“Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one’s lifetime.” — “Innocents Abroad,” 1869 Mark Twain
Sicily is basically a giant volcano. So, be prepared to walk, for walk you shall, even if it almost always seems uphill. Boy, do you walk! There are very few flat features in the village or ANYWHERE beyond the coastline.
But I didn’t mind. In fact, I loved it. With every new summit and turn on my long sojourns through the Sicilian village of Motta D’Affermo, I discovered ancient memories and made new ones. Every edifice told a story of tradition and continuity.
I simply couldn’t take enough photographs of the place. It was like trying to capture time itself. It was good for the mind, body, and soul. It was what the Sicilians live for. They don’t live to work. They work to live. Sicilians say piano, piano, i.e. take life step by step.
One evening I witnessed one of the most spectacular natural events of my life. And I’ve been privileged to see a bunch. I have been to Sicily many times now and have never seen it rain. Well, just around sunset, dark, ominous clouds descended upon the city. I had the good fortune of being at our new-found friend, Ilze’s, balcony when we both knew something special would happen (Ilze is from South Africa now living permanently in Motta and is part of growing ex-pat community there). So, I hustled with my camera to the edge of town where I knew I would have a spectacular view of the storm should it come in over the Mediterranean. Well, sometimes it pays to trust your judgement. There, right in front of me, a true tempest roared all around! The sky flashed huge bolts of light, silhouetting the surrounding mountings and sea below. I had never seen anything like it, and I wondered how many others could say the same.
There were sublime moments, too. One evening behind our place I heard this beautiful music coming from the old (5th century) stone church that they now use as a small community music center. I went quietly down to eavesdrop at the door and saw il maestro instructing a young man on the French horn. On another occasion I witnessed a first-class soprano with piano virtuoso perform opera selections in a recently restored 14th Century palace. It was mesmerizing.
But the place is more than staggering beauty and ancient history. It’s about tradition, people and family – and the fact that they accept you as one of their own.
For example, our patron in Motta is a gentlemen farmer, named Giuseppe Cuva. We can never repay his kindness. He LOVES to show off his farm to just about anyone who might enjoy it. Along with my friend Supes from New City who had joined us with his wife Lillian, he invited us for a tour of the farm. It’s hard to describe the joy this man had in sharing his love for this land. He is a part of it. To stand in the presence of one of his 2,000-year-old olive trees is to stand in awe of something that could have possibly lived that long. Think of the fact that it has been there to witness the rise and fall of the Roman Empire! Yes, this is traveling.
As if that were not enough, there are the ancient traditions that are so much a part of Sicilian life. It’s also festival time now and Motta certainly has its share. We witnessed 3 in one week, each as grand as the other! The town’s devotion to their patron saints is nothing short of extraordinary. The celebrations begin early and last well into the night. The highlight of each ceremony is witnessing the dedication of the litter bearers upon whose shoulders an icon of each saint is carried in honor up virtually each hill of that ancient town. The band, composed of locals and ex-pats who return each year to help continue the tradition, follows them playing their hearts out every step of the way. This is a 500-year-old tradition that continues here and is often repeated by Italian Americans in our own area. It is yet another privilege to behold. The town has about 600 hundred residents left but I could assure you that virtually every one of them joined the festivities. At one point I remarked to Amanda, wondering out-loud just how many Americans have ever actually witnessed these spectacles.
Of course I could continue writing about the incredible weather, sunrises, and sunsets which were in ample supply. But this place – Sicily – is so much more. It’s the people. The people who have lived here for generations, often against all odds. To experience the REAL Sicily is not for the timid. But if you’re willing to make the effort to see and experience the real place it will become a part of your soul. You will experience what they defiantly call “la Dolce Vita”, i.e. The Sweet Life.
After our stay, it was time to make the harrowing drive back to Palermo. And, as previously described, it was just about as terrifying going back as coming. But then we stayed at very lovely hotel in a town known as Cinisi that was very close to the airport, easing our return flight home. We loved it. In the end, it was all VERY Sicilian, i.e. the TOTAL experience of being a traveler and NOT a tourist.
EPILOGUE: For me, one of the best parts of traveling is going home to a place that I love, Nyack, NY. Not only one of the best towns in America, but the whole world.
Frank LoBuono is a Nyack Resident, photographer, blogger and retired CBS News journalist.
