Catania Redux

The villa was one of the sets of the famous film The Leopard by Luchino Visconti (the book is, of course, an epic by Giuseppe di Lampedusa)


Up and out of bed, showered, and dressed before 8:00, I popped into Elena's to say I'm ready. She was in her PJs, changing Matteo's diaper. She said she'll be ready in 15 minutes. Ok; yell for me. I'll leave my door open. I'm going upstairs to have a coffee.

There are often noises whose source is unidentifiable here, and are brief in tenure, so oftentimes they don't register with me. In the back of my head, I noticed a rapid thud-thud-thud-thud, but thought nothing of it. Once I finished my coffee and heard Elena calling, I gathered my things to go downstairs. It was then that I saw Rachi jogging on the old treadmill in the ballroom/playroom. So dedicated, that girl.

Elena said she's running very late. Matteo had a diaper malfunction, which required a hose-down and a redressing.

Now on our way, Elena says she hates her mom's car, which she was driving today. I noticed it's been killing a few times at stops. Hers is automatic; Mariella's car is "marcia". Marcia? Com'é marciapiede? I asked. "Yes. How do you say this in English?" I explained, Standard, or Manual Transmission. She frowned. No; that's not it. I told her we sometimes say we can drive a stick, or a stick shift. "Yes! I love how simple that is. Because look--it's a stick!"

Already late to her appointment, Elena missed her turn-off point. "Cavallo!" she yelled ("Horse!"). It must be the equivalent to us yelling "Rats!"

******

EDITED TO UPDATE: 

I JUST SAW THIS!!! She must've said "Cavolo!" instead of "Cavallo!"

https://www.instagram.com/reel/C8mQiJGoSfC/?igsh=MWJrdnVxNW4ybTlzcg==

******

I told her to park the car at the hairdresser, I will find it again later, don't drop me off anywhere. What time? You sure?, she asked. Ok; be back here at noon.

Elena's parking prowess


She instructed me to go down Corso Italia and it's offshoots, as this is where people of Catania go to shop and eat. I absolutely didn't need to buy anything, but the window shopping was delightful, and the architecture grand. I had a thoroughly enjoyable stroll, and stopped for a caffe at a cute spot off the main drag.

I have this design in wood, in my garden!

This old man walk made me miss Joe

I love the brick, plants, wall, 
and juxtaposition of textures

If I don't catch it next week, there's time when I return with Joe

The photo doesn't do justice to these flowers

Composition of line and color

Greek Key for Nikos 

Door detail

One of the many palazzi on Corso Italia


I swallowed an adding machine

Catania, way ahead of all of you on the black & white color scheme thing


Entrance courtyard

I snuck into a private entrance for this garden photo. If "caught," I'm sure I'd just make a new friend!

Bussaporta

All these people inside agree science is real

Bike rental, door unlocked and wide open, sign says Back Soon... that's trust

More on the B&W (lava and tufa)


Feeling that noon was much more time than Elena needed, I texted to say I'm heading to the car and can be there before 11:00. I'm just finishing now, she wrote. I'll meet you there. Good thing I was close!

Now to lunch with 6 of Elena's friends (two my age!) in Biancavilla, for sushi. Although I rode the sushi crest when it hit the US in the '80s, and had no qualms parting with the cuisine ever after, it's a new happenin' thing here, and I wanted to share in their excitement. The sushi menu of course had an Italian section. I suppose it might be the only way to get the grandparents to a big birthday gathering there.

We got there before the others, just then noticing that the car's gas tank was in the orange zone. No wonder the engine kept killing. We'll fill up after lunch.

I saw the QR code for the menu, so pushed up my sunglasses and put on my reading glasses to check it out. Others were arriving, everyone talking at full speed, when Elena quickly stopped to yell at me, in English, "Karen, do you need another pair of glasses?", then with barely a pause, continued her rapid-fire discussion with her friends.

Sushi is different here; wasabi and ginger aren't at the ready, and a lot of things have mayonnaise, some sort of crema drizzled atop, or a filling with "Philadelphia". They had bao buns and fried rice; french fries were also on the menu. I stuck with the tuna and salmon crudo and the edamame, but I think the edamame were sauteed in butter instead of steamed. The tuna was excellent, but to be honest, I'd rather have it the way it's prepared at Vin, a local Italian restaurant.

The friends were talking about a woman named Grace (Grazia) Di Stefano Grady, and my ears perked up. She's another woman with whom I've interacted on the Sicily website (where I "met" the grave woman)! Grazia is from Biancavilla, moved to America for several decades, sold her house there, and returned to Biancavilla. She is now embarking upon a 3-year cruise around the world. I need to meet this person in person! And of course, Mariella knows her. As Nonno said, the world is small.

We got gas on the way home, and both Elena and I were tired, but I said send the boys up to play. They didn't come, but about an hour later, I got a text from Rachi.


The cake is a product of the abundance of apricots from the vigne. They all must be used SOON, or they will rot!

Elena, Rachi, Mariella, Giovanna, and the boys were there. I spent a nice couple of hours with them all this evening, ending with me, Ettore, Matteo, and Elena hanging out amidst all the toys in the boy's room. I said goodnight as they headed off to church around 8:00.

Elena couldn't remember how to reassemble this ship, so I found it on Google Lens



And though it's Saturday, there's no Sabato Pizza tonight; thank goodness, as I'm still stuffed from this afternoon. I ate a light supper of some leftover cooked greens, some braesola, and a handful of taralli. I made a cup of tea and sunk into the armchair. Minutes later, a knock and Mariella's "Kahrren... Permesso?" 

"Certo!"

Good thing I had a light dinner, because Mariella came bearing a piping hot plate, covered in foil.

"Melanzane. Fatto di Nonno. Per te".

Nonno cooked an eggplant dish, just for me. I was touched, flabbergasted, and appreciative, all at once. I'm pretty sure my own dad never as much as buttered toast for me (although he built me lots of cool stuff)! I had no idea Nonno could cook. So, of course, I had to eat it. Perhaps I'll crack open one of those Brioschi jars I bought to bring home.

My pacchetto from Nonno

It looks like a chopped up hot dog on top, but it's more like mortadella 

I ate it all, cleaned the plate, and wrote a thank you note to put on the plate before leaving it in the elevator for him. 

And now I'll finish this so I can go pack for tomorrow's beach day, and get some sleep--once these fireworks stop.


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Stretching Out (my clothes)

Riparo Cassataro

Checking out the Scenery and Available Real Estate, then Fireworks