WAITING FOR BEATRICE

Beatrice
Marie Spartali Stillman
Image: Wikipedia Italia

As I said on Tuesday, you know it's too hot when the Sicilians start to complain and today everyone is doing just that.

"I can't stand it any more", said the newsagent's wife, fanning herself, as I purchased a newspaper this morning.  "It's been three months now".  Indeed, she is right, for this year the heatwaves began in June, not in July as they usually do. As for the sea, that is of no help to us either, according to the Modicani, because now there is "too much humidity" down at the beach.

What, then, are we to do?  Well, we can await the promised storm Beatrice but  "Waiting for Beatrice" has become rather like "Waiting for Godot" and, as in the play, I fear there is "nothing to be done". Nothing to be done except call upon Sicilian pazienza....

In the meantime, Sicilians compare the depth of their suntans, smilingly assure me that there are "only" another ten days to go before everything reopens after the seemingly endless August break and ask me why the British newspapers are "afraid" of the Queen. I explain that the publications' reticence [until today] over the Prince Harry pictures has nothing to do with fear of a woman with no political power but is based on fear of possible new privacy laws. Then I explain the Harry puns.....

Today the first fichi d'India of the new season are in the shops - a sure sign of autumn.  Could it be the fact that fico can also mean "cool" or a goodlooking fellow that made me think of them then?

SOME "DEVILISH" WEATHER

As I write, we are in the throes of anticylone Lucifero, which comes to us from the desert and follows Caligola, Nerone and four other anticyclones since June. During Nerone, the temperature one day soared to 49 C in Modica Bassa and registered 45 C in this district.

It's a myth that only the British constantly discuss the weather:  the Sicilians do it too but, just as they have a different concept of holidays, so they have different ideas about what constitutes good and bad weather.  Where I come from, a temperature of 20 C is regarded as a heatwave and is sufficient to set the British tabloids screeching, "Cor! What a scorcher!" in their headlines but here anything less than about 33 C in summer is dismissed as "brutto" ["bad"].  Even Sicilians, though, are apt to complain once the thermometer shows 40 C and you would think that, after three months of such extreme heat, they would greet a little rain with relief.

Not so:  when the weather briefly broke ten days ago the rain and a few hailstones - admittedly the hailstones, because of the way houses are built here, sounded like a bombardment - caused widespread consternation and a friend I was with at the time even crossed herself.  Somehow I don't think an autumn break in Cardiff would be for her!

As most Sicilians spend the three months of high summer at their houses by the sea or in the country, the usual afternoon greeting is "Com'era il mare stamattina?" ["How was the sea this morning?"] and if there was the slightest ripple on the surface of the water, the answer will be "brutto".  A breeze will cause the sea to be described as "mosso" ["rough"]. What my Sicilian friends would make of the brave British who do daily battle with the winds in such locations as Weston-super-Mare I dread to imagine.

The serious side of all this is the spread of fire in the countryside during these heatwaves - one Sicilian firefighter has lost his life this summer - and the fact that meteorologists fear flooding in autumn because of the residual heat that will be given off by the soil.

We are promised a respite from the heat this weekend with the arrival of storm Beatrice. This rain-loving Brit awaits her as Dante awaited another Beatrice.

Henry Holiday
Dante Meets Beatrice at Ponte Santa Trinità
Image: Walker Art Gallery, Liverpool, UK
via Wikimedia Commons

50 SHADES A DAY?

As you may have read, last Friday some of Italy's private beach companies, in what became known as the sciopero degli ombrelloni or "parasol strike", staged a protest against new EU regulations which, from 2016, will allow for licence auctions. 

And this is what Simi the dog had to say about it:

A WINDY DAY AT THE SEA

It was windy down at the sea this morning - the type of weather that Sicilians describe as "like winter" but which is still positively Saharan to me.  But then, I am British so come from a proud line of ancestors for whom sand in their sandwiches and at least a shower or four of rain a day are the stuff of which seaside holidays are made.  Once at the sea, I don't give up, come hell or, literally, high water!

Penne all'arrabbiata and a gelato rounded off the adventure:

AND THE BEST BEACH IN ITALY IS....

Image:  http://www.sanvitoweb.com/

... San Vito Lo Capo in Trapani, Sicily, I am proud to announce.  This beautiful beach tops the Italian beaches list in  Trip Advisor's 2011 Travelers' Choice Awards and also came eighth in the site's list of the top 25 beaches in Europe.

Villasimius Beach in Sardinia came second in the Italian list and, in some good news at last for the Island of Lampedusa, its beaches came third. 

According to the site, the best beach in the world is Providenciales and I just have to tell you that the best UK beach is St Ives in Cornwall.

ITALY MAGAZINE ROUND-UP - 12

Casa Natale di Luigi Pirandello

Here is my personal pick of last week's Italy Magazine articles:

Let's kick off with a story that Simi liked, about the dog lifeguards that patrol Italy's beaches.  She wants to learn to jump from a helicopter!  Still at the sea, how would you feel if you went bathing and found a Roman cargo boat? 

Interior Minister Roberto Maroni caused much outrage last week when he promised that Italy would be even tougher than the French on the Roma.  ["Roma" is a term often used by the Italian media and politicians to refer to Romanians as well as to the nomadic peoples of Europe.]  The issue is still being hotly debated.

I decided I would like to see this festival but no way would I take part!

For my personal Patti Chiari column, I continued the story of how books brought me to Sicily.

I hope you enjoy these stories.

VICIN 'O MARE

How lovely the Mediterranean looked yesterday, with the hot sun bouncing glints of silver on the waves.  I spent a pleasant few hours at Sampieri with Irma and we bumped into Gina and another friend in the middle of the water! 

This is how the beach looked at precisely 1 pm when everyone disappeared for their time-honoured pranzo:

Andrea Bocelli - MARENARIELLO lyrics
Oi' ne', fa priesto viene! 
nun me fa spanteca'! 
Ca pure 'a rezza vene 
ca a mmare sto a mena'! 
 
Stienneme sti braccelle, 
aiutame a tira'... 
ca stu marenariello 
te vo' sem'abbraccia'! 
 
Vicino 'o mare, 
facimmo ammore, 
a ccore a ccore 
pe' ce spassa'... 
So marenare 
e tiro 'a rezza, 
pe' la priezza, 
stongo a muri'! 
 
Vide che sbatte l'onne 
comme stu core cca'... 
de lacreme te nfonne 
ca 'o faie 'nnammura'. 
 
E vide pure e stelle 
tu faie 'nnammura'... 
ca stu marenariello 
tu faie suspira'. 
 
Vicino 'o mare, 
facimmo ammore, 
a ccore a ccore 
pe' ce spassa'... 
So marenare 
e tiro 'a rezza, 
pe' la priezza, 
stongo a muri'! 


Burbler | Andrea Bocelli - MARENARIELLO lyrics

TRUE CONFESSION

Image: Wikimedia Commons

Sandi Toksvig, writing in Good Housekeeping - to which I have a subscription - has delighted me by praising the Victorian bathing machine.  Yes, indeed, those were the days, when you could become half submerged in the water without having to "walk the plank" from the beach to the sea.  Not that anyone gives  a sixty-year-old woman a second glance in Italy, where all enjoy frolicking in the sea, but British self-consciousness does not die easily or lessen with age.

I know, too, that swimming is the best exercise for someone like me and swimming is something I can do.  But my real reason for not going to the beach a lot is the same as my reason for not going to the pool - I couldn't  cope with the aftermath on a regular basis.  I mean, even after a shower and change, there is the whole makeup to be redone, after-sun to be spread all over and then I need the hairdresser!

MARE DI SETTEMBRE

To the sea with Irma today. It was much quieter down there than it was a couple of weeks ago although it is still hot. [Sicilians, and Italians in general, like to do things during what they deem the proper "season".] The sea, which was completely blue through July and August, has now taken on tones of green [verde del mare] and violet:

Refreshing salads for lunch in a beach bar. Irma had tuna in hers




whilst I had a similar one minus the fish:





This nice replica of a carretto siciliano was displayed in the bar:



Now, don't get me wrong - I love the romantic old Med. But I don't know how Sicilians have the energy to visit it every day [sometimes twice a day] for two whole months! I mean, there is so much to do before you go and even more when you get back: before setting out, women have to check they don't have a single hair in a place where there shouldn't be any; they correct the situation if need be and then worry about it anyway. You have to find a suitable bag that doesn't look like a bag lady's or the one you carted the potatoes home in; find a decent-looking towel and pack it; if you have a fake tan, touch it up the night before; apply lots of high SPF sun cream [necessary for all in Sicily]; pack make-up remover lotions for the mess the waves will make of even the most "water-resistant" products ; pack reapplication make-up; remember to take a perfume spray. Unless you are going to the private part of the beach where you can hire a lettino [sunlounger] and parasol you also have to carry these or at least a little wooden chair [these are much beloved of Sicilian beach-goers and are surprisingly practical]. When you are finally there, you have to keep applying the suncream, repositioning your lettino or little wooden chair as the sun moves and, if using the former, keep rearranging yourself on it. I'm British enough to pretend I am nonchantly reading a book when really I am people-watching so I fret about maybe dripping suncream onto the pages. [I'm not houseproud but I am fussy about my books.] In Italy you have to stand up to greet every acquaintance who appears on the same stretch of beach and also stand up when they move on so you'll probably have done a fair bit of exercise before you so much as dip a toe in the sea! When you get home, it's time to wash your swimsuit and towel; rinse out beach sandals; wash your hair, bath or shower [again]; remove ruined make-up; apply loads of after-sun cream; reapply make-up, toenail varnish and [if you're as pale as me] fake tan on legs; wait for the latter to dry before you can get dressed, then worry if it still might come off on your clothes.... It all takes forever and I find it quite [though pleasantly] exhausting!

How is the beach for you?