#80 Palermo: Sicilian conquerors

Hello Friend,

On the train I pass by places I've vaguely heard of and seem strangely familiar with, even though they are names on a map, like Tusa, Acquadolce, and Finale. Then there is Cefalù, the famous beachside resort town dating back to ancient Greek times. From the train, there are endless beachside villas, fishing boats and ruins left behind by long-departed Greek and Roman tourists.

The view of Cefalù is frustratingly blocked by a tunnel made up of several archways, which create a series of half snapshots like a stilted slide show of the seaside. The clear, deep aquamarine sea is dotted with anchored boats and the beach umbrellas of intrepid beachgoers who climb like mountain goats over the rocky outcrops lining the coast.

It is still strange for me to see rocky beaches. I was brought up on Australian shores, and seeing people sunbathing on the rocks still seems alien. They are not only inoffensive smooth pebbles. The beaches on this part of the coast are filled with boulders, rocky outcrops and massive stones that block your way. For me, there is no beach here, only large boulders and stones, no sand to be seen anywhere. Luckily, Sicily has every kind of beach imaginable, from these rock mines to tiny little shell beaches, white sand and even black sandy beaches on the islands. I'm always surprised at how variegated the landscape is here in Sicily.

Admiring the summertime ocean and suddenly feeling very hot, I am overwhelmed by the desire to leap out of the train into the water. Looking out lustfully at sea, I see a wonderful mirage directly in front of the railway line.

A series of columns and stone blocks of different heights ruins from some ancient Greek or Roman construction. It was on a piece of flat land, looking out to the sea for a moment. The train passed so quickly that I wasn't sure if it was real.

I feel like I had seen Stone Hedge for a fleeting moment; it was something ancient, crafted and intriguing, but it passed by so quickly that I didn't have a moment to absorb it. I still have the snapshot of that moment in my memory, the sandy colours of the lined columns in the early morning sunshine completed with a modern plaque no doubt explaining the ruins' origins. I wonder who would climb over a busy train line and look at some out-of-the-way ruins.

Excited by this vision, I became more alert, paying more attention to the landscape near the train line, hoping to see more ruins. The surroundings changed as the line moved further back away from the sea. I am now passing endless beachside villas and palazzos. 

I didn't see any more ruins, but I'm still thinking about the Monumento per un Poeta morto or La Finestra Sul mare (a monument for a dead poet or a window over the sea), a sculpture in the parklands outside of Tusa.

The giant piece of black steel leans on a frame, and a loading deck is left, balancing unevenly on a big blue picture frame that highlights a dramatic portion of the coast. I do think Sicily is a giant open-air museum of sorts. In Sicily, art is all around us; all we need to do is recognise it.

Passing into the province of Palermo, the train goes by Termine Imirese, the former bustling Sicilian production centre for FIAT cars now rebranded and used by Blutec. Most of the vehicles here were made for the northern Italian-based company and then shipped to the north to be sold.

Local television news used to be filled with images of workers protesting and people being laid off from the factory. Moving by the primarily empty car factory at Termini Imerese, there are no signs of protests, yet the plant is still as enormous and impressive as ever. 

The train passes into the province of Palermo. I notice many plots of cultivated land as the train takes me into the 'Conca d'oro', the fertile plateau around Palermo, a concentration of agricultural production for many generations. In the summertime, many different crops grow, from tomato plants, beans, corn, and wheat, while in the winter, it is filled with artichoke, lemons and the famous Sicilian blood oranges. These oranges are the sweetest variety I've ever tasted. Cutting a sanguinello orange in half will reveal a bloody red pulp, hence the name Blood Oranges.

Making juice from these oranges and letting it sit, it divides into two layers of colour, a strip of standard orange and another blood red, which resembles tomato juice rather than orange juice. Blood oranges are found only in the soil near Palermo and the rich lava-based fertile soil near Catania.

The final stop before Palermo is Bagheria, a big city that touches the periphery of Palermo itself. It has many villas, museums, and professional offices, such as medical specialists and lawyers' offices. Bagheria was the home of eccentric aristocrats, the 'Prince of Palagonia', who left behind a most unusual villa and garden. His mansion is filled with grotesque statues, believed to be a unique precursor to the modern, surrealistic art movement.

The local art gallery at Bagheria has an extensive collection of artworks by Renato Guttuso, the most famous contemporary artist Sicily has produced. The art and artfulness of Bagheria allow it to combine many contrasting elements.

I like this about Sicily; you often discover a mismatched collage of buildings and styles that happily coexist. It results from Sicily's history of being endlessly conquered by many who left their distinct marks on Sicily. The series of invasions in Sicily's history is why the island has become living, breathing chaos of contradiction and non-uniformity, resulting from all the elements left behind by many contrasting cultures: the Phoenicians, Greeks, Romans, Byzantines, Arabs, Normans, French, Germans, Spanish, Italians, and even the British left such an indelible impression.

There is so much history to explore in Sicily, not only explore but literally experience, history is so palpable here, it is all around.

I hope you come to Sicily, some day soon.

Your friend

Rochelle

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