A tale of two cities /  by Mario Mirabile

My time in Sicily was spent mostly in Messina, the region where my parents came from and where I still have family, followed by a few days in Palermo, the capital of Sicily. My brief stay in Catania I’ve already written up in another post. While there were similarities between Messina and Palermo, there were also striking differences.

The first thing that strikes you about Messina is the geography. Messina is built on a narrow strip of land on the Straits of Messina which curves round to a point where the Italian mainland is only three kilometres away. It’s a narrow strip because steep and rugged hills rise quickly as you move away from the shore, and in places the developed area is barely a kilometre wide. The proximity of Messina to the mainland and the strategic location of Sicily means that Messina is a bustling port, with ferries in particular constantly ploughing their way across the Straits.

The steeply rising land has resulted in Messina being built in a terraced fashion, and it’s not unusual to be strolling along a footpath and look down on traffic 20 metres or more below, or walk past the fourth floor of a building only a few metres away. The terraces are connected by steep and winding streets and a large number of “scalinate” or stairways of varying length - the longest I climbed was 140 steps in 12 flights. Some of the scalinate are quite functional in construction, while others are ornate architectural gems, of at least they were before they fell into disrepair.

The other thing you notice about Messina is that it feels quite new, which is odd for a city with 2,500 years of history. The reason is the earthquake of 1908 and subsequent tsunamis which killed half the population and destroyed the city. Few buildings were left standing, and even those were subsequently razed and replaced by an architecturally planned re-development. The older parts of the city still reflect this planning, while not surprisingly the newer parts have adopted a much more utilitarian approach.

Palermo is built on the Conca D’oro (Golden Basin) a wide sweep of (mainly) flat and fertile land, so it’s much more walking-friendly than Messina. It hasn’t suffered a catastrophic event like Messina (and Catania for that matter, having been wiped out by an eruption of Etna in 1669), so its history is a little more visible. What you can see in the architecture is evidence of some of the waves of invasion which have swept across Sicily. The main styles are Byzantine, Normano-Arabic and primarily Baroque, due to the long dominance of the Spanish Bourbon dynasty.

Its one-time prominence as a major cultural centre can be seen in its opulent neo-renaissance opera house, and its wealth in the massive marble fountain, purchased in Florence and rebuilt like a jigsaw in Palermo. It continued to be a prominent European centre until the 20th century saw a period of decline. As recently as ten years ago, the historic centre was derelict and abandoned in many parts, still bearing the scars of heavy Allied bombing during the invasion of Sicily in 1943. However, the influx of tourists (and their money) has seen life and bustle return to one of the most intriguing historic centres of Europe.

Varette di Messina /  by Mario Mirabile

After three years of absence, the procession of the Varette in Messina returned on Good Friday this year. The Varette are large floats depicting scenes from the Passion of Christ, largely mirroring the Stations of the Cross. All are carried on the shoulders of willing volunteers, which due to the size and weight of some of the Varette takes a great deal of strength, endurance and faith. More properly, they are Barette, although the local Sicilian dialect has transposed the B to a V, but I’ll go with Varette, as that’s my uncle’s position on the matter.

The procession of the Varette has a long but broken history, continually interrupted by destruction of the Varette and their homes by earthquake, war and economics. The current Varette are mostly of 20th century design and construction, although some of the figures are much older. The most massive – The Last Supper and The Agony in the Garden – require 50 or more men to carry them. Even then, they can only be carried 30 or 40 metres before the smartly dressed crew chief gives the signal for a break. After a pause to re-gather their strength and grab a quick cigarette, the white clad bearers are again summoned to their task by a few sharp raps of a hammer on the Varetta.

The procession is accompanied by musicians and watched by a large part of the population of Messina, who line the streets or watch from their balconies. The route covers around two kilometres, and the bearers who start are the same ones who finish. An exhausting, and in many cases no doubt painful, expression of faith.

Market mayhem /  by Mario Mirabile

The Rialto Market has a reputation as one of the great markets of the world, but ultimately I think much of that comes down to location. It also seems to have somewhat diminished since the last time I visited in 2016, with many empty stalls in the fruit and veg section, and lots of space in the fish market. It’s also well laid out and relatively orderly. The Catania fish market, on the other hand, is anything but.

I say “fish market” because that’s how it’s referred to, being the main hub for seafood. But it’s a general food market where you can buy anything you need for your weekly food shop, along with a wide variety of street food and sit-down eateries. You can try smoky charcoal barbequed artichokes, grilled swordfish and freshly squeezed pomegranate juice, plus lots of other local delicacies. It’s chaotic, loud, vibrant, with lots of local colour and a cast of characters who would all be walk-up starts as extras in The Godfather. It’s also possibly a bit dangerous, with cars mixing with the throng and scooters zipping back and forth.

It’s not all chaos though. I was particularly taken with one fish vendor who had the neatest fish stall in the market. The neatness was maintained through his constant re-arranging of the display, in between serving customers and drawing on the cigarette resting nearby. It’s something of which he was clearly very proud.

Another bunch of postcards /  by Mario Mirabile

This is my last night in Venice. I don’t know if I’ll ever be back, but I will certainly have lasting memories of one of the most beautiful and interesting cities in the world.

Here’s another set of postcards which will hopefully give you a sense of what a special place Venice is.

Who wants to be a millionaire? /  by Mario Mirabile

I had a vague goal in mind before I set out for Venice. I wanted to take one million steps around this magical city. I had no idea whether I’d be able to achieve it, but as I had 44 full days available it worked out to an average of 23,000 steps, or around 18 kilometres, per day. While I’m used to walking the dog twice a day and playing an occasional round of golf, this was taking things to another level.

At the half way mark I was on the pace, but a sore knee slowed me down for a few days. A bit of strategically applied sports tape helped the situation, and soon things were looking good again. As the tally mounted, it began to take on a life of its own, and I’d walk even when my feet told me to catch a vaporetto. Considering that a significant number of the steps have been up and down stairs, I get a fair idea of why I feel a bit tired at the end of most days.

Well, yesterday I passed the mark with four days to spare, which will push the eventual tally up towards 1,100,000, allowing for a comfortable margin of error.  Here’s a few of the things I’ve seen while taking one million steps.

Shop local /  by Mario Mirabile

Venice became the most powerful and wealthy maritime state in the Mediterranean through naval trade. Their strategic location allowed them to be pivotal middlemen in the trade between Europe and the Middle East. Their immense wealth and power is still evident in the unbelievably rich and sumptuous buildings that still survive. Trade is still central to the Venetian economy, but it’s shifted to servicing the hordes of tourists who flock to this ancient and beautiful city. The majority of the traders likely don’t have a long and intimate relationship with Venice, but if you look around, it’s not too hard to find a few long-established businesses, many of whom focus on serving the locals rather than the tourists.

The Rialto fish market has been around for hundreds of years, as evidenced by the stone plaque listing minimum sizes of fish which can be sold. There’s no real indication of how long any of the individual traders have been around, but I can imagine it’s the sort of thing that gets handed down through the generations. My recollection from my last visit seven years ago is that it was much busier, whth more trades then, so whether it lasts a few more hundred years remains to be seen.

Luigi opened his bookshop Libreria Acqua Alta 20 years ago. I wrote about it on my last trip seven years ago, and when I was there Luigi was working the till, wearing his funky measuring tape braces. The shop is busier than ever these days, and while Luigi no longer mans the till, he still has a role to play, sitting in the back courtyard with a cigarette directing traffic up and down the crazy book staircase. He trusts one of the resident cats to keep an eye in the financial transactions, and he’s still wearing those braces.

Sonia opened her grocery shop Drogheria Masceri near the Rialto bridge with her husband more than 50 years ago. Sonia is still a presence, but the store is run by her two sons these days. While she still wears her spotless white dust coat, her main role these days appears to be chatting with customers and old friend, which are probably one and the same these days. As grocery stores go, it’s become quite upmarket, but it’s still a good place to pick up fruit jellies and an excellent limoncello.

Aronne, the self-proclaimed doctor, professor and surgeon of shoes has been operating his little hole in the wall cobbler shop for 50 years. My observation from waiting around for a photo op is that the social side of the business is at least as important as shoe repair, which is no bad thing after so long. Still, when shoes do come in, it’s all business, and a chat of course.

I was looking to buy a large envelope, and Google directed me to a stationery store in the sestiere of San Polo. I wasn’t expecting Officeworks, but I was a little surprised at what I did find. A tiny shop stacked to the ceiling with every imaginable stationary item, with barely enough room left over for Paolo and a customer or two. While the customer ahead of me was served, I huddled in a corner snapping images of the transaction. It was a drawn out process as the shopper, evidently a student, ummed and ahhed over an endless list of drawing needs. Normally, I’d get fidgety and annoyed, but it was fascinating to watch Paolo go about his business. The most amazing part was when it came to sorting out the bill. He pulled out a small, well-worn notebook which evidently contained the information needed finalize the prices of the items, all of which were written on a scrap of paper to be added up.

Alvise has been running one of the few remaining kiosks which still operate primarily as newsstands for 20 years. While there are many of these structures scattered around the city, most are now selling the usual mish-mast of tourist trash, or have been completely abandoned. He told me he can only make a go of it as Cannareggio, the sestiere he’s located in still has a healthy population of Venetian residents, an aging population who still like their information and entertainment printed on paper. Even so, he has to supplement his business with the sale of public transport tickets and other side-lines, much like any news agency in Australia.

As long as businesses like these survive, there’s hope that Venice won’t become just a massive tourist trap. Look them out next time you’re in town.

Getting around /  by Mario Mirabile

The Venetians were a great naval power – perhaps the greatest in the Mediterranean – for hundreds of years. It therefore stands to reason that they were great navigators, a skill which would have (and still does) come in handy for getting around Venice.

Venice, by its nature has a chaotic layout. The main part of Venice is built on 117 small islands, naturally occurring and/or reclaimed and expanded by driving wooden piles deep into the lagoon mud. Connected by 391 bridges, the islands have a network of 3,000 “streets”, few of which run straight. The range from broad avenues like Via Garibaldi to Calle Varisco, the narrowest at only 53cm. They can be a “via”, “strada”, “fondamenta”, “calle”, “calle larga”, “salizada”, “piscina”, “rio tera”, “ramo” or “sotorportego”, plus probably a few others I’ve missed, and many have alternative names. Throw in the “piazzas’, “campi”, “campielli” and “corte”(open spaces and courtyards) and it becomes even more convoluted. Streets may connect to another street, bridge or square or come to a dead end in a courtyard or unexpectedly at a canal with no bridge connection.

Transport of goods is only by water or large trolleys with an ingeniously placed set of jockey wheels to help go up and down steps. Personal transport can also be by water, which unless you own your own boat can be prohibitively expensive. Gondolas at €80-€100 for a half hour sojourn obviously only exist for the exploitation of tourists. Private taxis are sleek and stylish, but likewise expensive. Vaporetti (ferries) are getting ridiculously expensive at €9.50 for a single 75 minute ticket, although daily and weekly tickets can help to moderate the price. If you want to travel in a small(ish) boat without breaking the bank, you can also try one of the seven traghetto services. These look like gondolas, but without all the luxury, and are rowed by two men rather than one. They provide a crossing service for the Grand Canal, which is only crossed by four bridges. A bargain at €2.00, or €0.70 if you’re a local.

Ultimately, the best way to get around Venice is on foot, as long as you have a decent level of fitness and mobility. The confusing nature of the streets can be a problem, but there are ways to get help. You can resort to a good old fashioned paper map, but more and more people are resorting to apps like Google Maps. This is not foolproof though. Google Maps frequently gets street names completely wrong, and GPS signals are easily lost or confused in the narrow streets with four or more stories of medieval stone buildings leaning over you and getting in the way of the satellite signal. If you’re somewhere central you can use the signs on the walls at corners directing you to major points and other useful destinations. These are a charming feature in their own right, with age and weathering adding individuality to the older stencilled signs, although these are gradually being replaced by newer metal ones.

In the end though, if you have nowhere particular you have to be, it’s a great place to throw navigation to the wind and just get lost.

Craftsmanship /  by Mario Mirabile

Venice, being the tourist mecca that it is, has no end of nick-nacks and gee-gaws for the crowds to throw their money at. Some are good quality items made by local artists and artisans, but for the most part the well-stocked stalls are flogging mass-produced junk. However, among all the crafters of jewellery, glassware, sculpture and leather goods, there are some that stand out.

One is Antonio at Ottica In Barberia. Sitting at his workbench in the window of a small shop half way between Rialto and San Marco, he meticulously hand crafts extravagant spectacle frames from acrylic or horn. It’s quite fascinating to watch him go through the myriad fiddly steps required to arrive at the finished product. With his full sleeve tatts and extravagant beard, he puts on quite a show.

On a more traditional and subdued note, remer Paolo Brandoliso’s workshop is tucked away in a small side street in the Castello sestiere. The remer is a craftsman who specializes in making and repairing oars and forcolas, the curiously shaped oar locks essential to the Venetian style of rowing. Each forcola is an artistic sculpture in wood, customized to the physique and particular rowing style of the owner. Without a power tool in sight, he goes about his craft with the effortless grace developed over forty years at the same site.

One flashy, one subdued, two completely different crafts, but both executed with consummate skill.

Go Cats /  by Mario Mirabile

For some reason, it somewhat surprises me to see dogs around a city as densely urbanized as Venice. I associate dogs with long walks and big parks to chase balls in. But, that’s just my experience, and the bond between humans and canines is clearly too strong to be broken by dense urban living.

It’s not just dogs of course. There are birds, most notably gulls and pigeons, and the odd rat scuttling up and down the Rialto Bridge steps in the pre-dawn light. The gulls are quite skittish and hard to get close to, which is surprising considering the predominant species is the size of a chicken. The are however not so skittish that they’re above trying to snatch food from people’s hands as I recently witnessed in St. Mark’s Square. The pigeons are, well, just pigeons. Rats with wings, like anywhere else in the world.

For me, the animals that seem most at home with Venice are the cats. Whether minding the till at Libreria Acqua Alta, issuing a warning arch of the back to a dog, or just chilling, they give the impression that they own the city.  Perhaps they’re all descended from that majestic symbol of Venice, the winged lion.

Postcards /  by Mario Mirabile

No commentary, just a few travel snaps. Enjoy.

Different strokes /  by Mario Mirabile

Every country has behavioural quirks that go towards defining its national character. But there’s one particular thing the Italians do that has me scratching my head. Now, everyone knows that the proper way to use a smart phone is to hold it in one hand while you tap and swipe away at it with the other. At least that’s the way it’s done in Australia. But I keep seeing Italians doing an odd thing with theirs. They hold it to their head and speak into it, almost as if they’re engaged in a conversation. Weird.

Costume party /  by Mario Mirabile

The Venetian Carnevale has a long and varied history. It has thought to have originated as a celebration of victory in battle in the 12th century, but later developed into a period of feasting in the days leading up to the start of Lent. Over the years it became more elaborate and gained international recognition in the 17th and 18th centuries.

The Carnevale encouraged license and pleasure. To protect the identities of the participants in illicit pleasures, the wearing of masks became commonplace, allowing classes to mix and play out their fantasies together. Eventually, behaviour became so notorious that the Carnevale was banned altogether at the end of the 18th century.

It made a resurgence in 1979, and has become one of the major events on the Venetian calendar, attracting millions of visitors in the days leading up to Shrove Tuesday. Costumes range from simple to the most elaborate and ornate creations. It all culminates on Shrove Tuesday with the best costumes being awarded in Piazza San Marco.