Via Renato Guttuso

 Actually, there are two different versions of Via Renato Guttuso here in Terrasini, a longer and more circuitous one on the east side of town (which I explored several weeks ago on a long walkabout), and a shorter one on the west side (which is where I snapped the picture). They're both in honor of the famous Italian painter Renato Guttuso, who was born in Bagheria (outside of Palermo) in 1911 and passed in 
Rome in 1987. He is often described as an Expressionist, although he also had his own unique style, and he's known for his social artistic sentiment. Guttuso was a long-time member of the Italian Communist Party, and also painted the emblem they used until the party's dissolution. In fact, he also served two terms in the congress as a member of the PCI. What I cannot tell you, at least not yet, is why there are two different streets with the same name in Terrasini. The larger one in the east is off of Via Palermo and the smaller one in the west is off of Via Carlo Alberto dalla Chiesa (they're the same road, which is also known as Via Roma in between), but I can't believe that would explain it.

The sign for the smaller of the two Vias Renato Guttuso, appropriately draped in an orange tree. 

This is his first painting that received recognition, Crocifissione from 1940.

Sunday with Salvatore

 When Janet and I thought about moving overseas, part of the dream was finding a great, small local restaurant that we could call our own. We've definitely found it in Assettati. We've only been here around two and a half months, and I think we've already eaten there a dozen times or more. That, alone, should give you a sense of how we feel about the place. The food is dependably wonderful and affordable, but it's also more than that. It just feels like home. Everyone there is friendly and welcoming. We wanted to find that place where we didn't feel like an outsider, but instead a member of the family. A couple of days ago Salvatore told us that due to a strike there were no clams (which led to my spaghetti and sea urchins meal), and he promised to track down some clams for Sunday - and we promised to see him then. Last night it was pretty dreary and drizzly, and it's over a twenty-minute walk down the hill to Assettati, but we were both in agreement: "We promised Salvatore that we'd be there for the clams on Sunday," so it was inconceivable that we wouldn't come. As it turns out, the clams didn't arrive, so Salvatore jumped in his car and somehow tracked some down. The meal was wonderful, and we took advantage of a relatively quiet, rainy Sunday to talk to Salvatore about the secrets to cooking spaghetti and clams, where one finds clams - and the challenges of taking care of them, and the fishing patterns of local fishermen. It was a wonderful evening.

The spaghetti with clams was worth the wait. That's a pretty big serving with a ton of clams, so I don't know if that was a bonus for keeping our word on a rainy Sunday night and showing up - or just for being such loyal customers.

Janet ordered the raviola con ricotta, which was once again great. She was cutting it into with her knife, when Salvatore told her to eat it with her hands. More sage advice.

I didn't get the chance to order dessert, as Salvatore told me I was having the tiramisu. This is fine with me, as I've told him that I've made enough decisions in my life. They served it with espresso on the side, which was a wonderful addition.

Via Ettore Majorna

 And speaking of roads that cut down from the Cala Rossa to the Lungomare and the sea, here's one I take almost every day: the Via Ettore Majorna (1906-1938). He was a child prodigy, in a family that produced child prodigies, and grew up to become a recognized genius in physics. Along the way he studied under and worked with both Fermi and Heisenberg. He attained a professorship in Naples, but left it almost immediately, heading home to Sicily to rest up (he was born in Catania), and then suddenly one day, at only thirty-one of age, he disappeared. His last few letters hinted at suicide without actually mentioning suicide, and then later walking away from the idea. He spent only two days in Sicily before heading back to Rome, or maybe he didn't, no one knows.

Sadly, but I guess unavoidably, Majorna's fame as a brilliant physicist is shrouded by ongoing fascination with his mysterious disappearance. According to the Interweb, the theories relating to his disappearance (which are almost a cottage industry in their own right) break up into five general categories: 1) he did in fact commit suicide, and his body was never found; 2) he joined a Jesuit monastery to find the mental and spiritual peace that life never gave him; 3) he disappeared into Germany, and this includes the possibility of a murder/suicide, which builds upon his troubling, although maybe only temporary, interest in the Nazis and some anti-Semitic statements; 4) his travel to Argentina and disappearance after the war, which is sort of a continuation of #3 above; or 5) disappearing into Sicily itself, becoming sort of a travelling wise man, displaying an unusual amount of knowledge about physics for what appeared to be a homeless man (including helping local children with their homework).

Framing

 As I've often proposed on this blog, I have the common failing of most bad photographers: I tend to frame everything. It could just be that as a historian I feel that I am honor-bound to provide some sort of framing context, or maybe I don't have enough confidence in the picture as it exists. Anyway, here's a picture I snapped over by the Camilleri bench. I had stopped by La Sirenetta, where I had stopped for my normal cornetto con Nutella e caffe, and on the way back home I stopped at the bench (on my long morning walks I stop at many benches along the way). I was going to retrace my steps on the Lungomare, but the wind was howling so I turn south a little earlier in case the rain did decide to find me. The break in the heat and the rain has suddenly given Sicily a more lush appearance.

It was another beautifully wild morning for a walk here in Terrasini. We do actually have some beautiful surf here in the fall. In the summer, it's almost as if the sun is so brutally hot and unrelenting that in the sea doesn't have the energy to move. Unlike yesterday, I did not get caught in a soaking rain.

Via Giacomo Serpotta

 One of the roads here in Terrasini that I find myself on a lot is Via Giacomo Serpotta. Since we live off of Via Calla Rosa, roads that head down the hill towards Via Roma/Palermo and then onto the Lungomare and the sea are of natural interest to me. This led me to the Via Giacomo Serpotta, which is a continuation of Via Aprile. As part of this project, this led me to figuring out more about Giacomo Serpotta. Sadly, beyond the fact that he was a sculptor, I didn't know a lot about him (again, curse growing up culturally illiterate in Indiana). Giacomo Serpotta (1656-1732) was born and died in Palermo, and apparently never left the island of Sicily, although his influence was felt much further afield. 

He is known for his sculptures, but also made profound innovations in stucco he's credited with the invention of the process of allustratura.

His works are all over Sicily, including a bunch in neighboring Trapani (which gives us another reason to visit a city that we've been considering for a longer term move).

Grazie Mille

 This morning I tried to time my morning walk to avoid the rain showers, and, of course, completely screwed it up, and ended up getting soaked. As I was walking along the Lungomare in the pouring rain, a very nice man stopped his car to ask if I needed a ride. With my faulting Italian, I replied, "No, ma grazie. Vado a Matthew's. Grazie mille!" He seemed satisfied and happy with my answer. Happily, I was only a few minutes from Matthew's Bar, and a refreshing cornetto e caffe. It's easy to get down on the whole experience of being an expat and waiting out the chaos of citizenship, but occasionally you do meet some very nice folks who restore you confidence in the human condition.

Still, before the deluge, I did get a great picture of a very Homeric wine-dark sea.

Sea Urchins

 If Janet were not the voice of reason in these things, I'd probably eat at Assettati every night. Granted, isn't that the expat dream, to be that character in a W. Sumerset Maugham novel who is always - and mysteriously - lurking in the same restaurant or bar every night? Last night I had it in my head to try their spaghetti and clams, because it's such a staple of the Mediterranean diet and I know that Salvatore and his crew must prepare a killer version. Anyway, I ordered it, and they had to break it to me that the strike (because, well, Italy) meant that there were no clams. I tore back into the menu for another option, when Salvatore asked if I would be interested in trying spaghetti and sea urchins. The answer was obviously yes. I don't even think it was an option on the menu, but it was fantastic.

This picture made me think of how much great food I've eaten here (and some dog meals as well, but certainly not at Assettati), and how I've somehow managed to lose weight. I don't know if I've truly noticed it yet, but Janet assures me that I've lost a goodly amount of weight. That said, most Americans who go to live in Europe end of quite naturally losing weight. Apparently, it's an actual verifiable thing. According to the Interweb, Americans moving to Europe lose weight for at three main reasons: 1) portion size - I mean, look at that plate in the picture - that's actually quite enough food (in America we'd have twice as much on the plate, and it would be less than half as tasty; 2) better, fresher, and healthier ingredients - I saw statistics claiming that the average American diet is comprised of as much as 60% of highly processed foods, which the European average is around 12% - that's a huge difference; and 3) walking a lot more - Europeans tend to spend less time in their SUV, and instead more time travelling around on foot or public transportation - we're sort of an extreme example because we don't have a car (for the first time in fifty years, and this makes me very happy), and thus I, initially out of necessity, but now more out of desire to explore and sit by the sea, walk at least two miles a day.