My final words on Sicily! I feel like I have written a novel so far. But please bear with me, I have a few more things to claw my way through. There is no need to get grizzly. (Puns are fun)
My final night in Sicily was Saturday night and my last dinner was promised to my great aunt and her family. I was picked up by her grandson Ricardo, the same cousin that brought me to her earlier in the week. Together we walked into her building and up the tiny staircase to her apartment. Inside awaited eight or so family members, none of whom spoke English, yet all of whom were foaming at the mouth to meet me. Thus began my final exam, my Italian test for the week. I was separated from my life-line, my cousins who know a semblance of English and can help me when I stumble for words. I was introduced to everyone, greeted them, and sat down very timid and nervous, leaving sweat marks in my pink shirt that I just knew were visible (yeah, that's right, I wore a pink shirt,my aunt said its looks good with my skin tone). I was implored to serve myself as much as I wanted, "eat everything you want," they told me, "We will serve ourselves after you." Well if that sentence right there doesn't make your skin crawl with heightened expectations I don't know what will. In my very humble opinion... I would say I outdid myself. I was understanding everything, with the exception of my great aunt's rough Sicilian dialect, and responding coherently. We ate and chatted about my time here in Sicily, what I was studying in Perugia and in America, how I felt about Italy so far, and how the family was back home. The meal was fantastically prepared and I promised them I would try to recreate it in Perugia. Upon saying such a thing my great aunt shot up, went to the refrigerator to pull out the uncooked extras, and proceeded to rip them apart, showing me exactly how to make them. One simple statement and I had a 70 year old woman whom I had just met fervently explaining cooking techniques to me. This was the kind of unruly power I had in that tiny kitchen. It felt regal and yet slightly raunchy, like I was not worthy of such attention. Every time I opened my mouth to talk the room got quiet to listen to what I had to say. After a few courses and coffee, my cousin asked if it was time to leave. Eager to end such an ordeal I replied with a subtle, "Yes, that would be fine." I thanked everyone for graciously welcoming me and listening to my poor excuse for Italian. We walked down to the car and my head was spinning. The amount of love and generosity that was just dumped on me, along with the constant translation of languages in my head left me slightly dizzy. It was an experience that was equally as wonderful as it was harrowing (harrowing is too strong of a word, it truly wasn't that bad). Ricardo dropped me off at my aunts house and thankfully offered to bring me to the airport the next day.
The rest of the night was spent trying to find some place to "show me a good time" as my cousins would put it. I was with my two male cousins and their girlfriends fighting the traffic of Palermo to try and find a bar or nightclub to spend the night in. Instead we drove around and around, finding no where to park and no place that wasn't spilling into the streets with people. I could hear the disappointment in the voices of my cousins. They were determined to send me off to Perugia as hungover as possible with good memories of a night spent on the town to hold me over until the next time we would see each other. Little did they know I was happy as a clam, enjoying everyone's presence, sharing stories, and looking out at Palermo from behind the BMW window. Growing up worlds away from each other it would seem easy to not feel connected with them. But the opposite is true. They are just as loved by me as any of the cousins I grew up with in San Diego.
Here's the part where I thank those who I know are reading this (Jessica!) Thank you to my aunt Antoinette and uncle Giacomo for feeding me and giving me a home to live in for a week. Thank you to my cousins Domenico, Pietro, and Giovanna for grabbing the leash and dragging their mute shy puppy of a cousin around their city. Since I know no Sicilian (that's not true I have since learned two words!) I spent a lot of time staring off into space, silently listening, and probably making my cousin's friends think I was a weirdo. Thank you to my cousin's girlfriends, Jessica and Filomena, who made huge efforts to get to know me even though neither of them understand English.
That's it. Now I can say I have been where I come from. I can say I have walked in the footsteps of my ancestors. It's an awesome feeling. Hopefully I have detained it forever within the words of this blog.
No comments:
Post a Comment