It’s been a while. I just remember a lot of inter-family killing going on in the story.

All performances begin at sunset, which should be a spectacular backdrop against the amphitheater of these Greek ruins.

*****

We had lunch on the balcony, which was just as hot as having lunch in the kitchen. It’s not unbearable, but I’m not moving too much. If our Celsius to Fahrenheit math is correct, it’s 94°. We’re waiting until early evening to get something for the grill at the macelleria; we’re thinking polpette di cavallo con pistacchio. Or maybe just a slice of melon from the fruit vendor.

Joe leaned back and said, “Buon Giorno!” Agnese arrived, just to hang out up here. She wanted to chat for a second, then just flopped on the chair to do a puzzle game on her phone. She quietly corrected our Italian without missing a beat of her game. It’s too hot to think! So she hung out with Joe on the balcony while I did the dishes. I remember loving my parents’ friend, Joe Conley, and wanting to hang around with them whenever he was at our house. This Joe is Agnese’s version.

The ever-patient Rachi came up after an hour, to find/get Agnese. This is the look Agnese displays under such circumstances:

That right shoelace is often untied.

Rachele stayed to chat for a bit. Her English is very good. She explained that at this grade level for Agnese, there is a lot of homework—and Agnese has a lot of it to finish, since she doesn’t regularly keep up on it. I can appreciate that!

We learned that they have rigorous schedules, and that PhyEd is still outside, still involves running laps, and still happens on 94°F days.

We heard Alessandro arriving downstairs. Although Agni pouted about leaving, she acquiesced with the promise they could return this evening.

We napped. In the heat, this felt like all we could do. While we slept, Elena and Mariella put together furniture and hung all the art and shelving in the newly renovated bedroom for Ettore and Matteo. I guess it’s not too hot for them. I feel feeble.

The kids did return. Joe is very much one of the kids! We all played together, snacked on chips, and talked. Joe and I realize that this is the best way to better our Italian comprehension and speaking. 

Joe showing Agnese and Ettore 

Sesame Street’s Cookie Monster

After a while, Elena called Rachele and told the kids to come down. Joe and I are sitting on the balcony, where the evening air is soft and balmy, our drinks are cold, and the nightly amphitheater of neighbor noise is in full swing.

I’ve been tracking Nikos’ flight via radar, and see he’s almost to New York. I hope he didn’t get airsick, and that his luggage kept up with all his switching around at the Rome airport. After all, he’s got wine in there.

Tonight I bought some involtini, although they are not rolled. I got one of each flavor to try—pistachio, onion, and “normal”. We got a fresh loaf of bread from the bakery, and a new favorite ortofrutta vendor had tomatoes that looked good. One wooden crate for about 5 bucks—compared to the handful of Campari tomatoes at Kowalskis for 5 bucks! But, I told the cheerful vendor woman, I don’t need a crate. She brought me into the tent-like storefront, showing me the ciliegine (cherry tomatoes) that I wanted, in a smaller amount, and the large grape tomatoes, also in buy-by-the-weight amounts. She pointed to the grape tomatoes, suggesting a small bag of them. Back home in MN, grape tomatoes taste like wet cardboard with wax paper skin. I hesitated. I explained my tasting history, and asked her advice. Buonissimo, she exclaimed, pointing to the grape tomatoes, telling me to boil and cool green beans and potatoes, then cut them up with the tomatoes, add mozzarella and olive oil, and *fingers closed together on lips, bursting into an open hand* buonissimo! A good and filling insalatone big enough to be a hot day supper. She put some ciliegine in the bag along with the grape tomatoes, in case I disagreed with her recommendation. I ate one of each on the walk home. She’s right about these grape tomatoes. A bomb of flavor.

Raw involtini

Cocomero aka tortarella

Grape tomatoes ❤️

Cooked involtini

Insalata mista

Nikos just texted that he landed, 40 minutes early (for a change) at JFK. I can sleep tonight.

And Elena said they are heading to Mazara del Vallo (a place I love), so we are free Thursday-Monday morning. Of course, we have the Greek tragedy in Siracusa with Mariella and Vincenzo Thursday night, so perhaps we stay on in Siracusa and do some snorkeling over the weekend, or we go Friday for a long weekend in Cefalù. We’ll plan that tomorrow.

Tonight, I’ll sleep in my sweat. I hope my frog-belly-white body eventually acclimates to this. Joe, however, is in heaven.