Ortisei - the Coffin Lift

Yesterday's thrills are today's yawns. To get the adrenalin pumping today, we had to venture further up the big mountain... to face the ultimate challenge... the Coffin Lift.

The Coffin Lift is so named... not because of its accident record... but because the lift compartment is shaped like a coffin. I suspect the design either came out of the USSR or China (circa 1950). The internal space of the coffin is just about right for a double internment... if two people want to be buried in the same coffin... not for me... I want my personal space for when they lay me down for eternity. So there is enough room for two people to stand up... it starts to swing a bit if someone changes his/her weight from one foot to the other... we figured it was not a good idea to lean on the door... I found most comfort putting my hand out the window and securing my position by holding onto the roof. The advantages of the design are primarily in wind management... the wind can be whistling past but the coffin doesn't swing very much because it is so small. Also, the wire pulling it along, can be as thin as string... because the coffins weigh so little.

Getting on and off the coffin can be a bit tricky. Unlike other chairlifts, the coffin doesn't slow down at the points of entry and exit... and for reasons unexplained, the passengers make a rear entry into the coffin. So, you let the coffin go past you... then you run like the clappers to catch up... then jump on board. That's OK for the first passenger to board. The second passenger has a higher degree of difficulty... he/she starts their run only after the first passenger has boarded... and has to make the dash knowing that either the coffin is taking off the ground... or worse for the return journey, is about to leap over the precipice into the void. The poor old attendant has an even higher degree of difficulty. Once the second passenger is on board, the attendant has to dash after the coffin... close the door and lock the latch. Getting off the coffin needs to be thought through. On both my exits, I made the mistake of facing the exit door. Of course, being smarter than me, you would realise the safer mode of exit is to step out backwards... nobody told us that... on both occasions, I found myself having to run backwards to retain balance.

The big attraction motivating you to get onto the coffin is the chance to reach Furcela Sassolungo Langkofel Scharte (2681 metres)... a saddle in the mountain range just next to the peak that reaches 3181 metres. The views are breathtaking in all directions... and the coffin lifts you up 530 metres... without any sweat. The coffin passed over a dozen trekkers slogging up a trail through lose scree... I admired their tenacity.

Ortisei - Mountain Mania

Guys, you have to help me out here. I'm having some sort of crisis of nationalistic wavering. Our 'wide brown land' is our birthright... and is not to be traded... not even compared... with other vistas. We should not have our emotions jolted by majestic mountain beauty... cultured... manicured... photo-shopped scenery. But confession is good for the soul... in a moment of weakness, I said to Joye, " I'm having difficulty thinking of an Australian location that can match the landscape beauty on show today." As soon as these words passed my lips, I wanted to take them back... a terrible mistake... taramount to applauding Anderson when he gets Watson LBW. I gave myself an 'uppercut' and a 'Chinese burn' and will wash my mouth out with soap before going to bed. My fear is that I may repeat the offence... because the mountains really are beautiful... in a sissy, fairytale sort of way... I mean... not like our blue horizons and jewel seas... 'beauty and terror' is what I like. 

In my own defence, I want you to put yourself in my position. Without breaking breath, we were carried along a moving walkway... onto a chairlift... then onto a cable trolley... transporting us 4 klms... and lifting us 1,300 metres in altitude. It's easy to get impressed by the infrastructure at this (out of season) ski resort. Imagine you are standing in a meadow iridescent with yellows, reds, whites and blues of wild flowers. The meadow fell gently away to the village of St Christina... 1,000 metres below. To your left your gaze is captured by the majestic peaks of Gran Olda 300 metres above you. As you look around the adjoining range of mountains, you see the rugged 300 metres drop of the Furcela Forces De Steles range into the valley. The cliff face shows off the full range of colours of the calcitrean stone that sparkles in the morning sunshine. At the tree line, the conifers provide a rich dark green that contrasts with the golden meadow. You can gaze in any direction and see snow-peaked mountains on the horizon.

Weekender huts are sprinkled through the meadow... most of them occupied... most of the occupants out mowing their pasture... raking it up and providing the grass to the farmer with agistment rights to the land. Cows and horses graze contentedly... preferring to stay close to the gurgling mountain streams.

The sun shines down on you... coffee consumed a few minutes ago leaves you feeling a sense of well being.

Now I know I shouldn't have made comparisons with Australian beauty... I plead guilty as charged. All I ask is that before being too critical, you take into account the mitigating circumstances.

Ortisei - Threatening Weather + Rugged Mountains

Today was our rest day... Joye's constitution decided that... as well, it was raining and the wind was blowing... not nice weather for walking. So we looked for an activity that involved riding chairlifts that offered protection from the weather. Ortisei is a major ski centre... and the infrastructure is impressive. We stepped out of our apartment... down a short flight of steps... into the Tunnel La Curta that offered 200 metres of moving stairway... where a chairlift took us 2.3 klms... and lifted us up 400 metres... we then changed into a cable trolley to travel a further 1.7 klms and up another 900 metres. Without raising a sweat... staying warm and dry... here we were at the top of a mountain range... quite close to some impressive mountain peaks. 

The plan was to check Joye's state of health... and the weather... walk half a kilometre to another chairlift that would take us to the neighbouring towns... have lunch... and catch a bus back to Ortisei... not a bad plan. However, during our journey up, the weather had deteriorated... with strong winds and squalling showers. We stopped at the restaurant at the cable trolley terminal (Seceda) for shelter... and a hot bowl of soup. Joye fell asleep while waiting for the soup... so the planned extensions to the trip were quickly shelved. We waited for the weather to improve before tackling the return journey. 

The stormy clouds racing across the mountain peaks gave us good photo opportunities. I was able to race outside the restaurant and grab a few snapshots during breaks in the showers. We felt sympathy for trekkers who had been caught on the track with bad weather... a recreational hazard. 

The weather looked to be clearing... so we jumped on board the cable trolley for the trip down. When we changed onto the chairlift for the final leg, we noted that the wind had again picked up. When we were halfway down the cable car started swaying wildly... and the operator stopped progression. We sat there for five minutes (seemed longer) swaying in the breeze 70 metres above the ground. The wind eased off a little... the operator started progression and we watched the approaching terminal as if it was the promised land. Is it just us... or do you have 'iffy' experiences on chairlifts. 

Walking Paths - Patagonia or Val Gardena - which are best

Is walking in the Dolomites (Val Gardena) up to the standard of grandeur set by Patagonia? Perhaps it is! While Patagonia offers rugged beauty... that always seemed to require 5 hours of slogging up a mountain trail to glimpse the wonder... Val Gardena provides the chairlift... the grass fields have been mowed... the horses and cows are so used to people, they practically walk up to you asking to be photographed... the mountains are neatly arranged in a circle... so that spectacular shots are provided for every photographer even those too tired to turn around. 

Both offer dramatic landscapes. We need the help of geologists and climatologists to help compare Patagonia and Dolomites. 

Clearly, Patagonia has experienced a couple of recent glacial periods... the valleys have dramatic vertical walls sheared off by lazy glaciers. There are lots of lakes... and the southern mountain ranges have formed large ice fields that offer the tourist added interest. 

The Dolomites look to be roughly of the same age (give or take a few million years)... but have been eroded by water... not glaciers. There are no dramatic cliffs at the base of the valleys... the ragged peaks show characteristics of ice erosion... but no glacial characteristics... no lakes... no moraines blocking the valley. 

Today, we had technology doing the hard yards for us... we used three chairlifts to get us to our destination (Sassoplatto... in Val Gardena... 2,969 metres of altitude)... in aggregate, saving us over 3 klms of climbing (lots of ups and downs)... not that we minded... we still had 1 klm of climbing to do without assistance. Without the chairlifts, ordinary hikers (like us) could not have made the destination. 

The plateau area over which we walked was vivid green... a result of late summer pastures... frequent moving... and raking the cut grass off the pasture. Now Patagonia did not offer such manicured landscape. The Val Gardena hillsides were dotted with weekender huts... most of which were in use. The consequence of technology breaking the hard work... picturesque landscapes and dramatic mountain peaks....  is that you are going to share the track with many other people... no solitary moments that gave extra 'soul' to the Patagonia experience. On the way back, we buddied up with 5 Japanese ladies (middle aged) who surprised us with their fitness and tenacity. The temperature was over 30° and the ladies were determined to avoid any rays of sunshine striking their skin... long sleeve cardigans... some had face masks (to avoid breathing influenza viruses floating in the mountain air)... and a couple had hoods covering their heads. At the start of a 500 metres climb, Joye and I skipped ahead of their group... not expecting them to keep up. But each time we stopped to have a 'breather' they would wave and bow as they walked past us to take the lead. We were in no mood to race their group... we slowed down... they sped up... and arrived in Ortisei 10 minutes before us... never underestimate the athletic stamina of small middle-aged ladies. 

This has been a great start to walking the Dolomites... I hope our joints and energy can last the distance. 

Dolomites - View from Window

We are staying at Ortisei in the Val Gardena region of the Dolomites. Jan showed us spectacular photos when she and Col visited... and that was recommendation enough to have us book a week's stay. Jan's photos included villages close by... and we plan to check them all. Driving up from Verona this morning, we were concerned that the haze (euphemism for pollution) would spoil the scenery. As we climbed higher and were closer to the mountains... visibly seemed to improve... and this evening we have excellent views. We are 150 metres up from the valley... Joye was at risk of losing 'screen time' because of the effort required to get to-and-from the coffee shop. However, the landlord pointed to a 3-story escalator located next door that solved the problem... Joye then claimed extra 'screen time'.

It is difficult to believe that Sicily and the Dolomites belong to the same nation. This village is packed with German tourists... and the shopkeepers look more German than Italian. Road etiquettes are poles apart... drivers wait patiently for gaps in the traffic... parking fits within the square... bicycles outnumber motorbikes... shops are full of people buying stuff... green and clean abound. Now, we loved Sicily... and expect it to be a highlight of our trip... but Ortisei is entirely different. The place is new... it seems to be designed and built for tourists... for us!

The string of 35° days looks like breaking... there is a chance of showers in the next two days... the accuracy of weathermen leaves us optimistic that our fantastic run of good weather will continue.

Verona, Verona where fore art thou Verona!

Everyone knows that Juliet is not an historic character... she was not a 'real' person... she is a figment... a figment of William Shakespeare's imagination. It's no secret... Shakespeare did not deny or disguise this fact... she is simply a concoction of words to entertain the miserable serfs seeking an imaginary escape from cold damp London in 1597 into exotic far off shores where clean and pure virgins sparkle in the evening moonlight. Everyone knows that.

Nonetheless, Verona makes a financial 'killing'... trading on misrepresentation... the biggest draw card in town is a balcony where the fictitious theatrical character (Juliet) did not live... and the bustling crowd (mostly teenage girls)... show born-again euphoria faces that would have pleased Billy Graham... for them, this was a religious experience.

There are two acts of devotion expected of the believers. One of these acts makes some sense... the other is bewildering. A wall decorated with reinforced steal wire (as used by concreters) has been erected so that lovers can symbolically place a lock around a piece of wire... that is supposed to represent the eternal nature of their love for each other... crazy, but it makes some sense... given the literary love existing between Romeo and Juliet. (We can ignore the fact that once a month a council worker drags away the reinforcing wire full of locks and replaces it with an empty sheet of wiring... how permanent is that?)

The second devotional act is weird. The teenage girls have their photos taken (usually mother takes the photo) while placing their hand on the breast of a statue of a young girl (presumably Juliet)... probably to bring good luck with matters of the heart. The statue is made of bronze... so constant hand rubbing makes the statue's breast shine in the sunlight. If the young men were doing the breast rubbing... the activity would make more sense. I tended to agree with a comment I heard from a young Australian guy who was leaving the scene... "This is a load of old crap".

But the part that confuses me... why are the teenage girls paying homage to the fictitious theatrical character who made such a mess of managing her emotions, she chose to do herself in! Romeo's fictitious house is a couple of blocks around the corner. Wouldn't it make more sense to have the young girls idolised him... he had so much appeal that made girls do crazy things... although he didn't manage things very well either.

So much for Verona... a great seat of Roman power... a great tourist destination.

Monreale - Mosaics and Coloured Marble

There are two Duomos in the Palermo area that are built in the 12th century... commissioned by King Roger II ... a herring eating Norman who is supposed to be ignorant of all things artistic... but somehow brought together a team of artisans who blended aspects of Norman and Arabian art with exquisite displays of mosaics and coloured marble. The time period precedes the mini-iceage... European and the Ottoman empires were prosperous... trade flowed more freely... less GDP was allocated to defence and more to the arts.

The church in Palermo (Palatine Chapel) was probably built first... it is much smaller... exquisite... better maintained because it is relatively small... with less use of detailed mosaics and more use of colour variations in marble...the pinks, salmons, reds... to highlight picture borders, floors and cornices. Imagine the patience and skills required to get multiple cuts of the same colour variations to build the larger mosaic pieces in a picture frame. Columns of marble showed careful selection of colour variation that added to the richness of the interior. The frescoes on the walls and ceilings were vivid in colour... some special maintenance treatment must have been applied. The altar used pure white marble... intricately carved... that seemed inconsistent with the luxuriant use of colour elsewhere in the church. Invariably, when passing the donation box after viewing a cathedral, I walk straight past... on the basis that the church has ripped off my ancestors sufficiently to pay for the building of cathedrals... and instead give some coins to the gypsy ladies begging at the door. When exiting this church... I still could not bring myself to make a donation to the Church... but asked Joye to put a little something into the box... the visual splendour inside was inspiring!

The Duomo at Monreale reflected a later period... again built by the Norman (self-annointed) king... was built to be impressive... both in scale and decoration. Pictures painted with tiny ceramic mosaics covering the walls and ceiling. No doubt, each scene carried its own specially crafted message to the faithful. When you try to appreciate the skills and patience needed to complete this work of art your mind grinds to a halt. The ceramic pieces still retained their vibrant colours... this church makes St Peter's Basilica look drab in comparison. Another feature is the height and strength of the marble columns. The polish on the marble made the columns appear monolithic... to get one marble in one piece so long and so tall... must have taken considerable searching and considerable skill in the cutting. Alongside the Duomo are the Cloisters... in original condition... again reflecting the artistic genius of the architects and builders. Subtle use of mosaics to decorate columns along the cloister's walkways was a celebration of the arts... and would not pass the cost/benefit analysis of modern building disciplines.

If you are touring Italy... and like a good church... forget about St Peter's Basilica and the hours of queuing... and the extortionate entry prices. Do yourself a treat and come to Palermo and visit two of the best churches ever built... for free... but you may weaken (like me) and make a contribution to the donation box.

Palermo - A Stylish Wedding

We were filling in time. Our ferry from Palermo to Genoa wasn't scheduled to leave for another 8 hours... we had ticked most of the boxes for Palermo... it was 35° out on the street... and the Duomo was quiet and cool. The cathedral was dressed with a dazzling display of white lilies... they were everywhere... end of pews... steps to the altar ... in the side chapels... and featured in the altar decor. With such a big investment in flowers in the most prestigious church in Palermo, we thought an 'A' list wedding was about to take place... given the Palermo setting, we wondered if it would attract men wearing shiny black suits with bulges under armpits to accommodate gun holsters.

The guests shuffled in... and it became quickly evident this was a 'B' list wedding. Guests had no minders... ladies in platform shoes with stilleto heels were holding onto the pew ends to assist their balance... not a gun holster in sight... the use of holy water and crossing oneself showed no practised piousness ... clearly not 'A' list style.

The bridal party assembled... the two flower girls intent on kicking the page boys. The large number of groomsmen assembled with lots of cheek kissing each other and laughing too much at their own jokes... most of them keeping their sunglasses resting on their eyebrows... ready for a quick exit back out in the sun for a quick cigarette. You guessed it, a couple of them kept their sunnies in operational position during the service.

The organ struck up a prelude to the bridal march... the trickle of guests turned into a flood.. not much talking...the groom accompanying his mother walked down the aisle with suitable 'oo's and arr's' from the guests... a more rapturous greeting than afforded the bride and her father... lights were turned on. The first of the bridesmaids appeared... the groomsmen realised they were supposed to be at the front of the church... and ran down the side aisle to take up their position... perhaps one more rehearsal would not have gone astray. One, two three... there were seven bridesmaids... no wonder the bride received fatigued applause upon her entrance. Interestingly, the church official tied a white ribbon across the aisle blocking the progress of father and bride... the bride untying the ribbon may be a part of the marriage ritual in these parts.

The priest launched into his service... the congregation did not seem all that interested in what the priest had to say... children wandered around and talked with each other... the matrons waved to their friends across the aisle... some men stood up, took their packet of cigarettes from their pockets and wandered towards the church door. The priest... seeking greater involvement from the congregation... wandered down the aisle throwing blessings to the people... how would Tony describe it... throwing an odorless invisible product to no one. Bible readings were given by girlfriends of the bride... but the priest had the only microphone that worked... so the congregation couldn't hear... not that they seemed to mind.

We left at the time when marriage certificates were being signed. Walking out into the scorching sun... we thought we had seen a sight that should be on the agenda of every tourist in Palermo.

Italy - Why place villages on top of Mountains

Last evening we took a cable car to the mountain village of Erace. The cable car travelled 3 klms and rose some 800 metres offering spectacular views over Trapani. Often, Erace is in the clouds... we were lucky to see the view through the (usual) thick haze. Now, the town prospers from tourists... but little imagination is needed to see this town in medieval times... in the middle of winter... snowed in... starving after poor harvests in the preceding summer... running out of wood for fuel... suffering a medical epidemic of one sort or another. Why did the good citizens of Erace pay a high price to live in such a difficult (but beautiful) place?

Defence... right?... they wanted a good defence for their town during a period of incessant regional conflicts! That's the explanation I have accepted up until now. My ride on the cable car has lead me to discount that theory. On the way to the top, our cable car passed over any number of rocky crags well suited for good defence of a village... providing better water catchment... providing better agricultural land... better wood supply... and importantly, not isolating the village. Why add another 600 metres of leg-numbing labour to get the better address?

The answer probably has some connection to malaria. The Roman empire caused population movement... and with population movement came malaria into Italy. The Romans called the disease the "bad air" disease... because it was caught in swampy smelly areas (where mosquitoes like to breed)... and the Roman word for 'bad air' happens to be 'mal'aria'. Malaria was a big killer in Italy... right up to the 19th century. The general rule of thumb has been that it infected 10% of the population and killed each year some 0.5% of Italians. Malaria was a bigger killer than war... but still well behind malnutrition.

Why did "bad air" disease cause people to build towns right on top of big hills? Mosquitoes need pools of water to breed. There are fewer pools on mountain sides than on the flood plains. Mosquitoes can fly... but only relatively small distances... and they don't cope with wind all that well. Expanding their breeding territories up the mountain side becomes a big problem if pools of water are separated by relatively large distances and wind is present. Medieval Italians would have identified that "bad air" afflicts very few people who live in mountain villages. They probably did their sums and figured that they would lose fewer citizens from starvation and hypothermia than they would lose to "bad air" disease.

Is there any supportive evidence for this theory? Today, we visited Segesta... a Greek colony 20 klms inland and surrounded by large mountains... but the Greeks chose to build on a modest knoll that offered good defensive geography. They colonised without the worry of "bad air" disease. In their time malaria was still confined to Africa. They could concentrate their efforts on building beautiful temples.

Selinunte - When are too many Temples not Enough

Selinunte lies west of Agrigento... about 100 klms around the coast. While both Greek colonies have much in common... the main difference was that Selinunte is closer to the Cartheginian stronghold at Palermo... and chose to work in partnership with those 'no good' temple wrecking terrorists. The site at Selinunte doesn't offer good defence... another reason for cosying up to the bad guys. We weren't able to get a guide to explain this site... and the notices and literature weren't very helpful. So, we have lots of unanswered questions regarding Selinunte .

We did manage to sort out a few issues for ourselves.

When are too many Temples not enough? The Selinunte Greeks were most pious. At the Selinunte site, the major temples labelled E, F and G were so close that Matt could throw a cricket ball over the lot of them. The oldest temple had dimensions of 110 meters by 5 metres ... funny shaped building... supported by massive columns... 16 metres high... with a diameter of 3.4 metres... I have not seen bigger. The stones were hauled 9 kms from the quarry to the site. The project was so big they didn't complete the construction. The stone pieces were too large for the scavengers to steal... so they remain where the last earth quake tossed them. Next to this gigantic pile of rubble lies a much smaller pile... an early temple that was completed... intensely picked over by scavengers. The temple that catches the eye is younger... but still dates back to the C5th BC... dedicated to Hera. There was no shortage of temples away from the prime temple arena. They even had a temple to pomegranates stuck way out the back... outside the city walls.

When is a site too large? Clearly, when the electric road train runs out of battery getting from one end of the site to the other... the site is too big. We had a dozen people riding in our road train. On one steep sandy slope, the vehicle crawled to a halt. The driver asked the men to step off and give him a push to the top of the hill. Selinunte covers 110 Hectares... enough to accommodate 80,000 people. The Acropolis section fired the imagination. The geography of the site didn't provide good protection... so the military built very clever gateways into the Acropolis to maintain security. The remaining skeleton of the area shows the roads and temples and entrances to bigger buildings. Clearly, there was a professional administration function housed in the Acropolis.

When is replication a suitable treatment for a site? UNESCO must be tempted to show off some of the grandeur on offer at Selinunte ... the defensive structures are very clever... the old temples have a huge amount of stone lying around... just waiting to be piled one on top of the other. A few million of EU money would spark up the site no end. Today, visitors are allowed to climb over stones that elsewhere have 24/7 armed security guards.

Dear reader... I promise not to harangue you with future blogs on Greek ruins... we leave Sicily in a couple of days... heading for northern Italy... The Dolomites... well beyond the sphere of Greek influence.

Gibilmanna - Dining is a Total Experience

You can't experience Italy/Sicily without coming to grips with food. It seems to be the activity that brings the family together. I have previously criticised the narrow base on which Italian cuisine is built... and have experienced the intricate delights that the narrow base nonetheless delivers. But there is more to Italian food than the menu and the skills of the chef... dining in Italy is a total experience... exciting all of the senses. 

The multidimensional effect of dining was bought home last night. For the last two weeks, Joye and I have been staying with Nathan and Elizabeth and their three boys... aged 9, 7 and 4. Last night was the last occasion to share an evening meal together... before Nathan and Elizabeth head back to work... Sydney. We chose a restaurant in the mountains above Cefalu... close to the villa we hired for the last week. The restaurant offered authentic Sicilian cuisine... quiet forest environment... cool mountain air... and menus priced at one-third that charged by the restaurants down on the coast. I vigorously supported the choice of restaurant... trying hard not to show my enthusiasm for the economical prices on the menu (that we had observed on our previous two visits).  

Upon our arrival, we were met by the proprietor who shook our hands in welcome... when you dine with three boys as vigorous as our lot, you tend to get remembered. We were also welcomed by Angela... a sweet 18 year old waitress who had served us on the previous occasions. She remembered Oscar... the youngest of the three boys. "Where is Oscar", she said looking around behind his mum's legs. "Oh, there you are, you sweet boy." Now, young Oscar is into establishing his reputation as a 'man's man'... he's into slaying dragons... doesn't mind a bit of pirating activity... and wants to be first in line to defend the world in the event of alien invasion. He thinks there is more to be done in building his manly persona... and he dare not risk his reputation by being associated with girlfriends and other mushy stuff. So, Angela singling him out for a special welcome rang some alarm bells. He circumnavigated his mother's legs to ensure Angela did not get close enough to touch him... and of course, he hid his face in mum's dress... hoping that the welcome was not noticed by anyone. 

No chance! His two elder brothers know every one of his vulnerable spots. After sitting at the table, it took only a fraction of a second before the eldest brother observed, "I think Angela likes you." This opening parry is followed up with a body blow. The middle brother innocently asked, "Oscar, do you think she is nice?" Oscar's defence was to launch an attack on the integrity of the two interrogators. He called them "nerds"... told them they smell... predicted that life will find them out to be' losers'... increasing the intensity until dad calls 'time out'. 

The orders were taken and served by waitresses other than Angela... much to Oscar's relief. However, near the end of the meal, a look of terror passed Oscar's face. I followed his gaze and saw Angela approaching the table. Suddenly, Oscar jumped from his chair and dived under  the table. A cat that had been scavenging morsels falling from the kids plate screeched and jumped clear of the table... stopped to figure out what had happened... gave a dismissive twitch of its tail... and moved its foraging field to the table next door. Angela had observed the evasive action... approached our table... lifted the cloth and said," Hello Oscar ". Oscar pleaded in a voice barely audible," I'm not here... I'm not here. "

Our drama had attracted attention from the rest of the restaurant... and ripples of laughter could now be heard. Angela realised the stress her presence was causing Oscar... God forbid... news may leak out that a girl liked Oscar. In twenty years from now, Oscar will be jumping on top of restaurant tables to attract the attention of passing girls. It was a privilege to have seen a reverse circumstance... something to save up for the 21st birthday celebrations. 

Cefalu - Another Hill Fort

Cefalu has not played a dramatic role in the history of Sicily. It didn't get much of a mention in Greek reports. There was a small Greek town... friendly relations with the local indigenous tribes. The Greeks called the town Cefalu which means 'head' (but it's all Greek to me). There is a dramatic boulder... 350 metres high... that appears to be in the shape of a human head. The Romans did not have big plans for Cefalu... it remained a sleepy seaside town. The Romans built a modest fort on the lower regions of the head... and included some garrison buildings.

After the Romans pulled out of Sicily, the locals were harassed by a riff-raff of pirates and small regional armies. Cefalu had to take its defence more seriously. They built a second wall further up the boulder... and a sizeable castle complex at the top. Literature of the time claimed that the defences of Cefalu were as good as any town... but it excelled in its organising of food supplies to support town citizens in the event of a siege.

Joye, Elizabeth and I... under the direction of our team leader... Jasper... set out this morning to tackle the 'head'. As usual, it was uncomfortably hot... luckily, the walking was not too demanding... but it took an hour of solid climbing to reach the top. The view was reward enough for the effort of the climb. Looking at the walls and buildings at the top... Jasper and I agreed that the slaves who hauled the stone up the slope would not need to pay gym fees. They would have had a tough life.

The experience of the climb reinforced the importance of 'defense' in the history of Sicily. Strong external rule often led to greater prosperity compared to independence... but it meant spending half your time fighting your neighbours.

Which is the Real Sicily?

Which is the real Sicily?

To visit the Valley of the Temples, we stayed a couple of nights in Agrigento... we thought it was going to be Agrigento... but turned out to be 3 kms outside Favara... some 15 kms from Agrigento. Favara has missed out on the tourist boom that has kept Agrigento maintained... kerbed and guttered... with citizens prosperous enough to buy a tin of paint ever decade. The town of Favara looks third-world... it has the narrow steep streets of medieval towns... but with lots of dust and lots of rubbish littered beside the road. The citizens appear friendly and happy... just poor... and untidy.

Yesterday, we moved to the mountains at the back of Cefalu... on the north coast. Our villa was initially constructed in the 15th century... no doubt with so many renovations that little of the original structure remains visible. One feature that I've asked Joye to include in the next renovation of our Sydney home... is the provision of a chapel in the top floor of the building... here, the chapel adjoins all the bedrooms. This is most convenient... just imagine having a sleepless night... your last cup of coffee for the day may have been too strong... what better time to nip out into an adjoining room and go through your rosary beads... or recite some verses of the Koran... or chant a few Hari Krishna mantras. 

Our Landlady said that going back through all available records... the property had been retained by her husband's family right from the 15th century. The size of the block of land connected to the house we are in, appears  to be about 2 hectares... surrounded by mountain forests. The place is isolated... 20 minutes drive up the mountain from Cefalu... and when that road just about runs out, take a right turn and go another 500 metres... just to make sure no one interrupts you. Peace, space, green and tidy... this place is everything that Favara is not. Why do people here pick up their rubbish... while the lovely citizens of Favara choose to litter at every opportunity.

Which is the real Italy... the litterer... or the fastidious tidy-upperer? For the sake of the future of the Italian tourist industry... I hope the tidy-upperer wins out. (You have, no doubt, figured out that the Cefalu property demands a higher rent.)

No fear of Italian Wheat Industry

Today, we drove from Catania down to Agrigento... about 200 klms of easy driving through the wheat district of Sicily. Sicily has played a strategic role as the bread-bowl for both Greece and Rome... but from what I could see, Australian producers need not lie awake at night worrying about the size of the Italian crop. It didn't have the mass or the productivity to worry our mob.

The biggest paddock I could see looked less than 500 hectares. Most of the paddocks were on hillsides... some quite steep... not the terrain for running a large combined harvester. The crop had been harvested a few weeks ago... and farmers were now baling the stubble. The areas were picturesque... but there were not many signs of prosperity... the homesteads looked modest, the farm machinery looked like model released a decade ago.

To remain viable, the farmers may have been cropping a specialised strain of wheat... perhaps (more likely)... the farmers were enjoying EU subsidies.

Of equal interest to the farmland was the road over which we travelled. Much of the road was raised above a broad valley floor... sitting on stilts some 15 metres above the land. Joye and I tried to run some numbers that justified adopting such an expensive engineering solution to problems that were not apparent. Surely the solution of laying down a traditional four lane highway at ground level would be more effective. Then again, perhaps far less land is needed for a raised roadway... perhaps farmers would sell rights to use their land at a lesser price if their farm was not interrupted by a road on the land... so they could graze their animals... plough their fields... drive home for lunch... without the impermeable barrier of a highway sitting on ground across their farm.

We wondered if the advantages of uniform production worked in favour of a raised roadway. While some variation would be needed in the construction of the footings for the road, the surface was of a uniform nature. The factory churning out the elevated road surface would not need too much innovation in construction.

We wondered if time was of the essence. Perhaps the negotiations with local councils and landowners was less complicated when selling the raised road solution.

But the most likely explanation was based on a more sinister view of the world. Agrigento has a reputation of having been a stronghold of mafia influence. Perhaps, part of the explanation for the raised roadway is that it was a 'special project' that was designed and built on a cost-benefit analysis that defied the standard arithmetic constraining infrastructure works in other parts of the world.

Forget UNESCO Sites - We just ticked off one of the Seven Wonders of the World

We spent the morning at the Valley of the Temples at Agrigento. Agrigento was the cultural centre of Greek civilisation on Sicily. Syracuse was larger... a much more important base both militarily and commercially... but if you are the art lover... monument builder... poet and artist... Agrigento was the place for you. Even before creating a colony, the Greeks were visiting Agrigento (or whatever name they called it - Agragas, I think)... trading and getting along very well with the indigenous tribe... Sicani. The two groups even built a couple of small temples... that both (different) religious groups used... just as a demonstration of good faith.

Around 582 BC, the Greeks moved in and established a colony. They had a couple of decades to sort out a town plan... build reasonable defences for the city.... and importantly... secure a water supply. They did not enslave the local tribes... so grand buildings were few and far between. The one that did make the top seven in antiquity was the Temple of Zeus ... definitely on Socrates' Grand Tour! Much later, the Cartheginians racked the Temple... Cartheginians have a lot to answer for around Agrigento... they were the al Queda of its day... having a culture of destruction with no positive contribution to make.

Construction in the Valley of the Temples gained momentum in the 6th century BC. Who better to provide the slave labour than those pesty Cartheginians. They had a colony on the other side of the island... where Palermo is today. Our hero... Theron had learned a few tricks from his father... the tyrant Phalarus. One trick I'm sure you will find amusing... to persuade opponents to change their minds, Dad would put them in the belly of a statue shaped as a dog... made of bronze... light a fire under the belly of the statue... and see how long it took for the opponent to change his/her mind... there... I thought you would be amused. Young Theron decided to teach the Cartheginians a lesson... routed the enemy quite easily... collected 2,500 slaves and a mountain of gold... and made it home in time for tea.

Now Theron had the labour and the money to tackle some serious temple building. He had a unique stage on which to build his contribution to history. He focused his efforts on the Temple of Juno. He must have imported architects from Athens and they would have been the best. His Doric columns were the envy of the world... he used relatively soft stone... but painted the surface with a preservative that reduced erosion. He chose the most prestigious spot on the promontory... and did a marvellous job. Some 70 years after completion, the Cartheginians racked the city once more... burned the wooden roof of the temple that caused the pillars to fall... total destruction. The Temple was rebuilt shortly thereafter... it has been destroyed and rebuilt a few times... but still looks great today.

The most complete of the Temples is dedicated to Concord... built around 450 BC. This remarkable building has been used by succeeding civilisations... including the Christians... who did a sensitive job of preserving the exterior while reinforcing the strength of the buildings.

There are other temples of note... but one has an interesting story... we are talking about the temple to the brothers Castor and Pollux... one was a God... the other a mortal. Eventually, the mortal died. .. and his brother god went to Zeus (the head god) and pleaded to let his brother live... "Can't be done", said Zeus , "but you can died now and let your mortal brother live". The god brother saw some downside in this arrangement and tried to negotiate a better deal. "OK", said Zeus , "You can take turns at being alive and dead. Caster, you can be day... and Pollux, you can be night." And that is how we got day and night... believe it or not.

Agrigento looks back on two additional periods of great prosperity... the period of Arabic rule and the period of Norman rule. The Arabs brought lots of great new crops (citrus, wheat varieties - some specialised for pasta production... and eventually coffee)... and taught the locals the techniques of irrigation. Prosperity followed... Arabic influence in all types of culture (building, cooking, art, etc) followed. The Normans also rated a favourable mention. They came to convert... not to conquer. The period of their reign was peaceful... the population got on with life... and had a good time. This view of the Normans is interesting... in England, I had the impression that they were good at building square castles... but not much else.

All in all... an interesting day.

Italian Medieval Tax Rate

Things worked differently in medieval Italy. Peasants did not fill out a tax form... did not write cheques to the government... did not lobby government for reductions in tax rates. Instead, they worked for the local gov'na for no pay... in exchange for being allowed to use a house on the estate and to use a plot of ground for personal production... run a cow... grow some veggies.

Today, the rates of tax in medieval periods were a point of discussion when we visited the ancient fort at Paterno . The fort was an observation post with a clear view of three broad fertile valleys that converged at Paterno... an ideal location for a gov'na to exercise power over a large area. The tower that we saw was a renovated ruin from (I'm guessing) Norman times. What portion of production from Paterno was allocated to defence? Looking at all the hilltop villages... castles... forts... and walled cities... an estimate of 25 % of productive effort being allocated to defence doesn't seem an unreasonable amount .

Walking down from the fort into the town we passed four churches... one looked sufficiently grand to be called a cathedral (duomo). Why have four large churches crammed into a couple of town blocks? How much art do you need to cram into each church to show your devotion to your religion? These aren't new questions... Martin Luther used to worry about similar issues. What seems clear is that the church was not short of wealth... no doubt donated by the gov'na and the parishioners... arguably another form of taxation. When you look at the amount and quality of buildings allocated for religious purposes... again, an estimate of 25% of total production doesn't seem too much.

Without claiming any accuracy... one-half of all production was taken out of the ecosystem before one mouth was fed... one baby kept warm... one child taught to learn. No wonder the medieval period dragged on for so long with living standards improving only in baby steps. Imagine how unbearable such a taxation regime would be for us today. Now, the church's take of GDP is almost negligible... our expenditure on defence is typically less than 10% of GDP. That leaves a bit more for teachers, nurses and policemen on the beat (to borrow a phrase from Bob Carr).

Italian Food - the Philistine's View

Some 'foody' friends have said that Italian Food is multidimensional... comments stating lack of variability is more a reflection on the commentator than the state of Italian cuisine. Last night we were taken to a Catania restaurant to open my mind to the range of gastronomic delights that can be presented on the Sicilian table. We stood in Catania's piazza surrounded by the tourist restaurants that usually benefit from our trade... but not tonight. The iPad was pulled from the bag... and a thorough search conducted of Catania restaurants. Eventually, the prize revealed itself... a small family restaurants located two blocks away from the piazza... then turn up a small side street... a couple of small umbrellas and tables on the sidewalk... sharing space with the passing traffic... all signs of authenticity looked good.

We stepped inside to another world. Immediately, the aroma said that you were in for a treat. To get to our table, we walked past the antipasto selection set out buffet style... the colour... textures... aromas... plenty of variety here. Upon being seated, the menu did not convey anything special... not unlike the menus down on the tourist strip. The explanation of the menu did not heighten our expectations... everything was excellent... make your own choice. We couldn't resist trying the antipasto on show near the front door. Each of us ordered our dish... ready for the show to begin. Conversation ceased the moment each of us tasted parts of the antipasto... the mind could not compute the taste sensation and talk at the same time. The usual ingredients of eggplant, roasted capsicum, mushrooms, pastry, egg bindings, potato.... nothing unusual with the ingredients... except for the added component of flavour... probably reflecting freshness... but flavour is the most rare of cooking ingredients. The antipasto was the climax of the meal... the main course played different games with our senses... offering less intense flavours... but broadening the spectrum to include the meats and spice sauces. The kids had dessert... those who realised how special the first courses had been... did not want to pollute the senses with sugar.

We've all had great meals... why take up your time telling you about our good experience??? primarily to give proper emphasis to an important part of the Italian touring experience. So, forget about sweet and sour pork... you will not find a plate of such delicacies in Sicily. Forget about Thai laksa... Italians love food... but have so many varieties within their own genre they don't have time to explore foreign tastes. Perhaps 80% of your dining will be done on the tourist strip... where you will have a selection of pasta and pizza at reasonable prices. But once in a while take the trouble to find the family restaurants off the tourist strip to enjoy dishes that Italians have spent millenniums perfecting. You won't be disappointed.

Mt Etna - is it so Gentle?

Yesterday, our guide sold us the line that Mt Etna was a gentle giant... which we took at face value... in respect of his position of authority (leading our walk across the craters' edge)... and lack of any contradictory evidence. Well, some evidence to the contrary is now showing itself... perhaps not pointing to the volcano being a killer... but pointing to recent form... that is a little too recent to be comfortable.

Our discomfort comes from further searching for information regarding the 2013 eruption... say the year quickly enough and no more questions need be asked. But today, we learned these eruptions were in June 2013... 1st of June to be exact... some 6 weeks ago... 40 days ago! They didn't tell us that before they sold us the entry tickets. We saw a photo of the square in the town of Zafferana Etnea covered with black ash... inches deep... in the exact spot where we had our coffee, yesterday morning. Other photos showed red-hot ash being flung out of a crater... great photos... but not consistent with the gentle giant assertion.

We had been critical of the grime evident outside our gate... all the properties looked like they needed a fresh coat of paint... all the windowsills needed a good wash down. But what highlighted the grime was black sooty deposits accumulated in the gutters and corners of buildings. This black sooty deposit looked much like the ash we were walking on while in the crater area of Mt Etna. In all likelihood, our apartment received a good sprinkling of ash from last month's eruptions.

We have been having afternoon thunderstorms in the last few days... claps louder than Australian claps... relative to the strength of the lightning. We have been amusing ourselves asking questions regarding the role high mountains may play in increasing the potency of lightning and thunder. We questioned if the large amount of steam arising from the cooling volcanic ash may somehow be a catalyst to increasing the electrical charge in the cloud. We theorised if large raindrops are colder (on average) than small raindrops. Oh... the carefree days of innocence. Now when we hear the thunder, our only question is, "was that thunder or was it the volcano?"

Mt Etna - a friendly giant

Today we paid our respects to Mt Etna. We were told by our guide that Etna is a friendly volcano... unlike Mt Vesuvius, Etna never blows its top... it puts on fireworks more frequently than any other currently active volcano... but it keeps a sense of proportion... taking out the tourist facilities once a decade... but it shows no desire to take life or seek other forms of vengeance.

Care must by exercised in accepting such advice... of course the tourist guys are going to say, "everything is perfectly safe... tell all your friends to come along." However, the last couple of decades seems to back up the promotional material come-on.

The size of the volcano just 'blows' the brain... sorry... should resist use of the word blowing when talking about our friend Etna.

The last decent eruption occurred in 2002. Two craters were active on that occasion... one throwing ash in the air to heights up to 600 metres (including boulders up to 2-4 tonnes)...  the second exuding a stream of lava. We asked our guide how many tonnes of ash was thrown up... his reply was 90 million tonnes... he pointed to the bottom of a valley, some 50 metres below us, and he said that was the level of the land before the eruption. 

He told us to feel the temperature of the ash on which we were walking... it was mildly warm. He said the heat we felt was not coming from deep subterranean lava... it was the heat from the ash thrown out in 2002... still in the process of cooling. He then used his boot to kick a hole 20 centimetres deep. "Now feel that" he said. The temperature was hot... you wouldn't want a pocket full down your trousers... ouch! 

Our guide pointed up the hill towards the summit and showed the thin layer of ash released in the April 2013 eruption. Its volume was insignificant compared to the 2002 effort... still, our year left its mark... even if it was a puny effort. 

We caught the bus down from the crater zone in the middle of a heavy hail storm. Before the storm, ice packs could be seem in the protected valleys under dusting of ash... and little snow packs littered the ground. However, the hail storm transformed the landscape into a wintery wonderland. 

We caught the cable car down to the car park area... noticing as we stepped on board that the car number was 13. The hail storm continued during our decent. Just as we reached the bottom all the lights in the terminal went off... our cable car journey stopped 5 metres from the place where the automatic doors open. We were at ground level... but couldn't get out. After 5 minutes, an attendant used his keys to open our doors... we suffered little stress or inconvenience compared to those stranded high above the steep mountainside... while the cable car operator sorted out the electricity supply. 

Acireale and Sicilian Food

It's hard for tourists to understand all the cultural subtleties encountered each day. Here some puzzling aspects we are still sorting through. To highlight our confusion, gripes are given a disproportionate amount of attention. Please don't misunderstand... we love Sicily and could easily make it our home. 

Sicilians are food lovers.
The quality of produce in shops shows that Sicilians are most particular in their selection of food. Bread is uniformly excellent... having seen the struggles others countries endure to get a decent slice of bread,  excellence should not be taken lightly. The same can be said for cheese, ham and tomatoes. Combine these ingredients for a lunchtime sandwich and you have a taste sensation.
Wines in Sicily have a history of fortification... probably reflecting an island industry that has only recently faced the complexity of international markets. The locals point to some newer vineyards now producing subtle flavours.
But here comes the gripe. Joye and I live on the tourist strip... not venturing into swanky restaurants. Down here on the tourist strip, the variety of food is limited... spaghetti and pizzas... dressed up in all sorts of names... but essentially, a carbohydrate base with vegetable and seafood flavouring. Compare the variety seen in a stroll down any street in Hong Kong with Syracusa. If Italians are food lovers, why isn't there a Chinese, Thai, Mexican and (god forbid) English restaurant  on the street corners of Syracusa?

Sicilians are proud of their history.
Their history is very special... it is hard to think of other parts of Europe offering more colour... more excitement... and better preserved... than that offered by Sicily. Sicily's 'latinisation' only gained momentum in the last 500 years... out of its human history spanning 8,000 years... all through the Roman Empire, Sicily remained predominantly Greek speaking... local dialects have had a strong base right up to recent times. Many locals would claim to be Sicilian first and Italian by compulsion rather than choice.
Now for the gripe. All too often, rubbish is littered outside the national monument. People entering and exiting these sites just toss rubbish anywhere... as they do elsewhere in Italy. Arguably, people proud of their historic heritage would keep these sites looking their best.
Sicily has many residential areas with heritage appeal. The location, building architecture and history make such places special... and yet, all too often, these areas appear to be in a state of gradual decay. No doubt, the state of the buildings reflects the relative poverty of the owners... they simply can't afford to renovate or even maintain the building. Arguably, a community that is proud of its history would find a way to better protect these important buildings. Every now and again you get a glance behind the street gate... and see the tender care taken with private property.. in contrast with the lack of care taken with property on the public side of the fence. 

Sicilians are charming people

Every day we have met people who exude charm of the most beguiling kind. People serving behind counters... restaurant staff... toll both attendants... all going about their daily activities in a way that brightens your day. We need to seek help with directions quite often. Rarely are we ignored when asking for help. Often the person responds by going out of their way to help us solve our problem. Sometimes we are left laughing at the humour shared by our helper. There is no shortage of charm in Sicily. 

Now for the gripe. Put a Sicilian behind the wheel of a car and some Sicilians experience personality changes. Half of Sicilian drivers could be classed as 'normal'. One quarter use the 'invisibility' mode. Your car becomes invisible. They will meander across lanes and intersections without a care in the world. Beware of your invisibility! There are 12.5% of drivers who are blockers. They watch you approaching and move their vehicle to block your overtaking or turning or whatever activity may interrupt their sense of well being. The final 12.5% are the intimidating drivers. For their own amusement, they will drive into your path and force you to take evasive action. In effect, some one-half of Sicilian drivers do not show the charm seen in face-to-face encounters. Similarly with queuing. There is some one-half of the Sicilian population prepared to play games in order to push into a queue. Where is the charm in that? 

These comments have become boorish and academic. Most of the comments can be applied just as easily to many other communities. Thank you for persisting in slogging through to the end. Any help offered in enlightening our views of Sicily would be much appreciated. 

Castelmolo - How Quiet are Mountain Villages

Castelmolo sits high above the Mediterranean, towering over other mountain villages. The whole area was a favourite location with Greek settlers in 600 BC... understandable for those liking panoramic views... and architects looking for a challenge... but (most likely) loathed by builders who had to haul slabs of granite up perilous mountain tracks. The region seems to be a literal embodiment of 'one-upmanship'... where one generation built a village on one mountain top... and motivated the next generation to increase the level of difficulty by building further up the mountain range on a higher peak. Castelmolo was the culmination of the one-upmanship building a community on the most unlikely site you could imagine. Perhaps there was cultish belief that living closer to the gods improved their chances of being invited into the celestial group. 

On our arrival, Castelmolo was deserted... we seemed to be the only people around. We did the coffee... and the photos... and started to look at the shops. My fear of shops has lessened since we both agreed on a shopping protocol... we can buy anything provided we toss out from our existing luggage, items of equivalent weight. We don't buy much. But one curio caught our eye... it's a doorbell the same as the one on the door of the place where we are staying... a wheel with bells around the perimeter... so when you turn the wheel, you hear the tinkling of many bells. 

We turned the wheel to listen to the sound. At the sound of the first tinkle, a man sitting on the other side of the Square jumped up... put his finger to his lips... and said, "shhhhh". He walked over looking somewhat apologetic. "Its my grandfather... he is asleep upstairs... having his morning nap... he is 98 years old... and the sound of the bells wakes him... and makes him think of times he spent in World War II... in the Italian army. Yesterday, someone tinkled the bells... and he jumped out of bed... as fast as a 98 year old can jump... dusted himself down ready for inspection... and stood to attention." The stall minder accompanied this explanation with a re-enactment of his granddad's movements... finishing off with a Nazi salute. Joye and I fell about in uncontrollable laughter... what a comic. 

We didn't buy the bells... but the stall minder didn't seem to mind... his granddad remained asleep... and so did World War II.  

Sicily at its Best

Today, we drove a couple of hours north from Syracusa along the section of the Sicilian coast that is one of the most heavily populated. The price we pay for modern civilisation was clearly on display... an oil refinery... air particle count that limited visibility... fabrication businesses stretching endlessly along the road... roadworks on the express way. None of this worried us one bit. We were travelling to meet up with family members... who we had not seen for 5 months.

Mt Etna gradually showed its face... first, as a vague shadow on the horizon... gradually showing its power and majesty. Like at Mt Vesuvius, people seemed willing to ignore the risk of eruptions tomorrow... in order to get a better view today.

How much of the Italian psychic is shaped by living with earthquakes... volcanic eruptions... earth-slides... steep and narrow roads... and other mortal dangers. Do these ever present background risks explain the way Italian men drink their coffee... the way Italian women wear high-heer led shoes... the way communication requires not just speaking... but total use of body movement... arms... legs... facial muscles... the exuberance of living showing so clearly in normal living activities.

Perhaps having uncontrollable risks facing you at each turn helps explain the stark difference between the public untidiness... the decrepit outward appearance of many residences... in contrast with the beauty existing in private areas. This aspect of Sicily was no more evident than what we saw arriving at our relatives. As we approached the address we noted... the village showed little charm... the road was narrow and busy... cars were travelling too fast and showing too few manners. We drove to where our SatNav system abandoned us... "You have now reached your destination" told us no further help could be expected from Peggy... even though we were in the middle of a crossroad. We cruised along looking for street numbers... not a strong suit in Italian organisation. Finally, we admitted defeat and called our son for assistance. We were not too far away... he stood by the side of the road to tell us where to turn... opened the gates to the property... and in we went.

The transformation was immediate! The garden wall blocked out the street noise... the trees quietly imposed a countryside tranquillity... the 19th century villa gave a solid base that settled the nerves. Then we had the excitement of our family reunion. Sicily was now at its best.

Syracuse - Could have been champion

With history, again and again, you see the chance roll of the dice deciding the fate of a nation... will it play in the 'A' league... or be relegated to the some minor support role? Syracuse faced such a fate... lost the initiative at a critical time... and has been relegated to being a quaint seaside village in southern Sicily that serves tourists a great cup of coffee... what a shame.

Cast your minds back to 480BC...no, let's not rush... let's start in 734BC... that's when Syracuse was founded... by a boatload of Corinthians... possibly seeking extra religious freedom... our museum today was not clear on that point. Syracuse and its surrounds, offered excellent agricultural land coupled with a good water supply. Over time the influence of Greece grew... technology, new crops and slave labour were introduced... and Syracuse started a long period of prosperity. It developed an advanced culture capable of running a complex trade centre... developed arts and crafts that attracted the attention of the world... and started to challenge Athens as the prime Greek city. In its day it was a bit like Melbourne is today... second largest Greek city in the world... a place where all the smart Greek people live.

Now comes 480BC. Athens is in a heap of trouble... the Peloponnese put up resistance to the Athean  takeover... resulting in a long and bitter Peloponnesian War. But Athens looked over its shoulder towards its friends in Syracuse and saw that its sibling state was getting mighty powerful. It sent a contingent of soldiers to Syracuse. If Athens had have lost a couple more battles in the Peloponnese war... if Syracuse had been given a couple more years to consolidate its strength, our local town could have been a major player on the world stage. As it turned out... the Cartheginians took advantage of Athens' difficulties and landed a large force on Sicily. Syracuse had to marshal its resources and battle the Cartheginians... and were successful... but in the process lost a lot of its military power.

The Greek occupation of Syracuse lasted for over 400 years and left a great collection of historic ruins. The Romans were the next superpower... but they just wanted the wheat... no nonsense with empire building... just give us the wheat! Syracuse was at the wrong end of the island for Rome's convenience... and so Syracuse slowly sank into the sunset. It prospered under some of the subsequent rulers... but never regained the 'gravitas' it possessed in 480BC.

Piazza Armerina - Gravitas in Mosaics

Roman nobility worried a lot about 'gravitas'... whether history was properly recognising their great works and the excellent blood line provided by their family. Wars were fought... public buildings donated... triumphs staged... along with feasting and carnival entertainment... all to ensure people realised you were to be taken seriously... great to have as a patron... and someone with whom you should always acknowledge your obligations. With sufficient 'gravitas' you can be sure history will not forget you.

Around the year 305 AD one of the senators was using his imagination... trying to figure out a way to build his gravitas. Emperor Constantine was just about to give religious freedom to the Christians... Rome's enemies were getting stronger every day... the senate no longer exercised the powers it once had... other senators were spending money like it was going out of fashion... things looked queezy... about to slip into difficult times.

This old senator had a villa in Sicily... in an area now known as Piazza Armerina... that produced big volumes of wheat for the Rome market... it was a profitable property. But 'profits' and 'gravitas' are very different things. He needed more gravitas!

Then, he had a stroke of genius... he decided to decorate his villa in a manner that would make him famous... not just then... but forever. Instead of covering all the bases usually associated with a famous villa... enormous building... magnificent gardens... lots of marble statues... best vistas in the country... he decided to focus his historical contribution on just one dimension... he would leave the world the best mosaics ever created.

We visited the ruins of his villa today.

He contracted the best mosaics tradesmen of Carthage... had them bring to Sicily their experienced team of slaves... rebuilt the villa following the advice of the mosaics'  experts... and told his version of history in the mosaics laid on the floors. If he wanted, his family was related to one of the gods... that is what was shown in the mosaics. He showed a healthy interest in young female athletes and the transport of wild animals from Northern Africa to Rome. He liked the blood lust recurring in mythological fights between gods and devils... he liked the innocence of children at play... and this is how we will remember him. 

Oh! Just one small detail... no one has verified the identity of the owner... it's narrowed down to a list of three or four. But when they do decide who he is... he will be guaranteed 'gravitas' for the next 1000 years.I 

Sicilian Actuaries and other important stuff

My friend Greg reminded me why Sicilian Actuaries lead the world. Given a population of people, 'normal' actuaries can estimate the number of deaths in a year. Greg pointed out that Sicilian actuaries go beyond estimating total numbers... they can give you names, addresses and dates of death of the deceased in the coming year. (It's a mafia joke... get it... get it.) 

Who invented the 'fork'... you know... knife fork spoon... the fork. Its invention is relatively recent... for most of Europe, forks were not seen before the 16th century. Early writings on etiquette gave advice based on the absence of the fork. Men were advised not to look at a lady's hand while she ate because she may be embarrassed by the fat on her fingers. The advice also recommended not glancing at her face... because she may think that her fingers may have smugged her face with meat fats. Eating with your hands caused social complications. 

Life became more complicated when spaghetti was introduced to the diet. The Turks and their Arab supporters invaded Sicily around the first millennium AD. They bought agriculture technology that benefited the Sicilians immensely. One plant they introduced was a strain of wheat that was subsequently used to make spaghetti... yes, Sicilians invented spaghetti! The invention allowed great value-added benefits to food production... and made exports of this fashionable food a great commercial success. (Sicilians also improved storage methods for cooked tomatoes... but that is another story.) 

But the world was perplexed... how do you eat spaghetti with your hands? Sicilian ingenuity came to the fore... spoons and knives couldn't solve the problem... chop sticks were hopeless... what was needed was an instrument around which spaghetti could be wound... and placed elegantly in the mouth. The fork was born. 

Spread of fork use was not without controversy... initially, upper-class ladies would bring their own fork when dining out. Some had specific instructions regarding the size that pieces meat and vegetables were to be cut... so that the lady could stab the piece with her fork and place it into the mouth without getting fat on her fingers or face. The change in fashion irritated some of the matrons... who complained to the church. 

At the time of the plague, one leader in fork use fell victim to the epidemic... and died... as did her husband. That was proof enough for the irritated matrons... they demanded that the church ban the use of forks... God had made his preferences clear by killing a leading proponent. The church felt the proof overpowering and passed the necessary ordinance. For a time, fork use was a mortal sin. 

So, the next time you are setting the table... with the fork taking the position opposite on the place mat from the knife and the spoon... just remember the battles the poor old fork endured before it could take its rightful place. Next time you elegantly place a food morsel into your mouth without getting fat on your fingers or face... have a kind thought for the Sicilian peasant who bestowed on the world one of its most used inventions... the fork.