There WAS! There WAS sun in Sicily! Although it wasn't warm enough to get out the bikini (which made my search for a nude beach pointless) it was still a perfect place to spend Spring Break. As for getting wild? Yeah, I got crazy - with a fork, mostly.
Of course, I fell even more in love with Italy, traveling, trains (as in European), and Luigi.
I didn't know Luigi was Sicilian, but in my determination to spend the entire week not speaking or hearing English, Luigi was right there with me. He literally enchanted me with stories of Sicilian life, the scenery, people, and events between gazes out the window and drifting off to sleep when it was dark.
NOTE: As charming as Luigi was, however, he was no help on the damned Sudokus, especially the "Trita Cervelli" which translates to "minced brain." Sounds about right, yes?
Oh, it was sheer - yet uncanny - coincidence that we got acquainted on the long train ride through Rome, Naples, along the coast, crossing the tiny bit of the Ionian Sea by ship, the last 3 hours of the train trip taking us from Messina to Palermo. I didn't get to visit his hometown of Agrigento, but everywhere I went in Sicily, he went with me, always looking for the charming spots - and there are many - where I could bask in the sun and his words. I had to know more about him.
Of course I'm speaking of Luigi Pirandello, winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1934. He wrote over 220 (known) short stories and plays, 11 of which I curled up with in my nifty Dual Language Book entitled "Undice Novelle." It was just some used book I snagged because it was written in Italian with English translations on facing pages. I would cover the English with my train tickets, work my way through the stories, conjugate verbs along the way, and then check the English side to double check my translation. OK, each page takes me like 30 minutes (depending on distractions) but there's something about his writing that makes me want to keep examining the lines, and not just get the mere meaning.
I knew nothing about Signor Pirandello until I opened the book Monday morning, or that Sicily had such a strong literary history - or that I would even care. But I've always been a lover of reading and books, so I'm intrigued to have found a new venue to explore. Next on deck, Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa's Il Gattopardo (The Leopard). I picked up a copy for 5 Euro in a used book store in Palermo, thumbed through it and realized I still need the assistance of a little translation. Yeah, I gave the book a little hug, set it back down, and promised to revisit it - and Sicily - after I've done a little more reading - in both languages. If anyone knows of a dual-language version of Il Gattopardo in existence, or more Pirandello stories, please let me know!
As for my week of going "English Free?" Other than running into some friends late Tuesday in Palermo, brief translations with a gentleman in Taormina on Wednesday, giving an English backpacker directions to a B&B in the Kalsa on Thursday? I did it! Mr. "Bar Guy" at the hotel was the only one who had a hard time because most of the guests were English, but I just kept acting like I didn't know English, and however ungraceful my Italian may be, it worked.
Especially gracious:
The concierges at the hotel who all knew what crazy American girl was up to, and were more than happy to oblige, and politely!
All the waiters, wine bar proprietors, and especially the raggazzi at the cafe where I stood so long eating my brioche stuffed with the most creamy gelato. We chatted while I stuffed my face and my espresso, they decided, would be too cold to drink, so they took it away, made me another one, and chatted with me some more.
The ladies in the shop where I found my sunglasses (1- on sale; 2 - yay I actually NEEDED sunglasses!) were all about chatting, long after my purchase. There was a darling older woman there, who kept asking my name.
"Valerie," I replied.
"Ti chiama?" she kept asking me.
"Si. Valerie. Il mio nome e Valerie. Vale. Val," I tried. No joy.
"No, no, come ti chiama .. tuo nome?" she asked again.
"Valeria."
Bingo. You'd think I'd have learned by now.
We laughed when she tried to say Valerie again and gave up. "Valeria e piu facile," and I understood it was easier for her; kind of how I feel trying to say, "Euro" Eh-ur-oh? Yep, three syllables (three, not two, and NOT Eur-oh, hero) that kick my ass every time, often accompanied by some degree of drool.
And when I got tired of talking (hey, it happens sometimes), I'd find another sweet spot where Luigi would be waiting...
Ahhh - bella Sicilia ...
Of course, I fell even more in love with Italy, traveling, trains (as in European), and Luigi.
I didn't know Luigi was Sicilian, but in my determination to spend the entire week not speaking or hearing English, Luigi was right there with me. He literally enchanted me with stories of Sicilian life, the scenery, people, and events between gazes out the window and drifting off to sleep when it was dark.
NOTE: As charming as Luigi was, however, he was no help on the damned Sudokus, especially the "Trita Cervelli" which translates to "minced brain." Sounds about right, yes?
Oh, it was sheer - yet uncanny - coincidence that we got acquainted on the long train ride through Rome, Naples, along the coast, crossing the tiny bit of the Ionian Sea by ship, the last 3 hours of the train trip taking us from Messina to Palermo. I didn't get to visit his hometown of Agrigento, but everywhere I went in Sicily, he went with me, always looking for the charming spots - and there are many - where I could bask in the sun and his words. I had to know more about him.
Of course I'm speaking of Luigi Pirandello, winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1934. He wrote over 220 (known) short stories and plays, 11 of which I curled up with in my nifty Dual Language Book entitled "Undice Novelle." It was just some used book I snagged because it was written in Italian with English translations on facing pages. I would cover the English with my train tickets, work my way through the stories, conjugate verbs along the way, and then check the English side to double check my translation. OK, each page takes me like 30 minutes (depending on distractions) but there's something about his writing that makes me want to keep examining the lines, and not just get the mere meaning.
I knew nothing about Signor Pirandello until I opened the book Monday morning, or that Sicily had such a strong literary history - or that I would even care. But I've always been a lover of reading and books, so I'm intrigued to have found a new venue to explore. Next on deck, Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa's Il Gattopardo (The Leopard). I picked up a copy for 5 Euro in a used book store in Palermo, thumbed through it and realized I still need the assistance of a little translation. Yeah, I gave the book a little hug, set it back down, and promised to revisit it - and Sicily - after I've done a little more reading - in both languages. If anyone knows of a dual-language version of Il Gattopardo in existence, or more Pirandello stories, please let me know!
As for my week of going "English Free?" Other than running into some friends late Tuesday in Palermo, brief translations with a gentleman in Taormina on Wednesday, giving an English backpacker directions to a B&B in the Kalsa on Thursday? I did it! Mr. "Bar Guy" at the hotel was the only one who had a hard time because most of the guests were English, but I just kept acting like I didn't know English, and however ungraceful my Italian may be, it worked.
Especially gracious:
The concierges at the hotel who all knew what crazy American girl was up to, and were more than happy to oblige, and politely!
All the waiters, wine bar proprietors, and especially the raggazzi at the cafe where I stood so long eating my brioche stuffed with the most creamy gelato. We chatted while I stuffed my face and my espresso, they decided, would be too cold to drink, so they took it away, made me another one, and chatted with me some more.
The ladies in the shop where I found my sunglasses (1- on sale; 2 - yay I actually NEEDED sunglasses!) were all about chatting, long after my purchase. There was a darling older woman there, who kept asking my name.
"Valerie," I replied.
"Ti chiama?" she kept asking me.
"Si. Valerie. Il mio nome e Valerie. Vale. Val," I tried. No joy.
"No, no, come ti chiama .. tuo nome?" she asked again.
"Valeria."
Bingo. You'd think I'd have learned by now.
We laughed when she tried to say Valerie again and gave up. "Valeria e piu facile," and I understood it was easier for her; kind of how I feel trying to say, "Euro" Eh-ur-oh? Yep, three syllables (three, not two, and NOT Eur-oh, hero) that kick my ass every time, often accompanied by some degree of drool.
And when I got tired of talking (hey, it happens sometimes), I'd find another sweet spot where Luigi would be waiting...
Ahhh - bella Sicilia ...
Welcome back.
ReplyDeletePirandello is so intense, so modern
Uno nessuno centomila
cosi e` se vi pare
sei personaggi in cerca di autore
il fu mattia pascal
these are not just titles of his stories or plays, they have become 'modi di dire' in Italian
If you don't find more LP, try another Sicilian: Giovanni Verga. He is quite easy reading. Verga wrote million of stories. His sories are more often then not based on poor farmers and peasant life [ much like Pavese did in Piemonte ]. They all make 'Appalachia' feels like a buzzing cultural center, but it is that background and poverty that lead to the great Italian emigration of the 19th and 20th century. So you may find it interesting as an insight into the birth of the Italo-American community.
As for the Gattopardo: you could watch the film before dealing with the book. It is by Luchino Visconti and it is considered a 'centerpiece' of the Italian cinema.
Thank you, Fiammetta - I will definitely keep an eye out for these works. A Western Literature class at UNLV was the first time I really was able to appreciate how a piece reflected what was going on in the world during the time it was written. Although Florentine, Boccaccio's "Decameron," why/how it was written that turned that class from, "Why am I getting up on Saturday for this class again?" to "I hope there's a quiz today!" and couldn't wait to read more. But then books would just sit on the shelf as life, careers, other priorities took over. I remember the impact at the time, and I'm glad you validated the power that is Pirandello. I'm so fortunate to have time (once finals are over!) to explore these things - either on my porch in Colorado this summer between hikes and yoga - or somewhere else in the world between stuffing my face and wandering the streets - preferably with a glass of wine nearby!
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