Sicily, ITALY: Digging up Family Roots.

Unfortunately, I had to wait an extra day than originally planned to see my first visitor... and even more unfortunate, is the fact that my poor father got mixed up in the weather woes and disrupted travel at the Charles de Gaulle Airport (in Paris). But after a series of flight delays, lost luggage, a missed train connection, and an unexpected night's stay in Budapest, dad finally showed up in Kaposvár on the twenty-first and we had a few great days to hang in Hungary (details to appear in an ensuing post) before heading off to Sicily for Christmas!

Yes. Sicily for Christmas... my father and I... exploring the origin of the Scaglione roots: the land, the people, the food, the language... all things Italian... I was more than a bit excited to arrive and still get psyched thinking about how special this experience is. Being set in the thick of winter now for over a month, I welcomed the Mediterranean climate and the taste of paradise offered by the sea.












We flew in and out of Palermo, and stayed at a trendy newfangled joint right in the city center. The place was great and the location was perfect. That being said... the first night, we were out for pizza late in the evening / morning... and as we walked back into the hotel (3:23) we heard two blatant gun shots fired outside. We looked at each other and then at the receptionist, and he visibly scrambled to make us feel more comfortable... telling us it was some kids setting off fireworks. Ha. Oh well, this is Palermo. I dig it, for the whole experience. (Now I know why everyone kept joking with us on our travels to Palermo about going 'prepared', etc.). It's not a particularly clean city, but is still beautiful! Similar to Rome or Pittsburgh or Toronto... there is resident charm that keeps them attractive.

So, we woke in Palermo on Christmas Eve and headed out exploring right away. The first thing we did was walk to the water. It was a bit hazy, but still cool to see the palms and feel the influence of the sea. As we walked the perimeter of the city and then started zig-zagging through the streets to catch the main sights, we were constantly amazed by the driving. Driving in Palermo is a complete mess... a refined system of organized chaos. There must be accidents everyday, but we didn't see any (several just-misses though)... dad was so intrigued by it, he wanted to just sit by the park and watch the traffic for an hour. He loves it (weirdo New Yorker).

Evening rolled around and we got duded up for Christmas Eve mass at S.S. Pietro e Paolo. It is a gorgeous old Catholic Church, filled with all the adornments of Christmas and holiday celebrations... except people. I was surprised; the church was only about thirty percent filled and it seemed to be a bit less structured than the typical Catholic mass I grew up with. Still, it was nice to be there and with my dad for Christmas Eve. Afterward, we went out for some pasta and pesce.

Christmas morning never felt so different, while still feeling exciting. I've had my share of less-than-great Christmas seasons the last few years, but this experience was sure to be new and I have been looking forward to it for a while now. Of course, I didn't wake up with Sherrie, Krissie, and Joey (and I miss that), and I didn't look out the window to see a blanket of snow (that's nice too)... but today we went to the town that Papa Ferdinand grew up (my Papa's father): a little town at the top of a mountain, overlooking the sea, called San Fratello!

First thing's first... it's raining and someone stole the wipers off our rental car in the night, so we had to get some new ones... but that was a quick fix (especially for Christmas Day), so no big deal. Finally, we hit the road... Lucky for us, we took the A19/20 all along the northern coast of Sicily, hugging the mountains and the sea... heading towards Messina. Neither of us had any idea that this drive was going to be so beautiful, but totally impressed by the unknown...

Two hours later, we arrived a top the long and winding road at a small town with a sign welcoming us to San Fratello. The first thing we did was visit the cemetery. We went searching for our family name, specifically Papa Ferdinand's father, Papa Toto (Salvatore Scaglione). Although we found plenty of Scaglione's and even some Salvatore Scaglione's, we're not sure that any matched the dates and names of our family tree research... but it was special nonetheless to be surrounded by our family name and see such authentic ornamentation in small town Sicily.

The sea never looked as clear and beautiful as it did from the top of San Fratello. We had so many things we wanted to explore and see, but we kept being drawn to the coastal view. Once we left the cemetery, we drove to the 'center' of the town... really, nothing more than a simple square with a couple of closed shops (it's Christmas after all) and a municipal building. Of course, English is more foreign in San Fratello than Hungarian is in Denver... but the people were so kind and we were able to communicate our message and mission well enough with our extremely limited Italian and our exuberant hand gestures (really, we could speak Italian without saying a word)...

The first man we met understood who we were and why we were there. We had the address of the old Scaglione Family house, but he wasn't sure exactly where it was (turns out, it's kind of a hidden street with no street sign). But, he was determined to get us there. He was a sharp-dressed well-to-do man, who seemingly knew EVERY person in the town. So, he just stood in the street and everybody that passed by (by car, by foot, by bike), he stopped and asked how to get to Stesicorea. Finally he called for a younger boy across the street and simply gave him instructions to guide us to the house... and, as a respectable kid would, he gladly concurred. Not speaking a single word of English, we headed out on a journey with our San Fratello tour guide until we, at last, discovered the street and the house... number 44 (of course, my father's obsession).

The house is amazing. It's huge; originally it spanned half the block (the rugged off-track block that is), but has since been divided into several flats. Papa Toto and Mama Mariannia and all of the kids have passed away and I'm not sure if any of our Scaglione line still lives in town, but we were able to see this family monument and it was pretty special!

We spent the next few hours wandering the streets, making it up and down each and every one... For Dad, it was a total shock to see present-day living conditions in this state... and I understand. Until you visit a small town like this, far away from any tourist spots, in a place far away from the United States... one would never believe that they even exist. The buildings are dilapidated and many have been condemned (or should be, including our house on Stesicorea). The larger of the two churches in San Fratello, St. Nicola (that was designed by Mama Mariannia's cousin), was unfortunately shut down... it's simply falling apart (check out the crack in the side of the building) and there are no resources to piece things back together in this town. It makes me awfully appreciative for the opportunities and fortunes I have, and grateful for the perspective gained by visiting places like San Fratello.

The last place we visited was the smaller church at the top of the town, Ave Maria Church... and we actually walked up, by chance, ten minutes before the Christmas Mass... so we were able to stay and experience this intimate San Fratello mass. This sixty-four seat church was the real deal and people were standing all along the back, decked-out and packed-in for Christmas... this is the flavour we were looking for in Palermo but couldn't find it. Here it is, right in San Fratello! After mass, we drove down to sea level and discovered San' Agata, the largest city in the area. We had our last Sicilian meal and walked around the city, until we headed back to Palermo. The trip to Sicily with my old man (though, still not even fifty) is a trip that won't be forgotten.