A STROLL ALONG MY STREET

Come for a walk with me along my street on this fine, Sicilian Monday morning. Last week's bad weather has disappeared, spring is in the air and there is a spring, too, in my step. [There certainly wasn't last week, the dampness having triggered an arthritic flare-up so that by Thursday I could hardly walk!] Today I am going in the opposite direction to the one that leads to the Via Sacro Cuore with its fashion stores and beauty salons and I am making for the small supermarket at the far end of my own street.

On Monday mornings all but food stores, newsagents, ironmongers, stationers and florists are closed, but that does not mean that the shopkeepers are not working: some can be seen out and about doing their banking, whilst others are attending to their artistic and perfect window displays.

Passing the fresh pasta shop, I smell the dough that will soon be turned into a myriad varieties of Italy's staple food and through the window I can see tubs of bright red 'strattu on the counter. It is a little early for a queue of customers here, but in another half an hour they will come!

The wine merchant's is open and he is standing outside in the sunshine, enjoying a chat. A notice in his window announces the arrival of the new Frappato. In this shop you can take your empty mineral water bottles to be filled with a more Bacchic liquid and you can taste before you buy.

As I walk, the scent of fresh pastries wafts towards me on the breeze: I imagine sugar being sprinkled over hot biscuits and I catch just a hint of vanilla. Then, as I reach the corner of the side street where Caffè Moak has its premises, the aroma of good, fresh coffee is almost overwhelming.

The supermarket resembles an early incarnation of the genre in Britain: narrow aisles, a black and white check vinyl floor which needs replacing and untidily stacked shelves. But I find what I need and the women pack for me and are so obliging that not even the layout there can irritate me today.

On the way back, at the larger greengrocer's they are still setting out the newly delivered goods. The bananas look startlingly yellow and are hanging from a column; enormous, bright green grapes have just arrived and sacks of dried chickpeas and other pulses are stacked beside the door; above them there are boxes of fresh dates. One thing that strikes me about Sicilian greengrocers is that the price labels nearly always tell you which town the produce has come from. Come to think of it, it is usually labelled thus in supermarkets as well. I cannot resist looking in on our newer greengrocer's at the other end of the street and today his trestle table is groaning under the weight of what looks like several tons of fava beans, quite possibly the first vegetable known to man and the true herald of spring in Sicily. The greengrocer himself is busy hacking artichokes off their stalks, watched by a group of men [ and the men are incredibly discerning food shoppers here, as I've mentioned] who are waiting to see what will arrive next. The little old gentleman in a wheelchair who always greets me kindly and asks after Simi is there, too: he seems to spend most of his day there, chatting to the owner and watching the world go by.

11.30 and in the café opposite they have decided it is time to set out their arancini [stuffed rice balls] and scacce [focaccia breads] on the hot counter. I can smell them from over the road and soon you will see many Modicani stopping off there and then hurrying home with their well-wrapped antipasti. Shall I buy some? I think I should.... something fresh and warm to celebrate the freshness of spring...

In the salumeria another group of men is waiting, this time for the midday delivery of fresh bread. The first delivery arrives at 6 am., the owner has told me, and then there are several further ones throughout the day. None of these customers is going to go home with the bread of a few hours ago!

Well, I have everything so it is time to go home now. On a day like today, just a little stroll like this will remind me that there is still so much to see and marvel at right on my doorstep and that I am, after all, in the place where I want to be.