CARNAVALE 2-THE GOOD THE BAD THE UGLY
Steve's experiences make news today, as well as the Sirocco winds that came in and dumped sand all over. They are worst than any I have ever seen, and have given me my worse dizzy migraine yet. These are also Steve's Peppe and Mascot from Brazil photos.
Carnevale II
lessons (Hopefully) learned
Ah yes, the wonders of Carnevale. The extreme joy we felt going to the dance with Paolo and Ignatzia and Giusy. The wonder at watching them cobble together the floats. I will tell you right now, I would not ride in one of them, and I had second thoughts about standing near them. I should have had third thoughts (more on that later).
Anyway, Via Cappuccini was closed for two days, as wagons materialized, with huge paper mache figures on them. The wagons were really just wheels and axles, with thick boards fixed in place to give what looked like a flat bed trailer. Although these beds were higher than most flat beds. And the Carnivale floats were even huger this year. Imagine looking out a fifth floor window and seeing Peppe Nappas huge green smiling face looking at you as you drink your morning espresso. The thought scares me.
Really, these figures were five stories high at times. And they kept adding on and adding on. I think they all went to Paolo and Marcos school of Industrial Arts, as it was commonplace to see them adding an inch to a metal rod here, and taking it away there, so that everything could more or less fit. And the boat hoists brought up from the dry dock were going all over lifting heads and breasts and musical instruments and putting them in place on top of the floats.
The parade was scheduled to start at three oclock, so Fran and I hurried down town to be there for by six oclock. We found the worlds best parking spot for Carnevale, and will probably never be as lucky again. We visited a ceramics show that had ceramics from all of the Italian Cities of Ceramics, who are trying to establish DOCs. Everything was lovely, and of course the Saccense ceramics were THE BEST. Then it was down to the main piazza, where the little kids were finishing up their dance numbers. Cute cute cute. Traditional sausage sandwiches, then on to Via Modigliani to see the first float wend its way down the hill from Porto Palermo. It was Peppe Nappa, all five stories of him, with a beer in one hand and a torch in the other. He was preceded by his own troop of tired dancers, and a living Peppe Nappa, along with another guy who apparently was his wife, and was wearing a Rio carnavale costume reportedly worth 3000 Euros.
At the back of the wagon, folks crowded around for free wine and sausages. Of course I had to get a glass of wine, and Fran got a sausage. Then I got greedy and went for a refill. The free wine cost me 200 Euros and one nights sleep. While I was in the crowd, I felt my wallet being lifted. They were so fast and so smooth, I did not have time to turn around and catch them.
All credit card companies are notified. They did not get a chance to use the cards. I have a spare drivers license. We are going to Mexico where I will shop for a nice wallet. I will have to write Radisson and Hertz and all the other frequent trippers folks I belong to and get new IDs for their programs. I think I saw who lifted the wallet (actually three guys working together). Of course they looked Tunisian, not SICILIAN (I am too much of a booster of Sicily for that), and if I see him again, I would like to . . .
And that I suppose is the lesson I learned. I lost 200 Euros and I am still able to go to Mexico for a vacation. I am blessed. I lost my credit cards, and with some help from the Carabenieri, I was able to cancel everything before they got to spend any more of my money. I am blessed.
And yet I feel like being violent against those who stole from me. A pretty natural reaction, I think, but a reaction foreign from the way I want to LIVE my life. So I must go forward, KNOWING that those that took the money probably have far greater need for it that I do, they probably are not going to Mexico for a vacation, and on and on and on. Perhaps this will help me to live better within my skin. I hope so. I want to learn from it, and I want the lesson not to be one of being more careful (although certainly I will be), or one of hatred or violence, but one of some acceptance, caring, and appreciation for the life I am able to live.
Steve
Carnevale II
lessons (Hopefully) learned
Ah yes, the wonders of Carnevale. The extreme joy we felt going to the dance with Paolo and Ignatzia and Giusy. The wonder at watching them cobble together the floats. I will tell you right now, I would not ride in one of them, and I had second thoughts about standing near them. I should have had third thoughts (more on that later).
Anyway, Via Cappuccini was closed for two days, as wagons materialized, with huge paper mache figures on them. The wagons were really just wheels and axles, with thick boards fixed in place to give what looked like a flat bed trailer. Although these beds were higher than most flat beds. And the Carnivale floats were even huger this year. Imagine looking out a fifth floor window and seeing Peppe Nappas huge green smiling face looking at you as you drink your morning espresso. The thought scares me.
Really, these figures were five stories high at times. And they kept adding on and adding on. I think they all went to Paolo and Marcos school of Industrial Arts, as it was commonplace to see them adding an inch to a metal rod here, and taking it away there, so that everything could more or less fit. And the boat hoists brought up from the dry dock were going all over lifting heads and breasts and musical instruments and putting them in place on top of the floats.
The parade was scheduled to start at three oclock, so Fran and I hurried down town to be there for by six oclock. We found the worlds best parking spot for Carnevale, and will probably never be as lucky again. We visited a ceramics show that had ceramics from all of the Italian Cities of Ceramics, who are trying to establish DOCs. Everything was lovely, and of course the Saccense ceramics were THE BEST. Then it was down to the main piazza, where the little kids were finishing up their dance numbers. Cute cute cute. Traditional sausage sandwiches, then on to Via Modigliani to see the first float wend its way down the hill from Porto Palermo. It was Peppe Nappa, all five stories of him, with a beer in one hand and a torch in the other. He was preceded by his own troop of tired dancers, and a living Peppe Nappa, along with another guy who apparently was his wife, and was wearing a Rio carnavale costume reportedly worth 3000 Euros.
At the back of the wagon, folks crowded around for free wine and sausages. Of course I had to get a glass of wine, and Fran got a sausage. Then I got greedy and went for a refill. The free wine cost me 200 Euros and one nights sleep. While I was in the crowd, I felt my wallet being lifted. They were so fast and so smooth, I did not have time to turn around and catch them.
All credit card companies are notified. They did not get a chance to use the cards. I have a spare drivers license. We are going to Mexico where I will shop for a nice wallet. I will have to write Radisson and Hertz and all the other frequent trippers folks I belong to and get new IDs for their programs. I think I saw who lifted the wallet (actually three guys working together). Of course they looked Tunisian, not SICILIAN (I am too much of a booster of Sicily for that), and if I see him again, I would like to . . .
And that I suppose is the lesson I learned. I lost 200 Euros and I am still able to go to Mexico for a vacation. I am blessed. I lost my credit cards, and with some help from the Carabenieri, I was able to cancel everything before they got to spend any more of my money. I am blessed.
And yet I feel like being violent against those who stole from me. A pretty natural reaction, I think, but a reaction foreign from the way I want to LIVE my life. So I must go forward, KNOWING that those that took the money probably have far greater need for it that I do, they probably are not going to Mexico for a vacation, and on and on and on. Perhaps this will help me to live better within my skin. I hope so. I want to learn from it, and I want the lesson not to be one of being more careful (although certainly I will be), or one of hatred or violence, but one of some acceptance, caring, and appreciation for the life I am able to live.
Steve
posted by Sicilian Mama at 9:44 AM
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