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.

Via Giacomo Matteotti

 A couple blocks east of our current apartment lies Via Giacomo Matteotti, which means that I usually end up heading up and down it several times in the course of a week. I do like the fact that Terrasini (again, like so many other Italian towns), devotes so much time to celebrating famous and influential Italians through the naming of street signs and piazzas. It's deepening my interest in Italian history, and giving me a direction for more research. Giacomo Matteotti was born in Fratta Polesine in northern Italy in 1885, and later assassinated in Rome in 1924. Matteotti was a sociologist, but is probably more famously known for his adherence to Socialism, as well as his journalism and anti-fascism. His book The Fascists Exposed: A Year of Fascist Domination revealed to many what was actually happening in Mussolini's Italy, but also undoubtedly led to his murder. 

In 1924 Matteotti was kidnapped and assassinated by a group of Fascists, after he had denounced the expanding dictatorship of Benito Mussolini (who had only come to power a couple of years earlier). 

Matteotti began his The Fascists Exposed thus:

"The Fascist Government justifies its armed conquest of political power, its use of violence and the risk it incurred of igniting civil war, by the plea of the urgent necessity of restoring the authority of the law and the State, and or rescuing the country from economic and financial conditions approaching utter ruin."

If that seems like it might apply to the US today, well, it sadly does much more than we'd care to admit.

Beach Days

 As I've previously proposed, Terrasini is sort of a glossy beach town (which we're starting to see now, as shops and restaurants are closing for the season). Janet and I are the farthest thing from beach folks, but when in Rome - and it was especially tempting to sneak down to the beach for a couple hours when the weather was so ungodly hot. Also, because of the time difference, there was a perverse joy in spending three hours at the beach, and then heading home to begin the (Eastern Standard Time) workday. We tried several of the different sections of the beach, but usually ended up at the first lido, where you could rent an umbrella and a couple chairs. There were a couple free sections, but then we would have had to buy or carry chairs and an umbrella (the latter being essential in the hellish Sicilian heat), so I was happy to rent a space. Sadly, that spot has been purchased and will be part of a new resort, although I wonder when that will become a reality. Now that we're twenty minutes up the hill, as compared to two minutes away (as we were in our first place), I suspect we'll mean to go to the beach next year, but probably won't. I can see me heading over to the Calla Rosa Beach for early morning laps.

One day we were at the beach and I snapped this picture of my cane and one of my Mothman shirts hanging from the umbrella. There was this ungodly beautiful young couple sunning next to us, which would have been easy to hate, except that they were both so aesthetically beautiful you forgave them many sins because of their beauty. Anyway, we were packing up to leave and I put on my shirt, and the guy yelled, "Dude, I love that shirt!" All was forgiven.

Andrea Camilleri Bench

 In the coming months I'm going to devote some time to the different streets - and related notable Italians - that populate the city of Terrasini. I should also pay tribute to the artistic benches that the city built to celebrate famous Sicilian artists. There are five of them, which I discovered rather organically on my morning walks. Now that I've tracked down all five, I'll include posts for every one of them. For the sake of geographical order, I'll start in the east and head west. With that in mind. we need to start with Andrea Camilleri. He was born in 1925 in Porto Empedocle in southwest Sicily, and died in 2019 in Rome. He's best known, I suppose, for his Inspector Montalbano novels and short stories, which inspired one of the longest-lasting and most popular television shows in Italian history. Along the way he taught at the National Academy of Dramatic Art, and one of his students was Luca Zingaretti (who starred in the Inspector Montalbano series). He was also a very dedicated and long-time member of the Italian Communist Party (one of the things that I love about Italy is that being a Communist is simply a political and economic decision, and not an allegiance to the dark lord, which seems to be how it is viewed in witless America). We've watched about half of the films, and Janet has read several of the novels - and I'm starting my Camilleri journey soon, as I have the first couple queued up in my Kindle.

Camilleri wrote into his 90s, and in the end grew even more dependent on his assistant as he lost his eyesight. 

Like all the benches, his looks like an open book - and features a lovely view of the sea. It's tucked away between a couple buildings so it's easy to stroll by it, but it's also up the hill from La Sireretta, so it's pretty easy to find. As you head toward the Lungomare, just keep sneaking peeks down alleyways towards the sea and you'll track it down.

Easy Rider

 It's an old chestnut (but there's a reason why old chestnuts become old chestnuts) that sometimes the most disconcerting things about your new home is the occasional scene that seems like it belongs in your old home. On one of my recent walks I was camped out on a bench on the Lungomare when suddenly a couple motorcycles drove by, and then a couple more, and then four more, and suddenly there was a small gang in front of the Barinello Cafe. As it turns out, they were all members of a local motorcycle club in the next town over, who were taking advantage of a lovely fall day for a drive.

There was no sign of Peter Fonda, Dennis Hopper, or Jack Nicholson.