mebtravelling

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“OH, NO, Signora, we never run the gondola if it is too windy. Today is wind [sic], but we will run it for you.”

Gondola, on the 750m trip up to Erice. Remember to double-click on this photo, so you can count all the other people who made the trip up and down the mountain with us today. Hint: it’s less than one.

As our gondola climbed the mountain, I pretended to agree with the chipper Peggy Schmidt, as she    peered around at all the other – EMPTY – gondolas and crowed,  “See? If it were a sunny day, you know we’d be fighting the crowds.”
The  city, even shrouded in mist today,  really is spectacular, and its denizens? Lovely.

Erice was founded by a people claiming descent from the Trojans. What remains today is mostly medieval – walled city, narrow streets.

The art of the cell phone

At the end of our visit this afternoon, we visited Sicily’s finest pasticceria, “Maria Grammatico,” where I ran into Maria herself coming out of the kitchen. She was clearly flattered that I recognized her, b/c she smiled [long-sufferingly?] and took my hand.

Maria Grammatico’s

In case anybody wondered, it’s still within the Octave of Easter

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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.

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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)

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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