Another Day
Another day without Fran. I felt her presence more strongly today than any other day, as I did my rounds to get the newspaper, the mail, fresh furit and vegatables, and a few other things in town.
Yesterday I wrote about her sense that things were the same in Sciacca today as they were in Dunkirk, or small twon America, in the 50's. One of the things I just happened to mention was strawberries. I did not know why I mentioned them. They were not in the fruit stalls in Palermo when I was there yesterday, and they were not around last Saturday, when I last went shopping for fruits and veggies. Well, they are here today. Fran used to love it when I would bring home the fresh strawberries and wash them and get them ready to eat. We would refrigerate them under a dusting of sugar, and them impatiently wait until it was time for our post cena fruit and dolce.
Well, they are washed and sliced and dusted now. And yes, I will wait until it is the right time to eat them before I take them out of the frigo. I know they will taste sweet, but they will indeed be a bitter sweet.
Sometimes it only takes a word to remind me of Fran. That was the case today at Panificio Americano, which is where I usually go to buy my fresh bread and rolls. Fran liked to learn a new word, and then use it at every opportunity, so it would stay with her. When she found out that 'accidenti' meant 'damn' ('incidente' means 'accident') just before we visited Amsterdam, she kept looking around her at Dam Square and saying 'accidenti'.
'Chiacchierare' was one of her favorite recent new words. She would love to describe the ladies who stand ankle deep in the water in the summer, as women who spend their whole day in chiacchierare. It means talking, or gossiping, or just plain chatting. Today, they had a new dolce (for me) at Panificio Americano. It was called 'Chiacchierare de Carnevale'. They were small pieces of fried sweet dough. They were fried crispy, and dusted with powedered sugar, and were shaped like small tongues.
Paola explained to me that Carnevale is the time when people just get together and talk and talk and talk. Chiacchierare, chiacchiere, chiacchiere, as Fran would have loved to have said. So these little sweet tongues were made in honor of all the folks that come to carnevale in Sciacca only to get with old friends and chiacchierare, barely looking at the floats with their dancers fore and aft as they march by in the procession. Fran would have loved it.
A word that I am becoming more familiar with is the Italian word for owls. As many of you know, I sometimes joke by saying something that might be true, but is not true. It is usually something absurd, like the George Washington Bridge authority is suing the current president for using their initials without permission. When it is something that is really true, even though it sounds absurd, some folks ask me if I am serious. My favorite response at times like that is 'I am as serious as a tree full of owls.' Now that I know the Italian word for owls, I can change my response to 'I am as serious as a tree full of gufi.' I think Fran would have liked that.
The thing Fran would not have liked is today's weather. It was pretty much bright and sunny all day yesterday, but today the weather forecast called for cold winds blowing down from the north. The Alps and the Appenines are supposed to (finally) get some snow, and we are just supposed to get the cold.
Of course it does not seem to be working that way today. We are getting the start of a Sirocco, the sky is grey, the wind is from the south, and while it is surprisingly cool, the wind is unsettling, and the grit of the sand from the Sahara is starting to cross the sea and freshen our beaches. Always weather sensitive, this was Fran's least favorite weather in Sicily. She got used to the thunder storms, but never did get aloing will with the Sirocci.
Be that as it may, we are getting the cold wind, so it will be a good day to stay inside, take care of some business, do some writing, and then eat the strawberries, and think of my beloved Francesca.
Steve
Yesterday I wrote about her sense that things were the same in Sciacca today as they were in Dunkirk, or small twon America, in the 50's. One of the things I just happened to mention was strawberries. I did not know why I mentioned them. They were not in the fruit stalls in Palermo when I was there yesterday, and they were not around last Saturday, when I last went shopping for fruits and veggies. Well, they are here today. Fran used to love it when I would bring home the fresh strawberries and wash them and get them ready to eat. We would refrigerate them under a dusting of sugar, and them impatiently wait until it was time for our post cena fruit and dolce.
Well, they are washed and sliced and dusted now. And yes, I will wait until it is the right time to eat them before I take them out of the frigo. I know they will taste sweet, but they will indeed be a bitter sweet.
Sometimes it only takes a word to remind me of Fran. That was the case today at Panificio Americano, which is where I usually go to buy my fresh bread and rolls. Fran liked to learn a new word, and then use it at every opportunity, so it would stay with her. When she found out that 'accidenti' meant 'damn' ('incidente' means 'accident') just before we visited Amsterdam, she kept looking around her at Dam Square and saying 'accidenti'.
'Chiacchierare' was one of her favorite recent new words. She would love to describe the ladies who stand ankle deep in the water in the summer, as women who spend their whole day in chiacchierare. It means talking, or gossiping, or just plain chatting. Today, they had a new dolce (for me) at Panificio Americano. It was called 'Chiacchierare de Carnevale'. They were small pieces of fried sweet dough. They were fried crispy, and dusted with powedered sugar, and were shaped like small tongues.
Paola explained to me that Carnevale is the time when people just get together and talk and talk and talk. Chiacchierare, chiacchiere, chiacchiere, as Fran would have loved to have said. So these little sweet tongues were made in honor of all the folks that come to carnevale in Sciacca only to get with old friends and chiacchierare, barely looking at the floats with their dancers fore and aft as they march by in the procession. Fran would have loved it.
A word that I am becoming more familiar with is the Italian word for owls. As many of you know, I sometimes joke by saying something that might be true, but is not true. It is usually something absurd, like the George Washington Bridge authority is suing the current president for using their initials without permission. When it is something that is really true, even though it sounds absurd, some folks ask me if I am serious. My favorite response at times like that is 'I am as serious as a tree full of owls.' Now that I know the Italian word for owls, I can change my response to 'I am as serious as a tree full of gufi.' I think Fran would have liked that.
The thing Fran would not have liked is today's weather. It was pretty much bright and sunny all day yesterday, but today the weather forecast called for cold winds blowing down from the north. The Alps and the Appenines are supposed to (finally) get some snow, and we are just supposed to get the cold.
Of course it does not seem to be working that way today. We are getting the start of a Sirocco, the sky is grey, the wind is from the south, and while it is surprisingly cool, the wind is unsettling, and the grit of the sand from the Sahara is starting to cross the sea and freshen our beaches. Always weather sensitive, this was Fran's least favorite weather in Sicily. She got used to the thunder storms, but never did get aloing will with the Sirocci.
Be that as it may, we are getting the cold wind, so it will be a good day to stay inside, take care of some business, do some writing, and then eat the strawberries, and think of my beloved Francesca.
Steve
posted by Steve at 5:13 PM
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