May 2017
Sicily's Castellammare del golfo
They say travel changes you. It's the most important thing you do in life that you will ultimately receive more in return than your initial investment. I say, "Bravo. Change me." Castellammare del Golfo did not fall short of its charge.
Our first conclusion: driving in Italy is a sport. In Rome, it seemed as thought constant movement was the key. Anticipation. Never going slower or faster than the other driver anticipated. Consequently, driving on the island of Sicily was even more challenging than on the mainland. As long as we were roamed along the motor highways - the stradas, challenges were few. However, inside the small towns - Lentini, Agrigento, Catania - with the even smaller streets proved frustrating. Yes, being towed in Syracusa left us with a nasty taste in our mouth, a lighter wallet, and a little wiser about Italian street signs; however, we pressed onward. Even with a paper map (no matter what, always have a paper map), we relied on our iPhone's GPS to guide us, making me think: what did we do before that unseen, monotone voice called out from the void when the next turn was imminent? The little voice never left us, but we noticed it began to ramble, talk over itself, become confused. It didn't take us long to understand why.
Once we arrived in Castellammare del Golfo on the northern coast of western Sicily, our host provided us with a parking pass steps from our apartment. That alone was worth every cent we paid to stay. The car rested until it was time to leave. Walking would be the main mode of transportation from now until our departure.
Arriving in the city was actually the easy part; leaving proved almost deadly. With car-width wide streets in some sections sandwiched in between massive rock structures, we followed a route which seemed to make sense. Confused GPS woman kept instructing and we kept following. Round and round we went in what was one single block; then, Len turned right. People came out of their homes as we descended the narrow street. "Stop," I screamed as I began to read the confused faces of the people. Down disappeared into a series of steps which disappeared into the ocean; reverse was the best option as the Italian Job played in my head and my heart skipped several beats. It was time to try another way out without the little voice's help. It was time to leave this heavenly city.
The second realization: the historic center holds the mystic of any city. I'm sure there were other areas of equal intrigue, but for me, this is the street in which I found refuge. Corso Giuseppe Garibaldi. It seems with each new town we visit, we uncover special places, unique coffee shops, pastoral spots, comforting restaurants which keep us from expanding any further. Is that a bad thing? It could be unless you make it work. It can be a great thing if it gives you what you need.
The third truth: you must find your connection to a place. For us, it was finding Lucia and Cesare. It was finding family. It can also be searching and finding a place that strengthens your soul, provides peace, heals wounds, transports you into another world if only for a short time. That's the kind of place to which you will return. This is Castellemmare del Golfo.
Our first conclusion: driving in Italy is a sport. In Rome, it seemed as thought constant movement was the key. Anticipation. Never going slower or faster than the other driver anticipated. Consequently, driving on the island of Sicily was even more challenging than on the mainland. As long as we were roamed along the motor highways - the stradas, challenges were few. However, inside the small towns - Lentini, Agrigento, Catania - with the even smaller streets proved frustrating. Yes, being towed in Syracusa left us with a nasty taste in our mouth, a lighter wallet, and a little wiser about Italian street signs; however, we pressed onward. Even with a paper map (no matter what, always have a paper map), we relied on our iPhone's GPS to guide us, making me think: what did we do before that unseen, monotone voice called out from the void when the next turn was imminent? The little voice never left us, but we noticed it began to ramble, talk over itself, become confused. It didn't take us long to understand why.
Once we arrived in Castellammare del Golfo on the northern coast of western Sicily, our host provided us with a parking pass steps from our apartment. That alone was worth every cent we paid to stay. The car rested until it was time to leave. Walking would be the main mode of transportation from now until our departure.
Arriving in the city was actually the easy part; leaving proved almost deadly. With car-width wide streets in some sections sandwiched in between massive rock structures, we followed a route which seemed to make sense. Confused GPS woman kept instructing and we kept following. Round and round we went in what was one single block; then, Len turned right. People came out of their homes as we descended the narrow street. "Stop," I screamed as I began to read the confused faces of the people. Down disappeared into a series of steps which disappeared into the ocean; reverse was the best option as the Italian Job played in my head and my heart skipped several beats. It was time to try another way out without the little voice's help. It was time to leave this heavenly city.
The second realization: the historic center holds the mystic of any city. I'm sure there were other areas of equal intrigue, but for me, this is the street in which I found refuge. Corso Giuseppe Garibaldi. It seems with each new town we visit, we uncover special places, unique coffee shops, pastoral spots, comforting restaurants which keep us from expanding any further. Is that a bad thing? It could be unless you make it work. It can be a great thing if it gives you what you need.
The third truth: you must find your connection to a place. For us, it was finding Lucia and Cesare. It was finding family. It can also be searching and finding a place that strengthens your soul, provides peace, heals wounds, transports you into another world if only for a short time. That's the kind of place to which you will return. This is Castellemmare del Golfo.
From The Rough Guide to Sicily: Castellammare's incredible pedigree of bloodshed once gave it one of the worst reputations in Sicily for Mafia violence. The writer Gavin Maxwell, who lived locally during the 1950s, claimed that in that period eighty percent of the town's adult males had served prison sentences, and one in three had committed murder; coupled with this are the official statistics for the same period that classify one family in six as destitute. Needless to say, all of this is extremely hard to believe today; strolling down the sloping Corso Garibaldi towards the castle and harbor, past handsome palazzi interspersed with bars and shops selling beach gear, it seems a most benign place, ideal for a few days' relaxation.
The small seaside fishing village of Castellemmare del Golfo. (Below) The view from our apartment, 123 steps above.
Airbnb proved to be one of our best discoveries. Our single room in the city overlooked the harbor.
The main area in the city was flanked by small businesses, each with wares or tables just outside its door. They weren't shopkeepers, but every morning, the older gentlemen gathered on the street, sat on the bench, and talked for what seemed like hours. Every morning, like clockwork.
the taste of the city
(Above) There were no strangers here, especially in cafes. It is almost a guarantee that they saw the same people two, maybe three times a day. There was always time to talk, to sit, to discuss the day's events. Around 8:00 a.m., shop keepers brought out their displays, ceramics, beautiful linen, and opened their doors for the day. The city didn't seem to be fully awake until mid-morning. Before the closed off streets became busy with pedestrians meandering down the middle, the people sat and laughed with no regard for time. There was no hurry. (Below) The secret to a great cannoli: first of all, purchase it in Sicily. If it's authentic and true, the server will stuff it right in front of you. Serve with white wine. Never cappuccino. What a way to enjoy the afternoon.
(Above) Dining oceanside is one of the pleasures of life that you knew you had to experience. Even though I knew I had to walk down and then back up the 123 steps, I never questioned my motivation. Fresh seafood and pasta, along with Sicily's Nero d' Avolo wine, perfecto. Ristorante La Cambusa served antipasta platters and savory gnocchi. (Below) During the evening, the Vogue Bar was trendy filled with men in suits and women in skin-tight dresses. In the morning, a cafe serving pastries and cappuccinos, hosting men in corners who carried on conversations long after we left. Our table, beside the street. Watching the people walk by, eyeing the fishermen readying their boats for the day - put my travels in perspective.
Granted, along the fishing harbor and the old part of town is the charming part of the city. The rest is sprawling and modernized and could easily be a city in America. Find the unique and historical places in every town. That is where the story lies.
Look at the broom. We couldn't believe this is what the city used to sweep streets.
Len's grandfather immigrated from Castellemmare del Golfo in 1908. His name, Salvatore Lentini. He changed the spelling - Lentini to Lentine - once he arrived to differentiate his family from the others. It was if the boat was waiting for us. "I come from here. This is my homeland."
(Above) Once it became dark, many streets became pedestrian walkways. Thus, the importance of knowing the traffic patterns. (Below) Along the waterfront was the most bee hive of activity even in the off-season. The number of tourists during the off-season, 10,000; in the heat of the summer when the coastal town awakes, 100,000. One of our favorite images of an older Fiat. We quickly understood the reason for such small vehicles - they were easily maneuvered through tiny streets.
exploring by sea
"See that boat. Tell them you know me. They take you out." Our host Giuliano tells us upon arrival to go explore and the man under the tent will help us if we require a boat. Knowing someone may or may not have its perks. We throw around Giuliano's name with no response, but we know we must get on the water. The boat belonged to Lionel Ritchie (yes, you heard it right) - the company Lionel Ritchie. They rent small boats, catamarans, along with a guide. They initially tell us they have a party of eight, so no room for us. We watched and when no party of eight showed up, we got the boat for a two-hour tour for 25 euros each. Our driver Marco - everyone is named Marco he says - spoke very little to us until we got upon the caves and far away shores. Little explanation was needed for this secluded place of caves sculpted from the sea over many lifetimes.
Along the coastline of the gulf, high peaked mountains close these small seaside villages in from the rest of the country. Most are extremely popular in the high season (July and August) when the heat and the visitors rise. Reachable by train and bus line, most of the people whom we saw were walking down paths to reach the beaches. Scopello is the first tiny hamlet from Castellemmare. Along the coastline, you see the Riserva Naturale dello Zingaro, Sicily's first nature reserve. It is an unspoiled seven kilometer stretch of coastline (entrances at Scopello and San Vito Lo Capo - further north). We could see walkers dotting the terrain the entire way. Take plenty of water for it's rough and water stops are few.
Our guide, Marco.
finding family
We had been told by Len's cousin Sal to go to Castellemmare del Golfo NOW rather than later. "There's still family there," he said. We knew we had to go and finding family was a priority. Len began asking questions of those who knew long before our travels. He came armed with photos of his mother, her family and parents. He discovered his cousins owned a gift shop in the heart of the historic part of the city, and oddly enough, it was only a block from our apartment. We walked in the store, unsure of exactly how to start the conversation. We eye a woman, not the man we sought. Len asked for Cesare; she replied that her brother was not there. That was our in. Len quickly began sharing who he was, his family connection and that we were looking for family. His Italian as good as Lucia's English, they began connecting in broken language, finally bringing out pen and paper to draw a family tree. Somehow, they figured each other out and the connection was made and finally, sealed with a kiss.
the man and woman that took us to sicily
Salvatore Lentine and his wife Angelina had seven children: (l to r) Geraldine, Mitchell, Frank, Mary, Leonard, Veta, Sebastian. This photo was taken at E.P. Greisamer Studio in Flemington, New Jersey, around 1928. Veta, Len's mother and the youngest child, was about seven years old. The following year, Salvatore died at the age of 48 leaving Angelina to raise the seven children. She lived until 1981, when she died at the age of 95.
when you go . . .
Catamarano Lionel Richie - boat tours along the Golfo Del Castellammare
Ristorante La Cambusa - fine dining steps from the harbor
Vogue Bar - dive bar (as they say) and meeting place by evening, coffee house and cafe by day
Veranda sul Porticciolo - Studio 1 - a charming one room apartment sitting along the main street of the city
Sweet Bon Bon - gift shop, along Corso Giuseppe Garibaldi
The Rough Guide to Sicily 2017
Lonely Planet Sicily 2017
Riserva Naturale dello Zingar - 5 euros, park admission
Ristorante La Cambusa - fine dining steps from the harbor
Vogue Bar - dive bar (as they say) and meeting place by evening, coffee house and cafe by day
Veranda sul Porticciolo - Studio 1 - a charming one room apartment sitting along the main street of the city
Sweet Bon Bon - gift shop, along Corso Giuseppe Garibaldi
The Rough Guide to Sicily 2017
Lonely Planet Sicily 2017
Riserva Naturale dello Zingar - 5 euros, park admission
