mebtravelling

(Click thumbnail photos, to enlarge)

I’d seen photos and a short video Elizabeth had taken of Good Friday in Cianciana: stark, passionate, foreign,  familiar — it encapsulated & encompassed all those contradictions. It still does.

At first, it was just great fun. Outside the town’s biggest market, I finally saw the drummer I’d been hearing for a couple weeks. A few locals started lining  up, and cars (and the recycling truck) rushed to get down Corso Vittorio Emanuale  before everything began in earnest.

I followed the soldiers down to the clocktower, but they disappeared, so I ran back to the piazza, arriving  just in time for the “Jesus or Barabbas” scene (below). The townspeople, some in costume, many not, began to get into it, and so did I,  as an Observer, although here is the truth: by the time Pilate got his answer  from the crowd that third time, I was starting to feel like a guilty bystander.

Later, from the 3rd-floor terrace of Daffodils (“Best seat in town!”),  I looked down on robed  townspeople  (singing a Lamentation), Roman soldiers, 2 thieves, and Jesus.

Jesus carrying his Cross up the stairs, headed towards  Monte Calvario

The two other prisoners, following Jesus up to Monte Calvario.

*****************************************************************************

Once up the stairs, it was just a matter of navigating the streets leading to up (way up) to Calvario.

There were moments of comic relief. In one, costumed kids who had been standing around for 30 minutes nearly missed their cue.

Kids, just in time.

Safe, con papa

At the top, we stood and watched, something I don’t have 1,000 words to describe, so will yield again to pictures (that’s Gaetano from Bar S. Antonio)

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Entry of Jesus into Jerusalem — VIVENTE.

It began today, Palm Sunday, with the vivente  Entrance of Jesus into Jerusalem. Having learned the route during last week’s 2-day San Giuseppe feast, I headed out for this morning’s procession.  

What I hadn’t known, however, was that it wasn’t just a Living Christ that I’d encounter, but many of  the Ciancianans, too,  dressed in the sort of costume which, in my tiny mind, has always been limited to grammar school Christmas pageants.  

Citizens of Cianciana

As he blessed our olive branches, I heard the priest refer to them as “Olive Palms,” and I started to guffaw, but as nobody else was laughing, I did my best imitation of a stifled cough and returned to listening mode.

And then, as quickly as they had arrived, they were suddenly gone. It had been odd and awesome.

Somewhat awestruck after the Vivente and the Benedizione, I went where I go every morning — Bar San Antonio.                                                    

Olive Palm

I set down my Olive Palm

…and listened to the ever-patient (with me) Gaetano

Yesterday, the Vigil of St Joseph, I walked past this man’s garden, talked to him about his  Prickly Pears and his oranges, then circled back to ask if I could take his photo – “Why not?” And, indeed, that seems to be everyone’s response here — “Go ahead, try out your Italian” or “Sure, I’ll tell you how to get to the Museo Civico“

My street for awhile, as I’m staying in Elizabeth’s studio which stands here with its three proud, if improbable, blue doors. Via Catania has characters whose conversations (phone? balcone-to-balcone?) I’ve heard, but not met. Except for the neighbor who proudly sports two canes to my one.

I doubt any of them can compare with the person Elizabeth and I now call “The Bombola Man” — he delivered the propane can for the heater my first afternoon, but couldn’t stay to hook it up because he needed to go for his run. His spandex suggested he was not kidding, and, yes, he returned, as promised, a couple hours later

Yesterday at the Vigil of St Joseph, I saw him again. He waved, I waved, and then I gasped!

Finally, when I went to Savarino’s for a large espresso maker this morning, there he was yet again. With two of his children! Behind the counter, helping me every day since I’d arrived, was my new best friend, Fortunata — his wife! I had heard that this is one gloriously small(3k) town.

A FEW MORE GLORIOUS CIANCIANA SIGHTS:

— this corner of the bedroom…

— sometimes fixing lunch

— sometimes going out to dinner

And this — THE GREAT FESTA IN ONORE DEL GLORIOSO PATRIARCA SAN GIUSEPPE!!!

I was carrying one of those 4-foot candles for last night’s vigil procession, so couldn’t get much photography done without dripping wax all over my jacket, purse, and boots, or bumping into the woman in front of me (I did all those things). However, I did snap this photo of the arched lights under which we were walking. I’ve never been to Las Vegas, but isn’t this close –?