Wednesday, July 30, 2008

500


Five hundred. What a beautiful number. Especially when thinking about Fiat cars. The Fiat 500. It is in Italy what the VW bug was in Germany, and what the Deux Cheveaux was in France, and I suppose what the Ford Falcon was at one time in the US, or maybe even the Model A. It was the people's car.

The old style models have been out of production for quite some time by now, two decades I think. That of course does not mean that you can drive down any street in most of Sicily without seeing one or two within fifteen minutes. They are still being driven in great numbers. When the styling was updated to the late 1980's box look, the old style was no longer sold, but it was lovingly held, kept, tinkered with, repaired, and repaired again, and again, and of course, again.

I have looked longingly at them, wondering in my more foolish moments if I should buy one, have the front seats removed, put in a center seat in the back, move the controls over just a bit, and drive one around. Even if the motor was gone, I could probably buy a replacement, and throw the rest of the lawn mower out. Or I could soup it up and get a riding mower motor. And of course I would have to get a convertible, with the fold up canvas top, and if I put the seat up a little higher, I could drive with my head sticking out.

Of course, having said all of that about the cute little cars, I should also mention that I have seen a family of five driving down the road in comfortable bliss in the old 500's. Indeed, there is the joke about the traffic accident in Naples, where a 500 hit a moto, and fifteen people were injured. Ah me.

When Fran and I were first in Sicily, we rented our landlords new style Fiat 500, which had already been replaced by the Fiat 600. It is a tinny little car, but certainly serviceable for city driving. Of course one tends to see many more of the 500's and 600's in the south of Italy (the mezzogiorno) than in the richer north. They are family cars for people who do not have or do not want to spend a lot of money to have a car. And they work, and they do what needs to be done.

This year, Fiat came out with a new 500, styled to look like the old one on steroids, and I think it even has a 1.0 liter engine. This model is again extremely popular, and they are coming out with a convertible soon.

Sunday afternoon, in the San Michele neighborhood, Sciacca had a meeting for people who own, love, and take care of their old Fit 500's. There were some beautiful cars there, all in mint condition. I joked with the owners about having to change them significantly were I to buy one.

And of course, as with any show like this, there was someone who showed up who did indeed have a Fiat 500, but it was second generation, and not lovingly taken care of.

Beach Volley

Professional Women's Beach Volleyball came to Sciacca a few weeks ago. It was at Spiaggi Fogia, just down the road from where I live, so of course I attended some of it on Sunday morning. Amazing.

There were six teams in the circuit of the moving tournament, each team with six players, although injuries reduced some of the teams to just four players. Four players were on the beach at any given time for each side. These women were the stars of the winter time professional women's volleyball teams here in Italy (yes, we do have a professional league of women's volleyball players, as well as men volleyball players).

The tournament traveled from resort town to resort town, and Sciacca ws the penultimate stop on the tour. The 'finals' were played last weekend in beautiful Salerno. I was happy to see that Paolo's kitchen franchise, Scavolini, was represented by a team. Each team had a corporate sponsor, and of course the tour had a number of sponsors as well, each of whom set up a tent and gave away free merchandise.

I was amazed, as the stands, which were of course temporary, and held about a thousand people, were always pretty full, and people kept wandering in, then off to the beach, and then back to the volleyball. Of course parking was a problem, but at lest there were police officers there to let their friends have the prime parking spots, and shrug their shoulders at any traffic jams created by folks looking for parking.

The tournament even had traveling band, who marched between games, and played p-funk ala George Clinton, as well as some nice dixie land riffs. By the quality of the tubas they were using (being a former tuba player myself) I realized that they had put some real money into the band. My favorite of course was the sax player with his Moroccan hat, that looked far too hot for the day, but actually keeps the head fairly cool, I am told.

All in all, it was a neat way to spend a Sunday morning after getting the morning papers, and with the crowds that showed up, Sciacca could become a regular stop on the summer tour.

Wednesday, July 02, 2008

SWEET

I decided one day, after talking to Maria Coletti, who helps her father and sister run Panneficio Americana, that there was a story to be had next door to the bakery. I had seen Luigi come in from time to time, and I had been talking to Maria about how to translate some things for an application Luigi was filing to become a pastry chef on one of the Costa Cruise Ships. I knew that the bar next door had the usual assortment of early morning breakfast dolces, as well as cookies, and gelato in the summer, but I did not know that they made their own stuff. Well, they do, and Luigi is in charge of the making of it. And yes, I had sampled their cornetti and apple tart and ricotta ravioli and a few other things too good to mention.

Ah Ha, a pastry chef right next door. Why don't I get up early one morning, and do a piece about pastries in Sciacca. I got Maria and Paola to lie about me and say good things, and set it up with Luigi to come in at seven one morning. Wow, I would not even have to get up early. Welllllllllll, It seems that I made a mistake. I heard sette, he said sei. Oh well. When I got their, the donuts, the large ricotta ravioli, the creme rolls (unfilled) were already for the fryer. Now I had made donuts when I was in the Kiwanis Club in Fulton, and we had a machine that cut the donuts and plopped them into the hot grease and special sticks to turn them and all that. Luigi's donuts were huge, I mean really huge. And he only made about twenty of them each day. Of course, he also made about twenty large ricotta filled ravioli, about forty small ricotta filled ravioli, twenty cream filled roles (large) and twenty cream filled rolls (small), and of course plain, marmalade, nutella, and crema filled cornetti (forty each) and tavola caldo pizza and sandwiches and on and on and on, plus special orders.

I hung out in the background as he and his assistant silently did their work. The most talk was when the neighborhood bum came in to get his morning beer and cigarette from the guys. Other than that, they knew their jobs and just did them. I was not sure when I washed up the mixing bowl if I had somehow screwed up their rhythm. I think not, as they did not seem to notice enough to say anything.

Luigi, the taller gentleman, was in charge of most of the dolces, while Tonino seemed to concentrate on the pizzas, sandwiches, and eventually batches of about four hundred sugar cookies. Then he started to work on a special order birthday cake, and then check the orders coming up for Saturday, to make sure they had enough supplies for that and Sunday as well.

I should mention that on Sundays, it is usual for children to return to the wife's parent's house for dinner, and it is also usual to bring a tray of dolce sufficient to feed the whole family for several generations back, with enough left over to take care of family members well into the next millennium. So Sunday is really the big dolce fest.

After about two hours, I decided that I was really there on the wrong day. I need to go in ON TIME on a Sunday morning, and I need to watch how all the little pastries are made. The one's my friend Ray Leone taught me to like at Rocco's on Bleeker Street in the west village (don't go to the place next door, it is not as good, even though it looks better).

So, I am sad to say, having packed up a couple of donuts for the road, (complitments of Acursio, the owner) I will have to return to this or another dolceria (actually pasticerrea) and do another sweet entry. Hope you can take it. I am pretty sure I can.

Bon'anno Agape


Agape had it's end of the service year party last Friday. After Wednesday's birthday party for Acursio, I was not sure I could stand another party, but I still wanted to go. One of the reasons is the young man on the left, who has the most infectious smile I have ever known. I first really noticed it when a volunteer Physical Education Teacher was carrying him and dancing with him at a Christmas party in 2002, the first year we got here. He was so happy to be able to dance. What a guy.

Any way, go I did, and I was glad I did. I even got Klaus, my friend from Mannhiem to join me, and as an added bonus, my new friend from Canada, Monica, also made the scene. Monica is an Organization Development person whose specialty is negotiations coaching, and she is starting a consulting service here in Sciacca.

Anyway, the party was held at a pizzeria right near where I live, so it was an easy drive over. Almost all the parents and clients and staff were there, and it was good to see them in a social setting rather than
just at the Agape center. Of course there was plenty of pizza and water and soda (and beer) to go around, along with they typical Sicilian appetizers of French Fried Potatoes, Pannelli (deep fried chichi bean flour squares) (or garbonzo bean), and potatoe croquettes.




The two ceramics artists, including my friend Giovanni were there. They have been spending Thursday afternoons with the clients of Agape, teaching them to make simple ceramic pieces. On the first Sunday of each month, they have a booth in Piazza Scandiallotto, where the ceramics are sold to help pay for program.

At the close of the evening, after dancing to a local DJ, the friends of Agape were each rewarded with a ceramics piece. Even my friend Klaus, who was really just a visitor, was given one. That is the sort of welcoming community Agape seems to be.




I can not end this piece without a special mention about Stefano. Stefano was the volunteer PE teacher who danced around the room carrying my favorite smiler the first time I met him. After watching Stefano work at Agape, and at Agape parties, I would hire him as an adaptive Physical Education Teacher on the spot if I were still working in Fulton. We would spend time together working with the bureaucracy getting his degree to be accepted and getting him certified. Meanwhile, the kids would have the best program from the best teacher ever. I have endless respect for him. And even the athletic director would be happy, as I am sure he would coach the championship soccer, bicycle, and team handball teams. Bravo Stefano.

Buono Compleanno Acursio

Happy Birthday Acursio. You called me up the day before and asked me to come to Agape, and I did not know why, but I did. And here it was your 70th birthday, and all your friends were there to celebrate, your Agape family was especially proud of you, and you were a gracious host.

It was not just that the cake and the pizza and the Arancini were good (and of course they were good, indeed, I have not had as good an ice cream cake since I have been here), but the love of the staff and the clients was very special, and we were all happy to see you happy and celebrating the milestone year.

Acur, you have been a good friend to me since I started coming to Agape functions. Thank you for making me feel so welcome, and for all that you do for the clients and the staff. You are another example of why I choose to live in Sciacca.

I do have to mention that that is the President of the Board of Director's wheelchair that Acur is trying to get a ride on. It is a famous wheel chair hereabouts, as it has spent time chained (along with Toto) to the gates of city hall, while Toto has demanded that an elevator be installed so that he can gain access to HIS office. His campaigns for access have finally succeeded, so that he may be treated with the same dignity that all citizens deserve. The wait time he experienced was one of the bad things I have noticed about living in Sciacca. Bravo anche a Toto.