9/27/06 - Catania, Italy

Palermo - Partenico - Palermo - Mondello - Monreale* - Agrigento - Catania - Siracusa*
* - day trip

Highlights, Observations, Rants, etc.

• Pilgrammage to Partenico - In my family (at least on my dad's side, the Italian one), the Relatives In Sicily are regarded with a sort of reverence that verges on sacredness, despite the fact that only my grandmother and uncle have ever met them, because they are the physical representation of a very strong sense of Italian heritage. Since I was in Sicily, it only made sense to try to look them up, although I did feel a little funny about just randomly appearing and effectively saying "hi, i'm your 3rd cousin...(I think...)". My sister also decided to fly to Palermo from England for a few days, so the evening before she arrived, I somewhat nervously called the telephone number my uncle had given me. The wife of the man whose number my uncle had given me answered the phone and after a few minutes of explaining who I was and why I was calling, she told me that of course we should come to visit and could do so whenever it suited us best, just to call first so she could know to expect us.
  How I came to have the number in the first place is another, and better, story: 35 years ago, my grandmother and uncle went to Partinico (approximately 1 hour southwest of Palermo), knowing only that it was the town where my grandmother's mother had grown up. They arrived at the only hotel in town, and were greeted with surprise by the proprieter, who couldn't fathom why two Americans would come to Partinico. My grandmother responded (not in proper Italian, as I later found out, but rather in the Sicilian dialect her parents had spoken and she had therefore learned) that her mother was originally from Partinico, and she wanted to see if there were any members of the family still there. She also told him that her mother's maiden name was Randazzo, to which he responded that there were several Randazzos in Partenico, and immediately proceeded to call each of them over to the hotel. The first two were unrelated to my grandmother. So was the third, but as soon as he saw my grandmother, he told her that he knew another Randazzo she was almost certainly related to, because of their striking physical resemblance. He left, and quickly returned with Nino Randazzo in tow. After talking for a bit, my grandmother and Nino came to the conclusion that they were probably first cousins, but weren't 100% sure. Even so, Nino insisted that my grandmother and uncle stay with him rather than in the hotel. Only after they went to his house and saw a picture of my grandmother's parents hanging on the wall did they know for sure that they were in fact cousins. My grandmother and uncle stayed in touch with everyone they met on that first trip (of course every relative of Nino Randazzo was immediately rounded up to meet the "cousins from America") over the years, returning a few more times. The Randazzos are now scattered throughout Italy, having left Partenico to work mostly in the north, but the Galvanos, descendants of another, different cousin of my grandmother (and so with whom I have great-great-grandparents in common), have remained in Partenico, and it was Francesca Galvano, effectively the matriarch of the current family, with whom I spoke on the phone.
  And so the next afternoon, after we had taken the train from the airport to Partenico and trekked uphill to the center of town, where according to a tourist information brochure I had picked up there was supposed to exist an information center (if it was there, we couldn't find it), I once again whipped out my cell phone and called up Francesca. It was probably a little less of an advanced warning than she had in mind when she told me to call before I came, but nonetheless I was instructed to come immediately, and given directions that basically amounted to "straight straight straight straight straight, then left when you see a church". Given the fact that in every Italian town there seems to be a church on just about every corner, my hopes of finding the street without having to sheepishly call again for new directions weren't high. But we made it. And after brief pleasantries and introductions, we were told to relax and make ourselves comfortable. Then the eating began, and didn't really stop for the rest of the time we were in Partenico. While we worked our way through a plate of pasta, then some breaded cutlets and salad and finally fresh fruit for dessert (any proper Italian meal being at least three courses), all accompanied by homemade wine made from homegrown grapes that was really halfway to being brandy but still very good, Francesca and her husband Giovanni's three grown children trickled in with some of their grandchildren as well. And each time, the introductions and explanations started again from scratch. This was a good boost for my confidence in Italian, since after the 3rd time or so I actually had the whole routine pretty much down pat (and the Galvanos who had already heard the whole spiel multiple times helped speed things along as well). After discussing the hotels/pensions in Partenico (or lack thereof - I hadn't reserved a room because I couldn't find any, which was one of the reasons we had attempted to find the nonexistant tourist information office), Francesca & Giovanni's daughter Maria offered to let us stay with her at their house just outside Partenico.
  That evening, after Maria's two kids, both in college, had driven us to the beach and around a few towns near Partenico (including an entirely unnecessary stop for gelato), everyone came over for a marathon dinner: various antipasti, pizzas, salads, fruit, and finally the grand finale: an assortment of all the different sorts of dolci (literally sweets but more accurately pastries) for which Sicily is famous, especially within Italy. And the fame is completely justified - if you have a sweet tooth, the price of a round-trip ticket to Palermo is probably worth it just to be able to eat a cannolo here.
  After dinner, we sat around and talked for a while, and while in general we were certainly able to communicate, one example is indicative of my struggles with Italian. Granted, trying to explain the rules of baseball probably wasn't the wisest of decisions on my part, but still: I was simply trying to say that when a batter hits the ball, the fielder has to throw the ball to first base before the batter gets there. And in the space of a minute or two, the Violas were howling. The Italian word for ball is la palla but first I used the masculine equivalent: il palo. This means pole. Then I failed to properly enunciate the double-l, effectively saying pala, or shovel. Finally I made it to palla (probably still technically wrong given that a large ball like a soccer ball is a pallone, and smaller ball like a tennis ball - and probably a baseball as well - is a pallina, but at least by this point I had successfully managed to convey a correct general meaning). Next screw-up, using buttare (to throw, but more in the sense of to throw away, as in garbage) rather than lanciare. But the one that really had the Violas in stiches was my use of battitore when I was trying to describe the batter. A battitore would be someone who executes the action described by the verb battere; I made the assumption that battere was to bat, since alot of times if you don't know a word in Italian, italianizing the English word gets you to a reasonable approximation of what you're trying to say. In this case I was at least somewhat right: battere can mean to thump or beat, but little did I know that it also means to walk the streets (as in a prostitute looking for tricks), so a battitore is effectively also a hooker. So the next time I try to explain baseball in Italian, I should be fine...
  The next morning (of course after an extended breakfast, at least by Italian standards) Maria's brother Salvatore drove us around on a whirlwind tour of western Sicily: the salt pools of Mozia near Marsala, the city of Marsala itself, and then the 5th century BC temple at Segesta. Afterwards, back to Partinico for lunch (what else) before we headed back to Palermo, not wanting to overstay our exceedingly warm welcome.
• General observations on traveling in Italy - In writing and thinking about Italy, I've found myself being caught up in the same snare I think many outsiders do. It's just so easy to endlessly sing the praises of Italy's treasures: the art, the food, the scenery, etc., etc. They are what most people come to Italy to see and experience, and it's only natural that they dominate the attention of someone just traveling through. But against these backdrops, the social fabric of modern Italy and the way 60 million Italians go about leading their daily lives seems to get lost. I started thinking about this a little bit, because interestingly it's not that it's difficult to notice everyone's lives unfolding around you; for that to be the case, you'd have to either be incredibly unaware of your surroundings or incredibly focused solely on "touring" Italy. Rather, there is such a pervasive vibrancy to life here that the immensely personal nature of everything actually starts to become very impersonal. Incredibly human actions and interactions either start to lose their individual nature in the midst of so many others, or they start to represent a generic parody of The Italian Way Of Life. You witness first hand the insane traffic, the laundry hanging seemingly from every balcony, and constant passionate public displays of every possible emotion, and yet paradoxically even in the flesh they seem to be almost more facelessly stereotypical than characteristic of the way individuals actually live. Maybe this is because I've started to grow accustomed to the very in-your-face style of things here, or maybe because to actually fully process every sight and sound and smell would result in an almost immediate sensory overload.
  One side effect of this very social, very open way of life is that for someone not accustomed to it, it produces an almost voyeuristic sort of attraction to being in Italy. Many times I've found myself perfectly content to sit back and passively observe, fascinated,everyone's lives publicly unfold around me. It's been surprisingly easy to let myself fade into the background, because everyone seems so busy carrying out their own lives that they don't really notice someone on the periphery. And because you're simply watching rather than participating, Italy becomes in a way a giant sensory gallery you simply wander through.
  Despite this, or maybe because of it, I'm not sure that I've really enjoyed travelling through Italy, and certainly not as much as I thought I would or even think I should have. This is at least partially due to both the onset of general travel fatigue and my frustrations with the language (I've felt like I've been stuck at the stage where I know just enough to get myself into trouble but not get myself out, to start a conversation but not really effectively continue it), but also because I've come to the surprising conclusion that of everywhere I've been so far, Italy is the most difficult country in which to travel alone.
  There are two versions of travel in Italy (and I guess really in any country, they're just more exaggerated here): on a classic tourist itinerary, flitting around from one famous place to another, or trying to put a finger on the pulse of the"real" side of life. But in Italy, I've found both frustrating because I've been by myself, although for different reasons. For me at least, the major tourist attractions, while still undeniably beautiful/interesting/etc., start to lose something because there's no one there to share them with, and also because there's less to distract you from the hordes of other tourists gawking at and snapping photos of the same things. The simple - and often silly - joys of being a tourist cease, and watching other people gleefully pose for photos pushing over (or holding up) the leaning tower of Pisa, or trying mightily to order food from a waiter who speaks only Italian, becomes, if not sickening, at least unattractive. This in turn triggers a sense of guilt, since the people you're shaking your head at aren't necessarily behaving all that differently than you would in a slightly different situation. So my response was to eschew a lot of the biggest tourist attractions, and try to find things to do and places to go less common for tourists (not the easiest of tasks in it's own right). But then, as you find yourself more alone in "real" Italy, the sense of being an outsider looking in increases as well, and there are also less fellow outsiders to commiserate with. Without an "in" into Italian society, which is either incredibly chaotic or incredibly structured (I started out thinking the former but am starting to lean toward the latter), all you can really do is fall back into the spectator-ism I've tried to describe above. Of course things are different if you can effectively speak the language, but I feel like you have to be just about fluent to properly hold your own, because while the vast majority of people I've met here are friendly and happy to help, patience is not exactly the Italian strongpoint. I've often had the feeling that for some people, consciously dropping down a few notches from their normal lightning-fast way of talking is almost as frustrating for them as it is for me to strain to catch the general gist of what they're trying to say. And although people generally oblige when you ask them to repeat something, sometimes they seem to be restraining themselves from tapping their index finger to their forhead, a common gesture that basically translates as "wow, are you ever thick". Again, it's not unfriendliness; for me it's simply been a constant frustration.

Random Tidbits

• Another book recommendation: if you have any interest in modern Italy, pick up a copy of The Dark Heart of Italy by journalist Tobias Jones. It was written in 2001 (so it's a little out of date) and the point of reference is very much British, but it's still a really interesting (and not always flattering) introduction to post-war Italian history, politics and culture.

Photos

Next stops

• Malta, then back to Sicily, and on to Greece

9/17/06 - Palermo, Italy

Klaipeda - Schwerin (Germany) - Rostock - Güstrow - Wismar - Schwerin - Berlin - Nürnberg - Obergriesbach - Modena (Italy) - Ravenna - Modena - Monterosso - Vernazza - Firenze - Perugia - Spello* - Assisi* - Orvieto - Mondello - Palermo
* - day trip

Highlights, Observations, Rants, etc.

• From Altstaedte to Zuege - Back in Germany: Almost exactly 5 years after leaving Germany, I finally made it back. Before visiting my former host family in Berlin and family friends in Bavaria near Augsburg, I spent almost a week traveling through the northeastern region of Mecklenburg-Vorpommern. It's a region rich in history and cultural significance, above all from the 1300-1500's, when cities like Rostock, Stralsund & Wismar were among the richest in Europe thanks to their role in the Hanseatic League, the association that dominated northern European sea trade. But this cultural legacy had been somewhat neglected under the East German government, and the cities are only just now really coming into their own. 15+ years after German reunification, there's still a noticeable difference between east and west, but the gap is definitely narrowing (if also slower than everyone expected/hoped). After another 15 years, apart from the regional differences so prominent in Germany, I don't think there will really be any more visible remnants of the divide that has plagued the country for the past 60 years.
  But apart from the sightseeing (and after 5 days of churches & museums, I'd had enough) it was really good to be back in Germany. Of course staying with people I knew and being able to speak the language (at least somewhat -- see below) had a lot to do with this, but there are other reasons I've always felt very much at home in Germany. It's not easy to put a finger on, but the best I can do is that in Germany there exists a sort of balance between approaching life with a cool practicality & efficiency (the stereotypical Germanic traits), but also with enjoyment and an often self-deprecating sense of humor. Probably the best example of the former is the excellent public transportation system; unless you're trying to get to a very specific place in the middle of nowhere, you can get pretty much anywhere in Germany without a car, and you also very rarely need someone to explain how to get there, because everything is very clearly and efficiently organized. And yet despite their reputation for dourness, the Germans like a good time as much as the rest of us and are generous and gracious hosts, something which hopefully became more obvious through this summer's World Cup (the aftereffects of the tournament were still markedly visible a month after it had ended). The German fondness for good beer needs no explanation, and although German food traditionally takes a knock for being bland and heavy, I've generally found it to be neither, especially in summer. And there's nothing quite like a proper German breakfast: a vast variety of different types of fresh bread and rolls, cheeses, ham and wurst, preserves, and fruit. If you're not hungry, you don't eat much and that's fine; if you are, there's always something new to try, and you can eat enough to last you for the rest of the day.
• Under the Umbrian Sun: After a few hours in Pisa and a few days in Florence, surrounded by people from seemingly everywhere in the world except Italy, I couldn't take much more, and headed for the hills...of Umbria. Yes, Florence is packed with amazing things to see (turning a corner and seeing the Duomo for the first time does really stop you in your tracks) and I'm sure the Tuscan countryside is magnificent, but Umbria is plenty charming as well. The same warm late summer sun rains down from cloudless azure skies (almost exactly the same color as the Italian national soccer team's famous jerseys, at least through my sunglasses - without them it's just a little bit lighter). Cyprus trees and sunflower fields abound, and the hills are interspersed with olive groves and vineyards. And atop some of those hills, overlooking the valleys and plains below, are ancient, beautiful, tranquil but also cosmopolitan cities and towns like Perugia, Assisi, Spello, and Orvieto. And because there's far less world-famous sights to see (the basilica of St. Francis in Assisi and the Duomo in Orvieto being the only main draws), the other tourists are refreshingly less concentrated and pervasive than in the Tuscan hotspots.
  My only regret is having to rely on public transport and my own two feet to get around, as my original plan to buy/rent a Vespa and really see the countryside up close fell through for a variety of reasons (mostly because I lack an Italian residence).
• Fun With Languages: I'd forgotten what a humbling and frustrating experience learning a language can be, and how often the brain (at least my brain) functions seemingly arbitrarily with respect to linguistic capabilities. I got to Germany fully aware that I had forgotten some German in the past 5 years, but pretty confident that I would be fine, and hopeful that after a short period of time everything would start to come flooding back. After all, throughout the previous 3 months I had met plenty of Germans, was able to make small-talk with only a few very minor difficulties, and had received a fair amount of complements to boot. I picked up a copy of Hesse's Siddhartha and the occasional newspaper, and could still read in German just fine -- so far, so good. The fact that the word for horse was just off the tip of my tongue for almost 2 full days before randomly popping into my head was a little strange, but not terribly disconcerting. It ws only when I got to Berlin that my confidence took a major blow; ordering in restaurants and exchanging pleasantries was one thing, but holding extended conversations on specific or abstract topics (or at least trying) was something else entirely, and it was immediately apparent exactly how much I had forgotten. Expressing myself was like stumbling through a maze: I'd start to say something, only to realize I lacked a word vital to completing my train of thought, and then would have to backtrack and try another approach only to soon find myself in another, different dead-end. Interestingly, my accent also started to suffer, because this new mistrust extended to how to pronounce even the simplest words.
  But I muddled through, and being a sucker for punishment, decided to sign up for Lessons in Linguistic Humility 102: a 2 week intensive Italian class in Modena, to try to recover / build on the 2 semesters of Italian I took my senior year at Penn. This time, my expectations were lower, but that didn't completely alleviate the frustration of studying hard and still making a total mess of trying to use what you've learned (or think you've learned). It's not much fun to say something and know it's wrong as soon as it's escaped your lips, or to stare blankly at someone, mouth agape, when they rattle something off at full speed. And just when you think (or even know) you're making progress, there's always another humbling experience lurking just around the corner to remind you how much you don't know.

Random Tidbits

• Don't come to north-central Italy in the summer without packing a gallon or so of insect repellent -- Italian mosquitos are fierce. And clever: they bite and fly away before you feel anything, meaning you don't even get the marginal satisfaction of making sure you're their last meal...
• It never occurred to me before, but Mr. Belvedere, the English butler of late 80's TV 'fame', actually has a very Italian last name: "Bel" is a conjunction of bello = beatiful, and "vedere" = to see, so "belvedere" signifies any place with a good/scenic view.
• I love that the comments section has become a forum for DU shenanigans (not that I'm surprised). I can't wait to read what Worth Groome or Eric Smolen have to say in future comments. And Jones, it's probably time you stop drinking your own pee -- for god's sake, you're about to be a father...
• Before taking a break from reading to concentrate on learning Italian, I finished 3 interesting books: "Fear and Trembling" by Soren Kierkegaard, "Siddhartha" by Hermann Hesse, and "Hector's Journey, or the Search for Happiness" by French author Francois Lelord. I'd highly recommend all three, although with a separate caveat for each: Kierkegaard requires effort to get past the sometimes heavy philosophical polemics, Hesse loses something in the translation out of German, and for some unknown reason Lelord hasn't been translated into English (it's available in French & German, not sure about Spanish).

Photos (coming soon - have to upload & organize them)

Misc

• In Lithuania, I met one of the cofounders of travbuddy.com, a website designed specifically for travel blogging. I finally had the chance to play around with it, and while the structure is a little rigid, one of the cool features is that it let's you map your route through an interface with Google Maps. So I've done that (and pretty much only that) - you can see a map of my travels through Germany & Italy here.

Next Stops

• Roughly two weeks in Sicily, then southern mainland Italy, & on to Greece