Oct 07 2007
A bitterly sweet haven called Palermo
I must admit that when I arrived in Palermo, something was troubling me. No, it wasn’t the tiny arrival hall at Punta Raisi airport that was heaving with a mishmash of crazed Sicilians bone-crushingly hugging each of their relatives while shouting in the Sicilian dialect.
My itinery included seeing and eating everything Palermo had to offer — as per strict instructions by my friend Patrizia, who is a proud Palermitana. While I knew my culinary indulgence would come with a price, I was troubled by something far more sinister: The Mafiosi.
The hometown of Bernardo Provenzano — the Mafia boss busted last year after over two decades of hiding — is less than an hour away by car from Palermo.
And let’s not forget that Palermo’s airport was renamed “Boccadifalco” to honor a High Court Judge by the same name who was assassinated by the Mafia in the early 90s. I rest my case.
The rule of thumb in Italy is the further south you venture, the less you can expect in terms of service. Patrizia disagreed, “Look at these perpetual public works,” she pointed along the highway towards Palermo, cluttered with heavy machinery, “It’s an over service,” Patrizia said.
“They were fixing this road it when I was little, and also when I left Palermo twelve years ago, and now back here they’re still repairing the same road. Thanks to our brilliant mayor, the guy has a tough job to spend EU’s subsidy.”
The province of Palermo is so rocky and mountainous that any remaining flat land you see is either olive tree plantations, vineyards, farms or clusters of residential area. Sicily is renowned for two things: its lemons and the Marsala wine.
The sweet licorice Marsala wine, excellent for after-dinner, is DOC and thus by EU law may originate only from Marsala, a sleepy town 200 kilometers southwest of Palermo.
But lemons are abundant in Sicily and used generously to produce the real Sicilian granita, an indispensable thirst quencher when the heatwave blows from the Sahara during the long hot summer.
If lemons are a Sicilian identity, then the arancini are what makes Palermo tick, at least for Patrizia. The famous arancini are rice balls cooked in tomato sauce and filled with saucy meat rag— or mozzarella and Parmesan. And that’s why we were at Caf‚ Alba, arguably the place in Palermo for some of the best artisanal arancini.
She made no joke about that, my arancini felt so sensual as though the tender rag— had rejuvenated my palate. And to complete the experience: a gush of latte di mandorle (fresh milk with an almond flavor) from Caf‚ Alba.
And that was just the hors d’oeuvres. We were later in Mondello, a once sleepy fishermen township blessed with white-sand beaches and scintillating turquoise water. The place was gorgeous, the sea breeze comforted us as we sat at one of the al fresco trattorias.
We ordered and didn’t regret it: a caponata (an entr‚e made of grilled capsicums in a feverish tomato sauce), pasta alla Tarantina (with juicy mussels) and a plate of grilled swordfish. Not bad for a reasonably priced tourist menu, a mirage elsewhere in Italy.
We decided to discover Palermo at a relaxing pace. The capital of Sicily isn’t overly vast and visitable in a few days’ time. Beware though if you plan to drive: the Sicilians show no compassion once they get behind the wheel. My guidebook even promised me that if I remain calm at all times on Sicilian roads, in the end “tutto andr… bene” (everything will be fine).
Back to the Mafia conundrum. Patrizia explained it’d become an illusive phenomenon: irrefutably the Mafia still have a tight grip on daily life on the island (and the whole peninsula, for that matter) but you don’t see them. Drugs and people trafficking are the new money tree, a lucrative albeit more recent venture of the Mafia, she concluded.
So we saw no Mafiosi but plenty of Sicilian genies, a folklore figure traditionally believed to protect Sicilians and their island. They generally now appear as papier mƒch‚ puppets sold at souvenir kiosks. Gigantic stone genies are sculpted into Porta Nuova, the pyramid-domed city gate joined to the Palazzo dei Normanni, where once ruled the kings of Sicily.
Frankly, to me the Palazzo dei Normanni appears evocative of the Norman ruling. The enormous twelfth century Arab-Norman-Byzantium royal edifice reminded me of the Sicilian Vespers, a monumental massacre of French inhabitants in Sicily marking the end of the Angevin dynasty in the south of the Mediterranean. The imposing palace is now the seat of the regional Parliament as well as the mayor hall.
Just a stone’s throw away, the cathedral of Palermo was simply impressive. Constructed by Arab artists in the twelfth century, it was subject to different architectonical styles in the successive centuries. And now you have a square nave, a medieval portico, partly Arabesque partly Byzantium facades and finally a Renaissance dome all pieced together smack bang in Palermo’s city center.
Interesting tourist spots are a dime a dozen in Palermo but I always tell myself that to get a real feel of a place, a walk in the working class quarters in indispensable. And this means Vucciria and La Kalsa.
Vucciria, originated from “boucherie” (butcher in French), with its hundreds wooden stalls is your fair dinkum traditional Sicilian market. I walked amongst animated Palermitani and African vendors alike and voil…: a heap of goods from fresh fruit and veggies to cheap Chinese underwear, from pasta to pirated CDs — all there up for grabs.
Next door to the Port of Palermo, La Kalsa felt flagrantly rustic. The originally Arab quarter suffered from heavy bombardment in the second World War and now, over sixty years later, it has yet to recover.
You couldn’t help but notice a great number of wrecked houses and unroofed medieval churches in a state of disrepair, despite the plan to revamp the zone into something of cultural center. If you ask for directions in La Kalsa, be prepared to be spoken to in the dialect you won’t understand even if you speak perfect Italian.
For another venture into the world of all things outlandish, we went for a quick visit into San Cataldo, a Christian place of worship built by the Normans on a square floor plan and vaulted with a triplet of Arab turban domes in a vivid pinkish hue.
We were then off to the Catacomb of the Cappucini, a subterranean complex which houses thousands of corpses of Benedictine priests, practiced between the seventeenth and twentieth centuries according to the Order’s tradition.
Several sections in this museum-cum-cemetery are dedicated to private citizens in a costume of their profession. The “collections” are in a relatively good condition thanks to the dry air that circulates underground.
To freshen up, we hoped for something more soothing to the eye — and the stomach. In Sicily, having a sweet tooth is a blessing and a curse at the same time. The islanders would show no hesitation to tell you the their cuisine is one of the most delectable, if not downright the best in the whole country.
Sicilian cuisine offers a gamut of plates, so unique you won’t find such a one similar anywhere else. And most importantly, the Sicilian dolci (sweets) are a real pride at national level.
Our patisserie was chock-a-block with locals and office workers on their lunch break. The family-owned Mazzini Patisserie in via Maqueda is an institution in Palermo for some genuine Sicilian dolci. My friend Patrizia patiently explained what each item behind the counter was.
My mind went in disarray, the cannoli were tempting but they’re found throughout Italy so I gave them a miss. The sumptuous cassata came in two forms (pan-sized cassata and mini cassatina), the Africani (chocolatey biscuits in a crunchy cone) lurked in a corner; I eventually opted for the local speciality: the gelo di melone, a pudding-like ricotta-based mini cake made of watermelon. Now that’s what I call a Sicilian treat! Perfetto mondo! Suddenly the Mafiosi didn’t seem so scary.
A bitterly sweet haven called Palermo - Gama Harjono, The Jakarta Post, Palermo - October 07, 2007 - http://www.thejakartapost.com/detailfeatures.asp?fileid=20071007.L01&irec=20
