Sciacca . . oh Sciacca!
April 6 - 11
This post is for my Dad . . and my Aunt Shirley, my Uncle Nino, mia Tia Em-meh (aka: Auntie M), Cousin Carl, Dean, Amy, my cousin Nick (who kind of kick-started this journey for me when he gave me custody of his ancestry.com account) and all the rest of my “Rafello” cousins.
I truly wish you could have all been with me for the 6 days I spent in Sciacca. It was an amazing exploration of this beautiful city and a look into how Nonno & Nonna (aka: Antonino Graffeo & Calogera Sclafani– aka: Tony Rafello & Linda Rafello), and their families, may have lived before they immigrated to the United States. I walked & photographed the town for days. I talked to so many people, who when I told I had family that came from Sciacca, became super friendly and wanted details. I focused on the old town, as that would have been all that was here when Antonino & Calogera lived here. The outskirts grew up, I’m sure, after they left – as is evidenced by the 4 & 5 story apartments homes that scatter the hills around the old city.
You’ll have to read my post “Meet Cugino Pippo” for more details on what I found out about the family, but this post is really about getting you familiar with the city itself. Sciacca is beautiful: architecturally, culturally, artistically & gastronomically. In hindsight, I wish I had spent the entire trip here just learning as much Italian as I could, making friends & exploring the workings of the city.
I know many of you will never make it to Sciacca – so I hope this will give you a strong sense of what it looks like. Walking around was one awe-inspiring, surprise after another. And while I know many Italian (and for that matter European) towns are full of amazing surprises of great architecture, phenomenal churches and beautiful piazzas at every turn – THIS Sicilian town has a history that includes all of us – and it did not disappoint.
You will be pleased to know that Sciacca has great respect from its Sicilian neighbors & cousins. Whenever I mention it to other Sicilians the common response is. . “Oh . . Sciacca” – said with a sort of sign, like they’re remembering it fondly. I will as well.
Coming into town that first day was pretty thrilling. I had built this place up in my mind and was anxious to see how it would play out. The sights, the colors, the sounds, the smells, the air, the history, the people – all fun to experience.
Once I’d parked & checked into my very nice B&B, I went out for my first dinner. The gal at the B&B had made a reservation for me at La Trattoria Vecchia Conza for 8pm; it was still empty and I was the only one in the place. The host (I actually think he was the owner) didn’t speak much English, but he was charming. A half hour later a family came in and as the host went to seat them, he smiled at me and motioned as if to say “see, others are here too – OK?”. All OK with me! I had a big plate of mixed grilled seafood for dinner – in honor of my grandpa!
The next morning & afternoon, I spent with Rosy, the ancestry lady. See post titled “Meet Cugino Pippo”. When I finish with Rosy, I decide to take my dirty laundry to a lavanderia that the B&B owner recommended. I find it with some help from a guy near the steps that I needed to go down (I got lost, because I was looking for steps that went up)! I say in my best Italian “I’d like to get these clothes washed” and the girls turns around and goes in the back to get someone else. I’m not offended . . well, maybe I am! This women comes out and we have a nice English / Italian conversation and decide that yes, they will wash & dry but not iron the clothes. She tells me it will be 3 Euro per kilo and I think that sounds like a pretty good price. I ask when it will be ready and she says tomorrow at noon. I ask if she will give me a ticket and she says, no, I’ve got it! In my less than American trust, I ask her name, because if you know someone’s name, they won’t screw you, right? She says Lina and we get to talking about why I’m in Sciacca. She’s excited I’m from California and that I’ve come to find family. By the time, I leave, we’re on pretty good terms. I walk out hoping that I will see again the 2/3 of the clothes I’ve brought to Italy and now left with Lina. Here’s to trusting the nice Sicilians!!
The day after that was a Saturday and I decided to take the day off. You can see how that went in post called “Lazy Saturday in Sciacca”. During that day I talked to Amy and she sensed I was a little down. Between the heavy physical load of traveling this long and being on my own with no to have a real conversation with – her sense was correct. She gave me a great pep talk and told me to watch for signs.
The next day, I went to the Harbor. . and the signs . . well, the signs were everywhere!!
This harbor, wharf, waterfront – call it what you like – is HUGE! I’d say it spans about 1 ½ miles, maybe 2 and I walked around it for over 3 hours. Every inch of it! I started on the pleasure side with the yachts and sailboats, checked out the little “yacht clubs” (kind of male social clubs if you ask me) and watched a few people fishing from the pier.
I started over to the commercial side and passed a ton of old buildings that are no longer in use. I’m sure they all supported the fishermen & fishing trade at one time, as they line the streets right at the harbor. I also found a little church that was pretty humble and just the place I think the fishermen would go each Sunday. (It was Palm Sunday and the place was packed with everyone in their Sunday best – so I couldn’t really tell what these people did for a living – but I’m sure they all have something to do with the sea). And then I start to walk along the pier where all the commercial boats are parked.
The first boat I come to is . . the ANTONINO! I’m not kidding you – the hair stood up on my arms and I got a huge smile across my face. “They” were here and they were guiding me in! As I walked along, the signs just kept coming. Calogero (Calogera & Antonino’s grandfathers / and the male version of Calogera); Accursio (Linda’s father / Accursia was Antonino’s mother’s name as well),;Salvatore (Calogero’s brother); Stefano (Antonino & Linda’s son that drowned at Montara Beach), Francesca (Calogera’s mother); and even a boat called Stati Uniti painted red, white & blue (Stati Uniti is what the Italians call the United States). I gotta say – it was fantastic, amazing, mind blowing!! I walked the entire length of all 3 piers and looked at EVERY boat. It was awesome!
These pictures are for my Dad . .and his sisters & brother. I hope they trigger happy memories of the wharf & your own Dad.
I told Amy the next day about a restaurant that I passed a couple of times as I was checking out the waterfront. It was called Italia and something kept drawing me to it. Was it cute? Was it the building? The color? I wasn’t sure. I stopped and looked it up on Google to see if there were any reviews and guess what? It was actually called “Ristorante Italia da Nino”. Really? had to go now!!! Unfortunately, being Palm Sunday, they couldn’t accommodate me with a table. No matter – point was made & not lost on me!
I head back up the long hill (decide to take the hill instead of the big old staircase thinking it would be easier – wrong) and reach the top - sweaty & hot! I return to my B&B and take a little break before venturing out to find something to eat. Now, keep in mind that it’s both Palm Sunday and close to 3pm (and 3 or 3:30 is the bewitching hour for food in Sicily – as the restaurants close & don’t reopen until about 7:30 or 8 – so you better EAT when they are OPEN). I’m not having a lot of luck and then I come to this little place called Osteria Il Commensale that’s down this little alley. They have tables outside and they have plenty of room for me. They also have meat!!! I order this pistachio pesto pasta for a starter and ask for lamb for my main course. Sorry, they’re out – so I settle for a ribeye steak. No disappointment here – it was delicious. They served a delicious bread & olives/peppers/onions for antipasti and I had a big old glass of red wine. I waddled out of there very happy indeed! **Sorry, I forgot to charge my phone that afternoon (too many pics at the harbor) or I would have gotten some pics of that meal. Interesting that right across the alley from my table was a construction worksite with a posting of the work to be done. It was sort of a permit application with the owner, construction company, foreman, date work could start, time & days of week they could work, etc – and reminded me of Scott & made me miss him. I know working in Italy with all their regulations would make him nuts.
Keep this little restaurant in mind, as I will come back to it!
I skip dinner that night and just have a big gelato. I go down to the main square – Piazza Scandaliato - and watch the passeggiata serale (evening stroll). It’s Palm Sunday, so I’m not sure this is typical Sunday evening or not, but it’s pretty relaxing to just be there amongst all these family & friends. The pace is slow and it matters not that I’m eating gelato for dinner. No one cares, they’ve all just come from church and big family dinners. People are smiling, greeting each and air-kissing the heck out of each other. It’s just a big old social occasion and I’m the only one observing, rather than participating. I decide to stroll a bit – and find myself saying “slow down”. It must be all that mindfulness meditation!
The next day, I’m to rendezvous with Pippo and he’s going to take me to see the Minister of Culture. He picks me up & we go to his office. I meet his boss, a lovely woman by the name of Daniela Portera. She speaks some English, so we have a very nice broken English & Italian conversation and I learn more about Pippo and what they do. She heads up the province of Agrigento’s “restoration of art” group and Pippo heads up the Sciacca division. Pippo restores art! His office has this amazing fresco on the ceiling that needs to be restored – but the border is made up of Nobile Famiglia of Sicily – and the Graffeo coat of arms is right up there with them all! VERY cool!!!
We go to City Hall and meet the Minister of Culture and he assigns one of his bulldogs to me. I say this as a complete term of endearment because this lady did everything she could to cut through the BS that the other departments were dumping on her. I had taken the time the night before, using Google Translator (which I’ve fallen in love with), to put together a little synopsis of what I was looking for – namely the names & birthdates of Antonino & Calogera’s brothers & sisters. Senora Ventimiglia in the department of birth records was having none of that. Even in my very minimal Italian, I knew she was saying “impossible, too much work, there’s no way I can do that”! I agreed, with her attitude, there’s no way she could / would do it. I said grazie mille & we moved on to immigration. Now, since my bulldog wasn’t interested much in my “synopsis” she didn’t realize that I actually wasn’t looking for the immigration records to the United States. We have those – clear as day – no doubt we have the right ones from ancestry.com. However, for some reason, I think she thought we should check those and the lady in that department was very put out as well. She made us wait and then rifled through some old record books & then came up with a story about a department called A.I.R.E. (basically translate to Italians Residents Living Abroad) and that A.I.R.E. had had a fire that destroyed all records prior to 1990. BS – I saw the records on the shelf. I think she felt this would deter the bulldog and it did! Again, I thanked her and moved on.
Let me just take a moment to say – the coolest thing about the morning was that I got to see all these old record books. When you have a name like Kari Rafello – it’s pretty rare indeed to see your name in print, let alone on the binding of a book - and see I did! Graffeo, Sclafani, Fauci, Sabella, Marino, Marinello, etc . . there were old books from the turn of the century with these pink immigration records that would have confirmed, I’m sure, what I already know – which is when they both left Sicily. Nevertheless, it would have been cool to see their records and maybe see why they left . . good probability that they would have had their signatures too.
I thank the bulldog & give her two air-cheek kisses and she sends me on my way. I send Pippo a message (using Google Translator) that the morning didn’t really turn up any more stuff and he’s pretty disappointed. I tell him – NO WORRIES – because we found him and that’s all that counts!!
I decide to climb about 100 stairs to the higher part of the old city. I’ve seen on the tourist map that there’s a Palazzo Graffeo up there (another palace folks) and I must get pictures. Plus there’s a couple of big, old churches up there. I climb & climb & climb and reach the Piazza Gerado Noceto where I find the two churches, take a couple of pictures and then search crazily for Palazzo Graffeo. I walk around the block looking for the red oval sign that is always in place for historical landmarks and I can’t find one. I ask this guy going into Pizzeria Conte Luna if he knows where it is – and he says no (a few minutes later he comes running after me with a map) and then I move onto a few guys talking on the corner. “Dove, Palazzo Graffeo?” I ask. “No”, he says – and points down as he says “E 'nel centro della città” – meaning it’s in the city center. I think we both must be confused. I continue to look at the map and decide that I must have found it – it’s the prettiest building on the block and must have been a palace. I take a bunch of pictures of the building, the rotary sign, the beautiful ceramic sign of Pizzeria Conte Luna. See, I was in the right place all the time!
I see a cute little Ristorante Mediterraneo across the street and decide it’s more than time for lunch. I am the only one in there – but I have a marvelous little lunch of salumi for antipasti, shrimp & linguine, and an insalata mista. I’m also studying this map to see where I will go next – WHEN – it happens! I realize that Palazzo Graffeo IS INDEED in the center of town – and I’ve been there TWICE. Not only did Rosy & Michele take me by on Friday (but it was a hasty stop in that Michele spotted it, pulled over about 2 blocks up from it, I jumped out of car, ran back & snapped shots) AND it is right next door to Osteria Communale – the place I had lunch the previous day! Now really, I should say the Osteria is not really next door, it’s in the “basement” of Palazzo Graffeo. The alley actually gives you access to the basement of this old palace and I’ve been there – sitting there – eating steak & pistachio pasta and drinking wine - and not even realizing where I am! So, another sign. But then I realize that there had already been a sign, the address of the Osteria is 23 and 23 is a very big number in my life and was going to be the name of the restaurant that Tim & I were going to open. Signs – they’re everywhere!
But then the day goes downhill. I’m feeling good about my lunch & the fact that I have already been to the family palace when I spot a bancomat (ATM) across the piazza. I think, sure, I could use to get some cash – and the bancomat EATS MY CARD! What??? At that point, I notice that it’s 2pm and the bank will not re-open until 2:45 so I have a few minutes to kill. I sit in the sun and start my wait. A few minutes later I notice this kind of creepy guy coming towards me. He’s kind of slow and he comes up to me and puts out his hand and mumbles something. I think he wants to see my map, but then realize that he’s trying to grab my hand & pull me towards him – I say “NO” and get up and move quickly across the street to one of the bars (these are more like 7/11’s in the States). I order a lemon soda and sit down after telling the gal at the counter & the old man in there (I think he was the owner) about the card eating bancomat and they take pity on me. I notice then that the weird guy is kind of hanging around outside and I look at him and again say “NO”. The old guy in the bar walks out to and scolds him in Italian and he leaves. I told you all the old men in this country love me!!!
The bank finally re-opens and I go in and tell the guy at the counter “Il bancomat mangiato mia carta”. He scowls & goes to the back – I’m assuming to retrieve my card. He comes back and starts speaking to me in really fast Italian and I’m getting none of it. I’m trying to get some questions in via Google Translator but that’s not really working as he keeps speaking over me and confusing the whole situation. Basically, I get out of him that I have to talk to my bank in America and I’m shit out of luck with him! Thanks dude – way to help the tourists. The rest of the afternoon I spend talking to Bank of America and figuring out how to get a new card to me. Thank God I plan for contingencies and brought along the ATM card from my & Scott’s joint account – so I transfer some money into that account & withdraw $300 to get me through until the new card comes. Crisis over – kind of . . .
I talk to Amy and she tells me to go out and have some limoncello; she also says, it will all be OK. Just as we’re about to hang up, I hear this singing and wonder where it’s coming from. I mention it to Amy and say good-bye. When I go to the edge of my balcony, I see a procession going down the street towards the local church. The people are all carrying palms decorated for the occasion and singing in harmony. I tried to get you a video – but it took me awhile to figure out how to do that, so what I have may be a little lame!
The night gets much better when I venture out for dinner. I’m on my way to this little restaurant that I found online, but I’m not finding it. But I do see this little hole in the wall and decide to give it a try. People always say, find a little hole in the wall . . and boy, did I. La Buona Forchetta by Chef Nicola; this place is the bomb! The chef was amazing – even came & greeted everyone and personally took my order. His father (I’m sure) was manning the door and could not have been more charming; I wanted to bring him home & have him tell me stories about the old country! Suffice to say – the day was saved & I had my best meal of the trip! Here’s the review I wrote on tripadvisor.com and some pictures of my food.
Don’t Miss This Place!
I spent 5 nights in the historical center of Sciacca and found this place on my last night. If I had found it earlier, I would have eaten there EVERY night of my trip - just to taste as many of Chef Nicolo's dishes as possible! Since I was traveling alone, I ordered 2 dishes and a salad. The caponata was some of the best I've eaten and was served with lovely, thick slices of prosciutto! The linguine & scampi WAS the BEST scampi dish I've ever eaten and I come from a long line of commercial fisherman! After seeing so many other guests getting fresh melon for dessert, I canceled my salad and went for the fruit. You might not get excited about fruit - but this was the most succulent, sweet, perfectly ripe melon I've had in a long time. It's clear Chef Nicolo serves only quality ingredients. The grilled meat at another table had me thinking about ordering another dish - but I had to settle for the amazing aroma of the huge offering across the room. The chef (who came out to greet EVERY guest) and his staff are welcoming & friendly and obviously love delighting customers. This is where the locals eat - you should too!
The following day is my last day in the city, I will be moving to the beach this afternoon. I check-oult and spend about 2 hours walking around doing a little food shopping because for the first time on this trip, I will have a kitchen.
I go back to Vicolo San Lorenzo to see the old neighborhood one more time and take a few more photographs. I really look at the “Ex Chiesa San Lorenzo” (the little church in the neighborhood) and wonder if it were open, what stories would it tell? Rosy insisted that that both Antonino & Calogera would have all been baptized at the “mother church” but I’m pretty sure these humble fishermen would have kept it all in the neighborhood.
I finish my time in Sciacca not really having answered any questions – but with possible links to continue my ancestry work. 5 days was not enough. I will be back – I know it. **And Dad, I hope you'll be with me.
