A long-time line on both my sister’s and my bucket lists have been to walk in the footsteps of our ancestors and learn more about our family in the small Sicilian town of Regalbuto.
Several times we had gone so far as checking airline fares, lodging and cost of transportation from the airport to the town and daydreamed about the day we could actually board the plane. But since we both had families and jobs something always came up, the travel brochures were relegated to the kitchen drawers and the day dreams made way for graduations, weddings and births.
A phone call from a favorite cousin advising she and her husband were planning their third trip to Regalbuto and asking if we would like to join them set things in motion at warp speed. Helping each other finagle finances and reminding each other that this would probably be our only chance to get to Sicily with these loved ones, actually made the decision easier for us. Cousin assuring us they knew exactly where to go, what to do and couldn’t wait to show their favorite places, assuring the best trip possible got us to the airport giggling like a couple of teenagers.
Rome was spectacular even when only seen from the plane windows and the run from one terminal to the other to catch a smaller plane, and it brought proof we were but non-native speaking tourists. Landing in Catania, grabbing a rental car, making our way out of the airport made us unendingly grateful for our cousin and her husband’s (cousin-in-law?) amazing driving skills. The roads are narrow and winding with round-abouts instead of stop lights, the cars are about the size of our smart cars and there are so many of them!
Going through the ‘modern’ part of the beautiful city with its high-rise buildings we were taken aback by the clothes lines on each balcony, the new buildings have them built in to conserve electricity. As we left the city the orange and olive groves took over the landscape, interestingly enough had vegetables planted between the rows of trees.
Arriving at the same Bed and Breakfast our cousin rented every time she visits was like stepping back in time, literally in the shadow of the magnificent Mount Etna. I have no words to describe how unworldly huge and beautiful this ancient volcano is. Sitting on comfortable, overstuffed chairs, watching her gurgle and burp red trails in the night sky was almost a religious experience and her ever-present smoke halo made this flat-lander Floridian feel a presence was watching over us as she was completely visible from everywhere.
The Oasis had once been a massive two-story stone home and is now a wonderful indoor-outdoor dining/dancing room and three visitors’ rooms on the bottom floor with a three generational home on the top floor. Breakfast was an occasion with home-made crescent rolls, cheeses and cactus pears all prepared by the ninety-plus year-old Nona (grandmother) accompanied by demitasse cups of Italian coffee strong enough to stand up and salute. They all laughed when I wimped out and asked for tea.
The family was somehow related to us through my mother’s side (Citelli and Pavia) and treated us with great love. Nona was proud to show off her wonderful garden and farm animals including cloud-white sheep grazing on the hillside behind the buildings. Her son Rosario was kind enough to act as tour guide for several days, taking us to the amazing Catania lava ruins and shopping, then to another distant relatives’ home who made arrangements for us to tour one of the Citelli medical schools. Walking in our esteemed ancestors’ footsteps and being able to actually open books that he had written left me breathless-no easy feat. He also somehow made the most delicious full dinners appear after spending all day with us.
Nona’s daughter Maria was kind enough to take over tour duties the next couple of days. We walked the beautiful cobblestone streets, again in our ancestors’ footsteps and we were the only ones who thought it odd that the front doors of the wonderfully colorful two-hundred-year-old homes opened directly onto the narrow streets. We toured another Citelli medical school, Villa Citelli, the breathtaking church where Lady Citilli had been held and the city hall housed in an old convent. I loved the contrast of computers, printers and what-all with their miles of cords sitting atop stones that were placed there in the seventeen hundreds. We walked several of the many piazzas occupied by old Sicilian men resting in the sun, one of which proposed to my sister.
The next day was a blur of touring the bakery/coffee house where the Popes birthday cakes are baked and being the recipients of huge trays of real Italian pastries and more demitasse cups of Italian coffee…they also snickered when I asked for tea, visiting Pavia cemeteries meeting another set of cousins and winding up the day at a very unique restaurant. The outdoor dining area sat on tubes of lava deposited by Mount Etna in the sixteen hundreds, overlooking a deep blue bay crowded with small boats of every color. The kitchen is across a very busy street and it seemed the entertainment was cheering on the waiters as they dodged the traffic carrying full trays.
My sister made me eat Calamari.
Back to the Oasis for four black Italian coffees and one tea (still laughing) tiny pastries one last time, then pack and reluctantly crawl into bed heavy with home-made quilts. Not anxious to return to the real world I felt like a fifth-grade kid who didn’t want to go back to school, complete with tear dropping the sun-dried pillowcase.
My sister and I had checked this visit off our bucket list but placed returning with our daughters right on top before we even left Sicilian soil.
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