Via Nino Martoglio

 Nino Martoglio was a writer, poet, and director of both stage and screen, who was born in 1870 in Belpasso and died in 1921 in Catania; so, one of Sicily's own. That said, he was famous throughout Italy, and founded both theater and cinema companies in Rome. He directed three early films, sadly all of which have been lost (which, as we've discussed, is all too often the fate of movies from the early days of cinema). His works were known for beauty, but also for focusing on the tremendous gaps between rich and poor.

Apparently, the phrase "died under mysterious circumstances" is just a part of Sicilian biographies. Martoglio died at age 51 when he mysteriously fell down an elevator shaft when visiting his sick son at a hospital in Catania.

The Other Guttuso

 Yesterday I mentioned that there are actually two streets named Via Renato Guttuso here in Terrasini. This inspired me to scroll back through pictures on my phone from my various and sundry morning walks, to see if I had any shots of the "other" Via Renato Guttuso. It's a much longer and winding version than the one I more routinely walk past, but I didn't seem to have many pictures of it. However, I did have this photo of the end of that Via Renato Guttuso, as it finally drops down to the sea by the largest of the beaches here in Terrasini. I don't think I've ever seen roads like this in the US, but you do occasionally see them in Europe. There is a sort of logic to the construction, but they're definitely not for the faint of heart. 

I found this a little nerve-wracking to walk down, but, truthfully, I think it would be much worse to drive down.

Iliade

 As I've mentioned, our time here in Terrasini has featured occasional victories and a motley collection of failures. One of our biggest failures has been in trying to find alternative spaces to read and writer and simply be. Essentially, we look for other spaces so we're not in each other's grill all the time. Actually, we get along famously, and are very good at working side by side, but I think we would both appreciate optional spaces that we could go to in the course of a day. One of the things that I found most disconcerting about retirement was that for the first time in over four decades I didn't have an office, another space where I could go to work. There were many aspects of retired life that I predicted, but that was one that I didn't see being such a problem. Maybe it's simply a reminder that I don't really matter anymore, and have entered the +1, trying to do die as unobtrusively as possible, stage of latter life. Our new place is better for carving off space, and Janet is putting together a great little unofficial office upstairs, but it's still only a one bedroom apartment. I work at the kitchen table, which is perfectly fine, but wherever we settle in the future we'll definitely need another room or two to truly make it all work (oh, and some bookshelves, obviously). When we were investigating possible towns and cities, we came up with a lot list of prerequisites (most of which seemed to be reflections of what we loved so much about Evora, Portugal). One of them was a library where we could take turns working. However, the concept of a public library is much more of an American phenomenon that we realize. There's a lovely, and growing, little library here in Terrasini, La Biblioteca Comunale, Claudio Cataflio. However, it doesn't have separate carrels or even a table where a person could set up a couple books or notes or a laptop and get some writing done. There were a couple tables in the children's section, but the woman behind the counter was insistent that I not enter (although there were other adults there). I'm assuming that you thought I was some mysterious creepy old dude and it would be best to keep me away from the children, and I completely understand that. So, the search goes on. Sometimes I just set up at a local coffeeshop and work for a bit, slowly nursing drinks and snacks, and you can make that work occasionally, but I need something more structured and dependable.

There was a lovely and musty and growing collection of books in the stacks - and Italian versions of Homer just screamed a perfect place for me to work - but there wasn't really anyplace inside of the stacks to work. 

Everyone Has a Direction

     Everyone has a direction toward which he turns. So vie with one another in good deeds. Wheresoever you are, God will bring you all together. Truly God is Powerful over all things. Quran 2:148

I know I've discussed this Quranic verse before, no doubt in the year I devoted to writing about faith every day. However, it's just one that is so near and dear to my heart, and how I try (too often unsuccessfully) to approach my life. I've been carving off dedicated time each morning for more intentional spiritual time and study, and this popped up again. To me, it speaks to so much of what is good and pure and central - and should be more good and more pure and more central - to Islam, and, for that matter, all faith. Every religion has its own qiblah or, more generally, its own direction, its own way of approaching the divine. And you need to accept that while yours may seem the best, in the end it's only one of many. How then are you to address those differences? Mainly you should be working on your own faith, fighting your own internal battles, trying to be a better person every moment of every day. And others? "So vie with one another in good deeds." You "compete" with them only in the goodness that you work to produce, the help that you give to others, the kindness with which you treat all living creatures. It's such a simple concept, but how much better would the world be if that pursued that simple goal? As I've often proposed, most of the world's problems would begin to sort themselves out before the day was out.

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).