A family from Germany whose parents had come from Mussomeli chatted with us at breakfast. They were in town visiting friends and family. Their daughter was enjoying the resident cats.
We headed down the steep valley, then west up the other side to Casteltermini, where my wife's great grandfather was born. The first thing we saw was an ethnographic museum so we stopped in. The guide insisted on giving us his shpiel in Italian, which we do not speak, although we could make out a lot by pictures and context. Casteltermini was a sulphur mining town (1) where the men toiled in 50°+ (celsius) (2) heat in the mines.
There was a sign for tourist information in the same building, so we stopped in and enquired (as well as we could) about ancestry. The man promptly took us to the vital statistics office next door. After a few false starts in death and matromimal records (and exasperated looks and scolding from the clerk in charge of the office), the tourism man and we began looking through handwritten birth registers from the late 1800s. Unfortunately, 1881 (the date of my wife's great grandfather's birth) was missing, so we were unsuccessful, but it was fun poking about in the old records for over an hour.
We descended to the Valley again, then ascended up the east side to Sutera, where a monastery is located atop Mount San Paolino (3). The town seemed deserted. There was a sign for an "ascensore panoramico" (panoramic elevator), but there no-one about. While the outdoor elevator responded when we pressed the call button and came down to the lower level, the lurching, noise, and wind-blown leaves and rubbish at the elevator entrance did not inspire confidence. We enquired of the only man we saw in town "Ascensore va bene?" (elevator goes well?). He replied with a shake of his head; I caught the Italian word for key and he mimed locking a door.
We decided to walk up the steep path to the top. About 1/3 of the way up, we encountered a firmly locked gate. A family soon arrived; the husband had been born in Sutera, emigrated to France and was visiting his home town on vacation. The gate was locked because there was a festival today, but the gate would reopen tomorrow afternoon. He told us the view was amazing, sometimes with views all the way to Mount Etna and that a fire warden observes the surrounding countryside from atop the hill (4).
There was a sign for tourist information in the same building, so we stopped in and enquired (as well as we could) about ancestry. The man promptly took us to the vital statistics office next door. After a few false starts in death and matromimal records (and exasperated looks and scolding from the clerk in charge of the office), the tourism man and we began looking through handwritten birth registers from the late 1800s. Unfortunately, 1881 (the date of my wife's great grandfather's birth) was missing, so we were unsuccessful, but it was fun poking about in the old records for over an hour.
We descended to the Valley again, then ascended up the east side to Sutera, where a monastery is located atop Mount San Paolino (3). The town seemed deserted. There was a sign for an "ascensore panoramico" (panoramic elevator), but there no-one about. While the outdoor elevator responded when we pressed the call button and came down to the lower level, the lurching, noise, and wind-blown leaves and rubbish at the elevator entrance did not inspire confidence. We enquired of the only man we saw in town "Ascensore va bene?" (elevator goes well?). He replied with a shake of his head; I caught the Italian word for key and he mimed locking a door.
We decided to walk up the steep path to the top. About 1/3 of the way up, we encountered a firmly locked gate. A family soon arrived; the husband had been born in Sutera, emigrated to France and was visiting his home town on vacation. The gate was locked because there was a festival today, but the gate would reopen tomorrow afternoon. He told us the view was amazing, sometimes with views all the way to Mount Etna and that a fire warden observes the surrounding countryside from atop the hill (4).
The festival schedule posted in town said a band would be playing at 5:00, so we decided to linger in the town. At the appointed hour, we saw a guy with a French horn walking up the hill, so we followed. He was soon on his phone in front of a church, apparently trying to find out where the rest of the band was. At about 5:45 the band played a few songs in front of the church.
After dinner back in Mussomeli, the scudding clouds had cleared to reveal the beginning of a lunar eclipse. We sat on the patio of the agriturismo place where we were staying, drank some of our cheap wine and watched as about 2/3 of the moon disappeared. The host came and I pointed out the eclipse (5). He seemed singularly unimpressed and simply said (in English) "The Dark Side of the Moon; the album by Pink Floyd" and went to bed. We soon did the same as the clouds blew back in, covering the moon and bringing rain.
(1) My wife's great grandfather left a mining town in the Sicilian hills and ended up in a mining town in the foothills of the Adirondacks.
(2) 120°+ Farenheight.
(3) The mountain was very steep sided and flat topped, almost like a butte in the American West.
(4) I was pleasantly surprised that I understood so much of this conversation, as the man was speaking French.
(1) My wife's great grandfather left a mining town in the Sicilian hills and ended up in a mining town in the foothills of the Adirondacks.
(2) 120°+ Farenheight.
(3) The mountain was very steep sided and flat topped, almost like a butte in the American West.
(4) I was pleasantly surprised that I understood so much of this conversation, as the man was speaking French.
(5) I had even looked up the Italian word for eclipse ("eclissi lunare") so we could share our excitement with whomever we saw.
Mussomeli
Casteltermini
View from locked gate, Sutera
Closed Panoramic elevator, Sutera
Band playing, Sutera
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